462ce2a5   
   XPost: soc.culture.native, nz.soc.maori   
   From: dalton@nfld.com   
      
   "Mary walks down to the water’s edge and there she hangs   
   Her head to find herself faded a shadow of what she once was   
   She said, “How long have I been sleeping and why do I feel so old?   
   Why do I feel so cold?   
   My heart is saying one thing but my body won’t let go”   
      
   With trembling hands she reaches up, a stranger’s flesh is offered   
   And I would be the last to know, I would be the last to let it show   
   I would be the last to go   
      
   Take her hand, she will lead you through the fire   
   Oh and give you back hope and hope that you won’t take too much   
   Respecting what is left she cradled us, oh she held us in her arms   
   Unselfish in her suffering she could not understand   
      
   That no one seemed to have the time to cherish what was given   
   Oh and I would be the last to know and I would be the last to let it show   
   I would be the last to go   
      
   Mary walks   
   Oh and I would be the last to know and I would be the last to let it show   
   I would be the last to go”   
      
   (Sarah McLachlan -- Mary)   
      
   I’m still hoping that Sarah will show up here tonight (Wednesday)   
   before returning to Vancouver (she played a show in Durham, North   
   Carolina last night). However I would prefer that sex magick   
   not be required to trigger my four components, since that   
   would be a form of sex as a commodity, which I am against.   
      
   One thing for those on nz.soc.maori to note: there seems to   
   have been a bit of a divine joke on me. The night of   
   May 13, 1995, after Sarah drank me up with her eyes   
   at the Treehouse Lounge in Vancouver, we both went   
   to the bar and a woman cut in between us. Then Sarah   
   asked for a Swan and they had Sharp’s (or the other   
   way around, anyway it was a de-alcoholizaed beer).   
   I instead, thinking it was the day before Mother’s Day   
   (and also the day before full moon) thought “What would   
   my dead mother have liked to drink?” and ordered a   
   rye whiskey and water, and the water came in a swan   
   shaped jug. But also that night Sarah had rye whiskey   
   coloured hair, and she had a song out a few months   
   before entitled I Will Remember You (IWRY). But   
   the main joke for nz.soc.maori is the ma o’ rye.   
      
   I guess the swan occurrences might be linked to the   
   Irish story of Angus and Caer, or other magical   
   swan stories.   
      
   Anyway, I will give up on my four components if there   
   are not any effects by Thursday morning.   
      
   I updated the Recent Changes/Working Notes subpage   
   of my Salmon on the Thorns web page last night.   
      
   --   
   David Dalton dalton@nfld.com http://www.nfld.com/~dalton (home page)   
   http://www.nfld.com/~dalton/dtales.html Salmon on the Thorns (mystic page)   
   “Coming into season this world will flower   
   With the power of love, not the love of power" (Mae Moore)   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)