Mid-morning. Up early, took a hot bath as you had an uncomfortable arthritic night from trimming and further yard work yesterday (too hot). Presently you are at your shady post in the far north parking lot of Pine Hill Lakes waiting for Carol to complete her walk. Later this morning, she has blood donating at Hoxworth in Mason. You didn’t go to bed earlier, taking the time to watch the final “Closer” and the opening of “Major Crimes”. After that, upstairs to read “Automobile” a magazine subscription Kim and Paul gave you for your birthday, that and dinner at Outback.
I asked Kim for “Motor Trend” but they sent “Automobile” instead. Actually, I like it because it has articles like “Car and Driver”. I might as well be up on things as we will be new car shopping next summer or fall. I had fun reading most every article with the utmost scrutiny for gleaning new car specs and design for both subtlety and ambiance. So far I am back on track with the MKZ hybrid even though it is classified as a luxury vehicle. I would have studied a similar ‘twin’ Mercury hybrid were it still being manufactured; with a lot less built in old Presbyterian restraint and frugality.
It took you a while to get the preceding paragraph worded correctly but you did. I like the “built in old Presbyterian restraint and frugality” but that hits the pointed nail on the head where it belongs. To mark the personal aspect of all this solemnity and need for abstinence pop into Wikipedia Offline and see what it reads on the Presbyterianism in which you were culturally trained. – Amorella
I sense sarcasm here.
Not from me, boy. You just need to be reminded of one of the cultural root reasons as to why you are who you are. – Amorella
1008 hours. I cannot find anything that fits directly though the phrase “austere Presbyterian” or “austere Presbyterianism” or “John Calvin’s influence on Presbyterianism” is bantered about through many online sources. Personally, I cannot help but think of the John Rankin House above Ripley, Ohio, (see Wikipedia) a center post of the Underground Railroad as an excellent example of what I was I remember Presbyterianism was really about . . . lifelong learning and helping people become free of the bonds of slavery . . . any kind of slavery as far as I am concerned. I even make reference to this in the Merlyn books.
Show me, boy. Your inner passion is raised up and you can better see who you are and what you are about in spirit. – Amorella
I am surprised I opened book one, Braided Dreams, and in the first section “The Brothers”, the first chapter, the beginning really, Richard is in an argument with his brother, Robert, about what the first Merlyn book is really about. “Ripley” is mentioned. I forgot, the name I chose [Captain] Leo Lamar is really a lettered twist on “Amorella”. Very funny. I forgot all about this. It was funny from me Richard the Writer to Richard the twin brother of Robert in the story. Obviously this book is, right away, not for general public consumption. No one at the time but my friend Robert Pringle would have caught the joke.
***
Chapter One
The Brothers
Robert gave a good swift glance at his younger, just retired brother. “Richie, what the hell are you talking about?”
Richard continued his spiel, “The brain and the mind are separate entities.”
“And you say Leo Lamar writes the books for you.”
“Yes. Captain Lamar brings me the stories on his ferry across the Ohio. You know, the Ohio River in my head. Lamar is a writing persona.”
“Right. Lamar’s small ferry travels from Mason County, Kentucky to Ripley, Ohio.”
“In my head he does. Captain Lamar follows a famous route of the Underground Railroad.”
“Richie, why would you conjure up such a devise?”
“Captain Lamar is from the underground in my head.”
Robert quipped, “So is your imagination.”
“The stories are corded from the spine to the brain and then on to the mind.”
Robert laughed, “Why don’t you call him Lionel?”
Richard laughed easily, “Lionel Train, I think it’s been done.”
“Why don’t you just stick to writing the poetry?”
Richard’s eyes narrowed, “You’re the better poet.”
“True. I am.”
“Your poetry is clear, concise and with no nonsense.”
Robert expressed his amusement with the chuckle he knew his brother hated, and said, “That’s because my brain and my mind are in the same place. I don’t have a cigar chewing, Mickey Spillane loving, ratty old Captain Leo of the whimsical good ferry, William Peacock, bringing me poems hot from the northern hills of Kentucky when the morning river fog is right.”
“Captain Lamar just delivers the stories from the underground, Rob. I’ve told you that a dozen times before.
“It’s all in your head.”
“Of course it’s in my head. I know where it’s from, Rob, but the mind is not the brain.”
“Is this what floats your boat, Richie? Because if it is, you are crazier than hell. You quit teaching too abruptly. You’ve been dabbling with fiction for at least fifty years, but poetry, that’s your forte.”
“I’m not as good at it as you are,” noted the practical Richie, “I’ll keep trying fiction.”
“Here’s the first chapter, read it over. You know what it is about.”
“That’s what I mean, Richie,” pleaded Rob, “You have a billion other drafts. Why didn’t your Captain Leo deliver you the final goods?”
“I didn’t know these stories were the dreams of Merlyn the Magician,” answered Richard truthfully.
“All I am saying is that you wrote from your imagination; consciously or unconsciously.” Robert paused, “Do you remember when we first went to Ripley to see the Underground Railroad?”
“Sure, I was about eight. Grandma and Grandpa took us to show us where John Rankin lived, and to see Liberty Hill, the setting in Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin.” Richard chuckled, “I thought there was going to be a real railroad.”
“So your stories float up from the underground railroad in your head.”
“Look asshole, people still want freedom from slavery.”
“We live in America. We have freedom, buddy boy,” said Robert. “You college towers are all alike. Too much sixties liberal bullshit still whine pressing its way out.”
Richard retorted, “You retired surgeons are conservative pricks.”
“Too many years as slave master over your students is getting to you isn’t it?” countered Robert.
“I wasn’t a slave master. I never had any student do anything I hadn’t already done myself.”
“That’s true, you didn’t. Reader and writer that you are, you forced them to read and write. The slave master misses whipping your dear old freshman expository writing class into order.”
Richard scoffed, “They are not called freshmen anymore. Today we call them First Year students.”
Robert looked down at the short manuscript in the nondescript blue folder and said, “Is this your final draft?”
“One chapter at a time.”
“I’ll read it,” said Robert abruptly.
“It is experimental writing, Rob, just like this is. Surely the poet in you can understand experimental writing.”
“I don’t know why you can’t just stick with poetry,” said brother Robert. “We could publish a book of poems together. This is what we were going to do when you retired.” He looked at the wall of books in the study. “We each have lots of poems. We could find a way to pull from a batch and have them published.”
“I thought golf was more important for retired doctors than getting more poetry published.”
“A different vocation.”
Richard smiled nonchalantly, “Balls and words both cut and slice.”
Robert looked over his glasses after skimming the chapter. “There’s a past and future story in each chapter?”
“Yes, like I told you the other day. Grandma tells the stories then she weaves them into a future fiction. Old Merlyn the Magician is dreaming three stories simultaneously, one in the present, one in the past, and one in the future. The Dead dream like this,” declared Richard with a authority.
“You have the past and future segments here. Where’s the present dream segment?”
I’m reworking it. I will get it to you. Just read “Grandma’s Story” [set] in the past and the marsupial pouch story [set in the future],” stated Richard. He left Robert to read more closely while he went downstairs to see wife and sister-in-law. Of all things, he thought, here we are, two at-odds brothers each married to one of the most compatible of sisters [also identical twins].
[From: Orndorff, Richard H., Braided Dreams, iUniverse Inc., New York, 2007, pp. 5-7. ]
***
You are surprised where you are presently from where you began the blog earlier.
1055 hours. Unbelievable. I am flashing on a book made into a movie, a children’s book. The actor was also in My Dinner with Andre one of my favorite films. . . . Andre Gregory and Wallace Shawn. – Shawn. Okay, Go to Wikipedia. The Princess Bride is the title of the movie, a splendid film! “Inconceivable!” I didn’t even have to look up the script. It just popped up. Unbelievable! Inconceivable! That is my response to the beginning and conclusion (as of now) of this post.
It has become a tradition to go to Longhorn after Carol gives her donation, and you did at Carol’s request. Presently, you are at Kroger’s as Carol wants to make Alta’s famous turkey soup for tomorrow. It is supposed to be a cooler day. You are already looking forward to it. A part of the conversation was on your new Timeline signature on Facebook. Carol is not and does not want to be on Facebook so her name doesn’t come up. “Who were you with?” How does one respond you wonder. – Amorella
I told Carol that “spouse” sounds harsh and “wife” has a subordinate connotation. Life partner popped into my head because that is a better mix, a truer mix really, but the phrase has a connotation that does not apply. Partner Carol sounds okay but not as permanent.
Life partner sounds fine in that is what you hope she will be. When have you let social convention get in your way? – Amorella
I was not thinking about convention I was thinking about being polite and respectful. And, that is what I told Carol. She countered though with a smile and said there were a lot of other words for consideration. What flashed in mind (with her eyes and smile connotation) was “the old butt” in reference to myself. “Who were you with?” “the old butt.)
Are you going to capitalize the “T” in the? – Amorella
I’m thinking. Seems proper to do so, but more realistic-in-context not to capitalize.
It seems proper in context to call Carol your life partner because it is more realistic than not to do so. Those who know Carol would realize “Wife Carol” or “Spouse Carol” would not be a happy read from her perspective, and perhaps even from their own, in Facebook context. – Amorella
This seems so trivial.
The discussion allows you to freely drop the thought as you have made up your mind. Your mind is free of the so called trivial which it really wasn’t. Human beings have a tendency, some of them, to spend half their life debating trivia of one kind or another and never getting over it even in death. You put some examples of this in your book took. Look it up. - Amorella
Wow. Again, an easy find, and in book one too. The “Grandma’s Story” in Chapter Five, and it is quite short and to the point. Here it is.
***
Grandma’s Story – Five
I have a little story that happened several thousand years ago. It was on an island off Southeast Asia. A woman and a man were arguing which of the gods they wanted to place on their porch. The woman’s goddess was kind and generous to a fault, and she thought that it would be appropriate to show the guest, whoever sheorhe was, that the guest is always welcome to their home.
The man replied (the woman always spoke first) that he thought his goddess was best because she was the defender of the home and this would show the guest that although sheorhe was welcome, home security was more important than hospitality. They fought about this situation off and on during the next year. Both homeowners agreed that better no god or goddess than the wrong one.
Now one might think the gods and goddesses would be offended because none stood by the door, but that was not the case. Eventually the couple broke into a really physical battle. She stabbed him with a knife and he struck her with an ax. Both died. Both are still fighting in a place after physical death that I call heavenanhellbothorneither. I don’t think the spiritual remnants of either realizes that even today each is physically dead. This is because the battle continues to be what it is, a metaphysical question. The highly conscious human mind of the once Living continues in a metaphysical state which, depending on your mind set, heavenanhellbothorneither. I see a humor here, but those in battle don’t see it that way. Too bad.
Grandma grinned sharply and added, “Those who consider the mind to be the same weight as the brain it stems from might consider how many human minds can be put on the head of a pen.”
A story state is a quantum state in these two wee quatrains
On how the ethereal mind is separated from the brains.
You measure once, you measure twice, and much to your surprise
How fast and long the logic runs from the brain to theorize.
My goddess here, your god sits there, on a porch long laid bare
The body to the brain is stuck while the mind runs long on unaware
Yet, all the while, from this old Grandma’s toothy gums
Something new, yet familiar, this mind’s way quickly comes.
[Also from: Braided Dreams, Chapter Five, “Grandma’s Story”, pp. 65]
***
Amorella, I forgot about this. I cannot believe I came up with all this stuff out of the blue, but I did. And, each of the three books was completed and published in a year, one year after another for three years.
I came up with it, boy. I am Grandma, you know, as much as I am you. Do you think a slice of rainbow cannot move from one part of the horizon to another? Try to reach rainbow’s end. See what you get. You need to think through Tuesday’s post on the rainbow analogy a bit more. Post when you return home. This time, from the house to Pine Hill Lakes Park to read, not from Kroger’s to the house to drop off groceries. – Amorella
1627 hours. Now I cannot think of anything to say.
You are wondering if this is “pay back” as it were, for your putting the photo of the three/four dimensional checkerboard walled box on your Facebook page this morning, as an experiment no less, to see how the software works. The caption reads, “This is where Merlyn presently is in Chapter Ten”. And, just the other day you said you were concerned with the new FB software as self-serving. What is this ‘new’ chessboard photo if it is not self-serving? These are your words, boy, not mine. I don’t need to say anything. Why is that, do you think? – Amorella
Probably because I don’t want to listen.
What have you learned from your trivial self-inflicted tirade here? – Amorella
I have learned that even if you were a real alien or a real Angel for that matter, that I am too quick to respond when it would be better for myself if I just kept my mouth shut and listened and reflected first.
The difference is, here, at this point in the post, I got the message to you anyway and you still learned from it. – Amorella
Indeed. How do you do that, Amorella? How do you ‘understand’ what I need to learn from any given in-context of bloganbook situation?
I am Amorella, boy. I am not you. Post when you are home and reflect on this until tomorrow. No more today. If I were human you would make me tired, boy. Keep that in mind too. You need to shut up once in a while, sometimes the whole species just needs to shut up mouths, minds, hearts and souls and reflect on what’s left. – Amorella
I want to say something.
Don’t even think about it, boy. Even though your humor is sometimes your only saving grace, don’t say it. - Amorella
2117 hours. Shut up yourself, Amorella. My saving grace is that I don’t have to listen to the voice from my fingertips. I choose not to listen. I would rather hear the whisper of reason within. The whisper of grammar in our physics and our philosophies. I talk too much and sometimes think too little. What else is new? I’m no more a boy than you are. I’m going to bed and get a good night’s sleep. – rho
This better fit in with the story some way such as Merlyn having a talk with Arthur or even with the Supervisor. I don’t care. If it doesn’t relate to the Merlyn books I don’t want to waste the time of putting it down. I am not going to waste the rest of my life talking to myself on paper unless I can put the dialogue to use in a fiction. This is how a writer thinks, this is what a writer does. - rho
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