Up early. Breakfast, the paper and a nap
after playing 'laser light' with the cats, exercises and email.
1123 hours. That pretty much
takes care of it Amorella. Blue skies. We had a very pretty full moon last
night, a night sky that is moving towards Spring. -- I need to get back into
Dead 13.
Nothing's stopping you, boy. - Amorella
1141 hours. My fingers moved,
sliding words down the page. I just got through these lines:
** **
"What
did you see? A soul is what it is, a shroud, a covering protecting
heartanmind."
"That
is what we are told but I saw something different."
** **
My
fingers stopped. Nothing came to mind as to what Vivian saw as Merlyn
disappeared from Avalon; nothing but the flash image of a perfectly normal
single brown walnut. (1145)
You suddenly remember the skin of the aliens
in your hypnotic adventure before birth. - Amorella
Yes, the alien skin looked and
felt like pine cone. I think I am making up the 'touching-an-alien'. It was as
skin though not armor plate. I cannot -- I am going through the animal kingdom
thinking on what animal it was like to touch -- gray elephant skin, like
patting the back of an African elephant. Okay, I suppose this can be useful
some place in the story but not here.
** **
How about, "You were evaporating
quickly and took the form a gray pine cone and then shrank to a brown walnut
floating at navel height. I reached out and touched the walnut, which was becoming
gray again; it was leathery like touching the back of an African elephant. I
knew then that it was your soul because that is how I imagine your soul to
be." - Amorella . . .
Merlyn
laughed aloud, "Leathery."
"Do
you remember me touching you?"
"You
are within me already. Touching would assume you were not within," replied
Merlyn earnestly.
"I
felt your leathery passion, Merlyn. I felt your soul's fuel if not your soul
itself."
"What
a strange thing to say, Vivian, that my passion is leathery."
"Like
an elephant's, thick, like on an elephant's back."
** **
1233
hours. I finished Dead 13. I didn't know what to expect in this. I like the
'showing' though of how friends come and go, sometimes fleeting like in this
segment, fleeting but real nevertheless.
Drop Dead 13 in and post, boy. No doubt you
have some errands to do today and perhaps lunch out. - Amorella
***
The Dead 13 ©2001-2013 rho,
It
is a pleasure to awaken in this bed that is very much a memory of my adolescent
days in life. A few blankets across a few wooden planks attached to four legs
created from tree trunks. My pillow is a forearm in width and two hands high. Those
of you who know of Thoreau and his cabin at Walden's Pond that's about the size.
The exterior dimensions of Thoreau's cabin were ten by fifteen feet. Mine is
about the same but without the physical reality. Before we go any further the
Living need to know a few of the rules we Dead have; particularly if my memory
serves me well enough to return to Avalon or Elysium.
We
Dead have particular rules we attempt to follow for a general social order to
occur. For instance if one is walking it is helpful to walk on a path that
delivers you from point A to point B. We are more ridged than you the Living
might think. We must conform to the way things are. First, we have to realize
who we are, who we really are. These are self-evident truths the Living may
deny for a lifetime. Like Alice, you have to pass through the Looking Glass to
enter our domain.
We
Dead survive for what Ends? We like the Living do not know. We attempt to be
social while we wait though we have choice. We have the right to mature while
we wait.
We
Dead have a set of ethics focusing basically on the four cardinal virtues:
temperance, courage, justice and prudence. These four are woven within the
circulation of heartansoulanmind as blood was circulated throughout the body in
life. The more giving the spirit is in these four virtues the freer one is,
that is, the more transparent the spirit is, the more the spirit is as the soul
from which it came, unseen but known and understood within one's humanity.
We
Dead, wait, enjoying the learning, enjoying the company of others who always
remind us of who we are as we grow or do not grow. To live, as it were,
trafficking The Golden Rule within our own stuffing.
We
Dead who rose from clay; we are Dead and still Alive and our Judgments stay our
own.
"Says
you," interrupted Vivian.
Merlyn
smiled as if he were let in on a joke, "How long have you been here, my
love?"
"As
long as necessary. Where were you going with your monologue?"
"I
forget. I lost my train of thought."
"You
were thinking on how much energy it took to move from Avalon to Elysium. It
nearly wore you out."
"It
wore me down to nothing and that was before I left Avalon."
"I
watched you leave."
"I
did not know that."
"Your
soul took you."
"How
do you know it was not my heart?"
"Only
your soul could move like that."
"What
did you see? A soul is what it is, a shroud, a covering protecting
heartanmind."
"That
is what we are told but I saw something different. You
were evaporating quickly and took the form a gray pinecone and then shrank to a
brown walnut floating at navel height. I reached out and touched the walnut,
which was becoming gray again; it was leathery like touching the back of an
African elephant. I knew then that it was your soul because that is how I
imagine your soul to be."
Merlyn
laughed aloud, "Leathery."
"Do
you remember me touching you?"
"You
are within me already. Touching would assume you were not within," replied
Merlyn earnestly.
"I
felt your leathery passion, Merlyn. I felt your soul's fuel if not your soul itself."
"Like
an elephant's, thick, like the skin on an elephant's back," reiterated
Vivian. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Bye, Merlyn."
Merlyn
chuckled. "Things are like this among the Dead. Heartsansoulsanminds
come and go like thoughts of friends among the Living. Here thoughts come
across more real and are acted out between two or among three or more; up to a
group of a dozen or so friends. You Living know how this is, people show up in
a flash, you have a good time, and then they say their good-byes and are gone.
Not much different here, except I heard Vivian's voice as if she were standing
next to me. And, I felt her arm on my back and she gave me a kiss on the cheek.
I felt those lips. I will never forget Vivian's lips and her passion. Never. No
leather in her passion, I'll tell
you." He smiled contentedly.
785 words
***
You had a late lunch at Smashburgers and are
reading in the car facing north behind the Miami University extension in the
Voice of America Park, which in the old Cold War days was the VOA -Bethany
Station. "The Brothers 13" is next on the docket. - Amorella
1445 hours. 'Docket' is not a
word used often. I can't remember the last time I used the word. Checked out
the origin on the Oxford American and it says "The word originally denoted
a short summary or abstract; hence, in the early 18th century, 'a document
giving particulars of a consignment.'" I did not know that. I think of a
docket as a list not as a document. Very cool, I learned something. -- I spent some time putting the
original Brothers 13 and Grandma 13 on separate documents for their respective
new folders. The Brothers 13 is 1177 words in length. I don't know whether I
can use any of it or not. (1459)
You getting paid by the hour, boy? -
Amorella
No, I'm not getting paid at all
rather than the creative fun and passion of writing things down -- dockets of
sentences as it were. I just like to see how long it takes to write a paragraph
one in a while. After all these are notes. This is a conditional and existential
experiment in writing, so why not.
Carol was telling you about conspiracy in
The Jefferson Key; she stopped on page 225. Now you are at Kroger's on
Tylersville waiting for her. You used to go in with her but you have a tendency
to pick up more or the wrong kind of food than is needed so it is better that
you let her shop by herself or you shop by yourself. Let's go over Brothers 13
and see what we can do with it. - Amorella
You are home and
have some time. - Amorella
1708
hours. I have completed Brothers 13, it is darker than the original.
Add and post, boy. Carol wants to watch a
television show. - Amorella
***
The Brothers 13, © 2001-2013 rho, nfd
Robert
sat on the couch staring at his brother’s bare feet. “You need to trim those
nails,” he said.
Richard
glanced down, “They look fine to me. Give them another couple of weeks. Why do
you wear socks all the time?”
“I
feel better in socks.”
“What
have you found in your genealogy files different than what I have?”
Robert
picked up the paper. “This old letter from Oxford Ancestors, it says, ‘ . . .we
cannot identify your Y-chromosome as being of Norse Viking by the criteria outlined
above. It is much more likely that your Y-chromosome has been inherited from a
paternal ancestor who belonged to one of the ancient Celtic tribes that lived
in Britain and Ireland before the Vikings arrived at the end of the eighth
century AD.’”
“Grandpa
was sure we had Viking blood in us. He always said we were related to Ragnar
the Dane.”
Robert
snickered, “He told me we were related to Abu Hubba, the Viking. And that there
were records of Abu traveling as far away as the Tigris and Euphrates.”
Richard
pulled another file. “Well, then there is this old family name Balduh on Grandpa’s great grandmother’s
side. It sure looks Scandinavian to me. The h
was probably a hard c or a k. Balduk
sure looks Germanic. Something right out of the ancient Norse sagas or Beowulf.”
“Balduk could have been Baldacci then it
would appear Italian,” noted Robert whose interest was quickly waning. I would
rather dissect a corpse than a language, thought Robert. He continued, “Well,
it was the great grandmother’s side not the great grandfather’s. The male line
has always been the only one legitimate on the Isles, right?”
“Of course,” cracked Richard. Both laughed sardonically. “I'm hungry. Do
you want some ice cream?”
“What do you have, Robbie?”
“Not here. Let’s go Uptown to the DQ or Graeter’s.”
“How about stopping at the college bookstore first?”
“That’s fine,” said Richard. “What are you looking for?”
My poem,” replied Robert in his typical deadpan manner.
“I need to get this Merlyn series done,” said Richard in an irritated
tone.
“Three books. It’ll be years until you redo that trilogy.”
Richard
scratched his nose and looked for his shoes. “You work a long time, then you
retire. I like having a project or two. That is what is good about genealogy. I
can dabble in Grandpa’s notes one day then work on my book the next.”
“You
just like writing about our hometown,” said Robert.
“It
is just like everyone else’s hometown. Familiar landmarks, different street and
place names. People have their uptown or downtown businesses that last a long
time, doctors, dentists and the like. Groceries or food markets that people are
familiar special areas occupying peoples’ lives. One town is as good as any
another for a setting.” Richard paused, “Where are we going again?”
“Bookstore,
then the DQ I guess, if you still want to go.”
Richard
replied quickly, “I’ll drive.”
“Remember, in
high school we used to borrow Grandpa’s VW a lot.” Robert laughed, “it had
those pop open back windows and a nearly non-existent heater.”
Later
the two sat, one with a small chocolate cone and the other with small chocolate
malt. Both faced north looking at the old Riverton High School they attended in
the late nineteen fifties. “There’s our sophomore homeroom,” pointed Richard.
“Yeah,
I never got in trouble in that room, but you did,” commented Robert.
“True.
I got three whacks in the principal’s office for talking. That wouldn’t happen
today.”
“We
thought we were going to be nuked by the Russians. It hasn’t come to it, but
eventually we will be nuked by one set of terrorists or another.”
“Nuked
or plagued,” added Richard.
“Yep.
Nuked or plagued. That’s the way it will be.”
Richard
smiled, “Not many places to hide either.”
“New
Zealand would be a good spot.”
"Yeah,"
said Richard without much enthusiasm as his mind had begun running over the
characters and plot of Nevil Shute's On the Beach. Shute created a
novel out of Eliot's words in "The Hollow Men"
This is the
way the world ends
Not with a
bang but a whimper.
It
was a dark, dark novel, reflected Richard matter-of-factly, still surprised
that the world survived those Cold War times; and the 1959 film was just as
dark. It had Gregory Peck, Ava Gardner, Fred Astaire and Anthony Perkins in the
leads; directed by Stanley Kramer. The setting was 1964 and in the black and
white film no one was going to survive the radiation, not in Australia, New
Zealand, Argentina or South Africa. Not one human being survives. How did we
ever make it this long without a nuclear war? I have no idea.
790 words
***
Left over Papa John's pizza for supper
and two DVRed programs watched: a "NCIS-LA", last week's "Castle"
as well as the nightly news. Tomorrow you both have routine dental appointments
late morning. You are ready to work on Grandma 13, which also has a little over
1100 words in the original. Let's go. - Amorella
2218 hours. I have worked and reworked
Grandma 13 several times. Nothing comes from it.
Study
the sixth century history of the setting, the source of the great and sacred
Krishna River. Something will evolve to evoke a passion for the place and time.
The same four characters, Malabar, Thar, Goa and Comorin will then spring to
life for you. - Amorella
No comments:
Post a Comment