The Way Out of the Web.

I had a concentrated string of encounters with spiders a few days ago, and so I asked Mel what it means in shamanic terms. She said it means that I feel trapped in a spider’s web and am fretting because I fear that the spider will come and eat me. The message is that I should stop fretting and look the spider in the eye. That, apparently, is the way out of the web.

So much for shamanism. I’ve got a better idea.

For some years now I’ve indulged in the fantasy that one day somebody will email me and say ‘Please come to Tokyo, Jeffrey san. We want to make horror movie from one of your stories and would welcome your input. We pay for flights and all expenses, including unlimited access to the cabinet with the glass doors under TV set where all the little bottles are.’

Do you know how long it’s been since I stayed in a hotel? I think I’d better not say. And I dislike them anyway, but they probably beat spiders’ webs.

I just watched the first half of Lost in Translation, you see, and decided that I really do need an exotic experience. I think I’d prefer to leave out the frustrated young American woman with the inattentive husband, though, because that would create too much emotional disturbance and result in a resurgence of the fretting habit. But the bright lights and funny locals would do just fine.

And it wouldn’t have to be Tokyo. New York would do, or Melbourne, or Singapore – anywhere really as long as there were bright lights and funny locals. Anywhere except Nepal; I might bump into the priestess in Nepal and then the fretting would start in earnest.

Does anybody with influence ever read this blog?