Foggy

I sit in a fog that is entirely my own. Unknown to the world and unknown to me, this fog is the truth and it will not set me free. I am a wanderer, true, and I wander to and fro, but finding no path can only last for so long.
Physical illness and malaise develops into mental illness and malaise, the sicker I feel the sadder I am, and there's no answer except to wait patiently for the seas to swell, then calm, then recede into the darkness.
I am not haunting, I am not mysterious, I am simple and easily defeated. My victories are small, and meaningless in the grand scheme of things. I feel stifled and uncreative, and I know what you are going to say. This is why I don't talk about it, because I always know what you are going to say, and it never helps, because I know you're right. But being right isn't enough. Sometimes you have to be wrong. I don't know what it means, I don't know what I mean, I just know it means something, because it means something to me.
Listen to me whine! I prattle on about my nature, when I can never understand it, no one can understand anything. All is illusion, right? There is no reality, only perception, and perception will be different for each person.Even science, the practice of facts, can never truly be proven. If human knowledge ever expands to the point that we can understand the universe, then we will no longer be able to be classified as humans. There's a paradox I can sink my teeth into. Humans will never understand the universe because when they do, they will cease to be human.
A couple years ago, a girl stole (not actually stole, we swapped books, I sent hers back, she didn't send mine, so yeah, stole) my copy of There are two errors in the the title of this book. I miss it every day. It's a great book. The title itself is a paradox. And besides,who shaves the barber?

Kraka-Boom!

Lo, did the wanderer burst forth, breaking all bonds of nature and civilization.
He came unto a land, and he called it his land, and there, did he establish a desk. More desks were planned, soon, a desk empire would surely stand. But all must start with one, and this was good.
The desk became a foundation for two computers, and lo, they were good computers. Well, one was good. Shh.
Soon after, the INTERNET came. In a torrential downpour did the gigabit link spread forth and connect one mighty machine to the effervescent glow of the information river.
Slightly after this, another link was made, to the lesser peecee, and this was good. This was called wireless, named so after the lack of wires connecting it to the all-river.
Throughout this, Much GRID was had, on the beastly peecee, and, though troubling at first, it became easier, as skills developed, and became like unto a second life to the wanderer.
But he was a wanderer no longer.
And though it was far from finished, they enjoyed this land, and they called this land:
The Office.

Not the tv show. An actual office. A room, for officiating.

Back from the dead! Here to eat the skin of the dead! I return to your land and I bring with me t3h h4xx0rzzz!

That's why The Arm came for you...

Hey there. true believers! It's amazing what a good bath and shower can do, isn't it? I haven't had a shower that good in...a long time. A very long time. This is the first night in Portofino, but not in our unit, not yet. We still need counter tops, appliances, plumbing and blinds, so we're being put up in the guest suite on the fifteenth floor. It is basically a hotel room, bed, bathroom and mini-fridge.
I had a whirlpool bath and then a shower, and I feel so incredibly relaxed and refreshed that I could just evaporate. I like to sink into the tub just until my ears are submerged, but with my face still exposed, so that all I can hear is the whir of the tub, and all I can feel is the pressure of the jets, and it's like there's nothing in the world that can bother me, no stress, no exhaustion, no outside forces whatsoever. Absolutely fantastic, you must try it.
We'll hopefully be in the new place by Thursday, so that will be nice. Very excited, and up until twenty minutes ago, very stressed out. Things are falling into place, but there are still too many variable for me to be completely sure about everything. We still have a lot of stuff in the old unit that needs to be out of there, but nowhere to put it. If it's not gone by Thursday, I suppose we'll have to haul it on down to the old Val de Ville (Value Village). Or maybe Salvation Army, or Bibles for Missions. I suppose either of those is better than VV, but who knows, really.

P.S. Listen to the new Islands album (Arm's Way), it will blow your mind. At least track 1.

The Arm - Islands

You! You got what I need...

...but you say he just a friend.
Seriously, it's in my head.

I sold my TV today (Sorry Bra), I mean, I've had no interest in any of my stuff, and today everyone wanted the TV. I had to be fair, I guess. W-Evs.
I am so busy lately, I am so looking forward to maxin' and relaxin' once the move is done and we are settled. There is just so much to do,l and I feel like there is not enough time. Also, my head is exploding. Kaboom! Kraka-boom! I've been feeling really stifled, creatively, too. I want to create things, music especially, but am so limited at the moment, I don't have a relaxing place that is conducive to my creativity. Also: I can't play any musical instruments. This is something I'd like to remedy. I'm going to go look at used keyboard tomorrow. Maybe not tomorrow, have Church and Morpeth and Chatham already on the schedule, siiiiigh. It's hard to find a good keyboard that doesn't cost a bundle. I'd like to get one with weighted keys, and that has built in speakers, or at least a built in audio processor. I want to hook it up to the Gallos, but I don't necessarily want to hook it up through the PC. I may end up doing that though, because I can get an M-Audio semi-weighted MIDI controller for a good price. It will all boil down in the end.
That's it for me today, nothing revolutionary, no countdown, just a little ramble to clear my head before I get to bed.

Thanks for sticking with me.

23:01:10

We are creeping ever forward. The countdown is grossly inaccurate, as the unit will certainly be done before June 1st. Our kitchen cabinets were shipped today, so allow for delivery time and then installation time, then there is just some polish left and our until is done.
Excited to move, but woefully unprepared.
I set up two of the new Gallos and the Sub, as well. I wasn't sure what to expect, worrying that surely, they weren't going to sound that much better than my bookshelf Sonys. Boy, was I ever blown away. Reproduction is so clear, crisp, and fast. I can close my eyes, and I can almost believe I'm there, the sound is that real. I was able to finally completely relax, lose myself in the music, and I actually drifted off to sleep on the couch. I was woken up quickly though, as Mal can't really sit still for very long, and started doing things. I don't get that but hey, to each their own. I may have to buy some decent speakers for the bedroom now, and convince Mal that we should listen to music in bed. I believe that I could get to sleep more easily. The music is able to distract me, to pull my mind away from the constant tasks it has, to separate it fro m the worries and stresses of the day, and lull me off into calm relaxiland.
I don't even want my computer speakers now, though. They sound like mud.
Crud.

28:10:55

I am tired and kind of grumpy. Also very excited though! It's a jumble, really. Not much else to say. We're going to for Thai food tonight, at a friend's cousin's restaurant, so that seems exciting.

Ok, I have to go now, my car is ready! The tire was repaired! huzzah!

Ok bye.

34:07:26

We are slowly moving forward. The tiles are in at the condo! They look awesome! Why is the light flashing on my xbox controller? Only time will tell. Maybe it's a bomb! Gasp! Maybe I'M a bomb!
We bought a TV today! Yay! Hurrah! It was on sale at the shop of the future, and it's a great set and the price was right, so we said: "Hey let's get it!" and we did. Also, it fits PERFECTLY in the RDV. It's as if they were made for each other.
Did you catch that? How I abbreviated Rendezvous to RDV? That's how the cool kids do it on the Buick forums.
We did our taxes yesterday! Taxes! Tax refunds! Hurrah!
We went and looked at some more tables, too, and they were either too big or too small. Sigh. I sure wish there was an unfinished furniture store in Windsor, as I have neither the time nor the patience to drive to london to visit Corner Furniture, whose staff can't really answer an email properly. "Oh You gave me a description of what you're looking for in a table, and you're from Windsor? Rather than giving you a price, I'll let you know the store hours, so that you can drive two hours to come see some tables that we may or may not have." Fun=no. Three more days until I get the new speakers, too. Everything's comin' up Milhouse!

38:01:39

The big move is coming closer and closer. Well, not the big move, I guess. The moderate move is coming closer. The moderate move, precursor to the big move. I am finding that buying a new TV is stressful. Not like before, before I would look at TVs, and delighted in taking my time, finding the best picture for the best price, enjoying the search. As soon as you tack a deadline on that, even if it is ~38 days, it takes the fun out of it. Now I can't wait for the perfect deal, I have to find a TV and I have to find it soon. Also concerning is the configuration of the new living room. Not incredibly conducive to a standard viewing setup, let alone a 5.1 system. I know I'll make it work, but it will take all my craft and wit, jammed into the next 38 days. I still haven't called Giovanni to see if they've laid the carpet yet, and, if they haven't, if I can lay some flat speaker wire before they do. The problem there is that I am still uncertain of where things will sit. I mean, I have an idea, but that may change, and then I am left with useless, expensive. flat speaker wire. Sigh!
Still very excited about the new place, too, so that helps. It's interesting to not be able to sleep because I am preoccupied with plans for the new desk, rather than not sleeping because I can't It's still no fun, but it's definitely interesting.
This is such a blog post.

What's happened to me?

Also, I'm fixated on the idea of learning the guitar. The problem with this being that I only really like the look of one guitar. The Gibson SG, king of all guitars. Now, I know I'm not getting a Gibson, because I have <$2000 to spend on a guitar. Epiphone, a Gibson sister company, makes gorgeous replica SGs that are actually affordable. I would still like to play the violin as well, and the piano. I wish I hadn't been such an idiot when I was younger, and pursued my musical training, rather than abandoning it. I want to appreciate the music I listen to for more than just the basic sound. I want to understand it, and to be a part of it, even if it's only for myself. I would also like to take a stab at songwriting. It's hard to sing and play a violin at the sang time. As well, I doubt my ability to sing well, believe it or not. Well, things will work themselves out in the end. they have a way of doing that.

Terrification

It's driving me crazy, having all these ideas bouncing around inside my tiny little skull. I feel like I'm out of sync with the world, like I don't belong in this place or time. I long for the epic quest, the saving of the world through daring deeds. Maybe not even saving the world, maybe just being here while the world is ending, feeling as though something was happening.
I think I just realized that I am absolutely terrified of the blank page. The empty space. I almost didn't write this post, just like I haven't written hundreds of posts before, because it was easier to run away than to try and fill up that little white box. The problem is that the little white box looks big, it looks gigantic, and it's terrifying, how can I ever fill that? It does not make much sense, I know, because I could not fill it if I tried, because it's just a text box, which will grow to accommodate whatever I put within it's boundaries.
Maybe it's also terrifying because I have all these ideas in my head, I mena, I've been living in various fantasies as long as I can remember, so there's really no shortage. I'm afraid though, still, of something. I'm afraid of not living up to what I want to be, a Writer, with a capital W. It's too hard and I'm not good enough.
Well, of course I'm not good enough. I don't write! How would I be good enough? How often does someone sit down and tap out the world's best novel? I'm fairly sure it's never happened, so why do I expect that of myself? I guess it all comes back to that longing. I don't want to be mediocre, I'm terrified and angered by being mediocre, and that is truly ridiculous. I expect too much. Only in some regards, though, such as this. Anything professional, really, I need to be above and beyond, but without having to apply the extra effort.
Some days I'd like nothing better than to be mediocre, to be satisfied with the simpler things, to be able to relax. I guess I just have to keep working on that. Because the only one who can help myself, in this respect, is me.

Resolution

Feeling better today. Talked about what was going on, got some solutions nailed down, and a course of action. I bought new work shoes, too. I'm super excited about them, because I've always wanted Dr Marten's, so when I saw that had slip on casual/dress shoes I got them. They were expensive, but I've learned that you should not skimp out on shoes, especially when you spend eight hours a day in them. Mal bought a new coat, to. It was 1/3 of the price at Danier leather for clearance, and it has a removable Thinsulate lining for the winter.
I'm also excietd about dinner tonight. I'm making a turkey! It won't be as fancy as last time, but I plan on making it tasty. I'm going to use more lemon than last time, but no prosciutto.

I'll keep trudging along, if you keep remembering me.

though they never turn our the light - ...Of Sinking Ships

Dan Out

Squawk,

And then I burst forth from the darkness, the cold steel in my hand glinting in the pale moonlight. A spark of red peeks at you from the end of my knife, and then nothing, as I bury it where no one can see.
I'm have a rough week. It just seems like a thousand little things are going wrong, and it feels like God is trying to tell me something. I'm praying and I'm praying, but maybe I can't stop worrying or crying long enough to hear that soft still voice. Maybe not. Maybe I'm just whining, who knows? If you know, please write it on a post it and put it in a tiny envelope. Then write my address down, and proceed to tear it up, then burn it. As the ashes float towards the sky, whisper my name. Act like you remember me for me, like you knew me for more than an instant, and let your heart explode.
That is the best way to communicate with me.
I guess I missed the memo that poems can't rhyme, and have to mention food.

Sorry guys, i let you down. That "i" was intentionally left in the lower case.

Dan Out

Another night...

Peaple need sleep, right? But how good is sleep when it is fitful, resetless, and aggravating? All week I have been sleeping poorly. I wake up many times in the night, feeling aggravated and incredibly confused. Dreams consist mainly of working, so, not very fun or restful. This morning, my first chance to sleep in, I woke up at 8am, which is normal. What was abnormal about the morning, however, was that I could not get back to sleep. That's not entirely true, I did fall asleep, but then I would wake again within 7-10 minutes, after having more fitful dreams. So I got up at ten, read some webcomics, and then cleaned the office.
I'm grumpy because I can't sleep, and I'm dissatisfied with myself. I don't get this sleep thing, I'm eating 100% better, and I'm excercising fairly regularily. I slept better when I was lethargic and had potato chips for breakfast. That's a big double-you tee eff, if you ask me.

Dan = Out

Nobody Sings Anymore - The procession

Ch-ch-ch-changes!

Don't want to be an oily man!

Seriously though, changes are being underwent. We're moving! Next Month! Hurrah for us! We made a decision in the last couple days, which I am not going to post more about here at this time, as I haven't told Holly yet, and I'd rather tell her before all of you, even though all of you consists of mostly her, and some Dude and Mum, who both already know because we talked about it on Saturday. In London. That's all I'm going to say.

Ebay lady finally responded! She shipped the PkMn cards last week, so I should get them soon. Hopefully before this weekend, so that I can bring them over to Kevin's on Sunday, when I am going to be over there because Mal is going to a bridal shower that is on Moy, so I am going to go to Holly and Kevin's, but they don't know that. So quiet, ok? That mean you Holly! No telling Holly, Holly! I think if I can use Holly in one more sentence, Galen Weston will give me a hundred thousand dollars. We;ll See about that. hopefully holly condones the use of her name, Holly, in this blog post. Otherwise Holly is going to be ticked when she sees her name, Holly, all over my blog. I think my sister, Holly, will be OK with it. Only time will tell. What do you think, Holly? No Galen Weston. Maybe he is taking the bus.

Exhaustion

Too tired to speak, too busy to sleep.
too dead to breathe, too heavy to leave.

I was up until 3 AM doing work. I was trying to scramble and complete as much as I could of a remote connect task, but it was hopeless. Things just kept going wrong, and I'm frustrated and exhausted and I wish so much that I could just go back and lie down in bed. But I have responsibilities, I have to go to work, and I have to do my job. Then I have to come home and make dinner for Mal, maybe then I can take a rest. Maybe then I can sleep.

There is no music except for the sighing of my muscles and mind.

It is done

I've finally done it. I entered a competition. While I'm sure that I will be rejected in the most embarrassing fashion, truly, the fact that I did this much should be celebrated. They said a poem of any length, so I entered two short poems and one 800 word poem. Besides the poem I posted earlier, I entered:

--
Whither Thither

A man had fumbled with his life
From his early days of strife
He attempted once to make with peace
A life of bliss beneath the trees
Something missing, he so thought
And left half built what he should not
Have ever had even started
And so his life’s attempt was parted.
He began a journey here, and ended
With his efforts all but mended.

Upon the ground which made his step
Was somewhere he had for been wept
Perhaps by a lover or his mother past
He couldn’t remember. He moved fast
Away to new locations, and
His latest soil destination: sand.
He called this beach his home until
Upon his makeshift windowsill
A bird came slowly and sang sickly
Telling him he must move quickly.

He left his quasi home alone,
And took his pack with him to roam.
He encountered many other birds,
But none who used such soft sick words
As his friend who recommended
That though he steals, this time was lended.
He met a wood, and on it’s edge
He stopped to make that night his bed
Was greeted by a gentle wolf,
Who said that here was soft enough.

That night, from his distrustful soul
He was not a single wink doled!
So left to his next journey’s travels
Tired, angry, and disheveled.
He moved clumsily through the wood
And near the strangest tree he stood
He thought he heard a whiffling sound
And knelt; his ear unto the ground.
While nothing seemed he beholding,
The ground itself to be revolting!

That tree next to which he rested
Seemed to want his courage tested
It failed the test, but not his legs
Which brought him far from anomalous dregs
Upon the far side of the wood he stopped,
And on his now sore legs he hopped
To a bush with sweetest berries
And while he gorged himself, saw fairies!
He had not seen such things post-natal,
And never thought they might be fatal.

They, taking airs of kind, exclaimed,
And when they had calmed down, explained:
He had eaten them of house and home,
Literally, this bush they owned
And lived inside their cherry castles
Which now remnants hung like tassels
From blood red lips, and teeth incarnadined!
Hearing this he wept, for it had seemed
He had so easily made hell for these,
And stolen from them solemn peace.

He begged them, through a wall of tears
To forgive him of his lack of fears
Of perfect bushes, and perfect berries!
They replied “We are but fairies,
“We cannot forgive your sins,
“And certainly no conscience win!”
He pressed though, and so they tried
But one by one they slowly died.
Feeling though it had worked out,
He now ceased his mouth to pout.

He stood again on weary limbs
And marched away with saintly hymns!
Neglectful of his somber deeds
He came upon a bed of reeds,
Nestled on a long stretched bank
Of a river of some worthy rank.
He followed this for quite some time
Forgetting all his past and crimes.
He came upon a great lake, and said
“What a perfect place to rest my head!”

When he awoke, what did he see?
But beauty standing before he!
In the middle of this bodied water
Was the most delightful daughter!
So he decided not to leave,
And of his journey was bereaved.
He sat and watched her days and weeks
So profound and yet so meek!
Composed sonnets to her in his head,
Always thought, but never said.

This continued for months and months
Till he had finally had enough
He waded from the river bank
Into the lake, in which he sank.
Upon reaching the lake’s deep bed saw
A tiny cabin, thatched with straw
In awe he stood, and watched as she
Entered here alone, as sad as she could be.
When he summoned himself to courage
He rapped the door of this sunken cottage.

She answered, and they stood in silence
As their eyes divided diamonds.
He entered and, when both were sat,
Slowly did remove his hat.
She took his hand, this total stranger
Of whom she felt no present danger.
He smiled, and raised his hand to touch
The face that he had seen so much!
When his fingers found her face,
He fell, to deepest slumber’s place!

Soon from the lake he did creep
And somnambulated, from the deep.
So what was said to him was thus:
"Awaken not in pains of lust
"But pains of joy and health receive,
“On merry nights such as this eve"
And when this temporal advice was wrought
He went and ambled back to cot.
This darling home beneath the lake,
There he his life, in sleep, did take.
--

AND

--
Stroke of the Twelve

The thunder rolls about the room, and falls on every ear,
Reverberates about this space, and strikes each heart with fear.
For now this lonely moment is a lonely thought, indeed,
As this wooden ground is shaken, as by a thousand steeds.
Each soul trembles, each heart stops, as if in contemplation,
Each tongue stilled, and each lung stiff, aware of reprobation.
With wicked eyes they look upon the faces that surround,
Hoping for a secret smile, all they can find are frowns.
No words are spoken; an attempt would surely fall to deaf,
As thunderous shakes remind them of mortality and death.
No comfort found within the crowd, some try to find without,
But those who leave with faith return with nothing more than doubt.
More severe than ever, tears form within our solemn crowd,
No longer filled with hope and trust, with only dread endowed.
They hang their heavy heads and weep, for friends are surely lost,
They’ve sown their seed, they’ve made their grave, and now they pay the cost.
I see it all; I cannot stop their tears, and not their pain.
‘Tis by their daring, foolish hearts that they are left disdained.
A single tear rolls down my cheek, as I now walk away,
Their tumble should be short, yes, for they’ve fallen all their days.
The air is still, the thunder stopped, and quiet is the floor,
But alas, that little group, we shall hear of them no more.
--

So there you have it. Cross you fingers!


My Bunny's Back - A Smile and a Ribbon

Readership EXPLOSION

Seriosuly, I must have at least THREE readers now! C'est incroyable! I really am going to have to think about self hosting soon, I don't know if Blogger's servers can handle my massive throughput. I guess I'll just have to scrape $30,000 together for a data centre...

But seriously, Holly forwarded me a poetry competition, and I think I'm going to enter a few poems. I can enter three, so I think I'll do the one I posted below, a moderately old one, and a really old one. I'll post them here when I pick them out.

I have now officially completed the Spiderwick Chronicles again, and I am astonished by how much I didn't remember, and how incredibly different the movie really was. Truly staggering. I am still impressed by the movie though, even though there were massive changes, I felt that they stayed true to the spirit and the feel of the books, and the characters felt similar as well. It wasn't like the Northern Lights Golden Compass, which was a fundamentally different story with fundamentally different characters, which just cheapened the whole tale, but then, Spiderwick isn't quite as epic, either.

I've recently discovered that there are continuations of The Spiderwick Chronicles, title aptly Beyond the Spiderwick Chronicles. I guess only one book is out so far, so I'll have to snag it somewhere and read it.

Book Meme!!!

Step one is to take the first book you lay eyes on that fits the rules. Not your favorite book, but the closest at hand:

The rules are as follows…
1. The book must be over 123 pages.
2. Find page 123 in the book.
3. Find the first 5 sentences.
4. Post the next 3 sentences.
5. Tag other people

Book: Diamonds Are Forever, Ian Fleming

"The joint favourites, No1, Mr C.V. Whitney's Come Again, and No3. Mr William Woodward's Pray Action were both forecast at six to four on. Mr P. Pissaro's Shy Smile, Trainer R. Budd. jockey T. Bell, was forecast at 15 to 1, the bottom horse in the betting. His Number was 10"

Alas, I have no other blog friends to tag. I am an unwelcome visitor to the blogosphere. Like a blogging hobo. The littlest blogger. Maybe tomorrow.... (get it?)


Sweet dreams, true believers.

From one side to the other

I just got back from Chatham! I went to Morpeth for dinner (Dad made ribs, fantastic!), and then dropped in to hang with Andy for a while. We eventually went to subway and had a great time acting crazy mainly for the benefit of the kid at Subway. I proceeded to ask him which school he went to, and he goes to the one which is not the one Little Bird goes to, so he didn't know her, go figure.
We watched Stardust again, as well. I love that movie. So much! But it upsets me, because I so dwell in fantasy that worlds so finely crafted and appealing make my heart nearly burst with longing for that kind of thing. It upsets me that my life is so dreary in comparison. But then, I felt the same way after seeing Cloverfield, so maybe that's just my issue.
Hey guess what I realized for the millionth time? I need to start writing! Writing constantly! I hate this not writing bull crap that they's all be tryin' ta pull at. I don't understand it either kids, but it's two thirty-eight, so cut me a little slack.

Make it stick.

No music, Wife is sleeping.

Fine.

Here's a poem. I like it. It is my most recent. 5 points to whomever can guess when!

--
What of the Dead

and what of the cold dawn
what of the light
that creeps o'er the mountains
and freezes us all

what of the child
what of the night
the darkness that buries
and ruins us all

what of the words
that were never said
to the loved one lay dying
or already dead

what of the sparkle
what of the tears
the division of eyes, of hearts
that limits us all

what of the fear
what of the sadness
that lives on the inside
and sickens us all

what of the love,
we never expressed
what of the emptiness,
and how they'll be missed

a salute to the living
means naught to the dead
for the relief that we're bringing,
is all in our heads
--

Still on lunch...
Still at work...
Still not a master of the kefitzat haderech...

Disasteronomer.

Hey Kiddos!

I am getting pretty fed up with myself. I am lazy and out of shape. Also, I do not mean lazy as in the purely physical sense, but also in the mental, and especially creative, sense. I have ideas in my head that need to be released. I have stories that beg to be told. However, their captors are stronger than initially anticipated. i have fears that keep my ideas locked up. I have a notepad, but i do not write, because I am afraid of what will happen when I do.

Several nights ago I got up out of bed, without waking Mal up, and proceeded to read my poems, my old poems. not the really old, crappy poems that i wrote in grade 9, where I was all "oh, look at me, I'm in grade nine", but the really good ones. I used to post them on a website, but this one time, I joined a forum, and the people did not like me very much, and so they copied and insulted my poems to no end, and I was so upset, that I took down the site, and now am too afraid to post anything. I am not so afraid of people insulting them, because I know that some won't like them, but I think that some might. I am afraid of people stealing them. With the internet the way it is now, I have no way of stopping people from copying and duplicating my poetry and other writing.

Perhaps I am being ridiculous. Perhaps I should just write, and then whatever happens, happens. Maybe that will be enough.

No music, for I am at work, on lunch.

It's not as bad as you thought

I am not dead!

My jambalaya, however, is another matter...


Love,
Dondro