1004
hours. Sitting on the balcony after doing my exercises for thirty minutes or
so. Happy birthday to Muse One, a young lady I knew as a senior student in
1984, a personable office aide who once asked me, "Mr. Orndorff, what is
love?" I assume she knows by now, at least she should know as much as I
do. Never could bring myself to tell her directly because I didn't know the
proper words to use, still don't. Happy Birthday, Kym! Wherever you are.
You
are at the Premier Outlets shopping mall on the southeast corner of the I-75
Ellington SR 301 exit sipping on a large diet Coke waiting for Carol in the
shade of a large oak that is dropping its acorns, one popped through the open
window after backing in. You are facing west, Chico's, one of Carol's favorite
stores and where you dropped her off, is about a hundred yards ahead of you.
The sky by now is partly cloudy and the sky beyond them through a lower angled
sunlight is a Florida December blue.
1233 hours. I usually wait at McD's for free
wireless but it is too busy today, besides Carol knows where I am parked in
case her phone doesn't work. While waiting at McD's I write a quick note to
girlfriend from junior high school days, Kay, identical twin of Ann. We keep in
touch about once a month or so. In junior high it was my fantasy that I would
marry Kay, and my old friend Doug would marry Ann, that way we would all remain
friends. What is fine at seventy we are all still friends even though we all
married different people. Old friends and new are all part of a good life,
that's the way I see it. This old Oak keeps dropping acorns on the car every so
often, to let me know she's still here I suppose. She reminds me of Merlyn and
his sitting in this sanctuary under another Oak, one of a fifth kind as it has
a metaphysical presence. Wow. Bombarded with five or six acorns as a gust of
wind dropped by to shake a limb or two. And, what do you know, a small Oak leaf
just landed on the keyboard. Is this a sign or what?
A playful thought, boy, but one never knows
when dealing with Grandma in the flesh, so to speak. Time to drop in on Merlyn and
see what he is about in chapter seven of 'The Dead'. - Amorella
1250 hours. I had to get a picture of the oak leaf
and acorn setting on the keyboard.
The photo makes it more real I suppose. -
Amorella
No, the photo is a reminder of how it is with
Mother Nature. Besides, the photo can now be embedded within my MacAir flash
drive as well as sit on top of the keyboard. I sense the analogy enough to now
let it go.
Mid-afternoon
and you have returned to Madeira Beach to sit in the car under an Oak and two
palms looking out at the McD's pier near the drawbridge on SR. 666 and before
Publix's. You now understand a reason for the summaries as you are looking over
those of The Dead chapters one through six. - Amorella
Yes. I see good reason for them to keep my mind on
each chapter sectional focus. How did you realize this need before I consciously
did?
I am more observant, boy, plus I do not have
your distractions. Are you expecting more? - Amorella
No, I'm fine with it. Carol is just beginning
chapter twenty-nine of Red Mist and I am about to begin Dead-7. I am not
sure where to begin.
Merlyn who has been sitting on his rock
chair is walking over to the stream remembering how he loved to fish. His
favorite 'lifetime river-catches' from around the Isle and France can still be
seen but he has no interest in catching them for a second time. Memory made
real is on his mind and he wonders how it is for Vivian and when she will stop
by to witness his renewed sanctuary and position among the Dead. 'Vivian was
always in my daydreams when fishing,' is his passing thought. - Amorella
Very good, Amorella. Truly, it is. Carol finished
her chapter and is ready to leave. (1557)
Home for a nap. Up for the sunset and ready
for the news. Later, dude. - Amorella
1952 hours. I have an introduction to Dead-7.
The Dead - 7 (1st draft intro)
Merlyn
stood by the rock chair in his sanctuary and turned west through the heather,
oak and birch speculating on the immediate return of lifelong fishing memories
in the river. From heart or mind I, Merlyn, see familiar great catches of
salmon, trout, shad, flounder, northern pike and arctic charr from rivers and
lakes of the Isles and the European Frankish Empire. The sizes, shapes and
colors of the many a sportsman's fish slid away like bait and the common
thoughts and daydreams on fishing days took their hold in Merlyn's mind.
Youthful fantasies stirred through nature's lonely and sometime surreal
surroundings in a budding shaman's heartanmind.
***
2145 hours. The
muse dances within this second draft.
The Dead - 7 (intro. draft 2)
Merlyn
stands by the chair rock in his sanctuary and turning to his west, looks
through the heather and between oak and birch to the cold river water. He
conjures lifelong memories of fishing from such rivers. I see exciting flashes
of great catches of salmon, trout, pike and arctic charr. The size, shape and
colors of the many fish quickly slide away. They are but bait for memories grab
at those many daydreams while on those fishing days. Youthfully fantasies
stirred my body's male nature through lonely and sometime surreal surroundings
hot kettled in my budding druidic heartanmind. What be the name that is
alphabetized first, Vivian. We are such human creatures of familiar habits --
toys we are to one another whether in embrace or no. Such souls as we dance
within our heartsanminds so close we are that might we share sanctuaries
unknown to one another, especially in such a place as this bridge from
deadanliving to the living.
***
Real enough isn't it, old man? Such youthful
and not so youthful of your romantic dreams squeezed of such a wordy half
fictional juice. - Amorella
Nor will you. Post. - Amorella
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