Later morning. The earlier morning
habits of the day have been take care of, concluding with a pleasantly warm
bath for soaking. Exercises to do, but first on the agenda is dropping in
Grandma-9 before more drafting. - Amorella
***
Grandma's Story - 9 (1st draft)
The
habitat rests in the mind of a human being. In this case, it is an aboriginal
walking alone along the ocean. Her name is Abbatoot. Three thousand years ago
she was walking that beach the same time King Simon was being drawn to death
for revenge.
“You
won’t catch me messing with Mother Nature,” is what young Abbatoot muttered
because a great storm just passed through. She felt lucky to just have lived
through it. An old soothsayer had told the tribe the storm was coming because
he felt it in his elbows and knees and when he felt it in four joints at the
same time he had come to understand it would be one hell of a storm, and that
is he told them. About half the tribe stayed. The other half walked to higher
ground where they felt more protected.
It is very exciting in the moments
of confrontation. Suddenly you feel you may not survive whatever it is Mother
Nature is throwing your way. You begin to realize the weather is not about you.
This is the point when the excitement disappears and people begin praying.
Abbatoot arose from
the debris, as did others. While walking along the beach she came to think that
a half a truth was sometimes more honest than the full truth. Half a truth
leaves room for imagination and wonder, the full truth is a full fact of nature
though some of the full fact remains hidden.
Abbatoot
said to herself, I am four points plus one. Then she observed her right hand
closely. I have five points at the end of each of the four points of limbs. She
added those five points on each limb and gave a separate sound for each of the
twenty points and one more.
A
vision flashed. What would I be without any points at all? She imagined a body
without the limb and point extensions. What would be the point of no limbs and
a head?
Abbatoot glanced her naked body. I
have twenty digits plus two arms and two legs; this equals twenty-four digits,
plus a head and you have twenty-five digits. Plus, I have a nose and two ears
and thus I have twenty-eight digits, men have twenty-nine.
Suddenly, Abbatoot turned around
and headed back to her tribe. She returned to the remains of her devastated
tribe near the beach and said to the Shaman who had suggested they run from the
storm. “I know something I did not know.”
Later, the Shaman sat watching the
beauty of the sunset, amazed at Abbatoot ability to count meaning. Only shamans
knew their eternal ancestors, the Ungambikula, rose up in Dreamtime, before
humans were completely created. The Ungambikula found the humans doubled over
in clumps of shapeless sacks near the water holes and with stone knives the
Ungambikula carved limbs and faces and hands and feet and finished the humans.
After this act was completed the Ungambikula went back into the Earth, into the
eternal great sleep. Only a Shaman could know this great secret yet Abbatoot
had discovered it by counting the digits.
Grandma
laughed, “The Shaman listened and asked questions until the end of his days. On
the last day of his life he suddenly understood what Abbatoot had done. The
last morning of his life Abbatoot came running to the ancient Shaman and said,
“I thought of one more extension, the belly button!”
The
shaman laughed aloud then whispered, “Don’t tell anyone. The belly button is not an extension at all, Abbatoot, it is less than
one."
Grandma bent over and slapped her
thighs, then, as she stood she readjusted her large bosoms unconsciously, and
broke into laughter. "He discovered the zero and took it with him."
The button
is rounder than a digit of one,
And sits
in the belly as a visual lesson.
Today
Abbatoot would be quite a hero
For
witnessing the discovery, the wonderful zero.
Alas, it
was not to be in those ancient times,
But, from
the breath of Grandma it makes a fair rhyme.
681 words
***
I
thought I had 685. Perhaps that includes the title. I had to do some deleting
but I think it is a more focused story. Still needs some work. Yesterday was
pretty good for getting some writing updated. I'm done (talking/writing).
1141 hours. Carol finished her Child's
book last night and I just finished my exercises. Somehow I got carried away
and did much more in the 30 minutes, I've even worked up a sweat, I did
yesterday too. Must be the music, I had Sky 80's cranked a bit (iPad wired to
bedroom Bose speakers). I've doubled some exercises from 30 to 60 and those
from 60 at a time to 100 or 120; that might be doing it too. I still enjoy it
but I think, like anything else, exercise can become habit forming. So, 30
minutes is tops. It was rainy and cloudy, now the clouds are filtering off and
some real sunlight is returning. Lunch and supper are in tonight as we are off
to Westerville tomorrow. Carol is having lunch with Mary Lou and I'm lunching
with Fritz. Class of 1960 gathering Uptown tomorrow evening. I really enjoy
visiting with my former classmates. Carol is having supper with Mary Lou also.
She's invited to go to our evening meal. She has, twice. Fritz's wife, Carol,
comes more often but mostly it is just Fritz and myself. Steve Gardner (part of
the old gang) hasn't been there for a while either. Steve, Doug, Fritz and
myself were a social group; that's what you would call it today, then we were a
gang of high school fellows who liked to hang out with each other individually
and/or together. Seems to me there was someone else. It changed in college, but
many of us still headed to the Casino Pizza as a gathering place, that and the
North and South Heidelberg 'basement beer dives' on High Street, next to The
Ohio State University. Sorry, I'm off in a memory. I forget people can read my
thoughts.
1238 hours. I
think my memory is not always true. I remember events and people but sometimes
I mix times and people with events or incidents. Your "story-telling"
is no doubt the best way for me to express it. I'm sure there are stories
already in the blog that are in error.
You've handled this already but stating that
you are "mostly fiction". In context this lifelong problem with long
and short term memory allows many of your 'thoughts/considerations to come to
the surface 'unfiltered'. Easier, when you are older anyway, when, as you say,
you don't give a damn who reads your mind because you are legally free to blog
it if you wish. You do have some errands to run this afternoon and no doubt you
will stop somewhere so Carol can read and you can write. Why not get some
lunch. We'll finish Grandma-9 today. Post. Amorella
1336 lunch
(ham, cheese, pickles on half a sandwich plus a few wheat chips) and ice water.
We are off to the post office, then down to Reading for a once a year banking
deposit in the Teacher's Union. Jadah
really likes her ham as a snack, almost as much at the afternoon sun. Very
pleasant day; I have had WGUC on for an hour or so (iPad plus living room
speakers}. A few clouds scattered about. Retirement is good because Carol
planned for it well. A home econ major means much more than cooking delicious
dinners and social entertainment issues.
You have run out of things to say. Nothing
is on your mind presently but listening to the music.
I hope I remember the classical
pieces. They were instilled at an early age.
An age is defined by its people and its people
are defined by their age; how else would it be? - Amorella
I don't know. Deconstructing culture
from a human being does not mean it is not important. I love many aspects of
culture but hate and unwarranted violence are not liked, except in fiction.
Both take too much human energy. I am basically a lazy person.
Last night on Facebook you asked an old
classmate what is the most decent book he ever read (this is after he told you
Arms of Krupp was half way decent). You said your number one work is Paradise
Lost. He said his was the Bible, and that was the end of that. Right? -
Amorella
I replied: "I like fiction best.
To each his own. Have a good evening." Something close to that. What else
was I going to say?
Post. - Amorella
Mid-afternoon. False trip to Reading
as the Credit Union is closed on Wednesdays. It was a fun ride though, because
you haven't been down Reading Road through Sharonville and Evendale for quite a
while. Presently you are at Pine Hill in a different parking lot, looking north
towards the grass, trees, and water tower. Carol is reading a food magazine
today. Let's work on Grandma-9. - Amorella
1651 hours. We arrived home. I did a
couple of chores for tomorrow's trip to Westerville and just completed Grandma
- 9.
You are waiting for my okay. The story is
much better, but as with all of these, near final draft means just that. Time
to move on to Pouch - 9. Drop in the story and post. - Amorella
***
Grandma's Story - 9 ©2013, rho - nfd
Grandma
here. Storms are a part of human life. People deal with them one way or another
because they have no choice. All kinds of storms, you can look their names and
descriptions in various places. The young woman in this story confronts her
survival of such a storm through creative contemplation while walking along the
natural beach on the present continent of Australia.
The
youthful woman is an aboriginal walking alone. Her name is Abbatoot. Three
thousand years ago she was walking the beach about the same time King Simon was
being murdered for revenge.
“You
won’t catch me messing with Mother Nature,” is what young Abbatoot muttered
because a great storm just passed through. She felt lucky to just have lived
through it. An old shaman had told the tribe the storm was coming because he
felt it in his elbows and knees and when he felt it in four joints at the same
time he had come to understand it would be one hell of a storm, and that is he
told them. About half the tribe stayed. The other half walked to higher ground
where they felt more protected.
It is very exciting in the moments
of confrontation with Mother Nature in a fury. Suddenly one may feel sheorhe
may not survive whatever it is nature is throwing your way. A firsthand witness
may begin to realize the weather is not about the observer. This is the point
when the excitement disappears and people begin praying.
Abbatoot arose from
the debris, as did others. While walking along the beach she came to think
about the old shaman's warning and that a half a truth was sometimes more
honest than the full truth. Half a truth leaves room for imagination and
wonder; the full truth is a full of it though some of the fullness appears to
remain hidden until much later.
Abbatoot
said to herself, I survived I am still four limbs plus one. Then she observed
her right hand closely. I have five points at the end of each of the four
limbs. She added those five points on each limb and gave a separate sound for
each of the twenty points and one more.
A
vision flashed. She remembered that a couple of the people in the storm who did
not survive were missing body parts. What would I be without any points at all?
She imagined a body without the limb and point extensions. What would be the
point of no limbs and a head?
Abbatoot glanced her naked body. I
have twenty digits plus two arms and two legs; this equals twenty-four digits,
plus a head and you have twenty-five digits. Plus, I have a nose and two ears
and thus I have twenty-eight digits, men have twenty-nine.
Suddenly, Abbatoot turned around
and headed back to her tribe. She returned to the remains of half of devastated
tribe that did not heed the warning to clear the beach. She had a sudden
revelation: “I now realize something I
did not.”
Later, the Shaman sat watching the
beauty of the sunset, amazed at Abbatoot ability to count meaning with body
parts. He realized that shamans had not made the association. What surprised
him the most is that he knew the Ungambikula, rose up in Dreamtime, before
humans were completely created. The Ungambikula found the humans doubled over
in clumps of shapeless sacks near the water holes and with stone knives the
Ungambikula carved limbs and faces and hands and feet and finished the humans.
After this act was completed the Ungambikula went back into the Earth, into the
eternal great sleep. Only a Shaman could know this great secret yet Abbatoot
had discovered it by counting the digits.
Grandma
laughed, “The Shaman listened and asked questions. Later that year on the last
morning of his life he suddenly understood what Abbatoot magic really had in
her head. The last morning of his life Abbatoot ran to the ancient Shaman and
said, “I thought of one more extension, the belly button!”
The
shaman laughed aloud then whispered, “Don’t tell anyone. The belly button is not an extension at all, Abbatoot it is less than
one. It is a zilch, a nada, a diddly-squat."
Grandma bent over and slapped her
thighs, then, as she stood she readjusted her large bosoms unconsciously, and
broke into laughter. "He discovered the zero and took it with him."
The button
is rounder than a digit of one,
And sits
in the belly as a visual lesson.
Today
Abbatoot would be quite a hero
For
witnessing the discovery, the wonderful zero.
Alas, she
was not to be that clever in those ancient times,
But, from
the breath of old Grandma it makes a fair rhyme.
795 words
***
You had leftovers for supper and
watched the DVRed Castle and NCIS for drama, action and entertainment. -
Amorella
2123 hours. We watched them for
character study and plot mostly. NCIS had an unpleasant surprise and Castle was
more typically entertaining. We like our shows, mostly for character and plot. I
was thinking about Pouch-9 but I am not sure -- character and plot are
certainly what it is about. First, what does Friendly do to show who she is. In
the original she strips naked so that an earthling can see her for what she is,
but she has no breasts on her chest and her pubic hair travels up to the top of
the pouch. The little African fellow thinks she is wearing 'tights' of some
sort.
***
First Encounter: 1988
(Marsupials and Earthlings)
Edited by
Friendly
Earth Day: 14
June 1988
Fragment
A
I,
who was about to be known ever afterwards as Friendly, the First, was about to
peel my invisibility suit of blackanot off when the human Mexito respectfully
walked passed one of his partners, Marianne, and headed directly towards me.
How he detected me in advance was never made clear. Mexito is a very unusual
human. The four, two women, Marianne and Karlina and the two men, Mexito and
Marianne were the only known survivors on the planet. I floated from within the
flushed reddish hue surrounding me as I stepped to solid Earth for the first
time.
I immediately became the first official visitor from HomePlanets
to Earth. I spread my arms, hands, and fingers wide to signify friendship.
However, Marianne imagined me an angel of her Godofamily. Marianne later
commented that she believed she was in the presence of an angel whose skin
reflected burnt reddish color of a sunrise. Though from their points of view,
the sun had already set on their species a year earlier.
Mexito’s
noted the angel-woman (myself) had a wide horizontal pocket beneath, and he
observed my a bare chest with light, baby-like hair covering flesh and ribs,
but showing no breasts and nipples, he assumed I was wearing a body suit and
was not naked at all. When I later discovered his error, I was surprised and
upset he and the others did not recognize my nakedness. I had no weapons which
was the point of the demonstration. I never dreamed Mexito would consider me an
angel. Mexito did not speak standard English well and though this is not
representative of his true dialect, we decided to use this as a reminder of that
fact as well as for clarity.
Mexito
recollected: “When I shake angel’s hand, I surprised she be warmer and wetter
than me. The angel from hole-in-the-air have a dark pad of short, fine curl
hairs on her belly suit. Dark curl hair follow the pouch to the crotch like her
suit be ruffled from her falling. Her fingers be soft and clean with short cut
nails. She be having five fingers on each hand like me. She be having two feet,
each with five toes, two ankles, tow legs, torso, two forearms, two elbows.
Angel be having a rib cage, and two shoulder blades just like me. The angel-lady
be with broad and joyful smile of shiny white teeth. Angel-lady’s neck be same
with me, and she be having wholesome ears and nose attached below her kindly
face. She be the prettiest of angels, and she be whispering wordless secrets to
me.”
Mexito
continued from our dictation: “Angel-lady be having emerald and wet eyes,
especially her right eye be wet with feelings as I see her directly as she be.
Her right, thin eyebrow be raised, and she be having a woman’s hair on her
head. I watch rosy skin color fade as she be borne-in-the-air, but standing on
ground she be having a cut and bruise near blood running on lower left ear. I
wonder how angel blood feel, and she let me touch. It be warm like my blood so
I be thinking she be a lady-angel instead of angel-lady. She be a striking,
lady glorious, a sky mother who come to life from hole-in-the-air.”
This
shows Mexito’s nature best. Mexito can be words alone. He is that honest and
clear-thinking. Fargo and I grew to love him best. For all our civilization and
technology the human reader can add at least an extra twenty-thousand years to
your own. Yet, in our own ideal we would like to be as Mexito in our hearts. We
think this is an interesting factual observation of ourselves. When we observe
others of another species, we learn about ourselves as well.
Slightly Edited From: Braided Dreams, "Pouch Text",
Chapter Four
***
The above is obviously not going to happen
twice for so many varied reasons and dime
nsions. - Amorella
I know. However, I have no idea how
this serendipitous event is going to happen since it cannot be staged. It has
to just fall into place.
Why don't we let the falling begin in this
segment? - Amorella
How can it be serendipitous with a
conscious plan?
Now, there's a question for you as well as
Yermey. Good night, orndorff. Post - Amorella
If Yermey has a plan then it must really appear serendipitous.
Then, let it be, orndorff. Let Yermey worry about it. Go to bed. - Amorella
No comments:
Post a Comment