Upon reading the Enquirer this morning you were greeted with a great deal of red printed headlines and were reading the Sports Page earlier than the occasional glance. The sun is coming up and it looks like it will be another great day in Cincinnati. It reminds you of the time in the seventies when Carol saw her first Reds game and either Johnny Bench or Pete Rose hit a grand slam and she didn’t realize these things don’t happen every day in the sport.
I have nothing against sports, Amorella, but I am rather indifferent to them. I am not a fan. Growing up I was – the Reds, the Indians, the Ohio State football and basketball, and the Browns. I was a fan of each. Then one day, when we were overseas, it went away although I was aware of Pele. If you were in Brazil it was impossible not to be aware of the wonderfully great footballer. We came home and the leagues changed and it was not the same as when the Browns played in the old National Football League of the fifties. Interest dwindled in the individual players as the old ones retired and it never regained.
Can you not think of Milton’s Paradise Lost when you see the word ‘regained’?
Hardly. A painting alluding to Paradise Lost was used in one of our shows recently but I forget which. Human Target maybe. And Milton was brought up in NCIS last night. The teacher asked the students for the well known quote, “Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven.” It is better and grander with the fuller Milton quotation.”
“Here at least
We shall be free; the Almighty hath not built
Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:
Here we may reign secure; and , in my choice,
To reign is worth ambition, though in Hell:
Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven.” [Book One]
Magnificent lines beautifully filled with haunting words of self-pride. Self-condemning words. Such thoughts that run through Satan’s character – and G---D has to do nothing as Satan, in his supreme angelic intellect, will, and ambition, has brought it all on himself.
Now, to me, this puts the red Enquirer headlines in a somewhat meaningful perspective. To each their own, but for me I prefer Milton.
Thus, are you then guilty of meaningful arrogance in context?
I don’t know, Amorella, am I?
Each has a right to herorhis opinions in the books, I see no difference out here in the real world. – Amorella.
Opinions are not worth a grain of salt.
They are as the wind, orndorff – a light pleasant breeze to a stirring mighty storm. As such, they are worth something in the real world.
Not a response I would have given, Amorella.
That is a more thoughtful consideration, old man. Post. – Amorella.
You are sitting in a Kenwood area lot just north of I-71 waiting for Carol to pick up new glasses after stopping by Casual Male for a new ‘hoodie’ and a late lunch at Potbelly’s.
Later. You had a walk in the park. Carol is still walking as she took the longer route while you stayed amongst the trees in the north valley of Pine Hill. During the time you were thinking about Milton’s lines that you transcribed earlier today, and about how that can somehow relate to this book’s Rebellion as originally when I suggested these last three books you first considered you were in no way good enough to follow the esoteric writings of Milton, Dante and Virgil.
Allusion is all I am looking for, Amorella. A rebellion among the human Dead is hardly similar to the rebellion of angels in Milton. Far less to consider as G---D is at least a step beyond the boundaries of the Merlyn books in terms of plot, character and theme. The setting is natural to the human mind if it stays ‘human’ after death, if, of course, it continues to exist in any manner or form after physical death. Intellect, will, and ambition driven by self-pride is what I would like to instill, but subtlety.
That is not what these three fictional books are about, orndorff.
I realize this. Wishful thinking on my part. The three writers are three of the best I have studied and I would like to emulate them in some way, that’s what it comes down to. I am satisfied if I have been doing my best, but I don’t know what ‘best’ is for myself. According to my Aunt Patsy, I am very creative, so I suppose I have that going for me. Otherwise though, I see no literary work I can compare these books to in terms of theme and scope. My characters are probably not so well developed but there are many settings in these books so if they are reasonable and without flourish, then I suppose I can give myself credit there too. I do a lot of research on setting where it is possible. I assume for most readers the works are ‘too much’ and ‘over the top’ and perhaps even ‘incomprehensible’. Which if that is the case I can understand their point.
If I complete all six books I can hear an editor saying to herorhimself: “If he would cut these six books down to a thousand pages and say the same thing and clean up the grammar, it might be worth a print for an extremely limited audience – no, we would never break even – he needs to cut it to one thousand pages and have iUniverse or some other self-publisher pick it up, and hope he might pick up a larger audience.”
If I did not know better I would say this sounds just like you. Cynical and realistic to the core. Yet, you continue.
I know. My sister, Cathy, wonders the same thing. She encourages me but she can’t believe I am still plowing away at these books.
You ask a good question, why do I continue writing? The only answer I can come up with is that I am driven to finish these books if I live long enough. Then I can say to myself, “I am satisfied, I am content with my accomplishments in this life. I didn’t want to be here in the first place but I did something. I have a good family and good friends and for my professional career I did the best I could do within my limits, and as I long wanted to be a writer, I have accomplished that also. What more do I need to be content? Nothing, that I can think of.”
There you are, orndorff. That was simple enough. You need to remember this from time to time, for perspective, you see. Post. – Amorella.
‘Undercovers’ is over and you have time to write on scene eight. Let’s get started.
Scene Eight
Nearing noon by Earth standards, Thales found himself sitting on his favorite bench near the seven steps down to the small rectangular stone pool in Garden Park off the northeast corner of the east-west Plaka Street and north-south Eleusis. The Temple to Athena sets directly on the corner of Eleusis and Plaka. Thales was glancing down to the reflective waters of the pool but thinking about the virgin, Goddess Athena instead.
Were I to have sprung from the head of Zeus I would do my own wheeled reckoning. I am not so clever as Salamon who thinks the Supervisor, who is some way works for Zeus. Kassandra believes the Supervisor is god-like Betweener or directly connected with Hera. A shimmering on the surface of the water in the pool reminded Thales of Poseidon and he quickly re-connected with the myth that the only time Athena and Poseidon ever cooperated was when Athena created a chariot and Poseidon prepared the horses to drive it. I wonder, is the heart as the chariot or the horses in carrying my thoughts to the foreign Dead who do not know me? The soul may connect to all souls, in which case it is the heart, the passion, that drives the communication, the thought across the Styx to the Egyptians or Phoenicians. Earlier today I swear I felt such a thought coming from nowhere. The realized focus dulled into a thought or a foreign presence, then quietly disappeared from consciousness.
“Hello, Thales,” said Aeneas as he sat beside his friend. “I was told you wanted to meet here . . . something about my father.”
Thales smiled warmly, “Yes, your father sent me a surprise gift today even though we have never met.”
“Why would he do that?” replied Aeneas bluntly.
“I do not know. I thought you might.”
“I rarely see the man,” said Aeneas abruptly. “He is with his friends not his family.”
“Anchises gave me a stone bench for quiet thinking.”
“You have a chair and a bed. What need have you for a bench?” Then he quickly added, ”Did he deliver it himself?”
“No. An old man did. One I have not seen before. Why anyone would wish to look old when there is no need in this place is beyond me.”
Pride, thought Aeneas suddenly. “Did the old man have gapped front teeth and a large nose?”
“No,” replied Thales, “no large nose. In fact he was rather hairless, but his teeth appeared strangely cloud white, and I believe there was a small gap between the two front ones. Do you know the ancient?”
“No, I do not. The one I was thinking on had a large nose and a ruddy complexion.”
“This man was moon pale by the looks of him,” noted Thales, at once disappointed.
***
We are moving along, boy. Not what you expected?
I never know what to expect, but I enjoyed it rather well. Different. Aeneas suspects the old man is Takis and wonders on his motives. That’s what I think. Thales is still caught up in the heart, soul, mind thing – the vehicle that carries the thought. I was surprised he realizes he had felt ‘something’ from ‘elsewhere’ and suspects it is one of the foreign Dead trying to communicate with him.
I know that intuitive feeling myself in real life.
Of course, orndorff, a bit of reality or self-inventive fiction. Either way I can put it to work, which I am doing. All for tonight, boy. – Amorella.
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