1012
hours. I am thinking about the conditions that would lead Quinta to be a ghost
all these thousands of years. How could that be as a conditional within the
Dead in these books?
First, we have your setting, boy. You are
sitting in the morning shade facing southwest into the trees along Muddy Creek
at the far north lot of Pine Hill Lakes Park. Carol is on page 53 of Thor’s
book, Black List. This is after your earlier morning walk.
Quinta
decided to become orange, one with the leaf and the sun. When she died she
could not bear to leave who she was in her heartansoulanmind. So, she didn’t.
One day she will wake up and realize in heartansoulanmind that she was always
more than the color orange deep, deep down. She just has to dig deeper than her
present contentment. This is not so easy for some people. True, she is in her
sanctuary, her memory, her color and she carries a representative of the leaf
and she sees the representative of the sun in the sky above her sanctuary. Her
friends and family can only guess why she has never come out but they know she
is safe where she is. (Does this sound like a familiar refrain?) In here, some
things are not much different than among the living walking the cemetery. The
‘spooky’ part is that of the slippery realm of quantum wave function in
consciousness/unconsciousness – she is there and here from time to time, usually
within a blink of an eye but sometimes she is observed at best, as an illusion
among the living who are living around present day Lake Champlain. Ghost exists
in here, young man. There is not much difference between some aspects of
quantum reality and transcendentalism. Grandma Three is showing this in story
form. – Amorella
` 1135
hours. We are home after a stop at Graeter’s for two kid’s cups. The story
makes more sense knowing these things but the reader would not.
We can work up notes; actually you already
are. – Amorella
I
never thought about cleaning up these notes and putting them out there too.
They already are out there boy. Where is
your mind? – Amorella
You
mean we are going to continue with these notes through the three books?
Why not? - Amorella
I
don’t know. I hadn’t thought about the notes as something people would read.
They are here for free. No selling of notes.
This is a commercial free zone in that sense.
Post while you have the opportunity. -
Amorella
Mid-afternoon. You are sitting across
Kenwood Road from Tater’s Kenridge Auto Repair with Marx Bagels pretty much
directly behind you (slightly to your right while facing east). You had a late
lunch with your regular meal a split raisin wheat tuna deluxe and two chocolate
chip cookies. You brought your own drinks to save the cash. Carol brought the
morning paper for casual reading. You are leaving Grandma behind for Pouch Three. Let’s go to it. –
Amorella
1651 hours. Pouch 3 is completed.
Drop in, then post. – Amorella
***
Diplomatic
Pouch 3 ©2013, rho (final) draft of GMG.One
Pyl,
Justin and Blake had a lunch of ham and cheese sandwiches each with a side of
chips. Getting up from the table Pyl checked the tree-lined backyard for blown
small branches and sticks as it is another pleasant Cleveland day in January.
Justin
and Blake moved to the couch and chairs in the nearby Bose media room. Once settled Justin posed, “How is the company, Blake?”
Once
Blake adjusted the smooth jazz playing in the background and sat relaxed, he
talked the talk of the CEO of Electronic Communication Software. “You know Dad.
He started in a small empty space that had been a small used book store near
the college campus. He took classes at Fenn, in the early sixties then
transferred to Case-Western. We grew up in the three-story off West Fairmount in
the Heights.”
“We
drive by every time we come up,” replied Justin. “The screened porch is
awesome.”
“Dad
had it screened. He reconditioned the old electric fan motors himself. We used
it full time in the summer. In the late seventies he thought about building
chips for the radar detector business but decided it wasn’t for us.” Both men
sat chilling on a long George Benson's guitar piece.
Pyl
strolled in from the back yard. “I love that big old sugar maple, look, it’s
January and I found this beautiful orange leaf by the bushes.”
In
a perfectly cadenced tone Blake added, “I'm thinking about cutting that maple
down, Pyl. It's old and the highest tree out back. If we get a terrible wind it
could fall on the house.”
Glancing
at the rising anger in Pyl’s face, Justin turned up the Walter Beasley sax
rendition of "Do You Wanna Dance," thinking on how Blake sets the
bait and on how Pyl almost always picks up on it.
***
Hartolite
whispered, “Do you need a little more action, Yermey? She noted his typically
quiet smile as his right hand slowly slid into her silky smooth and warm pouch.
Yermey
words stumbled, "It's been five years since I've this dressed this far
down." Whenever the women have big decisions, he mused, a hot itch comes,
and there is not a ThreePlanets man alive who can satisfy it. My right hand
rests in dreamland and it is a very real pleasure.
Friendly
leaned up from his stomach and giggled, "It's been ten years if it's been
a day since we’ve seen you in this position." Hartolite echoed the
snicker.
Yermey
unslid his hand-in-pouch, abruptly sat up and jumped down from the bed-out-of-the-wall.
He grumbled as he pulled out fresh overalls from the nearby dress chute and he
lazily dropped his legs into them one at a time, pulled them up and felt the
cloth quickly unwrinkled and automatically adjusted to his size. A general
distain arose from his mind, 'the women pop us in those pouches when we are
tiny crawlers and never let us go. We men grow expecting at any time we see a
woman’s seductive glance, to be politely asked to put a hand-in-a-pouch. His
old heart murmured, ‘Such is our biology.’ Yermey turned to the bedfromthewall.
In
such moments Yermey turned to philosophizing on ancient ThreePlanets children’s
tales. He thought, I don’t believe the myths of our clergy and their ancient
fableizing hints into untellable truths. Strange, there is such a close
connection between our two species’ Concept-of-God and a Fall from Grace. These
earthy High-Primates have a similar story. There is more or less to the
universe than we imagine.
Friendly
fully dressed caught the corner of his eye. She is always upbeat and positive.
Hartolite is one good handsomely suited cuddlanbabe. I imagine resting my hand
in her pouch almost every night before I go into a deep sleep. We do our life’s
series of services-for-the-species, imagining and creating a more comfortable
educational and entertaining setting for our community-of-families. We create the
safest, most efficient and easily manipulative devices possible for our
species’ healthy well-being. We attempt to treat ourselves humanely in our
ThreePlanetCommunity; and we will for Earth too, if they can accept such gifts
of knowledge free and without obligation.
Meanwhile,
Hartolite and Captain Friendly had come to a mutual conclusion. Friendly
politely declared to Yermey, “We buy the Williams’ plane tomorrow or leave them
two hundred thousand U.S. dollars, and then commandeer it. I want done with
this. Then we must create the best, most efficiently way to directly contact
this High-Primate species. The shock of us will do them well,” concluded
Friendly, but Hartolite’s facial expression made Friendly quickly ask, “Is it
‘do them well’ or ‘do them good?’”
773
words
***
You watched the first episode of “The
Mentalist” and the second episode of “Bones” and NBC and CBS News. Tomorrow you
are up to take the car to Toyota for protective coatings inside and out because
it puts Carol’s mind at ease to have this done. You also are going to stop by
Eclipse Tinting on Reading Road to see about having the car windows tinted.
2138 hours. I have everything ready to
begin work on Dead 4. Tomorrow will be another ‘car busy’ day. Today we drove
the 05 Honda to Blue Ash for lunch. Interesting differences in handling from
the Avalon. The Honda is more fun to drive because it is ‘broken in’. I’m glad
we still have one as a second car.
Post. - Amorella
No comments:
Post a Comment