Mid-morning. Up and about after breakfast and the Cincinnati Enquirer. After Carol got off the phone with her sister you watched part one of a ‘Perot’ on Sunday night PBS instead. You both love the period English settings and characters in the newest of the Perot series. As you have no direction as to where to look for images let me direct you to iPhoto. – You see, that was easy as it is the first photo.
But this is a picture of old Vine Street School in Westerville. My Grandmother Orndorff went to school there, as did my mother and father, as did I in the fifties, but it was Emerson Junior High School in those days. A quick check and I find it is Romanesque in architectural style and was built in 1896. Today it is a magnet school and still named Emerson.
Just place the snapshot, orndorff, and I will explain (from my perspective) the ‘mind-molding of me’ in your head.
It looks better framed as long as one thinks of your mind surrounded by the black of space. [Black frame does not appear in blog.] You think of yourself as in junior high school as far as your present personal l is concerned. You see me as a teacher in this school even though you are being self taught. The twin towers remind you of the green and red protrusions in the envelope, there is the direct connections, the antenna if you will.
You are reminded of a paragraph or so written some time ago in the notes about how the spine, the backbone, is as an antenna to the brain, a place where ‘natural vibrations’ of the universe are sometimes accepted. To you this is the transcendental core of your existential thinking. Some may think of ‘crystals’ and the like but with you it is spinal wire to the ‘crystal radio’ set of mind. Again, this is cultural – a part of your early life with shortwave radios and the like electronics, vacuum tubes, crystal radio sets and the like. As well as VOA as the old Bethany Station sat no more than a mile from your first house on Majken Place in Mason. Radio contact and imagination and Encounters of a Third Kind, that sort of thinking.
This is in your books, scattered about, but this thinking exists and I am a part of it.
I checked a Google Earth photo and saw that Grandparents Schick lived at 104 East College, catty-cornered from Emerson School on Vine Street. Their original property (a house surrounded north and east by parking lot), is now a State Farm Insurance office and still borders the south side of the school playground. I guess the ‘vibes’ were there early, Amorella.
Such sarcasm.
I have trouble with ‘vibes’ because they are nothing provable. True, I did hope, in those early days, that I might somehow contact intelligent alien life, but hey, with you in here, looks like I am the closest thing to it.
Humor embedded with sarcasm. At least it is a step up.
I still think the original sketch I did shows you as naked as my mind was at that time in 1988. No need of framing.
The point I was making, orndorff, is that you no longer see me as a message, as an envelope carrying a message. I am, in your mind, solid, like that old brick building with an open front door and windows. While the questioning, why (place the sketch below of immediate reference) did you draw me as you did, now, from hindsight?
First, I am looking for those twin towers in the envelope and on the school. The closest visual reference would be the two scar lines or wrinkle lines at your ‘foot’. You look ameba-like in shape. Without rereading an earlier description I can’t remember if the scar lines are at the foot or up under the eye – the scar(s) were caused by your ‘breaking into’ this world, this universe from another dimension, at least that is how I remember perceiving it at the time. That was twenty-two years ago, Amorella. I have no idea why I drew all those eyelashes. I don’t think I ever thought of you being able to blink. I am sure of it. The eye was the most pronounceable part of you. I thought it might be the eye of an angel at the time, again, it was a perception, but I don’t think that anymore. You are a being from another dimension, that is how I see you still, although I have to qualify that by saying that it may be my brain/mind in a wishful thinking mode. I accept that first and the other dimension concept second. In some ways I still think of you a rather ‘shapeless’ though you have an intelligent ‘form and function’ within the eye.
So, the eye then is how you view my heartansoulanmind? Which gets back to my original question. How does that work?
While I am thinking about it, I perceive you in two dimensions yet the envelope and the school, with three floors and classrooms on each floor inside infer I envision you in three dimensions, which I do not. I see you as in the images, as two-dimensional not three as well as without a sense of time, at least not modern human time. Though you have gone to twenty-hundred hours recently as a measurement, like morning, noon and afternoon. Still, you prefer to write them out and not use numbers.
You write them out, old man, I have no fingers or opposing thumb either. I don’t need them as I can use yours. I feel more comfortable with your conception of me as a tiny alien (in the story), the size of a hydrogen atom at most, and imperceptible, at least. If you see me as only imagination, then, like yourself, I see you as missing something in the reality of the existential personal circumstance we both find ourselves in.
The mind physics of entanglement immediately comes to mind. Entanglement – a meeting in entanglement theory, or at least between the physical lines in entanglement theory. Otherwise, how could it be existential, something we both agree on?
Lunch at Panera though you had Chipotle and a Panera drink. Presently you are sitting in the Kroger’s lot on Tylersville waiting for Carol before heading home. Clear skies and cold. This morning, on the web you discovered that the sun had a major eruption on Sunday and that earlier this year the sun had a full face series of eruptions – something that had never been witnessed before. This brought to your mind a bit of your science fiction from an earlier unpublished book titled, Anno Dominae. In the story the sun had three massive sunspots at the same time and shortly after or before the sun appeared to shut down for two or three seconds, long enough, quite long enough for it to be fully noted by the scientific community. You forget the story after that and are not inclined to look it up because it is in pile of notes and books in the basement.
This is true, Amorella. I always save my notes and attempted books. I never know when I might want to look something up. The sun business is not that important as fiction, but I have always had one or two readers comment, “This could happen, orndorff, this could be true one day,” or something else along those lines. I always politely accepted it as a compliment, that the story had some realism in it That is what was/is important – plausibility – that’s what fiction is to me.
Rich G. sent me a note about a Greek or Babylonian astronomical computer, complete with gear works that is about 2100 years old and called the Antikythera Mechanism. Very cool as they created a model of the gear works through scan machines and found it shows the day of the year on one side and the day of an eclipse on the other via the gear work calculations. The math was either Babylonian or Greek but it was found about five years ago in a sunken Greek vessel. I forget the name they gave the machine but it shows those people were pretty sophisticated and that is important to remember as far as the Greek Dead are concerned. I forwarded the article on to Doug G. What a wonderful time to be alive, to be able to use the Net to acquire verifiable knowledge almost instantly.
You are home and whiffing the chili Carol is making for supper, one of your favorite meals. You had something to add but have forgotten it.
In real life if I wake up dead one of these days I am going to have a time of it remembering. I’ll probably forget most everything I know because it won’t be important any longer. And, with nothing to read or look up I won’t have much to do. In such a case, an endless sleep would be a blessing.
Post. Later, dude. – Amorella.
No comments:
Post a Comment