Mid-morning. You just finished your walk,
this time on the east side of the bigger lake. Carol is still walking and
picking up trash along the way; not a lot of trash, mostly small errors in
judgment or accident lying on the grass. - Amorella
0926
hours. I took another picture of two to add to Dead 18. I don't feel it is as
complete as could be at this stage; a slight refurbishing is all. Carol, one of
my former students from Whitehall-Yearling linked in yesterday. Good to see her
connection. Former students bring a trickle of deep joy to the surface, each a natural
note of a thirty-seven year old song unsung that is the essential meaning in
mind.
Lady
by the lake, that's another phrase needed in Dead 18. The humor is in the juxtaposition
of the title with the event, no one appears dead in the content that's for
sure. Very funny. My kind of romance.
Fewer readers this way around, but it is the
way you like it; strange, don't you think, to be a writer who does not wish to
be read. - Amorella
A good
parallel juxtapostioning, Amorella. It may appear as odd, but my natural
element is working the words like some people arrange flowers, except it is my
own private garden; well, mostly private in plain sight. That's funny too.
Humor abides as gravity in the soul.
Ah, and tug it does on Vivian and Merlyn.
They are attached at the tail end of the soul. What do you think of that? -
Amorella
A
squirrelly tail told by a dreamer working his heartansoulanmind? What first,
Amorella, in these books and blog?
Alas, you are as Merlyn, working the mind
first, then heartansoul or soulanheart, round and round she goes where she
stops nobody knows, says the wall to the floorboards. - Amorella
Path up
to exit for Vivian
(Vivian's
Perspective)
Path
Vivian Exits
(Merlyn's
Perspective)
1205 hours. This second draft is better.
Add and post. - Amorella
***
The Dead 18, ©2013,rho,2nd draft
Vivacious
and uncommonly fourteen, I am young in years but half a divine moonth along in
years rather than days, deliberated a brooding lipped Vivian. I am as a babe
though unslaughterable and ready for the capturing this grandfatherly-aged
Merlyn, this great Bard and Druid of our Caledonia. Her thin soft white linen
robe draped suggestively tight or loose where welcome for a visual shadowy
enrichment the dark triangle outlined below and subtle fresh fruit-sized
bosoms, taut nippled to further enhance Merlyn's questing imagination. Glancing
down her breasts tingled of the goosiest of small bumps, each as a firm faery
stem ready to flower.
Happily
glad, trooping seelings, the blessed faeries, conjure me a-musing . . . wondrously
and sprite-like they, a piloerection of tiny hairs about to shoot a feminine succulents
for capturing love's quick aroma in my elderly Master Druid's most deserving
nostrils.
I,
a druidess spectacular, swell in mind, shape-shifting my supple young heart to
sway to the natural craving of our two druidic souls to reunite from Beyond and
to intertwine in the ancient and naked ways. As a tune in intuitive grace we
shall be one and invisible but for the subtlest sighs of a gentle breeze at
play among the highest leaves of the Oak.
Bay
tree laurels, like reason, are not for this momentary crowning. Pray today, no
victors here but for Merlyn's nearby plowing of my wholesome wet earth. A
virginal seeding most uncommon in this generation is not so much a soulful
clutching as the outreach of hot passion from my soulanheart.
It
is this enraptured youthful wish of mistaking mind for heart that leads young
Vivian into the gravest error, an accident of unforeseen and unpredictable
circumstance. Faeries, Vivian should have known, have greater trooping smiles
in a spiritedness bordering on lasciviousness compounded by obsession rather
than love-in-reason which in this earthly reality all living consciously are
bound.
She
stands, a young lady by the lake, ready to walk up and out the forest path exit
ready to greet the man she has known for lifetimes but never once on earth.
Merlyn,
likewise, stands a pace or two from the forest path entrance like a physics experiment ready for quantum
entanglement, Merlyn's soul instilled in heartansoulanmind has no need of
memory. Merlyn feels his recent dreams are manifestations of Divine Justice
whether he thinks it so or not.
In
an earlier time, in life, I was sitting on a recently fallen log minding my own
business wondering how I would think as the second common element, air.
Everyone knows how it is to be made of earth and neither fire or water would be
so fully comfortable for the burning up or running off. Air; there is nothing
so intimate, long lasting and invisible. What I could be and do? He smiled
contented, knowing intuitively that to be naked and running the woods invisibly
clothed in Air the most free and natural of Aristotle's four. The breathe of
God will be my Heaven. That was my wish in those days when I measured
thirty-six years.
Waiting
for the white dressed druidess by the lake Merlyn brushed the back of his head
as if an ant had fallen from a tree leaf and was taking flight. My virginity
contains naturally cultivated creative powers and one day I will know what it
is to be invisible. On that day I shall become the sovereign's Arch Druid's master.
In
the interval Merlyn glanced through himself to see the billiard table clean and
empty of balls and he wondered if it is fair and just that reasonable cause and
effect appeared to be eluding him. How can it be that when I think on my first
meeting with Vivian there are no balls on the slate? This is how it is in
heartansoulanmind?
I
am thirty-six and a virgin and this would-be-druidess is fourteen and not. We
are about to meet for the first time. I see her stealthily walking through the
woods two arms outstretched from the lake's touch. She knows I see her for more
than she is, a true druidess in the making. He glanced down and saw two goose
feathers, one pointed towards her and the other pointed towards him.
This is a sign. How can it be we share
the same pinion feathers when they point quill point opposite and are goose
feathers untouched? Is this event to be calligraphic as our two minds meet?
Minds to hearts and hearts to souls -- this is the practice for full sharing.
Open-minded I am and I am ready for almost anything but losing my
self-discipline to the material world.
775 words
***
Mid-afternoon.
You are at Kroger's on Tylersville waiting on Carol to pick up a prescription
for her poison ivy after a quick visit with Dr. Merlin in north Montgomery
earlier. A late lunch at Potbelly's and you are heading home after. You are
beginning to think about Brothers 18 and wonder on the notebook you noted had
Bob left you setting out on the top of your desk in the basement.
1449
hours. When we came back from Cleveland on Tuesday I was in the basement
turning the water heater up and the water line to the ice cube maker on. I saw
it on top of Kim's old desk, actually my mother's old desk from the 1940's.
'Maybe there's something useful for Brothers 18' I flashed at the time.
A 'flash' is different than a 'thought' even
an intuitive thought. When you 'flash' something, it appears to come from
nowhere whereas intuition comes from or seems to come from somewhere within the
front of the brain. . . . The last lines of Brothers 17 are:
** **
"I'm
sure Connie and Cyndi know. They made the choice as to who was marrying whom
not us. You do know that don't you Richie?"
"I
guess. I don't really like to think on it. The girls used their free will; to
each, marriage was an existential act, but for us marriage was a kind of
indifference." Caught in the embarrassment, both laughed nervously.
"It
is like they were the identical twins, not us," quipped Rob unexpectedly.
"Very
bizarre." Both laughed. Richie shook his head, "Never thought of it
like that. Hey, we both loved both girls equally. I don't think it really made
any difference."
"And
still do."
"Very
odd. Sometimes life almost doesn't seem real does it? I mean here we are,
seventy years old sitting on a park bench watching the birds."
"It's
real enough, bro. Wait until we get home." Both laughed knowingly.
From conclusion of Brothers
17
** **
1459
hours. The focus was on most everyone surviving the Cuban Missile Crisis. The
boys are without the girls. So this segment will have both or mostly the girls
talking about the boys I assume. What is this segment about and how does it fit
in with Merlyn and Vivian?
Later
in the afternoon and you are sitting in Rose Hill under the maple tree at the
same cemetery crossroads as yesterday. You just discovered the original
Brothers Eighteen has 1347 words. So, first, let's go through what's here then
if we can add something from Bob that fits here we'll do it. - Amorella
1622
hours. This sounds good. I am curious as to what this is about anyway. Just
glancing I do not have much of a clue.
1643
hours. I just discovered a mistake. Grandma 17 was actually Grandma 18 in the
original so I will have to do Grandma 17 correctly then drop in the already
redone Grandma 18. Also, I notice the two are playing chess but began in
Brothers 17 so do I include the chess game up to where it is and modify both 17
and 18 Brothers so it makes sense? Somehow I skipped up. The Brothers 16 was
set in Vegas so I dropped the segment entirely. It looks like this chess game
continues right up through Brothers 19 and beyond. I think we should skip it
entirely.
I agree. Carol is about ready to head home.
Later, dude. - Amorella
1825
hours. One thing I know for sure, when mistakes are made the chances are I'm
the one making them.
These are correctable errors, boy, nothing
more or less. Post. - Amorella
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