So i woke up this Saturday morning in a good place – it was my bedroom (hahahaha). It is funny because I did mean ‘good place’ in its global sense (content, happy, satisfied, surrounded by good vibes and good friends) but it was indeed my bedroom. Pierre the Handyman has left his mark and within eye shot there is my dream catcher, the picture of my ‘wished-for-dad’, my mirror “It’s all about me!” purchased at the car boot sale in London. There is a ‘Lindsay picture’ with this message: US laughing, stories shared. secrets:trust loyalty us. friends: always. The words are in calligraphy. The walls of the bedroom are grey – something I always wanted and now have.
I remembered the words recited at daybreak at some camp I was sent to in Saskatchewan:
God has created a new day – silver and green and gold
Live that the sunset may find me, worthy his gift to hold.
I remember waking up one morning, In those days that I lived on the nineteenth floor of the Trump, remembering these words and putting it on my blog.
This day has turned to rain, but I am happy. I like the rain, its been sunny for about five days.
Me: I am tired of this sunshine. I realize I love the rain.
God: OK Alexis. You can have rain on Saturday and Sunday.
Me: Then what?
God: Sun again.
Me: Well God, thanks for the two days of rain.
I am very polite to God as you can tell – it is best. Trust me. I had the best sleep. After a horrible hiatus I am back to being a great sleeper. My December 29,2016 blog spoke about sleep, it is copied and pasted in this blog.
“Another huge advantage of becoming a born again Canadian is that now I listen to a magnificent pod cast, a CBC production called Ideas. This has supplanted my prior adherence to Terry Gross’ Fresh Air. The topics on Ideas are far more interesting and approached in a very complex manner. A recent one was dealt with sleep in a fascinating way. Someone suggested that the purpose of life is to sleep and that all our wakeful activity is merely to provide the environment for sleep. One must work to buy the bed, the sheets and indeed the house or apartment to place the sleeping utensils in an environment conducive to rest. I rather like the thought. I need no longer search for the meaning in life – the meaning is sleep. “
I guess it is time to switch from contentment and positiveness and talk about what happened to me on Wednesday at the Trump International Hotel (hereinafter RIP for Rump International Prison). Sir Richard and I had trained outdoors – I was super tired and sweaty but decided to stop in RIP to say hello to CCC who had returned from vacation. Well, somehow he hadn’t but I decided to walk through the hotel and exit on West Georgia because I was going to the Equinox for a shower. I walked by the Mott and decided to stop in – after an absence of about six months. It seemed relatively safe as my ‘known enemy” the Emperor was gone – he had been fired, much to my wonder and amazement. Jay was behind the bar and I went to talk to him – he was one of my three ‘sons’ in olden days. The restaurant was deserted. I sat at the bar stool exchanged pleasantries with Jay, inquiring about others not seen in the last six months. I left this quiet, friendly interchange and walked toward the door, looking forward to my shower. But blocking my way was a man in a dark suit, with a small microphone planted by his mouth. It was the Dreaded Security – those men of old who haunted my life.
He: Good morning!
Me: Oh Hi! I was just on my way out. Good Bye
He: Well, that’s good.
So I just walked out the door – but I do admit that I sneakily gave him the finger as I walked away. I am sure Jay saw the gesture. I was very upset but got to the Equinox and G.P. comforted me.
G.P. Alexis, we will never call Security on you. And if (a certain person) shows up, we will protect you.
Me: I do not think he will harm me. But i will need your support.
That day my upset turned to anger and I did an Instagram post but I wisely waited to blog about the day and have thought a great deal about the incident.
On Wednesday It was the third rate sommelier who called Security – the look of fear and pure horror on his face was remarkable and he scurried off, to call I am sure. He was also at the Mott that night in October and played a pivotal role in the intrigue that resulted in the severing of a relationship. It is now clear to me. But there is a greater truth. I thought that evil resided in one man, the man who was eventually fired. But evil is contagious, it is like a cancer and if one is around evil on a daily basis you get it – you come down with the disease. It is inevitable.
So what t do? Obviously stay away from RIP forever, which will not be difficult, as I have done so for months. But there is a further message – do not associate with the people who continue to work there.
I like being vulnerable, for all kind of reasons. But it is sheer folly to be vulnerable in certain places and with certain people. I guess I need to watch that more carefully in the futue. I shall.
The picture is on the wall of my dining alcove. It was here when I began my leashold – this wonderfully equipped apartment has everything. The image has always been a favorite ever since I can remember. I have always wanted a man to dance with me like that on the beach. But I have given up. I cry.
