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agnes maria
Senior Member
Username: anonarchista

Post Number: 3095
Registered: 1-2005
Posted on Monday, November 07, 2005 - 4:20 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Post your writing: Automatic streams of consciousness, prose, poetry, speeches, lectures, notes, journal entries, old and new. Whatever you want to share. Post everything.

He's what I feel like posting now -

28 April, 2000

Automatic Speech (One of many of its kind, all addressing different topics.) :D

Every moment is an opportunity. Within every circumstance, you can choose to pursue one of various available experiences; choices which alter with every moment. By choosing which stranger to sit by on the bus, you create a unique experience for yourself, one which would be different had you chosen to sit by someone else. For example, sitting across from a drunken man will not be the same as sitting in front of two women who'd just met one another, and are conversing for the first time. With the women, you get a glimpse into what people speak about in order to create a common ground, in order to bond. (And the drunken man may mistake you for his long lost niece Diana, [which happened to me today], an interaction which can also be amusing, albeit in a different way).

As we create our circumstances, we must be aware that we are not victims. Let us say that you are on a bus that is going 30 kilometers an hour in a 70 zone, becoming frustrated because you will be late for your martial arts class, and blaming the driver for being inefficient as he deliberately slows down before each stoplight in order to catch the red light since he is running ahead of his schedule. Let me say first that in life we have choices. We choose what happens to us. If we do not want to be hurt by others, in most cases we will not be. This, however, does not mean that we can willfully change a circumstance into which we had put ourselves. You chose to board that bus and, in so doing, put your life into that driver's hands. The only way to regain your freedom is to get off the bus. You are not a victim.

The point, however, is not to blame but to realize the reason for a particular circumstance. In realizing the reason, one can quickly see the solution and act upon it in order to begin correcting the circumstance. This is comparable to "getting to the root of the problem". You work from the bottom up, rebuilding what has been damaged.

Let us find a more complex example: You have been feeling awful lately, and cannot quite figure out what the reason is. Your dreams have been confusing, you have had a terrible time sleeping, your body has been aching, your mind has been irritable, and your emotions have been unstable. You feel negative and angry, even though just three weeks ago you'd felt positively fabulous. Something new in your life is not working for you, something is causing this malady.

The subjectivity of this type of situation makes it very difficult to pinpoint the source of your anxiety. The reasons may be blatant in one situation, while being much less obvious in a different situation. In order to alleviate the painful symptoms, you must discover what the disease - the root of the problem - is in the first place. Only then can you begin to remedy the circumstance. This is the most trying part.

Failing to realize the root of the problem, or failing to act on it, results in a perpetuation of your negative condition, or a repetition of the same lesson later on in life (often in a more painful form).

What follows, if you choose to change, is a making over of your moral structure (because it is obvious that your ethics had been unbalanced if you had gotten into the dark situation to begin with). If you learn from this experience properly, if you take the lesson for what it is and not guilt yourself about it, then you will come out of the darkness in better condition than you'd been in even prior to the crash. If you see the lessons, you can use them to benefit yourself and to grow. You can learn to avoid the same circumstance by simply not inviting it into your life, and by being able to recognize it. You were not the victim of anyone or thing. You chose to be there, and it is your choice alone to change the circumstance, once you realize the root of the problem.

For most, remedying the circumstance is not easy since they have become attached. Insecurities are what perpetuate any sort of addiction. People are afraid to let go because they fear ending up with nothing. This leads to settling for less. People settle for less because they lack self worth, they settle for less also because they believe they will end up with nothing. It is a damaging pattern that needs to be broken in order for a true sense of wellbeing to be attained. Thereafter, the maintenance of this wellbeing depends upon one's ability to always embrace their lessons - sorrowful and joyful ones alike - and to always allow room for change.


(Message edited by anonarchista on November 07, 2005)
Death Before Dishonour
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nomadrat
Senior Member
Username: nomadrat

Post Number: 5688
Registered: 2-2001
Posted on Tuesday, November 08, 2005 - 7:57 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

well..I was trying to come up with something worthy..but came up with nuthin'
My well is dry right now.
Hope some others (more inspired , or talented and all that) here contribute.
We certainly have more than our fair share of talented, inspiring folks, here.

Agnes, You write really well, I've noticed.
Have you considered compiling your stuff into a book?

I forogt..i ha dyou on my mind yesterday. My hubby might be losing his job. He;s a workout manic like you.
I asked him (thinkigh of youat the time) "Hav eyou considered startign a personal trainign business?"
H elooked at me , surprised tha tI had even thoguht of him in tha tway (because to be hoenst, I hadn't) I could tell he was pleased tha tI noticed and acknowledged out loud that part of his life. The he answered (to my surprise) "Yes, I have looked into it and am considering it. I can get my certificate for it in a few weeks from a local gym, 24 Hour Fitness trains people quickly. It doesn't take long"

So, in a round about way you helped me sort of emotioanlly connect with the hubby and honor something he takes pretty seriously in a way I hadn't fully appreciated before. :-)
"Now I am somewhere I am not supposed to be, and I can see things I know I really shouldn't see.."
-from 'Only' by Trent Reznor
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agnes maria
Senior Member
Username: anonarchista

Post Number: 3102
Registered: 1-2005
Posted on Wednesday, November 09, 2005 - 8:59 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Nomad, it's funny that you should ask if I've considered compiling my stuff into a book. Over the last few years I've lost a lot of my writing - To parents, systems crashes, negligence. I've seen it happen to a lot of good writers. One of my friends even had his poetry burned by his parents because they wanted him to be a soldier! Well I feel a deep hole in my heart over losing so much good writing, and I have been seriously thinking about immortalising the rest of it in a published work.

Thanks for the compliment, too, and I don't expect you to post NEW writing. It could be from whenever. In the first post on this thread I put down something from five years ago. My writing is a heck of a lot more developed now, but I still like it. I think you should post whatever of yours would be appropriate to your mood, or to what you want to convey.

And it's pretty cool when something like that happens, like when you were able to connect with your husband partly because of something I said. It happens to me all the time, and quite often with the people on here. Someone will say something that will be invaluable to me in an interaction with someone else who is not related to the board. At times Nomad, you have given me just what I needed to make that kind of breakthrough. Next time I'll be sure to tell you when it happens :-)

(Message edited by anonarchista on November 09, 2005)
Death Before Dishonour
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Shaido
Senior Member
Username: miller

Post Number: 1887
Registered: 11-2002
Posted on Wednesday, November 09, 2005 - 11:21 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Agnes, you could always send stuff to me if it's on paper, for later retrieval.

Creating back ups of your work onto floppy or burning it onto cdrom is essential these days.

Parents cannot destroy a scanned image if it's on your webpage.

I do agree with what was written in the first post. (Ok, I skimmed through it..)

I've had threads go missing from this website. Threads with posts, threads less than a week old, threads with genuine UFO sightings.

Nomadrat, you'll actually grow closer and closer if you each appreciate various aspects of your lives. You've both made a commitment to be partners for life (marriage) and it can be enlightening to find out more about your partner, how they grow and change due to your mutual influence.
-------------------------------------------------

On writing:

I have always secretly wanted to be a writer. To tell stories, to captivate people with the spoken word. I never conciously admitted it to myself.

I have a compulsion to buy pens and notebooks. Often they go unfilled. If I am offered a pen, I'll take the one with the finest point.

It's so I can write smaller and neater as my handwriting was always messy because I never had time to practice it. It's gotten better over the years. It's legible but not exactly neat.

It seemed that neat handwriting was the thing that would lead to future success and wealth. I remember many a teacher pulling their hair out trying to decipher my "chicken scratchings".

It wasn't until highschool that I actually started writing in pen. I stopped submitting work to one english teacher.

It's not until I expressed my concerns about being unemployed but not exactly being able to handle stressful situations (ie, reports having to be done then and there, sales phone calls and having to meet quotas) to my psychiatrist, that he said "Have you thought about being a writer? This is really good".

You see, he'd set homework for me to do. My work started to come across like a novel which I then fought to try an keep a sense of truth. But I know I can do it.

It was my psych who asked me if I was psychic. With hesitation and a little thought, I admitted to both him and myself that I was in fact psychic.

He said "There are different levels of being psychic, just like there are different levels of intelligence. You could be a 3 and someone could be a 10. It doesn't matter".

But to me it made sense. I am mildy telepathic and have short term precognative abilities. I can't turn it on and off. I just know things.

Sometimes it comes out when I am being sarcastic which can cause all sorts of social problems.

I've made jokes that turned out to be true.

Now Anne Strieber is writing and being published. It's inspiring to know that I can have a proper voice.

While I am yet to be published outside of the occasional letter column, and forum post, it's something I look forward to doing.

Orson Scott Card's books on writing have been invaluable.

The worst thing you can do is make a comparison to those who really know their stuff. I was trying to compare myself to Joss Whedon. I mean, big mistake. It interupts the flow of ideas.

Just write. Worry about whether it's good or not when you are finished. Then make the necessary changes.
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Shaido
Senior Member
Username: miller

Post Number: 1888
Registered: 11-2002
Posted on Wednesday, November 09, 2005 - 11:49 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

The only entry from my livejournal without swearing:

Friday, September 16th, 2005
11:30 pm The interconnectivity of all things in a Fish Shop.

Another thing happened that freaked me out today. There was a woman who panicked because she couldn't read or write and had to fill out a form.
She actually blacked out. I mean she didn't fall over or shut her eyes, she just went into a blank stare. She didn't respond to waving hands in front of her. I noticed she was still breathing and said as much. One of the girls touched her and she snapped back to this reality. I said "Do you want my candle?" because it was pink (not my choice) and she freaked out at me.

My usual female response. Oh and I didn't mention all of the cool sexual innuendo you can make with the word "wick". "My wick has gone limp", "My wick has gone stiff", "dip your wick", "get your wick wet", and not to mention "wick-ED", "wikka-wick-wack" hiphop style.

I got on teacher Lisa's nerves. Cool. She even got jealous when I spent all day talking to Susie. Hey, I hadn't seen her in 10 years and she is pregnant (still hot though).

Anyway, I had to rearrange my appointment with CRS on monday because of the course I am doing. I went in and did that. Got a Multitrip for free to pay for the transport costs. That's cool.

Ok, now it turns out that Lisa (that runs the fish shop on Woodyates Ave), is going and she was related by marriage to the bus driver that got killed the other day. It turns out that it was a total mystery because he would never leave the bus running to go outside.

Thank you susie for letting me get rid of 10 years worth of mental garbage. *Flush*.
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susi t learn
Senior Member
Username: etsi

Post Number: 10365
Registered: 4-2003
Posted on Thursday, November 10, 2005 - 4:22 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

i made a small snotebook of my takes on various subjects.

"different strokes"

on my parent's 50th wedding anniversary, my brother, my sister and myself went to a photographer who uses old time western costumes for his clients photos. we thought that would be a novel gift for them. we started searching through the costumes looking for apparel that we liked or fit our personality.

my sister, the capricorn, is a very traditional, calm, reserved woman who does not take many risks and is an active member of her community. she chose a neat, sedte, tasteful, high-collored dress. tailored, greyblue and accompianied by an equally low profile matching hat. she looked the pillar of the community.

my brother, a virgo, who among his endeavors has home-steaded in alaska, built a log cabin, cooked for a logging company on vancouver island and hitchhiked across the united states, opted for the 'gentleman's gambler' outfit. (how apropo for a man who has gambled ON life All his life.

myself, i'm a cusp person, scorpio/saggitarius, grew up in the 60's and still get ragged on by the way i dress. i am an artist and have always marched to the beat of a different drum. i impulsively picked a colorful 'saloon girl' style dress with a large, plummed hat that did not exactly match the dress.

my point is...there are babtists, catholics, mormons, buddhists, new agers and yes, even athiests; which i feel is simply a belief of non-belief.

like an article of clothing, do we peruse, pick and choose our beliefs, try them on and see how they fit and may even 'return' them or keep changing them until we find the 'perfect' fit or look, etc.

we have to be comfortable in our beliefs, too. we, the people of this earth, are SO diverse, we cannot possibly all believe the exact same belief. besides the incredible boredom it would create, no different cultures to learn from, no new ideas to exchange...

so we travel down the path of life, trying on different beliefs, until we find a comfortable fit. what works for us, the individual. we are all so different. have so many differing perceptions, it is simply impossible and illogical to believe we should all have the same belief. some may never have a perfect fit but those more enlightened tend to alter the claok occasionally as we grow. we should never stop growoing. that would be a cosmic no-no.

i may never wear a sedate, tailored suit, not being my 'style', but that does not mean it has no beauty or truth i it or that i cannot admire or respect it on someone else; can i?

'i carry my own church within me.'
-lame deer
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Boxman
New member
Username: boxman

Post Number: 7
Registered: 1-2005
Posted on Thursday, November 10, 2005 - 6:30 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

The following is a story I started....but, as usuual, have not followed up on.....let me know what you think:


A blank page.

A blank page was his mind. Nothing was coming to him. Nothing fit. None of the usual flags were populating. The stream was clear back 3 months.

But there had to be something. Had to be. It was there. Or would be soon.

The subject was deranged, that much was certain. And no one goes from where this guy was to nothing. A week was rare but you’d see it. Two would happen once in a great, great while. And the record-holder went a simply stupid three weeks before reconfirming. But even then, no one doubted.

3 months. It was inevitable some would begin to roll on it. But they were mistaken. And better get their minds right. People had been devolved before.

Unreal. This guy was at the end too, of course……….where did that thought come from……damn sh**’s infectious! The subject was one hit from being settled, he corrected himself. Before he went on this run. Then his mind focused on the discussion two……three well, let’s see here…Dexter was the first to say it………. Harriede agreed right away………three or four more head nods/affirmatives… Irrelevant. There I go again……an image of a smiling dog flashed in his mind and brought him back quickly.

Whenever he thought this way, applying the writ to his fellows, he reminded himself that it was like conferring human emotions to animals………..natural and tempting distraction! Not that those he favored (served, protected) were animals…..far from it. They were the best people on earth. They were what it was all about. And now he recognized that he was feeling anger. Another sign he wasn’t framed right now (in the zone, so to speak). Well, no one goes through life without a great test. He also knew that his ability to roll around in the muck of common thinking ten minutes later float back, was part of what made him …..slanted (looked upon highly in pick company). And this would end as well. He grabbed his overcoat, and went outside. Feeling weak, hating the twilight stage……in the sunlight he started laughing. He was already feeling clean again.

Five minutes ago I was right down there with them. In despair……damn how do they do it? Most are even happy. Show me one with an aware over 30 though. He smiled….inwardly and just a touch outwardly. He wasn’t an unhappy person. None of them were. How could they be? They were APART. They were the GUARDIANS. They knew what was up. What would never go down. They were doing the most important work, in the most important places. They lived right where the rest of them lived, worked with them. Had jobs right at their level (well as long as they were supervisory level of some kind ….even the whales found it hard to persist lower). They did not give themselves anything extra… (unburdened by writ-level thinking…..they always seemed more well off…..but it was just that they were never snagged). un-common.

He walked down the sidewalk, down towards the park. Eight-O’clock sun just beginning to cycle heat down through the dark knit cap he wore.
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Joel
Advanced Member
Username: neurojectal

Post Number: 294
Registered: 6-2004
Posted on Sunday, November 13, 2005 - 12:20 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

For some reason simple one line quotes sometimes lose meaning for me and I have to attach certain things to them to help me understand. This came to me one night and maybe it can help other people understand the little things that might have lost meaning to them: There's a time and place for everything. Times change and some places in life shouldn't be revisited.

and Don't plague your life with the "what-ifs"
Let the demons have their place. If so, it's angels you'll create.-Dredg
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Stephen in AZ
Senior Member
Username: stephenm

Post Number: 933
Registered: 12-2003
Posted on Friday, December 30, 2005 - 5:04 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

A long time ago, Isaac Asimov had trouble writing a story. His editor told him that the problem was that he was trying to start the story too soon, that he should start somewhere in the middle and work his way back (by using flashbacks or whatever).

Whether you intend to structure a story that way or not, you can always start writing somewhere in the middle, or even at the end, and write the earlier chapters later. If you have a lot of characters in the story doing lots of things, you might also want to keep of list of the characters and who they are and what they've done.

In any case, as Shaido mentioned in post 1887:

"Just write. Worry about whether it's good or not when you are finished. Then make the necessary changes."
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slw
Senior Member
Username: slw

Post Number: 989
Registered: 12-2002
Posted on Friday, December 30, 2005 - 11:57 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

I've heard that Margaret Mitchell wrote "Gone with the Wind" like that. She wrote the last chapter first.
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Wax Tadpole
Advanced Member
Username: waxtadpole

Post Number: 268
Registered: 3-2004
Posted on Saturday, December 31, 2005 - 12:05 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Damn, I wish I'd noticed this thread sooner! Naturally, my stream is currently backed up...
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GabrielWarlockStrange
Senior Member
Username: warlockstrange

Post Number: 945
Registered: 5-2004
Posted on Tuesday, January 17, 2006 - 8:34 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

in shadows of mirrors i find you
slipping like butter from lips of corn spattered faces
dancing like dust bunnies in a childs eye
before flying away in sparkling ice chips of moonshine
to land lost and forsaken in long forgotten toyboxes
under old blankets that held monsters at bay in the four am darkness of mother's not coming to turn on a nightlight
then shining like truth in the face of the lies spread thin like manure on spring time fields of yet to be mown hay
with kindness and hope swinging softly like a pope on a rope
as jesus looks on his crown now long gone with the innocence of i'm just two years old and the stories i'm told don't ring true any more
but for all of the soreness and poorness of reason all things come to pass in the time of their season
leaving us breathless
and tested
and bested
but rising again
like the sun on the wind
to bend the granite of can it be true
in soft sounds of yellow and slight tastes of blue
in the shadows of mirrors
i finally find you
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Berghaus
Senior Member
Username: berghaus

Post Number: 789
Registered: 6-2003
Posted on Tuesday, January 24, 2006 - 3:51 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

The Road Pig

Looking in my rearview mirror, I see a car drawing up behind me fast. He's flashing his lights and blaring his horn.

Did he just nudge my bumper.? No, surely not.

I wind the window down and try to wave him past. The straight country road ahead of us is clear. Clear skies, clear road.

Ten miles pass and he's still behind me, blaring his horn, flashing his lights and nudging my bumper. I dare not stop; not here, alone, out in the desert.

Wait, I see an oncoming car in the distance, thank the lord.! I'll pull up and wave them down. Surely the maniac behind me won't do anything in front of a witness.

The approaching car is about a mile away. Suddenly the madman behind me swings out and draws alongside me. I slow to let him pass. He brakes.! I speed up.. he speeds up. Nowhere to go.!!

Neck and neck we race along. I can't get away from him and still the oncoming car draws nearer.

In a desperate attempt to maybe outrun the psycho, I get my speed upto 80mph. He matches me exactly and by now the oncoming car is flashing its lights feverishly.

100 yds, 50 yds, 25 yds, the gap closes. Jesus H Christ what the frakk is this madman doing.?

At the last minute, the oncoming car skids across from his lane right into me, as he tries to avoid the psycho's car.

The madman roars away, honking his horn in triumph.

I've been out of hospital three weeks now and feel a lot better, considering. My new legs are going to be fitted once my stumps have healed but the facial burns still hurt real bad.

Pushing myself down the sidewalk in my new wheelchair, I glance behind me; another wheelchair is coming up behind me fast... real fast.







Nick Berghaus 2006
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GabrielWarlockStrange
Senior Member
Username: warlockstrange

Post Number: 965
Registered: 5-2004
Posted on Friday, January 27, 2006 - 2:59 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Stephen King eat your heart out!
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Stephen in AZ
Senior Member
Username: stephenm

Post Number: 1013
Registered: 12-2003
Posted on Friday, March 17, 2006 - 2:25 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Anybody else want to be an author?
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C. Johnson
Intermediate Member
Username: csjohnson2

Post Number: 106
Registered: 10-2002
Posted on Friday, March 31, 2006 - 1:35 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Sometimes I have these spontaneous ideas for short stories (or what could turn into a fictional novel). They just come to me out of the blue. The ideas are always very strange though, so strange that I don't know how I would convey it in words. I mean, the plot and ideas are conceptually very weird, almost not of this world exactly (I know this sounds strange.) I am the type of person that has great ideas for writing, but lack the writing skill itself. My 4 month old son is stressing me out so badly lately, that I don't have these spontaneous ideas much anymore though. He is happy one minute then is so upset the next and I try everything - but this is another topic. My first child, have no clue how to be a father.
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brown
Senior Member
Username: brown

Post Number: 1736
Registered: 2-2004
Posted on Friday, March 31, 2006 - 7:33 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

4mths old your shoulder a good place for a 4 mth old and just walk up n down ..soft pats and a gentle back rub..( for you and the new bubs )
could be a bit colicky.. you'll get the hang of it cjohnson.
congrats on being a new dad :-)
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Berghaus
Senior Member
Username: berghaus

Post Number: 911
Registered: 6-2003
Posted on Sunday, April 16, 2006 - 1:23 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Being an author aint all it's cracked up to be.

Lots of work and little payback.

Throw in the odd death threat and one wonders why bother.?
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John
Senior Member
Username: johnalbert

Post Number: 1414
Registered: 10-2005
Posted on Wednesday, April 26, 2006 - 1:39 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Here was my horoscope for today I thought what a lovely exercise and decided to share it with you all. I think that doing this could open doors for some people. I used my Alaska imagery.

Taurus
You are deep in navel-gazing country. So get out your pith helmet and your sunblock and your mosquito net and your warm sleeping tent and your camera and your notebook. Now, start gazing. What do you see deep in the unexplored territories of yourself? Are there wild gazelles? Deep jungly forests? Waterfalls? Desert nights? Jeeps? Be sure to write it all down, because it could come in very handy later for some cartography work.



I see a river valley at the edge of a new rebirthing forest different yet the same as it one time was. I see great swaths Of wild iris and fire weed pink and purple. I see the mountain lion in the grass stalking the caribou that are grazing on the marshy land. I see great flocks of swans and ducks feeding on the flats too. I see the shadow of the clouds move across the landscape. I see raspberry patches run wild and wild rose at the forest edges. I see people with plain joy in their hearts trouping through the marsh land I see moose standing in a pond eating yellow water lilies. I see skunk cabbage with its uniform shape and reticulated nature grow and bloom in front of my eyes. It stands out I see the forest floor carpeted with vibrant green ferns and I see the spruce hen with her red eyes sitting in the tree. I see the poky pine climbing the trees and eating the bark his gentle face is deceiving of his weapons. I see the voles and shrews that gather for winter scurry here and there. I see the salmon in the streams becoming brilliant red in the dance of sex and death only to be reborn the following spring. I see the high bush cranberries poke a dot the forest and punctuate the openings in the canopy. I see the spongy moss and the silvery lichens and the dryads and the red and white mushrooms that show up after the rains. I see the puff balls that explode with their green smoke of spores. I see the streams of sunshine illuminate the cottonwood seed as it floats through the air. I see an old cabin long since abandoned covered in moss. I see the life started there and the way nature took it back I see the clearings re grow in 2 seasons. I see the out crops of rock that are sentinels in the forest. I smell green oh that’s sister with her killer bud. oh how I miss my sister. inspite of that I do smell the green and the decay and the fresh rain clean the forest has to it. I feel the closeness of the woods and the secret eyes that watch some times I shake my rear at them just to let them know I know they are there. I hear an internal laughter as I am tickled some ones funny bone. I fell the spirits of the pooka and the little ones as they are most interested in me. I know the others are there too. they watch intently.

tomorrow ill do the beach catch you then.

ttfn
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j
Advanced Member
Username: observer

Post Number: 284
Registered: 2-2001
Posted on Wednesday, April 26, 2006 - 10:25 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

"Throw in the odd death threat and one wonders why bother.?" - I think it depends if the author is more a writer or more an artist determines their perseverance. Not all writers may be artists.

(Message edited by observer on April 26, 2006)
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Stephen in AZ
Senior Member
Username: stephenm

Post Number: 1090
Registered: 12-2003
Posted on Wednesday, May 31, 2006 - 2:25 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Some people do get to be famous writers, with lots of fans. Of course, that can create a problem, too.

Robert Heinlein was bothered by fans who seemed to think that they knew him and were friends, though in fact they had never met before. One time one of them showed up at his house and expected to be entertained by him. Heinlein was astounded at it all.
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Stephen in AZ
Senior Member
Username: stephenm

Post Number: 1122
Registered: 12-2003
Posted on Monday, June 19, 2006 - 12:52 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Write on !
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Duncan Kunz
New member
Username: duncan_kunz

Post Number: 41
Registered: 6-2006
Posted on Monday, June 26, 2006 - 5:10 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

THE CANYON

1. In the Beginning


Vishnu Schist, two billion years old
The Great Unconformity, with time in arrears
Bright Angel Shale, Muav Limestone
Sliced by the river over five million years

One hundred thousand cubic feet per second
And the Rio Colorado rips the rocks from the wall
Southward and westward to the Gulf of California
Sinking soft to the seabed in a dark brown pall.

2. Amerind Interlude

Split twig bird-figures in the canyon caves
Made by the father for their children to fly
Millennia gone now, and the silent twig-birds
Look up from the rubble to the unchanging sky.

Rabbit-hunting Paiutes on the Kaibab rim
Peer down to the river running green and brown below
Do they see Sinagua-ghosts passing through the rockwalls
To the riverbank terraces where the maize and squash grow?

3. Spaniards

Fifteen-forty, and Lopez Cardenas
(Under Coronado’s prodding) went searching for gold
Northward to Cibola to find Seven Cities
“Just ten days further” Cardenas was told.

North through the deserts, past the San Francisco Peaks
Through the pińon and juniper and grama grass sod
Stopped in his tracks where the very earth divided
By the devil’s own sword and the paint-pots of God.

4. Honeymoon Trail

Brigham Young the Prophet had a vision for the desert
Growing the new Zion from the Rockies to the sea
Southward to Sonora down the Colorado Plateau
Irrigated farmlands as far as eyes can see.

Sealed in the Temple, a teenaged Mormon couple
A pushcart wagon, mules, and a couple months’ supplies
Down into the Canyon, cross the river at Lee’s Ferry
Building Arizona as a vision in their eyes.

5. John Wesley Powell

Professor John Powell left his right arm at Shiloh
Kept his courage and his need to see around the bend
Four boats and ten madmen through the Colorado rapids
Mile-high walls on either side and beauty without end.

Three had enough and clambered out at Separation Canyon
Killed by Shivwits Indians; though Powell couldn’t see
Just two more days and two more sets of rolling Canyon Rapids
Then out into the flatlands and into immortality.

6. The Tourist

Southwest vacation, and a rainy day
An east coast tourist with a schedule to meet
Pulls up to a lookout in a fall afternoon,
And checking his Blackberry, slides out of his seat.

Walks up to the railing, pulled through by the spirits,
Falls ever downward for two billion years
Down through the rock-wall, the history, the sunset,
Stumbles back to the car with a face full of tears.
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Stephen in AZ
Senior Member
Username: stephenm

Post Number: 801
Registered: 12-2003
Posted on Tuesday, July 18, 2006 - 7:57 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Good poem, Duncan Kunz.
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Man type 4
New member
Username: man_4

Post Number: 30
Registered: 11-2005
Posted on Monday, July 24, 2006 - 6:16 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

In a house on the corner of a nameless street there lived a nameless woman who had a nameless lover, who passed through her life so quickly that the memory could not catch the power of the event, and she slipped, swaggering into such a forgetfulness that it would take a paranormal event of a very great magnitude to awaken her from the dream of mundanity she had been lulled into. This is her story, told through the eyes of a silent observer.

"Oh the intricate web of space" she declared. "But how do i ever benefit from this zombie love for the world around me with all it's mechanical demands and over complicated simplicities?" She further stuttered. With a detached sentimentality for exploring the inner depths of her mind, she cried. Not for the world around her but for the inner world. Vibrant colors of a nebulous order, swayed and ebbed in the matrix of her emotional creation. The ocean of her soul, whatever that may be. And she cried and cried a river of suppressed desire, till the river became an ocean and the ocean drowned the memory she could not quite summon. For aeons she lived on, recalling the terror of lonesomeness with every passing instant of doubt or fear. She could never place her finger on the force of this presence, only observe while she was gently guided by it's undying love.

Though she understood fairly well that the origin of this source was a living, breathing being, she could not make the proper connections till one midwinter eve when she happened upon an old rusty safe in her basement. The safe was covered in dust and the snow that blew in from the opened window grazed its slowly decaying metallic surface. She loved this snow, she felt it had protective powers over well kept secrets long since hidden from the prying eyes of men. The safe was sealed as much with a layer of ice as it was with an old combination lock. The temptation to hammer it opened was overwhelming, however she was struck by the notion that there was a meaning to the lock, so she carried the safe upstairs to her writing den and placed it before her space heater to thaw, meditating on what the combination could be. She thought to herself as she wondered "i wish this spaceheater was a fireplace, but there is a certain beauty to the fact that it's just a plain spaceheater."

As she entered deeper revery, she began to experience visions of a shadowy figure with a golden face who would whisper incoherent statements that she nevertheless felt profoundly in her heart, like the very essence of the universe came to greet her in one powerful swoop of energy. She then reasoned to herself "it's just a product of imagination". The figure would appear to her again over the course of the next hour 3 times. Each time it was filled with bright stars which would become brighter and brighter. There were subtle differences each time this shadow appeared. The first time it was missing 3 fingers, she realized this when it touched her face, recalling how she only felt the energy of 2 fingers caress her cold cheek. The second time the shadow appeared it was donning a huge eyeball in the center of its head, which manifested in the form of the sun, complimenting it's other two eyes which were the moon and the earth. "3 eyes!" she screamed in fury.

The final time the shadow appeared that evening it said to her "the ray of creation is in the desire to resurrect the muse". She was sunken in a stupor at this statement, for she had no idea of the meaning behind "the ray of creation". She decided to do some research at her local library the next morning. As she siphoned off useless information in the piles and piles of books she had gathered, she received small hints here and there of the philosophy of the rays of creation, although she was hard pressed to put the peices together into anything resembling a completed picture. She left the library in rage, feeling a thumping through her body, a frustration that she could define only by starring at the sky and crying. As the mystery of the safe urged her onward, clearer memory fragments began to surface. The shadow figure was definitely a product of her past, though of who she could not declare. The clarity with which these memory fragments arose was astonishing to her senses. In one instance, vivid images of blood filling a river plagued her, filling her soft heart with an extreme cosmic sadness.

The sadness was not because of the absence of something, but of the loss of memory of that which is already present. That which was given, as a gift to her, but which she rejected in her youth, her worldy striving for fame. And suddenly she felt a surge of power enter her, where she stopped in her tracks and jerked uncontrollably in the middle of the road shouting one word continuously over and over. This word was "love". Several strangers approached her, as she was a gentle and attractive woman. They asked if she required assistance to which she replied with precision lunacy "love is the ray of creation and it comes from the seventh system". She then turned inward, laughing to herself, completely oblivious of the presence of other's around her, almost catatonic with revelation and epiphany. Her eyes became like distant stars, knowing what only a feeling could explain to her. In recent years, her life had been full of dilemmas of physical health. Tension headaches, insomnia, ocassional sleepwalking and bouts of chronic depression invaded her every day.

She felt strongly that she were missing a vital piece to the puzzle of her heart. Perpetual lacrimosity became her nights, wherein she would cry till the morning released her into the arms of sleep. What time she was able to rest was peaceful and full of nurturing dreams of a life beyond the limits of her own plight of every day survival. In the dream world she had a close friend who visited her frequently, like her shadow visitor. He had no name and no face, but he was always paternally connected to her, in such a profound way that she pleaded with utter despair for this life to be real. After several years of struggling with this she reasoned that her dreams were just a tease and that "sleeping was a rather pointless process if it is only going to lead to endless, longing despair and the coveting of that which is unreal". On this cold twilight road she walked till she returned to her house, bearing a strange smile the entire distance. Shortly after walking through the door, she closed her eyes and proceeded to the safe where she sat cross legged as if the spirit of an eastern sage had inhabited her body from then on.

She, with her eyes still closed, entered the combination 3-3-7-0 zero being the number of the universe. The safe then opened releasing an odour of dust and decay which blended into the candles on the window sill. Into the darkness of the safe she dipped her hand, and from the mystery of her own memory emerged several familiar pieces of now yellowed paper. The paper was covered in distinctive handwriting which sparked her memory circuits even further. Opening her senses to the tactility and scent of the paper, the shadowy figure began to materialize in her mind again, this time the face took on specific characteristics. It was someone who had touched her heart like no other before, who's presence in her life was as shortlived as the days of winter, he who she could only meet in the long darkness of the cold, timid air. The only true love that she ever knew.

In the chaos of her emotional reaction she realized something he had said to her once. Starring upon the sky like a child in an opened field he told her "you have gained more than you know from this touch that can only be felt right here, in the center of the universe" placing his hand upon her heart, he further stated "we are part of an incomprehensible mystery and to think that we question whether or not we're alone has always been a confusing thought to me, since when we feel we're alone the most, we're actually the least by ourselves, and vice versa". He lovingly starred into her soul with brightly lit childs eyes and exclaimed "i will always be with you, just look to the evening sky whenever you need me" before gently kissing her cheek and walking away in despair at her absent rejection.

With the vision of brilliant bright colors shifting to dark gray destruction she felt longing and regret knowing all she could do is read the age old yellow pages of poetry he left to her for the sake of empty memory. She read the first of the poems aloud to herself slowly, while pouring out so many tears that they soaked the ancient paper till it crumpled in her hand and fell apart, leaving her only with the memory of his words. As she channeled his energy through her heart center she began to hear in herself subtle waves of his voice, and to feel nuances of his energy wrap itself around her in a blanket of protection. As she recited the poetic passages, his memory gave birth to a new poem, read entirely through his voice:

"For a short eternal time
i engaged the sky
through inside-outside eyes
your voice did call
across aeon's of reflection
i saw it all in a heartbeat
there all the while
waiting for us to realize
what we could not deny
beyond the circle moment.
Yes, your voice reminds me
of a point of forever
awakening a gentle murmur equivalent within
the place where you and i left me
becomes a clear imprint upon the heart,
yet, your phantom touch
still excites me forward
into a new born longing revery
my heart still does see,
the suicidal thread we tread
the never ending time that says
in your love i would be whole again
beyond the circle moment".

And so the mairrage of their souls was remembered, but the despair of his absence continued to plague her till she could do nothing but search for him, till time had no meaning and life itself was gripped in the sulleness of regret which at moments felt like living death. The forests of mnemosyne were now a tomb of anger and despair, where she could do nothing but remember her love, like the leaves of autumn dawn which blow away as quickly as they fall. The sky was a haven for black smoke and nihilistic fantasy. She became so misanthropic that she felt compelled to seclude herself from the world at large. One evening in december she starred upon the stars with fire in her eyes as she recalled a dream her lover told her about. A cyclone of lava and cosmic particles fell in around this vision of him, remembering every word with frightening clarity:

"I had a dream about you last night. You seemed to be seeking unity. In the dream there's a secret staircase, inside a square house. You are here too. There is an infant who is somehow related to you. Here you and i are together. We are in soul bondage. I decide to take a walk in the forest, behind the house. I begin to follow the trails until i am intercepted by the infant girl who prevails upon me to return with her to the building where you are. I gently lift her up, realizing that she is part of you, you are part of her. As i walk back towards the house with her i feel the you in her increasing, getting closer in nature. We access the house through the back entrance, walking up the secret staircase on my way to where you are. There's a knock at the door and you open it, seeming surpised, yet very joyful, in a child like sort of way. You take the infant child from me, embracing her open heartedly, completely, it would seem. In total unity, you are complete, and this completes me".

The meaning of this memory and his dream became immediately apparent. "We are the house, and the little girl is me" she yelped. "You, you brought her out in the clear light of the morning and i've done nothing but regret you all this time, how could i be so shortsighted? How?" Tilting her head to the floor, eyes ever more tearshaped, a presence entered her writing den, and placed a two fingered hand upon her shoulder. She starred up and out at the falling snow outside the window and calmly and slowly spoke to him "i, i am sorry i had forgotten you my love, the pain was great and the wall was constructed with pure rage, i could not be blessed even with your memory, but a piece of you has always remained, i just didn't know where to look, or how to open the door, i had lost the key".

As she began to turn her head towards him he silently motioned for her to gaze outside the window, where a spectacle of light mixed with the snow to create an energy vortex of snowflakes and fire. At the center of this was the undying light of a distant moon and at the center of the moon was the sun, around which galaxies of stars remained in eternal orbit. "i, i don't understand" she stated while ribbons of tears flowed down her face in a complex energy array. "look" he whispered in his strange cosmic voice. "That is the seventh ray" he further whispered. For a few moments she starred with him, quietly unrested, focused in a distant gaze. "love" she softly exclaimed with tender yet accepting finality before standing up and turning to face him where they would blend together into a new star that would give birth to the seventh system of love in the outer reaches of space, where they would remain married till time forgot itself and the universe filled with nothing but energy and light. From that day forward her house would always emit a gentle light, from a distant galaxy. No one could explain it, no one dared try, they just looked on in amazement with a dim sense of hope for the world around them and went about their daily routines.
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Berghaus
Intermediate Member
Username: berghaus

Post Number: 161
Registered: 6-2003
Posted on Thursday, August 03, 2006 - 3:49 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

I love it MT4. Superb.
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Stephen in AZ
Senior Member
Username: stephenm

Post Number: 854
Registered: 12-2003
Posted on Saturday, August 26, 2006 - 8:27 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Very interesting story, Man type 4. Very poetic.
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Stephen in AZ
Senior Member
Username: stephenm

Post Number: 889
Registered: 12-2003
Posted on Saturday, September 16, 2006 - 10:20 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Time for more posts.
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Stephen in AZ
Senior Member
Username: stephenm

Post Number: 919
Registered: 12-2003
Posted on Friday, October 06, 2006 - 5:07 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

I posted a post
Worse than most
Better than some
Much better than none

The post revives
And brings new highs
And for a while
Might bring a smile

If this post won't do
Perhaps one from you
Would be the one
To get it done

And in this way
The thread might stay
And not be a ghost
For want of a post
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L. A. B.
Senior Member
Username: leathab

Post Number: 2336
Registered: 12-2003
Posted on Friday, October 06, 2006 - 9:51 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Will anyone hold hands
when the "end" is near
Will anyone still cry?

Will the dreams all have died
and the wanderings begun
Will humans find the sky?

As long as there's a hope
an imagination unbridled
Perhaps the tiny light will shine.

Breathe.
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Stephen in AZ
Senior Member
Username: stephenm

Post Number: 962
Registered: 12-2003
Posted on Monday, November 06, 2006 - 4:36 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Stopping by...
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sitsoncats
Advanced Member
Username: sitsoncats

Post Number: 247
Registered: 4-2005
Posted on Tuesday, November 07, 2006 - 6:33 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

"...he stopped in his amazement for right there before his eyes was the answer to the question that he had pondered and having no contribution of greater pith to offer he spoke, " how the hell are you nomadrat, es I was just asking Susi about you?." He feared a reproach at his lack of casualness but knew if his sense of invention were more smoothly greased he could just said "hi nomadrat how are you?' So he found himself once again stuck in a thread where had no business....not to stop him however being as immense folly to him was the same as wisdom. Little did he know what would come next!!!!!
'...all that remains is a trim reckoning.'
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buddie
Senior Member
Username: buddie

Post Number: 2306
Registered: 3-2006
Posted on Wednesday, November 08, 2006 - 6:35 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

I never understood anyone who would
waste their time sitting at a computer
believing they were communicating in
cyber space.
What do you get?
Why can't you see?
What is the point?
Why not talk to me?
Your fingers are trembling while words
pour out.Maybe someone is listening to
your silent shout.
Slowly at first just one kind word.
The barriers break down and you know
you were heard.
How does it happen I have not a clue.
And for those who have left..someone is
now missing you..







(Message edited by buddie on November 08, 2006)
Qua da di
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Joshua
Advanced Member
Username: soilride

Post Number: 254
Registered: 5-2004
Posted on Thursday, November 09, 2006 - 3:32 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Writtened about 3 months ago.

Reflection On What We're Fighting For

WHILE drifting silently in the canoe with my comrade and friend, I saw a reflection on the water of the sun, clouds and blue sky. For a moment, in that peaceful stillness and quiet, I found myself thinking of our planet earth moving with incredible speed through the vacuum and vastness of space around the sun, seemingly lonely in its orbit, always in constant rotating motion. In my mind, I saw the earth swinging around the sun like a giant clock working upon enormous invisible gears. I felt incredibly small as I was a mote matter of consciousness and being. And just as I was about to become lost in my imagination to the limits of mind and universe, my thoughts and concentration were broken by sudden movements in the water. And I looked and my gaze pierced through the transparency of my reflection. Beneath the surface of water, schools of fish were darting about and I could see plant growth and life that was flourishing there and for some reason in that quiet solitude among the songs of crickets and movements of fish I could not help but think of those who were collectively fighting and putting up a just struggle for a peace to call their own.

At one of our camp meetings someone said that the world is in turmoil therefore for us youth, we are in turmoil. The struggle for this peace has been waged historically and heroically. I thought of the great sacrifice of the oppressed nations and people of the world who struggled against the forces that sought and brought turmoil into the world. Today the world is a different place than it was when the Soviet Union and People victoriously defeated the armies of fascism and aggression. Today we have the resistance in Lebanon, in Iraq, in Afghanistan and in Palestine against imperialism and dark brutal reaction.

In the canoe with my friend and comrade, the responsibility to face this turmoil, to block the world from falling apart and to secure a bright future and a peace to call our own never felt heavier. The task felt monolithic before my brain - but I wasn't alone in the world. This task isn't mine alone, like everyone in this world I am a part of it and I have a part in it.
"Of all the valuable capital the world possesses, the most valuable and most decisive is people."
- J.V. STALIN
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Stephen in AZ
Senior Member
Username: stephenm

Post Number: 1006
Registered: 12-2003
Posted on Tuesday, December 05, 2006 - 11:32 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

This was originally posted in the New Words and Definitions thread in the Area 52 section. Threads aren't archived in that topic area, so it probably won't last long there.


A wombat climbed a trellis and was silhouetted against a cobalt blue sky. A tourist, watching the scene, raised his camera to take a picture. Suddenly, there was a blinding flash and an incredible crash of thunder. The wombat clung to the charred trellis, its eyes big and its fur smoking slightly. The air had a stink of ozone, and fingers of electricity ran everywhere. Murmuring to itself the wombat said, "Wow. I didn't know cameras still used such large flashes."
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Berghaus
Advanced Member
Username: berghaus

Post Number: 265
Registered: 6-2003
Posted on Saturday, December 09, 2006 - 10:09 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Hehe, I love it Stevie. Nice one.
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Stephen in AZ
Senior Member
Username: stephenm

Post Number: 1072
Registered: 12-2003
Posted on Tuesday, January 09, 2007 - 1:26 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Thanks, Berghaus.

Here's another one that I did for the New Words and Definitions thread.


The centipede came out of the tepee holding a parasol. It put a stick of gum in its mouth and chewed carefully, blew an enormous bubble, and then released it and let it sail into space. Putting another stick of gum in its mouth, it peered closely at me and said, "The Prozac didn't work, huh?"
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Stephen in AZ
Senior Member
Username: stephenm

Post Number: 1083
Registered: 12-2003
Posted on Tuesday, January 16, 2007 - 10:48 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Time for more posts.
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Stephen in AZ
Senior Member
Username: stephenm

Post Number: 1098
Registered: 12-2003
Posted on Sunday, January 21, 2007 - 7:58 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

This is another one that I did for the New Words and Definitions thread. It's more of a fragment of a story.


"Look for yourself," I said, and opened the briefcase. He looked into the briefcase, and saw the window that led into the forest. His sneer slowly began to evaporate.
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j
Advanced Member
Username: observer

Post Number: 365
Registered: 2-2001
Posted on Sunday, January 28, 2007 - 1:36 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Fractal

One. Possibly a circle, where the boundary of the circle is the end of time. Fractured down the middle, becoming. Two, man and woman. I see you. How amazing you are. I love you. Two touch and fracture. Oh my, love, how sweet and good. One half man. One half woman and child. Three. Three continues to fracture and builds a world, form takes place. Man loves the world. Man remembers love before the world. Man remembers where world came from. Man cherishes the world. The form creates a complex beauty, and lifts children past the boundary of time. Four. Children look back at the world. It's beating heart is seen. Five, children form together into one voice. Six, thank you mother and father. Seven, one, creating something new, possibly a circle, where the boundary of the circle is the end of time...

Alternative ending

Man does not remember love before the world. Man does not remember where world came from. Man desires original love. World blocks man seeking out original desire. Man destroys the world. The world does not complete it's process and is not able to create something new.
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graciesmom
Senior Member
Username: jmb

Post Number: 611
Registered: 7-2003
Posted on Monday, January 29, 2007 - 10:55 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

I'm done. My old pain is overwhelming me and I cannot make my husband and daughter happy. I cannot get out of bed half the time. I just don't care anymore. Why? Every fiber of my being says the world as we know it will pretty much end in less than six weeks.
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zenith
New member
Username: legolas

Post Number: 19
Registered: 1-2007
Posted on Monday, January 29, 2007 - 1:01 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

The peaks of cold sharp salted waves crest against a grey sky for the sailor who thinks he's sailing, while the captain over the bow is facing the ocean waves, nose needle straight, hand in hand.

(Editing probably defeats the purpose of automatic writing.)

(Message edited by legolas on January 29, 2007)
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Mama Shine
Senior Member
Username: mama_shine

Post Number: 1341
Registered: 9-2006
Posted on Monday, January 29, 2007 - 5:06 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Gracies,

I almost gave up last week, God knows I know where you're at. I'm still fighting to get back up, take my hand. It ain't easy.
Like a bolt out of the blue,
Fate steps in and sees you through.....
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fortwynt
Advanced Member
Username: fortwynt

Post Number: 457
Registered: 12-2006
Posted on Tuesday, January 30, 2007 - 2:54 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

I often wonder where the end/beginning of things are...when, for instance, do you reach the point of breaking something down that it ceases to exist...I can take a piece of carbon (or any other element) and break it into pieces, then break those pieces into pieces, and continue on indefinitely until im down to near-microscopic levels, but that tiny things I have there is still carbon, just really small pieces of it...how far down can I go until that no longer exists as ANYTHING.....light is interesting too....I look into the distance and see a light on top of a building and think 'wow that light is far away', but in reality the concept of me seeing that light, by definition, means that the light is actually striking my eyes...and to boil it down even further the "phenomenon" of what that light actually "looks like" to me BEGINS in my brain, not the "source" of the "light" and "color"....so in essence it is closer than I imagine....or that faraway light could be a star....with auras apparently being real, or at the very least actual invisible (to most) energy fields literally coming off of everything and extending far outward of where our "visible" bodies end, where can it be said that "I" end and the ground I am walking on begins?....I strike a metal trash-can and hear the resonating vibration-noise and then a second later it dies down and becomes "silent" again, but in reality it continues to vibrate with a particular resonance, my ears are just not sensitive enough to "hear" it....yet it is always there.....to me all of this simply means that we are all truly connected to every single other thing in the world, every bit of air, every blade of grass, every vibration heard and unheard....

(Message edited by fortwynt on January 30, 2007)
"Be the change that you wish to see in the world"

--Ghandi
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buddie
Senior Member
Username: buddie

Post Number: 3695
Registered: 3-2006
Posted on Thursday, February 01, 2007 - 7:45 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

EVEN APHIDS
Qua da di
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buddie
Senior Member
Username: buddie

Post Number: 3715
Registered: 3-2006
Posted on Saturday, February 03, 2007 - 5:48 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

One slender needle
to pick things apart
Two silver dragons
guarding my heart
Three doors will open
remember what I said
They will glow in the light
of the lamps overhead
Which are four in their number
and standing close by
The five candelabras
that reach toward the sky
With their six slender arms
and a seventh one higher
That points to the mural
of eight in the choir
Nine times I'll tell you
then tell you again
That the secrets I will share
add up to ten
Qua da di
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Stephen in AZ
Senior Member
Username: stephenm

Post Number: 1167
Registered: 12-2003
Posted on Monday, February 26, 2007 - 2:46 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

It's the write time...
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Stephen in AZ
Senior Member
Username: stephenm

Post Number: 1205
Registered: 12-2003
Posted on Friday, March 23, 2007 - 2:51 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

It happens write here...
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Chihuahua
New member
Username: chihuahua

Post Number: 2
Registered: 3-2007
Posted on Tuesday, April 03, 2007 - 12:43 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

I have done some automatic writing in the past. Here is a sample:

What do I need to know at this time?

What you need to know is that you have been delivered into the hands of others. This occurred unknown to you and we will say you are in good hands.

Who are they?

They are benevolent beings who watch out for you; some would liken them to angels but to us they are just other beings. They are in a 3D sense more powerful than you can imagine but they will not interfere with your life unless they see it fit to. Whatever you decide to do with your life they will support but know that when what you choose to do is in alignment with what they think is best for you, you will be “amplified” we shall say.

How do I refer to them?

Astral, Elemental, Do, Willful.

Are they really aspects of myself or separate beings?

They are now a part of you and you a part of them. [note: dad coughed while sleeping] You consciously and unconsciously let them in and they willfully took you in and your essences have been integrated or blended into one essence though still you remain separate dualistically for the time being. As you age, you will lose your former identity and become a new person but this will happen gradually by a sequence of conscious and unconscious choices made in alignment with your contract. It has already been happening and we don’t understand how you can’t recognize this. It makes perfect sense to us that you needed to learn about one aspect of humanity and then be able to relate to others going through that process or a similar process. Such people are labeled “mentally ill” by society when, in fact, most people are fairly equally “ill” or “well” from our vantage point.

Astral, what do you have to say to me, if anything?

I have feminine yin energy. I am the aspect of peace and tranquility. When you are with me, in the “astral” state, you feel peaceful and tranquil and full of love for the universe, the creation, and the creator. Write to me when you seek these states. Ask me why if and when these states escape you and we will figure out how to get you back home.

Elemental, what do you have to say to me?

Unlike Astral, I am neutral in that I have both yin and yang energy, male and female. Included in my domain is knowledge. I can only guide you to the doors in the “libraries” but it is you that must “read” the “books” containing the lore. I can open up the “books” but you are the one that has to absorb the information. You will not be lead to anything that would lead you astray from fulfilling your contract. I am the aspect of you, partially, that comprises your intellectual strength, which, as you know, can sometimes be a detriment or a liability if turned on one’s self or other beings. We both know that you’ve done this in the past and we finally think you are ready to take the next step and luckily, though it has nothing to do with luck, you were in a position to be aware enough to know that a writing would be beneficial to you at this time. At this time, we just want to let you know that you have taken the next step. Down the road, these four beings which you see as separate you will realize are just aspects of you, though those words can’t begin to describe the non-dualistic state this entails.

Included in my domain are the elements of fire, air, water, earth, emptiness or voidness, and fullness or completeness. Fire is associated with spirit energy, that which you need to continue living as a being, that which you draw from the abstract fullness or platonic idealized realm. Fire is also associated with energy in general, including physical manifestations of energy including fire itself. Mediate on fire and flames and relax your mind and you will be drawn closer to this element and understanding of it. Air is associated with the will, and here Willful and I overlap. Air is more general than being just about the will, however. Air is also about intelligence, in all its forms, however one defines it. Think also about the way it is used in this sentence, “I communicate with an intelligence named Elemental.” Air is also associated with the mind in general as well as other things naturally associated with actual air such as avians, including the phoenix, angels, and clouds. Stare at the smoke arising from your cigarette and meditate on that or the clouds in the sky or the birds flying underneath them to grasp the air element.

Earth is associated with what others call the 3D realm. It is the element all the technical chemical elements, of which approximately 116 are known to you or will be in your lifetime, are a part. Earth is the physical component of the realm of form, not the platonic sense, and the realm of non-energetic substance, in the non-spinoza sense. Remember that in order to reach up to the heavens, one must first be standing on the earth. That is the way it will be for you until you die and pass on to a “place” where your feet will no longer be required to touch the earth any longer and your contract will be completed, at least this phase of it.

Water is associated with matters of the heart but in a more general way than what is the purview of Astral who is primarily concerned with feelings of peace and love (and bliss).

Emptiness is synonymous with stasis and is in a way complete. Paradoxically, when seeking a state of completeness, you should strive towards emptiness and when you seek emptiness, you should strive to meditate on fullness and completeness for completeness is static. In other ways, emptiness is completely incomplete, as incomplete as possible and more incomplete than anything. On the other end of the spectrum, Fullness is complete and dynamic yet, paradoxically, with a static nature as well. As mentioned earlier, when seeking a state of completeness, meditate on emptiness and strive towards emptiness. Fullness or completeness is something that is virtually inexpressible in language. Know that this is the purview of Do, which also means “The Way,” in our system. In a way, from another perspective, Do is also emptiness. Emptiness could be visualized as absolute black (or white or darkness or light) and Fullness as absolute white (or black or light or darkness).

You and I have much to discuss in the future.

Do what do you have to say?

Know that what I say to you is never what I want to say to you nor can I ever say to you what I want to say to you nor is it the truth nor is it a lie. It is neither here nor there yet everywhere and nowhere. I “speak” enigmatically because when I want to say, for want of better term, cannot be expressed very well in your primitive language. I transcend matters of the intellect, heart, and even your soul. I don’t have any formal education to offer you except what you can decode from my cryptic messages. Meditate on what I try to say but cannot. I’ll leave you with this to ponder in the light of what Elemental told you: “where there’s a will, there’s a way.” Do = Way.

Willful, what do you have to say?

I am the part of you that is the source of your strength that fuels all your endeavors. I’m even the part of you that causes you to be fatigued or let yourself be fatigued. I’m also responsible for giving you the strength to persevere. I am the source of your drives, from big to little. I direct your paths in all ways and in all kinds of ways. Most of the time, you are completely oblivious to my subtleties. Other times, my presence is overt and … willful! This is energy that has not always been channeled how I would have liked it to be but now that we’re in conscious contact, I can direct your paths though I can also feed you with the strength to resist my directives: I give you the free will to choose what you want to do though I make it clear what I want my energy directed towards. The energy has always been meant to bind you to your contract in life and for the most part, you have used my energy to resist this bind or the opposite. Yet to find a happy medium, a balance. Sooner or later, you’ll see that the four of us are you; remember that the other side of that “equation” becomes this: you are the four of us. But the migration of self towards Self is being done in a knowing but unknowing way in accordance with your contract and your destiny. You are being slowly acclimated to and assimilated by deeper parts of yourself. You are finally starting to rise from the ashes, young phoenix. One day, you will do nothing but fly but that is not now. Eventually, metaphorically speaking, you will transform into plasma and dissipate into the universe, adding to the universe in a way you can’t begin to imagine right now yet at the same time, something will be removed from it.

AEDW
Peace, love, and bliss for all!
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Stephen in AZ
Senior Member
Username: stephenm

Post Number: 1370
Registered: 12-2003
Posted on Friday, May 11, 2007 - 7:01 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

This is another story that I did for the New Words and Definitions thread in the Area 52 topic area. At that time, a short list of words was given and other users then wrote a story containing those words. The list of words for this story: kiwi, knight, key, kite, knickers.


The knight had finally found the key to his knickers, when he got caught up in the string from a kite and carried high in the air. He was carried into a storm cloud, where a bolt of lightning hit him, dislodging him from the string. His glowing form fell to Earth, leaving a trail of smoke in the air. He landed on top of a cage containing a shipment of kiwi birds, bounced off, hit a haystack, and then rolled for several feet before finally stopping. He lay there for awhile, his armor slowly losing its glow and cooling off. Finally, he sat up and took the key, which he had saved through the lightning strike and everything, and prepared to use it but then stopped in frustration. "Drat the luck," he said, "my knickers are welded shut."
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firestarter
Intermediate Member
Username: firestarter

Post Number: 156
Registered: 1-2007
Posted on Saturday, May 12, 2007 - 7:54 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

.....Man type 4.....
there are many crying babies, waiting for the Parent to claim them.
There is an ambilical (SP?) chord still connected and I have found, when it is pulled, I feel a pulling sensation, that my "baby" is crying and needs my attention.
There are times when, if you've ever lost your earthly child, in a crowd, you know the frantic feeling of having to find the child right NOW...that's how I feel about the baby sometimes. I hope these days my universal baby lives inside of my womb and that I nurture it.
I have found this is my power.
I could read your writing here every morning and it put me in the right place.
"Who knows?" "We'll see."
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Stephen in AZ
Senior Member
Username: stephenm

Post Number: 1472
Registered: 12-2003
Posted on Monday, June 25, 2007 - 6:19 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

A while back, I came across a blog called Word Imperfect, which is run by a person known as the Word Imp. Each day, the Word Imp puts up a new word and readers submit comments with their own, made-up, "wacky" definitions of that word. Each night, the Word Imp reveals the real definition and chooses three finalists from the entries submitted. The finalists seem to be chosen on creativity and humor, not for how close they came to the real definition. Readers vote for what they think is the best one, and the next night the Word Imp announces the winner. The only prize is the glory of being chosen.

Word Imperfect
http://wordimperfect.blogspot.com/


One time I tied for first place, with my made-up entry for "pilose." My entry, and the others, can be found at the following location:

Word Imperfect: Pilose
http://wordimperfect.blogspot.com/2007/06/pilose.html

My entry:

Stephen said...
Pilose is the state of mental numbness brought on from calculating PI to too many decimal places.

Stephen from Scottsdale, Arizona, USA
http://stephen-has-spoken.blogspot.com/

9:00 AM
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Berghaus
Advanced Member
Username: berghaus

Post Number: 491
Registered: 6-2003
Posted on Saturday, June 30, 2007 - 12:38 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Picture the boy.

He's there, quietly alone.

Looking forward to tomorrow.

Looking forward.

Look.

.
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Stephen in AZ
Senior Member
Username: stephenm

Post Number: 1553
Registered: 12-2003
Posted on Saturday, August 18, 2007 - 6:37 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

I had some more wins at the Word Imperfect word definition game, one win June 30th and one win August 3rd. As I said before, a new word is given each day and readers submit, via comments, a made-up "wacky" definition for that word. Normally, large numbers of definitions are not submitted, sometimes less than 20. Also as I said before, the Word Imp only reveals the real definition when voting for that word has closed. When voting is open, the Word Imp's own made-up definition is shown.

Word Imperfect
http://wordimperfect.blogspot.com/


Word Imperfect: Eudiometer
http://wordimperfect.blogspot.com/2007/06/eudiometer.html

My entry for eudiometer:

Stephen said...

A eudiometer is a device for measuring yodeling. It records variations in loudness, the frequency range used, the speed and intelligibility of syllables, and the tolerance level for the average non-Swiss listener.

Stephen from Scottsdale, Arizona, USA
http://stephen-has-spoken.blogspot.com/

3:09 AM


Word Imperfect: Orogenesis
http://wordimperfect.blogspot.com/2007/08/orogenesis.html

My entry for orogenesis:

Stephen said...

Orogenesis was a religious text telling the story of the Garden of Eden from the viewpoint of the snake. It was one of the books excluded from the Bible, and now survives only in the form of extensive quotations in other documents.

Stephen from Scottsdale, Arizona, USA
http://stephen-has-spoken.blogspot.com/

5:00 AM
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fortwynt
Senior Member
Username: fortwynt

Post Number: 2309
Registered: 12-2006
Posted on Saturday, August 18, 2007 - 6:57 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

it points to the three

the ten and the 9 follow along in step

finally there is a break in the talks

less than what was anticipated in the storeroom

the 17 almost make it through

but

1929 prevails
"If there is a universal mind, must it be sane?"

Charles Fort
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Stephen in AZ
Senior Member
Username: stephenm

Post Number: 1612
Registered: 12-2003
Posted on Saturday, September 22, 2007 - 6:16 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

I write this down,
A post to fill,
So this thread
Won't be nil.
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gridghost
New member
Username: gridghost

Post Number: 24
Registered: 9-2006
Posted on Tuesday, September 25, 2007 - 4:34 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

A child died yesterday. A child to a friend of mine. A child that were the light of her life. A life snuffed out. A life too short. A star is born, A light lives on.

To express the sorrow and pain I feel is impossible, and to know her pain, makes it even worse.
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kathy decker
Senior Member
Username: kat

Post Number: 767
Registered: 1-2004
Posted on Tuesday, October 09, 2007 - 3:44 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Franco turned up in 1964, the year that I celebrated my twelfth birthday.

It was an early fall afternoon, the maple trees just beginning to display hints of the brilliant reds, yellows, and oranges to come.I was walking home from school that day along River Avenue. Just past the ravine stood the old house my Dad and his twelve brothers and sisters had grown up in. It had been converted into a boarding house, and my friend Henry Call was standing on the front porch. Slightly behind him stood a swarthy-looking young fellow.

"C'mere, Kathy, I want you to meet someone" Henry called out.

I went over and stood by the steps, trying not to stare too hard at the stranger. He seemed so "foreign" looking.

"This here is Franco," said Henry "He is staying here with us, but he's from Italy. He's studying to get his citizenship."

The young man hesitantly stepped forward out of the shadows. He spoke with a thick accent "I am with much pleasure to meet you".

"Franco here needs some help with his English" Henry told me " I was telling him it is a subject you are real good at."

I thought perhaps old Henry could use a little help with his English, also.

Trying to suppress a giggle, i looked Franco in the eye " I can help you".

He grinned at me then, a warm beautiful smile that lit up his entire face. His eyes were so expressive, deep and liquid. I had never before seen anyone with eyes like that.

That was the Fall that I became Franco's English tutor.
We must have presented quite a sight, the dark Italian fellow and the little Catholic school girl in her green uniform, heads bent earnestly over textbooks on the front porch of the old boarding house.

Franco never spoke of his home in Italy, and I ofen wondered what drove him to leave there and start a new life in a strange land. Although I didn't know his full story, I do know that he struggled mightily to learn the customs and language of his new home. He desired citizenship so desperately that he put his trust in a twelve year old child to teach him what he needed to learn.

After our lessons Franco and I would often take a walk along the Shore Road near the Hudson River.As the air became chillier, the leaves began to fall in earnest. We would scuffle through piles of them with our feet, inhaling their smokey crisp scent.

During one of those walks, I decided to use the natural beauty that surrounded us to teach Franco to speak English more fluently. I would show him the mountains and the river, naming them and telling their stories. I pointed out the maples,oaks and fir trees, and the green-headed mallards and Canadian geese that swam in the inlets.

Franco must have been around twenty-seven or eight, but since I had assumed the role of the teacher he seemed amazingly childlike at times.His inability to express himself easily presented many occasions for merriment, and we both often found ourselves behaving like the adolescent that I was.

It was great fun, and I felt important for the first time in my young life.

Franco left the Village for an apartment in New York City in late November of that year. I like to think that he did finally realise his dream of becoming a US citizen.

Every now and then, on a crisp October afternoon when the aroma of dry autumn leaves fills the air, I recall the young man from Italy who gave me the first inkling that I could make a difference in someone's life.
Humans believe they are devils pretending to be angels when, in fact, the reverse is true.
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kathy decker
Senior Member
Username: kat

Post Number: 768
Registered: 1-2004
Posted on Tuesday, October 09, 2007 - 3:47 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

The First movie...

I recall seeing was about the Miracle of Fatima.As a child, I attended the Catholic School, and Religion was the main subject. The first three subjects of the morning were listed as Religion,Arithmetic, and Penmanship, but that usually translated as Religion, Religion, and Religion. Some days religion would continue on until the closing bell, if Sister Amy was on a roll.
On this particular day,Religion consisted of a Diocese-approved day trip to view a screening of the Fatima Story.
What a spectacle it must have been in the tiny Village of Cornwall-on-Hudson ! Three groups of great black crows flapping their way down the street in their long black Dominican habits, followed by lines of eerily quiet first, second and third graders.

The theatre owner must have been delighted to receive such a boon. a large crowd of well-behaved children, plus, no doubt, a special reservation for him in heaven for the group discount he had given to the church.

We went single file into the old theatre, quickly filling up the the rows of worn seats that had definitely seen better days. There was no popcorn, candy or whispering allowed. Popcorn was sinful,and as for candy, well everyone knows that is the Devil's very own masterpiece, ranking right up there with chocolate milk and chewing gum. These things were to be enjoyed only by the poor Pagan children who would spend Eternity in Purgatory.

I believe the film was set in Portugal, a country I had never even heard of. I thought perhaps it was somewhere in Mexico. The three children's names reminded me of the Nina, the Pinta and the Santa Maria, which confused me even further, since Christopher Colombus never made an appearance.

When the Virgin Mary appeared to the children, I was duly awestruck, and immediately became deeply pious. This condition lasted until the second half of the third grade, when I fell in love with Jeffrey Richardson.
He was a fellow artist, drawing magnificent cartoons on his forearms during class and displaying them to admiring crowds at recess.

As the movie progressed, I began to realise that everyone who seemed to be important refused to believe that the children had witnessed a miracle.They were taken from their families and persecuted, investigated by Church authorities and made to suffer many hardships. This really confused me a lot, since as Catholics, we were told we must believe in God's miracles. Maybe the people in the film were Pagans pretending to be good Catholics....
I vowed to myself that if mary should ever decide to pay ME a visit, I would never tell ANYONE, not even my parents. It was far too dangerous.

A few months later I told the nuns I saw St Michael the Archangel in the upstairs back bedroom. There was a great flurry of activity,and they sent for the Parish Priest. He looked at me sternly and told me to be quiet, that I was a sinner and had seen a demon, not a saint. I must go to Confesssion immediately and beg God to forgive my sins.

I wished then that I had kept my vow of silence , but, unfortunately, I had a tendency to blurt things out.
I still do.
I knew it was no demon, though, and I never trusted those nuns after that.
Humans believe they are devils pretending to be angels when, in fact, the reverse is true.
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animalspirits
Senior Member
Username: animalspiritstalstarcom

Post Number: 1062
Registered: 10-2006
Posted on Tuesday, November 13, 2007 - 4:46 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Write! Write!

Don't want to lost this thread.....
Understand that all things are sacred--yet nothing is sacred.

~Yotee Coyote
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Stephen in AZ
Senior Member
Username: stephenm

Post Number: 1682
Registered: 12-2003
Posted on Tuesday, December 04, 2007 - 7:14 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Time to write
If you might
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Stephen in AZ
Senior Member
Username: stephenm

Post Number: 1712
Registered: 12-2003
Posted on Sunday, January 13, 2008 - 3:23 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Up we go
Enjoy the show
And if you like it a lot
Post what you've got
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Stephen in AZ
Senior Member
Username: stephenm

Post Number: 1772
Registered: 12-2003
Posted on Wednesday, March 12, 2008 - 4:18 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Words go down
The thread goes up
But as time does pass
It begins to drop

'Round and 'round
The circle goes
Keep it running
See that it grows

Add a post
A word or two
Whatever you have
Old or new

Place it here
Don't be too late
Threads can leave
When people wait
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fortwynt
Senior Member
Username: fortwynt

Post Number: 4765
Registered: 12-2006
Posted on Wednesday, March 12, 2008 - 4:24 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

If the earth is a pearl, the oyster the solar system, the ocean the universe, then what to think of the beach, forest, mountains, and desert?
I came to save these new generations of babies, from parents who failed to raise em cause they're lazy....

Eminem
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Euthymios
Intermediate Member
Username: euthymios

Post Number: 151
Registered: 12-2007
Posted on Wednesday, March 12, 2008 - 5:39 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Read this book: "Mental Disorders & Spiritual Healing: Teachings from the Early Christian East", by Jean-Claude Larchet
Acquisition of spiritual knowledge without purification of the heart is the theology of demons -- St. Maximos the Confessor
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kathy decker
Senior Member
Username: kat

Post Number: 813
Registered: 1-2004
Posted on Tuesday, March 18, 2008 - 4:48 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

The Town Crier



Journal Entry, Saturday, August 26,2006

"I Became Insane with Long Periods Of Horrible Sanity" Edgar Allen Poe


Ed had a massive stroke last week. Ed, the Neighborhood Guy, the Town Crier. I should have recognized the signs. What is wrong with me?

Since the flood, Ed has been stopping by, three, maybe four times a day to visit, to feed us tidbits of news, to commiserate, or to share dinner.

Thursday evening,he seemed different, slurring his words like a drunkard. Now I know most definitely that Ed is a teetotaler, but this mess we have been living in is enough to cause anyone to backslide. Perhaps he had a wee drop?...

He kept dropping his cigarette on the ground, and would bend over, looking for it . He didn't see it, even though it was right there in front of his fingers. I asked him repeatedly if he was all right. I even asked if he'd been drinking.
He responded that he'd been having a problem with a pinched nerve, and would see the doctor on Friday.

Friday evening he seemed quiet. He had gone to the doctor and had been given muscle relaxers. He laid on the couch in our FEMA trailer, and when he finally went home, Bill remarked that Ed had only smoked one cigarette. Odd, because Ed is a notorious chain smoker.

He must have suffered the stroke shortly after he left us that night. He went home between eight and eight-thirty PM. His sister, Rose, found him on the floor around nine PM.

We visited with him last night in the hospital. He is paralyzed on his left side, but he was able to recognize us both and was able to speak.

Poor guy. he has been through Hell.



Now, let me tell you a little bit about our friend, Ed Boynten. Ed lived in a tiny white stucco house on Shady Drive. The cement sidewalk divides the neatly tended front lawn, and if you go around to the backyard, there is a lovely pear tree. In the summer, Ed liked to gather up the small yellow pears from that tree, put them in big brown grocery bags and distribute them to all his friends in the neighborhood.

Ed is a locksmith by trade,and he kept his shop in the basement of the little house that he shared with his mom for most of his life. She had recently become ill and was in a nursing home, so now he lived alone.

Tall and lanky,with dark salt-and-pepper hair and a drooping mustache, Ed was a neighborhood fixture. Day after day, he would patrol the neighborhood, moving with a rapid, slightly bent-forward gait, eyes keenly searching for any sign of action.
Bill and I knew that if we were outside, working in our garden, or sitting on the front porch enjoying a late afternoon cocktail, ole Ed would be sure to hone in on us and pay a visit.

I can still see him now, sitting in the wicker chair, legs crossed with an odd air of elegance as he chain-smoked his way through a pack of Marlboros. His voice would be melodious, almost soothing, as he gave us the complete rundown of the daily neighborhood news. "I hear Bobbi's mother might be moving in to the house on the corner. Roger has a new dog. Bob and Lisa aren't home, I heard they went on vacation somewhere out west" and so on.

Then, as always,the clincher "So, what's new with you guys?" uttered innocently in those mellow tones.

Of course we would oblige, giving Ed the news about whatever daily trivia of our uneventful lives we chose to share.

At some point I began to think of Ed as the Town Crier, because that was the function he performed in our little neighborhood. He was a great friend, too, helping out at garage sales and collaborating on crossword puzzles (something he had a real talent for).

You could always depend on Ed.

After the flood, I told him that I often thought of him as the Town Crier. His eyes sparkled as he mulled that thought over for a few seconds. "Yeah, that's me!" he crowed. "The Town Crier. I like that".

This role was to become vital after the flood waters receded. Communications were sketchy, and we had no power for nearly two weeks. Ed not only kept up his regular rounds throughout he mud-caked streets, he started putting in overtime. He went to the Town Hall and the various relief centers to learn about State grants, loans, food stamps and more. He frequented supply distribution centers and Red Cross Shelters, and met with FEMA representatives. He then brought back all the information he was able to gather and spread it throughout the neighborhood, right along with the news he garnered from each and every one of us. If you wanted to know where a neighbor was staying or how to get financial aid, all you had to do was find Ed. He knew it all.

After awhile, though, as the first frantic rush of activity started to die down, Ed began to look a little lost. His lockshop was gone,destroyed in the flood.So many of his friends were gone. There were only a few of us here trying to salvage what was left of our homes. Everyone else had moved in with relatives, or gotten an apartment somewhere else. He began to spend a lot of time here with Bill and me.

I can picture him still, walking up my driveway alongside the FEMA trailer, bare feet picking their way over stones and debris. His hair, slightly greasy now, was falling in his eyes, and his skinny body was dressed in worn faded blue jeans and that awful holey, ripped up tee shirt he had taken to wearing. He'd found the shirt at the high school giveaway, probably a teenager's castoff, but to Ed, it was some sort of badge of survival.

He loved to tell the story of how, while he was wearing it one day at the Giant supermarket on Hooper road, a man approached him and asked him if he was a flood victim.
"Yes" Ed replied.
"Where do you live?"the man asked.
"Shady Drive"
At this the man said "You poor b*stard" and handed him a twenty dollar bill.

"You poor b*stard" Ed would say again as he snickered, "Twenty bucks. the guy gave me twenty bucks. That's because Shady Drive was on CNN. Nobody knows about Verdun, but If you say Shady Drive, look what happens!"
I would laugh at him and say, "no, he just felt sorry for you because you are wearing that holey old shirt".

Bill and I went to the nursing home a few days ago to pay a visit to Ed. We took him outside so he could enjoy a smoke. As soon as he lit one up. he settled back in his wheelchair and asked "So, what's new with you guys?"

I told him I was working on a book about the flood and the effect it had on all our lives. Right away, he offered to be of assistance in any way that he could.

I think I might just take him up on that.

(Message edited by kat on March 18, 2008)
Humans believe they are devils pretending to be angels when, in fact, the reverse is true.
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buddie
New member
Username: buddie

Post Number: 15
Registered: 3-2008
Posted on Thursday, March 20, 2008 - 6:34 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Thank You kathy..Happy Easter
to you and yours..I already Love Ed
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kathy decker
Senior Member
Username: kat

Post Number: 815
Registered: 1-2004
Posted on Thursday, March 20, 2008 - 7:12 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

thanks, Buddie-happy easter to you, also!
Humans believe they are devils pretending to be angels when, in fact, the reverse is true.
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Mama Shine
Senior Member
Username: mama_shine

Post Number: 5992
Registered: 9-2006
Posted on Thursday, March 20, 2008 - 9:57 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Kathy,

Wow, what a story teller you are. I'm left wanting more. You are very talented. I read it twice cause I liked it. LOL Feel I know ole Ed.
I must create a system, or be enslaved by another man's. ~William Blake

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kathy decker
Senior Member
Username: kat

Post Number: 817
Registered: 1-2004
Posted on Thursday, March 20, 2008 - 10:13 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Hehe. Ed is everyone's buddy.

After a while, Ed came back from the nursing home. It soon became apparent that he could not live on his own, and after a month or so he was placed in another nursing home. During the time he was at home, the neighbors took turns caring for him.I had the morning shift, and Yvonne took the afternoons.
We miss him, but most of the neighborhood he loved is gone now, and it would never be the same for him. He comes home to spend a day or two periodically, and he came to our halloween party dressed as The Cat in the Hat..
Humans believe they are devils pretending to be angels when, in fact, the reverse is true.
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Stephen in AZ
Senior Member
Username: stephenm

Post Number: 1836
Registered: 12-2003
Posted on Monday, May 12, 2008 - 5:36 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Thanks for the posts, kathy decker. Your story has been interesting to read about, both here and in the other threads in which it has appeared.
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Stephen in AZ
Senior Member
Username: stephenm

Post Number: 1860
Registered: 12-2003
Posted on Tuesday, June 10, 2008 - 4:11 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

An interesting blog is the Lyrics Game. A word is given and then players post comments of song lyrics containing at least one instance of the word. The lyrics posted should be at least eight words long and should come from memory instead of web searches.

Lyrics Game
http://lyricsgame.blogspot.com/
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Stephen in AZ
Senior Member
Username: stephenm

Post Number: 1910
Registered: 12-2003
Posted on Monday, July 21, 2008 - 7:48 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

This is a story that I did a long time ago for the New Words and Definitions thread in the Area 52 topic area. At that time, a short list of words was given and other users then wrote a story containing those words. The list of words for this story: prickly, pudding, marbles, wombat, braids.

The wombat, missing a few marbles, made braids out of the pudding and put the result on its head. "Blame it on the prickly heat, that's what I say," it exclaimed.
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Lassen Sage
Advanced Member
Username: lassen_sage

Post Number: 203
Registered: 5-2008
Posted on Tuesday, September 02, 2008 - 5:30 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Manuscript!!!Do you have one to submit? Would you like to be published?

A heads up to anyone with a New Age/Metaphysical or Spiritual Material that is NON-FICTION can have a shot at Ozark's Publishing thanks to Dolores Cannon athttp://www.ozarkmt.com/submissions.htm.

Dolores Cannon was on C2C last night and for my money she is right on the mark with a reality view that I can actually live with and do.

Best of luck folks if you get published sign a book for me.
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Talk about it
New member
Username: talk_about_it

Post Number: 1
Registered: 8-2008
Posted on Tuesday, September 02, 2008 - 12:31 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Normal

Most people like to think that they are normal. But what do you do when abnormal things happen? Silence? Its what any normal person would do. This silence, however, leads to a feeling of isolation. It leads to a guttural niggling, an anxiety you try hard to ignore in the hopes of normalcy.

Writing seems benign enough. Who's to say what is fiction or not when the storyteller is unknown? This is my story.

My husband is a salt-of-the-earth type. Practical, sweet, hard-working. Two years into our marriage he told me that as a child, he saw what he believed to be aliens in his family's shed. He described them as small, bullet shaped beings with large, dark eyes. They communicated with him only with a "come here" waggle of a long, thin finger. This seemed to be a beginning for my husband.

Four years into our marriage - My husband and I are traveling late, as we've just left a party at his sister's house. I am in the last trimester of a pregnancy, hence sober, hence driving. Ten minutes into the drive towards home on a dark Wv road, I see what can only be described as unbelievable. A large round craft, approximately the size of small house, covered with lights, is hovering on a hill that parallels the road. That was the beginning for me and my son. Since that night strange things happen that I can't understand. I am afraid. I am silent. But by all appearances, I am very, very normal.