Mid-morning.
You have completed your exercises and are sitting on the balcony. You observe
three bands of color in the Gulf rather than blotches of the same this morning;
three lines of blue and three of green between. The half moon is thirty-five or
so degrees above the horizon and not a cloud in sight from your vantage point.
1015
hours. I was remembering catching a large pike on an island at Moose Lake
(upper Ontario about a hundred miles south of Hudson Bay) when I was about
twelve. The bait was a six inch long inch in diameter fish. The pike grabbed it
like a dog would a bone. Dad laughed and said I would never catch a fish that
way but before it was over I had caught it. The greedy teeth and scales wanted
it all and we had him for dinner. I think it was the juxtaposition of the
surprisingly strong tug of very sharp teeth and the usual, Father's,
"never," that caught most of my attention. That's the way I remember
it anyhow. And, I can't help but remember that downward 'tug' event when I used
the washer and the string with the top of the string pressed between my right
thumb and forefinger. That event happened more than once. It is somewhere in a
long line of notes composed in the late eighties and early nineties. It was as
if a small fish, a bluegill was nibbling and would take a strike, always
straight downward. The string would be taut for a second, never longer that I
can remember. I felt the downward tug in my fingers. I observed the string.
Then it would stop. Sometimes I was spooked by it and wonder if an angel were
involved, then the pensive time, a good or evil angel. How could one such as I
discern the difference? (1036)
Early
afternoon and you and Carol are reading at the McD dock just east of the Tom
Stuart Causeway Drawbridge on SR 666. Again you are in the first parking slot
north under the oak and two palms facing the multitude of docking spaces beyond
those of McDonald's. Carol is on page 500 of Patricia Cornwell's Red Mist
and will finish it today. Linda and Bill are coming over for dinner and you are
eating out, probably at the Conch Republic as it is one of Bill's favorite
places. Let's get to the Dead-7. - Amorella
1559
hours. I have another 200 and some words.
Place what you have together then post. -
Amorella
The Dead - 7 (wkg. draft 3)
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, northern 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.
The
billiard table rises. Merlyn stares at the bunched balls near the side rail.
The yellow one sets to the left of the orange striped thirteen and the purple
striped twelve ball. To the right of the striped are three solids, the blue two,
green six and maroon seven. What is the meaning of how these balls lay, he
wonders. Am I like the ancient Greek prognosticator stirring up the recent
entrails of intention within my romantic mind or an astrologer looking at the
alignment of billiard ball rumination rather than the cognation behind this
illusionary table of the mind. Yet what am I to see in this would be reflected
as a vision by any other name but my own.
"You
are captivated by my presence, Merlyn," said Vivian in a clearly
suggestive voice."
It
is as though she were facing me within this intimate interval with my heart
alone, thought the one time Celtic sorcerer and bard.
"Which
of these vividly hued balls would you have me be when I am more myself as your
table on which to dress your endearingly passionate contemplations -- no need
of cue stick or balls with me, my dear man," winked this enlightened, shrewd
and otherwise foxy tailed apparition of Merlyn's first woman of druidic stature.
-
378 words
***
After
supper at the Daiquiri Shak and pleasant conversation at the condo Linda and
Bill left for home. You two are watching a new "Rizzoli & Isles"
at nine. Take a break. No more tonight. Get some sleep, boy. - Amorella
Get
some sleep, what a play on words Amorella.
You are both tired. - Amorella
What
is the rest of the 'plot' about in Dead-7?
Merlyn is remembering Vivian's last words to
him in life when she appears for real, as real as anyone is dead and conscious,
and they find themselves tied together as souls first not hearts and learn a
truth about how some couples are born already attached. Twinning if you will in
the metaphysical world. - Amorella
This
is the first I have heard of it, or at least the first I remember of such a
condition. It appears rather last minute and unorthodox at first thought, a deus ex machina, if you will.
Heartsansouls aren't affected by such
conditions but such twinning is as burning the candlewick at both ends.
Tomorrow is soon enough to see a romantic event sideways rather than head on. - Post. Amorella
No comments:
Post a Comment