Andrei Freeman (lordandrei) wrote,
Andrei Freeman

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Today, I met a philosopher.... REFORMATTED

I've been having some problems sleeping the past few days (Highly unnerving after watching the incredible film Fight Club last night) and I've been falling asleep far later than I would like. Likewise, I've been waking up far later than I would like.

There is a walk from my front door to my bus stop that takes approximately 5 minutes and involves me walking 1/4 block to the corner, crossing catty(sp?)-corner, and then continuing 1/2 block in the same direction. As always, the daily horror is to emerge out the front door, get out to the street and watch the bus cross in front of you.

There is no catching this bus... it is a non entity. Such was the case today. This means (at least) a leisurely walk to the bus stop. Fortunately, either the first was late, or the next was early, or maybe a little of both....regardless... the next one came sooner than later.

(A side note) I've opted to actually get into the formal study associated with Thelema. Charts. A brother and I have decided to start meeting regularly to force each other to ... catch to speak...with so many other members of the order who seem to be able to find correspondences between the number 14 and floor wax without a drop of sweat (which they will then point out is a correspondence to reruns of Bewitched)

My bus arrived as I was half paying attention to 777 and my attempts (once again) to memorize the Tree of Life (Hereafter: ToL). Happily, at least for now, I can sit on the bus without 777 and remember: Crown, Wisdom, Understanding, Mercy, Strength, Beauty, Victory, Splendour, Foundation, and Kingdom. {Not bad for a person who believes that his short term memory is en route to rivaling the central character in Memento {Which I finally saw last week...and let me say F*&$ing-WOW!)}

The bus arrives. It overshoots where I'm standing by a good 5 yards. (Annoying) The bus is crowded. I'm in the second seat attached to the front door. The front of public transit busses always have sideway seats in the front. My bus fortunately dumps out a whole gripple of working-class types about 2 stops after mine. (Gripple sounded better than gaggle) {I curl the toes of my left foot uncomfortably as I type, hoping that when I tripped in the house yesterday I didn't break my left 'ring' toe. It hurts)

When the gripple executes it's daily un-choreographed exodus, I bump up one seat to the door. (It gives me an arm rest, or a corner to retract into if I feel the need...and it feels like the Carson show in reverse.) The seat position gives me the ability to get a good look at everyone that comes on the bus and leaves me staring at the bus driver. It's the director in me... I love to study people in their natural environment.

A rather corpulent person sits next to me. Well in seat 3. The person carries a smell on them that is only describable as 'horrible.' I won't detail it here. I have the initial desire to change seats...but there aren't any. I pray that the opening of the door and the time will let me acclimate and not notice. (Don't bet on it) I continue to look over Column 1 & 2, in 777. "Chesed...Chokman...Binah....Must read more"

We are off the first road and approaching the freeway (L.A. Apparently doesn't have highways) The bus driver is looking at me. Oddly. He says to me, "Now I've figured it out..." I look up from 777 trying to decide if I care. One of those moods I guess. The nicer Andrei emerges and I get a half smile of curiosity.

"I knew you reminded me of someone...." Today my hair is mildly unkempt. I stumbled out of bed late and the brush just didn't make it work today without washing it. And I don't want to wash it early as I have to get it 'rotated' later today (if possible)

The bus turns onto the last street before I switch so I save file and prep to switch. back in a few (10:08am)

My beard hasn't been shaved in about a week, I'm contemplating returning to the beard as opposed to the goatee. I'm wearing my Woodson-26 Steeler's jersey. My introspection returns to the driver

"I knew you reminded me of someone..." he pauses and smiles to himself proudly as if he's either just unearthed a great millennium old mystery or he's pronounced to everyone in the room that the question for 'diseases for $400' is "What is bochelism"

"I knew you reminded me of someone..." he repeats, this makes 2 for him and 3 from my consciousness.
"Oh." is all I can muster
"Yeah...Spielberg...That director guy. You remind me of him"

And for a moment of universal harmony everything goes away for a moment. The driver...the memorization of broken Hebrew from a crazed turn-of-the-century occultist, the odiferous(sp) passenger. I'm contemplating the ToL and this man has unknowingly tapped into a personal circuit of something deep within me.

He goes on to talk about how he's seen Spielberg while walking around L.A. Universal, the Getty Center.... (My star sightings are still an almost '1') How he's just a regular person who doesn't need body-guards and isn't sheltered. I just smile.

He then goes on to explain the Shaq(ille O'Neil Basketball maven) is the same way. In retrospect, I wonder if Shaq meant something to the driver on a higher level in a manner similar to Spielberg for myself. But then again...I'm studying now and likely to make strange philosohpical jumps like that.

I put away 777 (with the transfer tag holding my page....sudden realization...oops)
I took out my computer and started typing in the file
{You know, forcing yourself to get organized can be a harshly anal thing)

It's 10:24 now. I'm about 10 minutes from the office. (Looks like I'm there until 7 tonight to make up for the late entry....)

But today has started well. Let's see what's next.

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