You have been awake since four and it is almost six. After an hour of lying in bed you came downstairs and are sitting on the couch. You have been experimenting with Radio Gaia on your Air. The first time you have bookmarked music on this machine. World ambient, spiritual and chill out music, great for relaxation, that’s how you hear it.
This doesn’t relate to the books or blog. Besides, next you’ll show me watching the music visualizations and pretending I’m eating magical mushrooms or something of that sort. “Tripping” would not do me much and actually be a disservice to my mind that’s how I see it. I get along quite well as is, thank you very much. No utopias laced with rainbows in this blog please. No offence, but I’m just not that kind of guy, Amorella.
No one said you were, buddy boy. Why the defense? Vanity is what it sounds like to me, old man. What do you think?
I guess. The radio service asked me to place it on Facebook and I couldn’t bring myself to do it because I thought I would sound like a new ager with crystals and all that.
But you used the image in the book, the crystals and the cemetery. – Amorella.
I did, yes. I was cool with that. What it comes down to is that I don’t want the books to be classified that way. The few weeks one of the books was actually on a Barnes and Noble bookshelf (store off Fields-Ertel Road near Mason) they had it in science fiction I think but I wanted it in Fiction (literary), even experimental fiction would be fine but with Merlyn connected to the books some even think of it as fantasy on the online bookstores. Maybe it was my first book, before the Merlyn series. I’m probably confused here; that was in 2001. In any case, I am sensitive to the concept of me sucking on mysterious plants or smoking pot or delighting in some exotic mushroom fare. Can we drop this and move on to something else?
You need to chill out, my man. Later. Post as a reminder of how you can be a prickly needle on a special Native American cactus sometimes, except rather than residing in the grand southwest you are in a mideastern state instead. No New Age for you. You reside in olden times in the Beatnik era. That was so way cool cat, man. Float your ego downstream. Those days are real gone, old man. – Amorella. Post. Dude.
Early afternoon. You are at the Aurora Outlet Mall; Paul is sleeping in the driver’s seat, Owen in the back seat with Kim and Carol shopping at OshKosh B’gosh. A bright sunny day all day. Lunch earlier in the busy Olive Garden at Harvard Plaza southeast of University Heights.
Owen woke up. Paul took him out for a stroller ride. Cool and crisp and now with the window down, your kind of weather. Let’s go to scene six.
Moving on twenty-three hundred hours and you and Paul just finished watching and enjoying Sherlock Holmes with Robert Downey, Jr. and Jude Law. Earlier you worked on the first part of scene six but are rather embarrassed because you didn’t continue to expand what you have, but that can come later. Tomorrow, breakfast out then you will head home, perhaps stopping for lunch on the way home. Here is what you have drafted so far.
Scene 6
The Supervisor is as a MINDandRULES personified, a weightless balloon, metaphorically speaking, in the circumference of five universes each averaging about the size of the one the reader exists in, the one containing the Milky Way galaxy. Each universe in the form of a serving plate, let’s say, has a similar composition of seventy percent dark energy, twenty-five percent dark matter, and five percent normal matter.
SheanHe, the Supervisor, is formed as an independent consciousness of the Who, What, Where and How of measurable performance in physics that can be understood within themselves, that is, within spacetime, matter-energy, and physical law, each of the three a selection of the composition of the Supervisor.
The Supervisor observes spacetime, matter-energy and physics within the seed of what exists in all things great and small, five universes, mind and matter in size, to an unimaginable soul small. Gravity is as the pumping heart and it obliging system of circulation, a necessary and thus useful friction that rubs life like a poorly struck match which may end up seemingly as useful as the crumbling, almost chaotic remains of a cigarette it once lit. The Supervisor is thus as the cover on a cheap pack of matches or the lid on the tempest (the matter and matter-less formanfunctional change brewing) in a teapot, even the teapot appears less in size than the five seemingly larger plates that dwell within it.
***
This is very much a first draft. I am enjoying added tidbits as they come to me on my own. I assume I will continue to expand what I have before I continue on with the raw material supplied by Amorella herself. Here’s the post.
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