Sunday, January 16, 2011
Feather Quest
Eirrin sat on the log with his chin in a palm watching the dance circle about the glade. He had his eye on one of the dancers in particular, a fine wisp of a girl, Tiana. He thought she knew he was watching but every time she glanced his way their eyes would briefly meet each other’s as they looked elsewhere. He like what he saw. She was dressed entirely in a long green gown and had bluish ribbons striped with paler hues plaited in her long hair. Pity the poor human that ever saw her. Their crossing looks became longer each time she passed near him.
As he sat debating whether to join the circle or pull Tiana out Alis appeared at his side. “Ah, a mighty fine looking girl, Eirrin. But she won’t have anything to do with the likes of you. You are too bland.” Alis dropped onto the log.
Eirrin looked at his friend. “I suppose you have a remedy for what ails us?”
“I do, my friend, I do.” Alis stood and paced before Eirrin, stopping in front of him only when Tiana was passing. “Kookooskoos is hunting near tonight and I think he would not mind giving up a tail feather of two for the likes of us.”
Eirrin knew his friend and if he didn’t go with him his night would be ruined. No, not really ruined but interrupted with Alis’ fidgeting. Anyway, an owl feather would look good adorning his cap. He’d seen some of his fellows wearing cock feathers proudly, but to be the proud owner of a tail feather from the mighty Kookooskoos. Oh, but did he dare to dream? Who knew, Alis had done both better and worse with his ideas. Whatever the outcome it would be an experience.
“Okay,” he replied, rising. “Lead on, my good man.” Eirrin bowed waving his right arm and hand out before himself. Alis danced a jig he’d learned from a passing Leprechaun and the two swaggered from the glade.
As they made their way through the forest the tiny sliver of a moon could be seen just topping the peaks to the east. Alis made grand plans of how they would do this and that; and spoke of the new admiration they would receive. Eirrin enjoyed Alis and his plans and his stories. He knew Alis would be a wonder when he became old and relived his life around the hearths in winter. Eirrin slowed and cut a couple of lengths of wild grapevine to help them in the conquest to where Kookooskoos perched surveying his terrain.
As they eased into place below him he opened his mighty wings and swooped silently to another tree. He looked back at the two as if to say, I’m not going to make this easy. Eirrin and Alis knew he didn’t see them as he hunted his supper among the small fellows who ran in the leaves. They made too much noise, as if to say, Here I am. Come get me. Which Kookooskoos usually did.
When they were once more in place the great owl moved again. Alis silently cursed and said to his friend, “Will he ever sit still long enough?”
Eirrin gave the two lengths of vine to Alis saying, “Go. Get us the two feathers that will mark us as brothers. I will draw his attention. Hopefully he will sit long enough for you to complete this before it becomes too late.” Eirrin made his way to the other side of the small clearing rustling a few leaves here and there. Kookooskoos turned his large eyes on the noise. As Alis made his way up the tree Eirrin kept the owl occupied with just enough noise to keep it interested but not enough for it to attack.
Alis tied the vine around his waist and around the bole of the tree before shimming out the branch just below Kookooskoos. Just as he stood and grabbed two feathers Eirrin ran across the clearing. Kookooskoos launched himself off the branch pulling Alis from his perilous perch. The vine reached its limit pulling Alis back along with only one tail feather and knocking the owl from his killing approach to Eirrin. The owl turned in mid-flight and headed to a tall tree where he checked himself over and preened the area of the missing feather. Eirrin ran over to where Alis swung just off the ground, and got him to his feet.
“I see you only got one feather,” Eirrin said. “Well you keep it. You earned it.”
Alis smiled proudly. “It will look better in my cap, will it not?” he said as he made a small cut and placed the feather just so.
As they made their way back to the clearing they could hear the dance continuing. Their luck continued finding their log unoccupied. As they sat Tiana danced out of the circle wondering where they had gone. Eirrin sat quietly as Alis described the exploits of the early evening. When he was finished Tisii joined them. As she fussed and fawned over the feather Tiana turned to Eirrin and said, “I shall make you a scarf as worthy of those who went on the feather quest.
The two Elves who stood under the Rhododendron shrub were dress almost alike; brown breeches, green jerkin and soft brown boots. Where Alis had the tail feather of an owl stuck jauntily in his soft brown cap Eirrin had a scarf of green and orange draped around his neck and hanging equal distance front and back. His cap was green with the brim turned down all around. As he wiped the last of the dew from his silver bucket with lichen from the north side of the tree he said, “I’m getting tired of that dwarf Bucus picking on me.”
“Yeah, like you’re going to do something. Remember that old saying, ‘Actions speak louder than words.’ Anyway,” said Alis turning his bucket upside down so the last drop would slide down the smooth side and splash at his feet. “We are off for the next few days. No dew to do.” he laughed at his own joke, jabbing Eirrin in the ribs with his elbow.
Eirrin smiled that crooked smile prevalent when you are doing it to please the other. “He has made me spill my bucket for the last time. I don’t care if he is a distant relative of Sindri’s. I’m going to get even with him.”
The false dawn was hinting at the real thing from the east. And in the mountains it could be dark of night one moment and the sun would be topping a peak the next. The faint crowing of a cock could be heard off in the distance. “We must hurry,” Alis whispered.
They turned and disappeared among the brown and green of the shrubs.
A little after sunset Alis arrived at Eirrin’s dwelling. “There’s a big dance on for tonight. You want to go?” But Eirrin told him he wasn’t really interested in dancing. But deep down he was troubled Bucus would show and ruin the evening. “Well, if you don’t want to dance, how about we go tickle some trout.”
But he really didn’t want to spend the night on his stomach with is arms shoulder deep in the cold water waiting for an unsuspecting trout to come along so he could run his fingers along it’s underside. What he wanted to do was get a weapon to defend against Bucus.
As they stood watching the full moon shrink higher and higher into the night sky Eirrin knew what he wanted to do. “Let’s go see if we can get a weapon from the human blacksmith.”
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” said Alis. “Remember what he has there.”
But Eirrin was on his way, striding with purpose and intention.
They were in luck, the human was still working the anvil. As they eased through the door cracked open to let out some of the heat the large orange cat turned his yellow eyes their way. It sat up and watched them ease around the room. The human saw the movement of the cat and turned to where it was looking. They froze as his attention was brought to bear on them.
“What do we have here?” it asked in a booming voice “I remember you.” it continued, pointing the heavy hammer at Eirrin.
“The human knows you?” asked Alis in wonderment. Eirrin shrugged and looked down, scrunching his face as he nodded yes. “How?”
“You’re the one who saved me from the beauty of Edda and her invitation to dance, aren’t you?” Once again Eirrin nodded. The cat watched as he licked a paw and wiped it behind his ear. And Eirrin watched the cat as it repeated its actions. “What can I do for you?” the human asked placing the hammer on the anvil, work forgotten.
Eirrin told the human the entire story leaving out nothing. Even adding some things as he became aware of them for the first time. As he finished the cat jumped off the bench and walked to the open door, stopping and looking back at Eirrin, once, before disappearing.
“Well, I have just the thing,” said the human, rummaging around behind the forge. And finally, after a few chosen words about the gods and mothers else where, he turned to Eirrin with a leather pouch. After carefully unwrapping it he laid it on the ground between them. It was perfect. “It’s a dagger I made for a man who failed to take into account an angry husband. It is yours for the taking.” The human stepped back.
On the swath of leather was the perfect sword. The blade gleamed in the firelight like a thousand fireflies all sitting on the same grass stem. He hefted it and tested the balance. The gods smiled upon him this night, it was better than perfect. It felt as if it was made just for him and him alone. As he tested its balance with a few quick moves he knew in his heart that the human had used dwarf ore in forging this blade. It fit his hand like it was an extension of his arm. It acted as one with him. “This goes with it,” the human added laying a hard leather scabbard tooled with intricate markings. Eirrin buckled it on.
And with the action came a lifting of the fear of Bucus.
Eirrin sat near the forge watching the large orange cat watch him. The human turned from filling their cups with fresh ale but the cat was use to the human and paid him no attention. He slowly closed his eyes for a breath, once more and watched Eirrin. “Why does he do that?” Eirrin asked reaching for the cup.
“I don’t know, for sure, but I think it is his way of checking reality,” answered the human. “Tales tell of cats having special senses. Of being able to see ghosts, the wind, and such, their mind works so differently they have to stop and check reality every now and then. That’s why they blink like that.”
Eirrin laughed. “I like you, human. You are funny, especially when you’ve had a couple of cups. You tell the most outrageous stories. Are you sure you’re not kin to the giants?”
As he sat debating whether to join the circle or pull Tiana out Alis appeared at his side. “Ah, a mighty fine looking girl, Eirrin. But she won’t have anything to do with the likes of you. You are too bland.” Alis dropped onto the log.
Eirrin looked at his friend. “I suppose you have a remedy for what ails us?”
“I do, my friend, I do.” Alis stood and paced before Eirrin, stopping in front of him only when Tiana was passing. “Kookooskoos is hunting near tonight and I think he would not mind giving up a tail feather of two for the likes of us.”
Eirrin knew his friend and if he didn’t go with him his night would be ruined. No, not really ruined but interrupted with Alis’ fidgeting. Anyway, an owl feather would look good adorning his cap. He’d seen some of his fellows wearing cock feathers proudly, but to be the proud owner of a tail feather from the mighty Kookooskoos. Oh, but did he dare to dream? Who knew, Alis had done both better and worse with his ideas. Whatever the outcome it would be an experience.
“Okay,” he replied, rising. “Lead on, my good man.” Eirrin bowed waving his right arm and hand out before himself. Alis danced a jig he’d learned from a passing Leprechaun and the two swaggered from the glade.
As they made their way through the forest the tiny sliver of a moon could be seen just topping the peaks to the east. Alis made grand plans of how they would do this and that; and spoke of the new admiration they would receive. Eirrin enjoyed Alis and his plans and his stories. He knew Alis would be a wonder when he became old and relived his life around the hearths in winter. Eirrin slowed and cut a couple of lengths of wild grapevine to help them in the conquest to where Kookooskoos perched surveying his terrain.
As they eased into place below him he opened his mighty wings and swooped silently to another tree. He looked back at the two as if to say, I’m not going to make this easy. Eirrin and Alis knew he didn’t see them as he hunted his supper among the small fellows who ran in the leaves. They made too much noise, as if to say, Here I am. Come get me. Which Kookooskoos usually did.
When they were once more in place the great owl moved again. Alis silently cursed and said to his friend, “Will he ever sit still long enough?”
Eirrin gave the two lengths of vine to Alis saying, “Go. Get us the two feathers that will mark us as brothers. I will draw his attention. Hopefully he will sit long enough for you to complete this before it becomes too late.” Eirrin made his way to the other side of the small clearing rustling a few leaves here and there. Kookooskoos turned his large eyes on the noise. As Alis made his way up the tree Eirrin kept the owl occupied with just enough noise to keep it interested but not enough for it to attack.
Alis tied the vine around his waist and around the bole of the tree before shimming out the branch just below Kookooskoos. Just as he stood and grabbed two feathers Eirrin ran across the clearing. Kookooskoos launched himself off the branch pulling Alis from his perilous perch. The vine reached its limit pulling Alis back along with only one tail feather and knocking the owl from his killing approach to Eirrin. The owl turned in mid-flight and headed to a tall tree where he checked himself over and preened the area of the missing feather. Eirrin ran over to where Alis swung just off the ground, and got him to his feet.
“I see you only got one feather,” Eirrin said. “Well you keep it. You earned it.”
Alis smiled proudly. “It will look better in my cap, will it not?” he said as he made a small cut and placed the feather just so.
As they made their way back to the clearing they could hear the dance continuing. Their luck continued finding their log unoccupied. As they sat Tiana danced out of the circle wondering where they had gone. Eirrin sat quietly as Alis described the exploits of the early evening. When he was finished Tisii joined them. As she fussed and fawned over the feather Tiana turned to Eirrin and said, “I shall make you a scarf as worthy of those who went on the feather quest.
The two Elves who stood under the Rhododendron shrub were dress almost alike; brown breeches, green jerkin and soft brown boots. Where Alis had the tail feather of an owl stuck jauntily in his soft brown cap Eirrin had a scarf of green and orange draped around his neck and hanging equal distance front and back. His cap was green with the brim turned down all around. As he wiped the last of the dew from his silver bucket with lichen from the north side of the tree he said, “I’m getting tired of that dwarf Bucus picking on me.”
“Yeah, like you’re going to do something. Remember that old saying, ‘Actions speak louder than words.’ Anyway,” said Alis turning his bucket upside down so the last drop would slide down the smooth side and splash at his feet. “We are off for the next few days. No dew to do.” he laughed at his own joke, jabbing Eirrin in the ribs with his elbow.
Eirrin smiled that crooked smile prevalent when you are doing it to please the other. “He has made me spill my bucket for the last time. I don’t care if he is a distant relative of Sindri’s. I’m going to get even with him.”
The false dawn was hinting at the real thing from the east. And in the mountains it could be dark of night one moment and the sun would be topping a peak the next. The faint crowing of a cock could be heard off in the distance. “We must hurry,” Alis whispered.
They turned and disappeared among the brown and green of the shrubs.
A little after sunset Alis arrived at Eirrin’s dwelling. “There’s a big dance on for tonight. You want to go?” But Eirrin told him he wasn’t really interested in dancing. But deep down he was troubled Bucus would show and ruin the evening. “Well, if you don’t want to dance, how about we go tickle some trout.”
But he really didn’t want to spend the night on his stomach with is arms shoulder deep in the cold water waiting for an unsuspecting trout to come along so he could run his fingers along it’s underside. What he wanted to do was get a weapon to defend against Bucus.
As they stood watching the full moon shrink higher and higher into the night sky Eirrin knew what he wanted to do. “Let’s go see if we can get a weapon from the human blacksmith.”
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” said Alis. “Remember what he has there.”
But Eirrin was on his way, striding with purpose and intention.
They were in luck, the human was still working the anvil. As they eased through the door cracked open to let out some of the heat the large orange cat turned his yellow eyes their way. It sat up and watched them ease around the room. The human saw the movement of the cat and turned to where it was looking. They froze as his attention was brought to bear on them.
“What do we have here?” it asked in a booming voice “I remember you.” it continued, pointing the heavy hammer at Eirrin.
“The human knows you?” asked Alis in wonderment. Eirrin shrugged and looked down, scrunching his face as he nodded yes. “How?”
“You’re the one who saved me from the beauty of Edda and her invitation to dance, aren’t you?” Once again Eirrin nodded. The cat watched as he licked a paw and wiped it behind his ear. And Eirrin watched the cat as it repeated its actions. “What can I do for you?” the human asked placing the hammer on the anvil, work forgotten.
Eirrin told the human the entire story leaving out nothing. Even adding some things as he became aware of them for the first time. As he finished the cat jumped off the bench and walked to the open door, stopping and looking back at Eirrin, once, before disappearing.
“Well, I have just the thing,” said the human, rummaging around behind the forge. And finally, after a few chosen words about the gods and mothers else where, he turned to Eirrin with a leather pouch. After carefully unwrapping it he laid it on the ground between them. It was perfect. “It’s a dagger I made for a man who failed to take into account an angry husband. It is yours for the taking.” The human stepped back.
On the swath of leather was the perfect sword. The blade gleamed in the firelight like a thousand fireflies all sitting on the same grass stem. He hefted it and tested the balance. The gods smiled upon him this night, it was better than perfect. It felt as if it was made just for him and him alone. As he tested its balance with a few quick moves he knew in his heart that the human had used dwarf ore in forging this blade. It fit his hand like it was an extension of his arm. It acted as one with him. “This goes with it,” the human added laying a hard leather scabbard tooled with intricate markings. Eirrin buckled it on.
And with the action came a lifting of the fear of Bucus.
Eirrin sat near the forge watching the large orange cat watch him. The human turned from filling their cups with fresh ale but the cat was use to the human and paid him no attention. He slowly closed his eyes for a breath, once more and watched Eirrin. “Why does he do that?” Eirrin asked reaching for the cup.
“I don’t know, for sure, but I think it is his way of checking reality,” answered the human. “Tales tell of cats having special senses. Of being able to see ghosts, the wind, and such, their mind works so differently they have to stop and check reality every now and then. That’s why they blink like that.”
Eirrin laughed. “I like you, human. You are funny, especially when you’ve had a couple of cups. You tell the most outrageous stories. Are you sure you’re not kin to the giants?”
Friday, August 03, 2007
A Couple of Fishin’ Buddies
I want to tell you a little story about a couple of fishin’ buddies, Rob and Dave. Dave is from Arkansas and Rob is from South Carolina. Dave just happens to be Rob’s stepfather, but that is just a coincidence. These two were destined to meet. Rob is a know-it-all and Dave…well Dave is from Arkansas. Dave drinks instant coffee and keeps an old percolator plugged in for the water to stay warm. I noticed one day that the dial on the bottom was turned to strong. When I inquired Dave told me it was because he liked his coffee strong. Go figure.
Dave and Rob heard about the fishing here on the north coast of Florida. They did what they could from the piers and bridges spread about the county but it wasn’t quite enough. Not when you could see the party boats returning to port with the limit of fish tied to the rails. A party boat is one where you pay your fee and go with whoever else is going. You get a spot on the rail and all the bait you can lose. You catch a few fish, just about what your fee would buy at one of the fish houses around.
Rob came up with the idea that they could buy a boat together. They both had pickups with trailer hitches. And that’s what these two did, bought a sixteen and a half foot boat and trailer. They drove around town pulling that boat behind each other’s truck for almost two weeks. Long enough for everyone to see they had a boat. I think the hitch rusted to Dave’s trailer ball once. They got stopped once because one of them was riding in the boat waving to anyone that would look. It’s against the law here in Florida to ride in a trailer, any kind of trailer. But the officer let them go with a warning.
Well, there was a big saltwater fishing tournament coming up, fifty dollars a boat with no more than four anglers per boats. They paid the entry fee. And that’s all they could talk of for the next two weeks. They were going to catch the biggest speckled trout; they were already spending the prize money.
Did I mention that Dave and Rob liked beer. One time they were off drinking together and they both got a DUI when they left the bar. They had to go for counseling and one of the questions they asked was, “Do you have any special time before you have a drink in a day?” Dave lied and told them he didn’t drink before one, but every now and then would have one with lunch. Rob told them, “Hell, if I want a beer I drink a beer, if it’s five in the morning or five in the afternoon.” Dave had to continue the counseling where Rob didn’t. I guess they figured Rob was a lost cause. But it stayed a bone in Dave’s craw for a long time.
Dave had a son who was hit broadside in a traffic accident. He had some head trauma and spent some time in a coma. All around he was okay except he walked with a walker and had speech problems. He liked to fish before the accident so they figured he would enjoy going with them.
On the day of tournament they had stayed up late the night before getting the boat and tackle ready and drinking beer. I think they passed out about two AM and didn’t get up in time to make the start time. But since they had all this bait they decided to go fishing anyway. They drove down to the bay where the ramp wasn’t too steep. They got Billy in the boat and into the special seat they built with a seat belt to keep him from being thrown about. They got the two coolers of beer in the boat, along with the rod and reels, the bucket of bait. Then they backed the boat down the ramp. And since they had some beer left that wouldn’t fit in the coolers they stood on both sides of the truck at the edge of the water discussing what they hoped to catch. Another angler showed up so they had a beer of two with him. The ramp wasn’t busy so they had time. After about the third or fourth beer they began to hear Billy calling, “Dad. Oh, Dad.” But Billy would do that tone of voice when he wanted something out of them they ignored him. Finally a guy drove up in a jeep and asked if they need some help getting the boy out of the water. They all turned. There was Billy, seat belted in, up to his chin in saltwater. The coolers were floating and he was trying to keep them near but it was a losing battle.
All this preparation they forgot to put the drain plug in the boat and brake lose the tie-downs at the back of the boat. It took the jeep to wench the truck and boat up as Dave gunned the engine. They had backed down just far enough to get the rear wheel in the slime and alge that grows on the boat ramp. But did they panic. Not Rob and Dave. The boat made it to the hill; they had bait, and were going to go fishing. The boat needed to drain. And they were at the marina. So our two heroes’s baited up, spread on some sunblock and proceeded to feed the fish. These two couldn’t catch a cold.
A couple of weeks later the boat was gone, alone with the rod and reels. Rob even went so far as to remove his trailer ball. Now I can go fishing in peace.
The Boy’s Go To The Doctor’s
Dave drove big rigs. Had driven them most of his adult life. He used it to get out of Arkansas, and except for a short two-year gig in the United States Army, it was how he stayed out of a little town outside Fort Smith and the rest of the state. It was how he met Rob’s mother; she was a waitress at a little truck stop off I-10 near Bonifay, Florida. They traveled the southeast for a few months and then she settled down in Panama City. She told him she had a son in South Carolina and the next time he was up that way to look him up. Dave not only looked him up but also got alone with him wonderfully and decided to bring him home to momma. Now what thirty five year old man would want to return home to momma? Rob.
On the trip back to Florida they found out they both liked beer, cars, trucks, and could tune an engine with a screwdriver, a beer and a cocked ear. During the twelve-hour ride, nine if they had taken the interstate, women weren’t brought into the conversation. They talked about miles per gallon, ’54 blue and white Ford’s vs. ’57 Chevy’s, and backroads around weight stations. They clicked. They could finish each other’s sentences; they became the father and son the other didn’t have. They became a team.
Dave came off the road and got a job working for a fuel carrier on day runs. Rob got a job in construction until he could get his CDL, commercial driver’s license. It would take him just over five years to finally get the book from the DMV to begin studying. In the end he never did take the test. But that didn’t stop him from helping Dave on the days his construction job got rained out. Or on days he just laid out.
It was on one of these trips that Dave told Rob he thought he had hemorrhoids. Maybe it was Rob who told Dave he thought Dave had a bad case of the ‘rhoids. They stopped at a conveince store on the beach and bought Dave a swim ring. It only lasted one trip what with the bouncing and all, but what the heck; they were only $2.99. Dave felt he could spare $2.99 a day for his butt to feel good on that hard seat. He told Rob he thought every driver in the state of Florida had set in that seat for a few minutes for it to be formed as well as it was. It reminded him of a dimple on a golf ball. Finally Dave couldn’t take it anymore and asked Rob to go to the doctor with him. Rob asked why didn’t he have Mom take him. Dave is a firm believer that menfolk stay with menfolk about certain things, and this was one of those things. Men didn’t tell women about their body problems. And if he would quit being a butthole and come with him to the doctor’s everything would be fine.
When they entered the doctor’s Dave was too embarrassed and made Rob tell the receptionist he was here. It wasn’t long before a nurse came to the door and called him back. Dave asked if Rob could come with him. The nurse looked at him kind funny but replied, “No. It’s best you come alone.” She had him disrobe and put on the paper gown. Which he put on backwards so he could hold the front closed. She made him put in on correctly and returned with an enema. Dave and her went ten rounds about having a woman do something like that to him but the nurse knocked him out with guile and reason. That and the fact that if she didn’t do it he could put his clothes on and they would call it a day.
Rob sat in the office pretending to read and reread the old magazines as he checked out the receptionist. She was enjoying the attention and would get up every few minutes for some senseless errand. They passed the time as Dave lay on a table squirming; wishing the doctor would hurry up. Rob sat in a chair that reminded him of the seat in the rig Dave drove. Both would have won if there had been a squirming contest. Rob watched the clock telling himself that if Dave wasn’t out in twelve more minutes he was going to see what was taking so long. He had been back there for almost an hour now. Twelve minutes and it would be an hour, time enough for the doctor to find any rhoids. They hung out didn’t they, he thought. He was squirming the last minute away when he heard loud voices and slamming doors. He looked at the receptionist, glancing back, to which she nodded yes. Rob rushed back in time to see the doctor step out of his office with a dirty looking lab coat held out at arm length. Turning in the first open exam room he saw Dave pulling up his pants. He had the same brown stuff running down his legs and in his socks.
“Dave, what the hell happened?” Rob asked.
Dave looked bewildered as he was pulling on his shirt, snapping the snaps closed crooked. “The nurse gave me an enema and told me to hold it. The doctor would be with me soon. I didn’t think I would make it but he showed up just in time.”
Rob said, “You did the best you could, Bubby. Let’s get out of here. There’s beer at the next corner.”
I want to tell you a little story about a couple of fishin’ buddies, Rob and Dave. Dave is from Arkansas and Rob is from South Carolina. Dave just happens to be Rob’s stepfather, but that is just a coincidence. These two were destined to meet. Rob is a know-it-all and Dave…well Dave is from Arkansas. Dave drinks instant coffee and keeps an old percolator plugged in for the water to stay warm. I noticed one day that the dial on the bottom was turned to strong. When I inquired Dave told me it was because he liked his coffee strong. Go figure.
Dave and Rob heard about the fishing here on the north coast of Florida. They did what they could from the piers and bridges spread about the county but it wasn’t quite enough. Not when you could see the party boats returning to port with the limit of fish tied to the rails. A party boat is one where you pay your fee and go with whoever else is going. You get a spot on the rail and all the bait you can lose. You catch a few fish, just about what your fee would buy at one of the fish houses around.
Rob came up with the idea that they could buy a boat together. They both had pickups with trailer hitches. And that’s what these two did, bought a sixteen and a half foot boat and trailer. They drove around town pulling that boat behind each other’s truck for almost two weeks. Long enough for everyone to see they had a boat. I think the hitch rusted to Dave’s trailer ball once. They got stopped once because one of them was riding in the boat waving to anyone that would look. It’s against the law here in Florida to ride in a trailer, any kind of trailer. But the officer let them go with a warning.
Well, there was a big saltwater fishing tournament coming up, fifty dollars a boat with no more than four anglers per boats. They paid the entry fee. And that’s all they could talk of for the next two weeks. They were going to catch the biggest speckled trout; they were already spending the prize money.
Did I mention that Dave and Rob liked beer. One time they were off drinking together and they both got a DUI when they left the bar. They had to go for counseling and one of the questions they asked was, “Do you have any special time before you have a drink in a day?” Dave lied and told them he didn’t drink before one, but every now and then would have one with lunch. Rob told them, “Hell, if I want a beer I drink a beer, if it’s five in the morning or five in the afternoon.” Dave had to continue the counseling where Rob didn’t. I guess they figured Rob was a lost cause. But it stayed a bone in Dave’s craw for a long time.
Dave had a son who was hit broadside in a traffic accident. He had some head trauma and spent some time in a coma. All around he was okay except he walked with a walker and had speech problems. He liked to fish before the accident so they figured he would enjoy going with them.
On the day of tournament they had stayed up late the night before getting the boat and tackle ready and drinking beer. I think they passed out about two AM and didn’t get up in time to make the start time. But since they had all this bait they decided to go fishing anyway. They drove down to the bay where the ramp wasn’t too steep. They got Billy in the boat and into the special seat they built with a seat belt to keep him from being thrown about. They got the two coolers of beer in the boat, along with the rod and reels, the bucket of bait. Then they backed the boat down the ramp. And since they had some beer left that wouldn’t fit in the coolers they stood on both sides of the truck at the edge of the water discussing what they hoped to catch. Another angler showed up so they had a beer of two with him. The ramp wasn’t busy so they had time. After about the third or fourth beer they began to hear Billy calling, “Dad. Oh, Dad.” But Billy would do that tone of voice when he wanted something out of them they ignored him. Finally a guy drove up in a jeep and asked if they need some help getting the boy out of the water. They all turned. There was Billy, seat belted in, up to his chin in saltwater. The coolers were floating and he was trying to keep them near but it was a losing battle.
All this preparation they forgot to put the drain plug in the boat and brake lose the tie-downs at the back of the boat. It took the jeep to wench the truck and boat up as Dave gunned the engine. They had backed down just far enough to get the rear wheel in the slime and alge that grows on the boat ramp. But did they panic. Not Rob and Dave. The boat made it to the hill; they had bait, and were going to go fishing. The boat needed to drain. And they were at the marina. So our two heroes’s baited up, spread on some sunblock and proceeded to feed the fish. These two couldn’t catch a cold.
A couple of weeks later the boat was gone, alone with the rod and reels. Rob even went so far as to remove his trailer ball. Now I can go fishing in peace.
The Boy’s Go To The Doctor’s
Dave drove big rigs. Had driven them most of his adult life. He used it to get out of Arkansas, and except for a short two-year gig in the United States Army, it was how he stayed out of a little town outside Fort Smith and the rest of the state. It was how he met Rob’s mother; she was a waitress at a little truck stop off I-10 near Bonifay, Florida. They traveled the southeast for a few months and then she settled down in Panama City. She told him she had a son in South Carolina and the next time he was up that way to look him up. Dave not only looked him up but also got alone with him wonderfully and decided to bring him home to momma. Now what thirty five year old man would want to return home to momma? Rob.
On the trip back to Florida they found out they both liked beer, cars, trucks, and could tune an engine with a screwdriver, a beer and a cocked ear. During the twelve-hour ride, nine if they had taken the interstate, women weren’t brought into the conversation. They talked about miles per gallon, ’54 blue and white Ford’s vs. ’57 Chevy’s, and backroads around weight stations. They clicked. They could finish each other’s sentences; they became the father and son the other didn’t have. They became a team.
Dave came off the road and got a job working for a fuel carrier on day runs. Rob got a job in construction until he could get his CDL, commercial driver’s license. It would take him just over five years to finally get the book from the DMV to begin studying. In the end he never did take the test. But that didn’t stop him from helping Dave on the days his construction job got rained out. Or on days he just laid out.
It was on one of these trips that Dave told Rob he thought he had hemorrhoids. Maybe it was Rob who told Dave he thought Dave had a bad case of the ‘rhoids. They stopped at a conveince store on the beach and bought Dave a swim ring. It only lasted one trip what with the bouncing and all, but what the heck; they were only $2.99. Dave felt he could spare $2.99 a day for his butt to feel good on that hard seat. He told Rob he thought every driver in the state of Florida had set in that seat for a few minutes for it to be formed as well as it was. It reminded him of a dimple on a golf ball. Finally Dave couldn’t take it anymore and asked Rob to go to the doctor with him. Rob asked why didn’t he have Mom take him. Dave is a firm believer that menfolk stay with menfolk about certain things, and this was one of those things. Men didn’t tell women about their body problems. And if he would quit being a butthole and come with him to the doctor’s everything would be fine.
When they entered the doctor’s Dave was too embarrassed and made Rob tell the receptionist he was here. It wasn’t long before a nurse came to the door and called him back. Dave asked if Rob could come with him. The nurse looked at him kind funny but replied, “No. It’s best you come alone.” She had him disrobe and put on the paper gown. Which he put on backwards so he could hold the front closed. She made him put in on correctly and returned with an enema. Dave and her went ten rounds about having a woman do something like that to him but the nurse knocked him out with guile and reason. That and the fact that if she didn’t do it he could put his clothes on and they would call it a day.
Rob sat in the office pretending to read and reread the old magazines as he checked out the receptionist. She was enjoying the attention and would get up every few minutes for some senseless errand. They passed the time as Dave lay on a table squirming; wishing the doctor would hurry up. Rob sat in a chair that reminded him of the seat in the rig Dave drove. Both would have won if there had been a squirming contest. Rob watched the clock telling himself that if Dave wasn’t out in twelve more minutes he was going to see what was taking so long. He had been back there for almost an hour now. Twelve minutes and it would be an hour, time enough for the doctor to find any rhoids. They hung out didn’t they, he thought. He was squirming the last minute away when he heard loud voices and slamming doors. He looked at the receptionist, glancing back, to which she nodded yes. Rob rushed back in time to see the doctor step out of his office with a dirty looking lab coat held out at arm length. Turning in the first open exam room he saw Dave pulling up his pants. He had the same brown stuff running down his legs and in his socks.
“Dave, what the hell happened?” Rob asked.
Dave looked bewildered as he was pulling on his shirt, snapping the snaps closed crooked. “The nurse gave me an enema and told me to hold it. The doctor would be with me soon. I didn’t think I would make it but he showed up just in time.”
Rob said, “You did the best you could, Bubby. Let’s get out of here. There’s beer at the next corner.”
Sunday, August 20, 2006
What Is Nothing and other thoughts
What is Nothing
If birth is just another form of dying, a change in existence, is the same true for death? I think I died once during surgery. I say think because I don’t know for sure. I saw no bright lights, tunnels, ancestors, I was not even aware of being dead or of being aware of the self. I saw, and felt, for one fleeting instant, Nothingness. No self, no light, no pain and no internal warmth, nor was I aware of the absence of these things. After that instant I “Was” once more. I was back, I was aware, and I was freezing to the core, even my blood felt cold. The first things I remember saying was: “cold,” And the nurse placing blankets over my fetal position. And you know what? I’ll never be believed. But that is okay, also, because I’ll never believe people telling me the wind is not green.
This instance was for less than a fleeting split second. There was Nothing and I became aware of this Nothingness. But once I became aware of it, it was gone. It was like looking into the darkest night while not knowing what night was, without eyes, without awareness of awareness. I cannot explain it because there is a lack of awareness on your part of what Nothingness is. This is not a flaw on either’s behalf, but just a fact. There has to be a change in beliefs that just because something is named it becomes something. This Nothing, although named, is still nothing. More so it is not Nothing but a complete absence of Everything.
Did I become aware of this nothingness because I am a non-believer? Because I had nowhere to go, so to speak? I don’t know. It was not a horrible feeling, it was no feeling whatsoever. Can this near death experience be a remembrance of birth and the first memories of the birth canal, the grandmother (any relatives), the brightness of the hospital room—any room after being in the semi-darkness of the womb? Who knows. I am more caught up in the nothingness than all the other implications.
It is like the Big Bang theory. I cannot accept such a concept. Because of the opening argument: There was nothing but this little point of something that exploded and continues to grow and expand. If there was nothing where did the little something come from? If there was a little something then there was no nothing and the universe has been here all along. We use the ‘red shift’ to tell us something is moving away from something else. Let’s see. We are spinning around at 24,000 miles a day, around a sun at another speed, and we are at the near end of a spiral arm of a galaxy that is spinning around a center at another rate. But let us not forget that this galaxy is going up and down at the same time it is going round and round. We’re going to look through our telescope at another point on a galaxy doing the same thing and say it’s going away from us. It’s like two children in the back of two cars looking out the back window at each other in the other car going away and thinking along the same lines. Only to find out they are just going around the block and will see each other in a short time.
The only way we’ll ever find out for sure is to change our concept of Time and Light. I have looked at the stars and found the time compression factor taking place, and I never left earth. Just lost in the vastness, the nothingness in between the stars, the place where God resides. Just a few years ago our grandparents didn’t think the human body could not take the speeds faster than a horse could gallop. Then we couldn’t go faster than 100 miles per hour. Not long ago scientist and pilots didn’t think we could break the sound barrier, that it was physical thing and would tear the wings off an airplane. Then Gregg Breedlove came along and went faster than 700 miles per hour in a land vehicle. The faster than light is just another way at looking how we cannot do something. Once we get past this flaw in our thinking we will get out to the places in between the stars. But even that is not the nothingness I was aware of. I have to change my way of thinking and speaking for that concept to be shared. And at this time I do not know how to do such a thing. It is an interpretation conflict; I cannot say it without using words to name it and when I name it you interrupt it as something else. Have you ever had a dream where you are falling? Right before you hit the ground, right before you wake up, where are you? That instant before you become aware of falling: Where are you? Those are the closest I can get to the feeling, the awareness.
What is nothing? It is the place where the wind begins. The place in between the seconds, between thoughts. Nothingness can never be realized because we cannot stop doing anything; talking, breathing, writing, thinking, moving, so it is only when we die are we able to do nothing. And then we are no longer able to be aware of it, truly nothingness.
We speak of silence, and communication. Of language and friendship. I believe, hope, they are all intertwined. This medium is has taken place of the pen&quill and riders on the Post Road. When I can read your words, break them down into meanings we have established so our communication doesn’t break down, form replies and new lines of communication. Yet all the while we do this silently. As an instance, we were in the Amtrak Passenger Lounge, New Orleans, when in came a woman toting laptop bags, book bags, and an oversized purse. Within five minutes she informed us she was a writer. Wow, I thought, I’m a writer; maybe we can discuss things. I asked what did she write? I was informed she was a “Novelist.” Two finished works, and one she was working one, but not published yet. That’s cool, I thought, and went back to “The Lord of the Rings.” When she left, after filling all the empty spaces of that lounge with her voice, Sheila turned to me and said, “She’s no writer. She talked too much. Writers are silent, they talk on paper.” Sheila is my best friend and every time I hear the Grateful Dead’s ‘Sugar Magnolia’ I think of her. I do not have many friends, but I am a friend to many people. What I dislike the most about meeting people is the shaking of hands. You stick that hand out there and expect me to grasp it. I don’t know where it says I must touch you to be introduced.
Really, though, what is a dialogue without input? A narration. This forum is among the best way to speak to each other, and the worst way. There is time between the post, the read, the reply and the next and so on, and so on...it gives one time to understand and form a reply, it also loses whether or not one is joking, being facetious, or just an idiot. For me it is either choice "C" or all the above. Sheila says I am the only person she knows who can put both feet in their mouth in a single thought, and this thought does not have to be spoken.
I know what is being saying about going into the experience of near death experience with preconceived notions of what is to come, what is going to happen. Is that why I went to nothing? I have no beliefs. Yes I do. I believe in a heaven and hell: hell was 1969 and heaven is when Sheila and I are on the same wave length. Waylon Jennings said it best when he said "hell is when baby ain't there." (The Outlaws: Willie, Waylon, Tompall and Jessi (C) 1976) I have been under the knife a few times (three major ones for an incident in '69 alone) and during that one time I've never been that cold before.
There is a physics law that says basically that nothing disappears, it only changes. Wood plus fire equals ash, water vapor, heat, etc. So if there is a "soul" and it is a physical thing then it would seem to suggest that humans change into dirt, water vapor, and another existence for the soul. When does an embryo become an individual? At conception? At the instant a soul is formed from the nothingness, the Big Bang(?), from the chemical catalyst of the sperm and egg DNA. There is such a thing as inherited consciousness,
deja vu, past life experiences, flashes of precognition. It circles back to the beginning: If birth is another form of dying / death; is death another birth? If nothing ever ends just changes then the universe has been here evolving and changing since before time began and will be cycling after time ends and the Big Bang is just blowing smoke.
But, a non-believer will never be converted and we are only preaching to the choir. I cannot make anyone believe in aliens, nor green winds, nor nothingness. I accept it, but I such like discussing it. You can not take over this thread, you can only make it better, believe me...You can only make it better.
Genetic mutations for seeding purposes only. Maybe food...Soylent Green is people...
Really? I believe we are from Mars, and Venus is where the dinosaurs are living. And we'll move there when the time is right.
----------
Peter Pan Abduction Theory
Has anyone seen the movie “Peter Pan” and/or the second—sequel—where the mother grows up and meets Peter pan once more? Is that movie about an abduction or what? Peter Pan comes in her window and takes her out to a large dark object in the sky. There are the lost boys who never grow old, but then again neither does Peter. They go to another part of the night sky. I just think it is about an alien abduction.
I can’t say I have been abducted, but there are incidences in my life that have such a taint to them. During the times of these episodes there was nothing remarkable about them. It was only later when a small incident happened that I began to think back over my life and these seemed to stand out.
I was 10 or so living in Miami, Florida, actually Cutler Ridge or Perrine, in the summer time. I was laying out in the back yard watching the heavens, and the Heavens they were – I was looking into the Milky Way and the sky was white with stars. I was, and still do find myself always looking into the night sky.
At this time Miami, Dade County, didn’t have the urban sprawl it has today and one could look into the sky. There was a pasture where we use to play. In the middle was a old barn, and this barn seemed to call to me. The first time I entered there was an owl that I appeared to have frightened, but I don’t know who was frightened more, it or me.
In 1969 I was in the Army stationed in and around Pleiku, Vietnam with the 4th Infantry Division as an infantryman and an ammo bearer on an 81mm Mortar. I heard something in the air that sounded like Morse code. I do not remember seeing any strange sights in the sky other than helicopters. In Nha Trang, in the Evac Hospital I heard what I thought to be Navy guns firing at the mountains, sounding like 55 gallon barrels whistling over. There was an incident that happened that shouldn’t have happened, or shouldn’t have been allowed to continue; it went completely against what and how I thought the Army did things. Sorry, I cannot, and will not, be more specific, it was just an incident.
The next time was around 1976 - 78 when I lived in Dobbs Ferry, New York. It was in the winter and it was snowing. I had taken out the dog for a walk. The apartment was in the back next to a service road, and on the far side of the road was a stone wall. The only thing I can remember of that night was that I was leaning against the wall and an entity was walking away from me, disappearing, into the snow. He, I felt pretty sure it was a he, was tall, skinny and had an odd way of walking I remember thinking “Icabod Crane” only because the knees bent backwards and we were near Tarrytown, NY. When I saw the movie “Close Encounters…” the tall alien at the end was familiar.
I also started having a reoccurring dream. It began as I was going to sleep. It was like I was growing and shrinking in time with my breathing and then I would float like a feather does with a pendulum movement. In the dream I was laying on a wooden stage, I could feel the roughness of the wood. I was naked lying on my back with my right leg raised, and the audience also to the right. At the time I was thinking it was so my genitals wouldn’t be seen. I couldn’t see the people, but I had an over whelming feeling they were just outside of the stage lights watching me. At this point the dream would change locations.
I was lying on an examining table in a room that was sort of like hexagonal but seemed to have more than eight walls; walls that I felt were plastic. This is a feeling that was so strong that it felt true then, and now. The walls were white and the light seemed to come from the walls in a defused way. The walls seemed to go up to infinity, but the light only went up about what I thought was ten feet. I had the feel of being watched, but I couldn’t see any one or thing. It was like an examining room and I was laying on an examining table. I cannot remember the table or getting off of it, just a feeling of being on it. After I left the room I was in a corridor ten feet wide. As I walked I would come to another corridor crossing at about fifty feet or so, sort of like a grid. I didn’t feel tired but it felt like I had walked all night, until I came to an oaken door with metal studs and hinges, like in some Fantasy story with Elves and Trolls. When I went through the door I would awaken.
During this time I worked for a company as a salesman, or rack jobber, where I would travel to the different stores and restock the shelves with the products the company sold. The first year I had a route that took me to Massachusetts and Connecticut one week and New Jersey the next. I began to collect owls, sometimes I would surprise myself by having an owl item without the remembering when or where I bought it. I had porcelain owls, ceramic owls, owls on calendars, I even had a gold chain with an owl pendant. This pendant was a little over an inch long and three-quarters of an inch wide; it was noticeable. I couldn’t pass a gift shop or store without checking to see if they had any owls. I had owls everywhere, but I hadn’t started a scrapbook – never did. This went on for about 2 years. There was a change to my territory; Pennsylvania was added and Massachusetts and Connecticut was taken away. I would fly to Jamestown, NY, and drive back through Pennsylvania. I was somewhere between Clarendon and Punxsutawney on a two lane road. I was doing about 60 when I saw a large owl drop out of a tree and head right for the car. I heard, and felt, it hit just above the windshield, but I was traveling too fast to stop. By the time I talked myself into going back, and finding a place to turn around, ten or fifteen minutes had passed. As I drove back at a slower speed I couldn’t find any evidence of the bird. I felt like I had passed the collision spot but continued on for a few more miles. When I turned around to continue my trip I still traveled at a slow speed. Never did find anything to do with the owl, nor was the car damaged. But I stop buying owls and began to get rid of the ones I had. The dreams went away. This was in the mid-seventies.
I get these feelings every now and then that I am being watched. But nothing comes of it. I have nose bleeds for as far back as I can remember, back to Miami and that barn. I always connected them with the migraine headaches I have had since I was about ten or twelve. They went away when I was about 25 years old, and now they have come back after I turned 45 or so.
We have lived in this house for nearly twenty years. A few years after we moved in, or about 5 years after living in Dobbs ferry, my second wife said she woke up one night and there were different colored balls she could see in the bedroom without any lights on. She also said there was a woman in the room. When she told this person that I was hers and she couldn’t have me the room cleared and she went back to sleep. I was not awake nor do I remember seeing anything like that since I gave up the owls.
I have no way of proving any of this. I don’t even know if I want to prove it one way or the other. It is just a piece of my life that I have lived with, making me some of what I
am today. I have been searching the Internet for a reference to owls since 1998 and this is the first time I have read anything close to what I had experienced.
--------------
Dream Sequence 8 16/17 2006
In the dream I am with my wife. I don’t remember seeing her but knew she was with me. Before the following sequence there are bits and pieces of the dream that I can’t remember. It is disjointed images of hotels, hotel rooms, bus rides, large area with covered table for eating and bingo(?). We are in a car, convertible, with another couple on dirt/gravel road through an area like a gravel pit. It then changes once more and the other couple are gone.
We walk up to the back of a building that houses a seafood restaurant. There is an open area access by an arch. There were a few tables and at one was a black family of four. They were having fried shrimp, grouper and the Captain’s Platter for seventy-five cents, a buck and a quarter and a dollar ninety-five for what the people out front were paying fourteen ninety-five to twenty-four ninety-five. In the back right was a guy sitting, he had on an apron and a towel over his shoulder. From the back left came a voice asking, “How long have they been there?” The cook answered, “Seven minutes.” At the time, during the dream, I didn’t think anything about it, except that it didn’t seem like seven minutes. I couldn’t tell you how long it was, but it wasn’t a long wait like some waits are. At this point the guy on the left began to escort my wife and I to the front of the building. During this my wife and I were separated but I didn’t think anything about it. I awoke before going any farther.
The seven minute answer was on my mind when I woke up and it has bothered me since then. How could the guy know it was seven minutes? And not answer, I don’t know, a few minutes. Or, not long. Why seven minutes?
-----------
First Impressions Versus First Meanings
When I read I find myself associating the words with my first meanings. I know each word has its own meaning but I find myself going with the one I got from the first time I heard the word, first impressions so to speak. As with individuals we only have a few seconds to present a first impression and probably less time for forming such an opinion for / of someone. I find myself going to certain writings because of what the title says to me in those first meanings. Sometimes I am surprised, but most often I do not get the exact meaning the writer was going for. Sometimes I do. Sometimes I go to writing because of the writer, and the first impression I made of them, with my first reading. I once took this writer’s piece apart line by line based on what I got from the poem. It was not a critique, it was done out of an experiment, a workshop, to show each other what the reader read and what the writer wrote. The concept is based on a writer saying she did not enjoy readers telling her what they got in the reading when it was not what she wrote. She felt she was straight forward in what she wanted to say in the choice of words she used. It goes back to first meanings. What words mean to each reader. As an example, there is a car company here that has three letters for its name, but when I see this word I do not think of cars but what those three letters mean to a US Army infantryman from the Vietnam era. Even though I do not always get exactly what the writer meant, I do enjoy the read.
If birth is just another form of dying, a change in existence, is the same true for death? I think I died once during surgery. I say think because I don’t know for sure. I saw no bright lights, tunnels, ancestors, I was not even aware of being dead or of being aware of the self. I saw, and felt, for one fleeting instant, Nothingness. No self, no light, no pain and no internal warmth, nor was I aware of the absence of these things. After that instant I “Was” once more. I was back, I was aware, and I was freezing to the core, even my blood felt cold. The first things I remember saying was: “cold,” And the nurse placing blankets over my fetal position. And you know what? I’ll never be believed. But that is okay, also, because I’ll never believe people telling me the wind is not green.
This instance was for less than a fleeting split second. There was Nothing and I became aware of this Nothingness. But once I became aware of it, it was gone. It was like looking into the darkest night while not knowing what night was, without eyes, without awareness of awareness. I cannot explain it because there is a lack of awareness on your part of what Nothingness is. This is not a flaw on either’s behalf, but just a fact. There has to be a change in beliefs that just because something is named it becomes something. This Nothing, although named, is still nothing. More so it is not Nothing but a complete absence of Everything.
Did I become aware of this nothingness because I am a non-believer? Because I had nowhere to go, so to speak? I don’t know. It was not a horrible feeling, it was no feeling whatsoever. Can this near death experience be a remembrance of birth and the first memories of the birth canal, the grandmother (any relatives), the brightness of the hospital room—any room after being in the semi-darkness of the womb? Who knows. I am more caught up in the nothingness than all the other implications.
It is like the Big Bang theory. I cannot accept such a concept. Because of the opening argument: There was nothing but this little point of something that exploded and continues to grow and expand. If there was nothing where did the little something come from? If there was a little something then there was no nothing and the universe has been here all along. We use the ‘red shift’ to tell us something is moving away from something else. Let’s see. We are spinning around at 24,000 miles a day, around a sun at another speed, and we are at the near end of a spiral arm of a galaxy that is spinning around a center at another rate. But let us not forget that this galaxy is going up and down at the same time it is going round and round. We’re going to look through our telescope at another point on a galaxy doing the same thing and say it’s going away from us. It’s like two children in the back of two cars looking out the back window at each other in the other car going away and thinking along the same lines. Only to find out they are just going around the block and will see each other in a short time.
The only way we’ll ever find out for sure is to change our concept of Time and Light. I have looked at the stars and found the time compression factor taking place, and I never left earth. Just lost in the vastness, the nothingness in between the stars, the place where God resides. Just a few years ago our grandparents didn’t think the human body could not take the speeds faster than a horse could gallop. Then we couldn’t go faster than 100 miles per hour. Not long ago scientist and pilots didn’t think we could break the sound barrier, that it was physical thing and would tear the wings off an airplane. Then Gregg Breedlove came along and went faster than 700 miles per hour in a land vehicle. The faster than light is just another way at looking how we cannot do something. Once we get past this flaw in our thinking we will get out to the places in between the stars. But even that is not the nothingness I was aware of. I have to change my way of thinking and speaking for that concept to be shared. And at this time I do not know how to do such a thing. It is an interpretation conflict; I cannot say it without using words to name it and when I name it you interrupt it as something else. Have you ever had a dream where you are falling? Right before you hit the ground, right before you wake up, where are you? That instant before you become aware of falling: Where are you? Those are the closest I can get to the feeling, the awareness.
What is nothing? It is the place where the wind begins. The place in between the seconds, between thoughts. Nothingness can never be realized because we cannot stop doing anything; talking, breathing, writing, thinking, moving, so it is only when we die are we able to do nothing. And then we are no longer able to be aware of it, truly nothingness.
We speak of silence, and communication. Of language and friendship. I believe, hope, they are all intertwined. This medium is has taken place of the pen&quill and riders on the Post Road. When I can read your words, break them down into meanings we have established so our communication doesn’t break down, form replies and new lines of communication. Yet all the while we do this silently. As an instance, we were in the Amtrak Passenger Lounge, New Orleans, when in came a woman toting laptop bags, book bags, and an oversized purse. Within five minutes she informed us she was a writer. Wow, I thought, I’m a writer; maybe we can discuss things. I asked what did she write? I was informed she was a “Novelist.” Two finished works, and one she was working one, but not published yet. That’s cool, I thought, and went back to “The Lord of the Rings.” When she left, after filling all the empty spaces of that lounge with her voice, Sheila turned to me and said, “She’s no writer. She talked too much. Writers are silent, they talk on paper.” Sheila is my best friend and every time I hear the Grateful Dead’s ‘Sugar Magnolia’ I think of her. I do not have many friends, but I am a friend to many people. What I dislike the most about meeting people is the shaking of hands. You stick that hand out there and expect me to grasp it. I don’t know where it says I must touch you to be introduced.
Really, though, what is a dialogue without input? A narration. This forum is among the best way to speak to each other, and the worst way. There is time between the post, the read, the reply and the next and so on, and so on...it gives one time to understand and form a reply, it also loses whether or not one is joking, being facetious, or just an idiot. For me it is either choice "C" or all the above. Sheila says I am the only person she knows who can put both feet in their mouth in a single thought, and this thought does not have to be spoken.
I know what is being saying about going into the experience of near death experience with preconceived notions of what is to come, what is going to happen. Is that why I went to nothing? I have no beliefs. Yes I do. I believe in a heaven and hell: hell was 1969 and heaven is when Sheila and I are on the same wave length. Waylon Jennings said it best when he said "hell is when baby ain't there." (The Outlaws: Willie, Waylon, Tompall and Jessi (C) 1976) I have been under the knife a few times (three major ones for an incident in '69 alone) and during that one time I've never been that cold before.
There is a physics law that says basically that nothing disappears, it only changes. Wood plus fire equals ash, water vapor, heat, etc. So if there is a "soul" and it is a physical thing then it would seem to suggest that humans change into dirt, water vapor, and another existence for the soul. When does an embryo become an individual? At conception? At the instant a soul is formed from the nothingness, the Big Bang(?), from the chemical catalyst of the sperm and egg DNA. There is such a thing as inherited consciousness,
deja vu, past life experiences, flashes of precognition. It circles back to the beginning: If birth is another form of dying / death; is death another birth? If nothing ever ends just changes then the universe has been here evolving and changing since before time began and will be cycling after time ends and the Big Bang is just blowing smoke.
But, a non-believer will never be converted and we are only preaching to the choir. I cannot make anyone believe in aliens, nor green winds, nor nothingness. I accept it, but I such like discussing it. You can not take over this thread, you can only make it better, believe me...You can only make it better.
Genetic mutations for seeding purposes only. Maybe food...Soylent Green is people...
Really? I believe we are from Mars, and Venus is where the dinosaurs are living. And we'll move there when the time is right.
----------
Peter Pan Abduction Theory
Has anyone seen the movie “Peter Pan” and/or the second—sequel—where the mother grows up and meets Peter pan once more? Is that movie about an abduction or what? Peter Pan comes in her window and takes her out to a large dark object in the sky. There are the lost boys who never grow old, but then again neither does Peter. They go to another part of the night sky. I just think it is about an alien abduction.
I can’t say I have been abducted, but there are incidences in my life that have such a taint to them. During the times of these episodes there was nothing remarkable about them. It was only later when a small incident happened that I began to think back over my life and these seemed to stand out.
I was 10 or so living in Miami, Florida, actually Cutler Ridge or Perrine, in the summer time. I was laying out in the back yard watching the heavens, and the Heavens they were – I was looking into the Milky Way and the sky was white with stars. I was, and still do find myself always looking into the night sky.
At this time Miami, Dade County, didn’t have the urban sprawl it has today and one could look into the sky. There was a pasture where we use to play. In the middle was a old barn, and this barn seemed to call to me. The first time I entered there was an owl that I appeared to have frightened, but I don’t know who was frightened more, it or me.
In 1969 I was in the Army stationed in and around Pleiku, Vietnam with the 4th Infantry Division as an infantryman and an ammo bearer on an 81mm Mortar. I heard something in the air that sounded like Morse code. I do not remember seeing any strange sights in the sky other than helicopters. In Nha Trang, in the Evac Hospital I heard what I thought to be Navy guns firing at the mountains, sounding like 55 gallon barrels whistling over. There was an incident that happened that shouldn’t have happened, or shouldn’t have been allowed to continue; it went completely against what and how I thought the Army did things. Sorry, I cannot, and will not, be more specific, it was just an incident.
The next time was around 1976 - 78 when I lived in Dobbs Ferry, New York. It was in the winter and it was snowing. I had taken out the dog for a walk. The apartment was in the back next to a service road, and on the far side of the road was a stone wall. The only thing I can remember of that night was that I was leaning against the wall and an entity was walking away from me, disappearing, into the snow. He, I felt pretty sure it was a he, was tall, skinny and had an odd way of walking I remember thinking “Icabod Crane” only because the knees bent backwards and we were near Tarrytown, NY. When I saw the movie “Close Encounters…” the tall alien at the end was familiar.
I also started having a reoccurring dream. It began as I was going to sleep. It was like I was growing and shrinking in time with my breathing and then I would float like a feather does with a pendulum movement. In the dream I was laying on a wooden stage, I could feel the roughness of the wood. I was naked lying on my back with my right leg raised, and the audience also to the right. At the time I was thinking it was so my genitals wouldn’t be seen. I couldn’t see the people, but I had an over whelming feeling they were just outside of the stage lights watching me. At this point the dream would change locations.
I was lying on an examining table in a room that was sort of like hexagonal but seemed to have more than eight walls; walls that I felt were plastic. This is a feeling that was so strong that it felt true then, and now. The walls were white and the light seemed to come from the walls in a defused way. The walls seemed to go up to infinity, but the light only went up about what I thought was ten feet. I had the feel of being watched, but I couldn’t see any one or thing. It was like an examining room and I was laying on an examining table. I cannot remember the table or getting off of it, just a feeling of being on it. After I left the room I was in a corridor ten feet wide. As I walked I would come to another corridor crossing at about fifty feet or so, sort of like a grid. I didn’t feel tired but it felt like I had walked all night, until I came to an oaken door with metal studs and hinges, like in some Fantasy story with Elves and Trolls. When I went through the door I would awaken.
During this time I worked for a company as a salesman, or rack jobber, where I would travel to the different stores and restock the shelves with the products the company sold. The first year I had a route that took me to Massachusetts and Connecticut one week and New Jersey the next. I began to collect owls, sometimes I would surprise myself by having an owl item without the remembering when or where I bought it. I had porcelain owls, ceramic owls, owls on calendars, I even had a gold chain with an owl pendant. This pendant was a little over an inch long and three-quarters of an inch wide; it was noticeable. I couldn’t pass a gift shop or store without checking to see if they had any owls. I had owls everywhere, but I hadn’t started a scrapbook – never did. This went on for about 2 years. There was a change to my territory; Pennsylvania was added and Massachusetts and Connecticut was taken away. I would fly to Jamestown, NY, and drive back through Pennsylvania. I was somewhere between Clarendon and Punxsutawney on a two lane road. I was doing about 60 when I saw a large owl drop out of a tree and head right for the car. I heard, and felt, it hit just above the windshield, but I was traveling too fast to stop. By the time I talked myself into going back, and finding a place to turn around, ten or fifteen minutes had passed. As I drove back at a slower speed I couldn’t find any evidence of the bird. I felt like I had passed the collision spot but continued on for a few more miles. When I turned around to continue my trip I still traveled at a slow speed. Never did find anything to do with the owl, nor was the car damaged. But I stop buying owls and began to get rid of the ones I had. The dreams went away. This was in the mid-seventies.
I get these feelings every now and then that I am being watched. But nothing comes of it. I have nose bleeds for as far back as I can remember, back to Miami and that barn. I always connected them with the migraine headaches I have had since I was about ten or twelve. They went away when I was about 25 years old, and now they have come back after I turned 45 or so.
We have lived in this house for nearly twenty years. A few years after we moved in, or about 5 years after living in Dobbs ferry, my second wife said she woke up one night and there were different colored balls she could see in the bedroom without any lights on. She also said there was a woman in the room. When she told this person that I was hers and she couldn’t have me the room cleared and she went back to sleep. I was not awake nor do I remember seeing anything like that since I gave up the owls.
I have no way of proving any of this. I don’t even know if I want to prove it one way or the other. It is just a piece of my life that I have lived with, making me some of what I
am today. I have been searching the Internet for a reference to owls since 1998 and this is the first time I have read anything close to what I had experienced.
--------------
Dream Sequence 8 16/17 2006
In the dream I am with my wife. I don’t remember seeing her but knew she was with me. Before the following sequence there are bits and pieces of the dream that I can’t remember. It is disjointed images of hotels, hotel rooms, bus rides, large area with covered table for eating and bingo(?). We are in a car, convertible, with another couple on dirt/gravel road through an area like a gravel pit. It then changes once more and the other couple are gone.
We walk up to the back of a building that houses a seafood restaurant. There is an open area access by an arch. There were a few tables and at one was a black family of four. They were having fried shrimp, grouper and the Captain’s Platter for seventy-five cents, a buck and a quarter and a dollar ninety-five for what the people out front were paying fourteen ninety-five to twenty-four ninety-five. In the back right was a guy sitting, he had on an apron and a towel over his shoulder. From the back left came a voice asking, “How long have they been there?” The cook answered, “Seven minutes.” At the time, during the dream, I didn’t think anything about it, except that it didn’t seem like seven minutes. I couldn’t tell you how long it was, but it wasn’t a long wait like some waits are. At this point the guy on the left began to escort my wife and I to the front of the building. During this my wife and I were separated but I didn’t think anything about it. I awoke before going any farther.
The seven minute answer was on my mind when I woke up and it has bothered me since then. How could the guy know it was seven minutes? And not answer, I don’t know, a few minutes. Or, not long. Why seven minutes?
-----------
First Impressions Versus First Meanings
When I read I find myself associating the words with my first meanings. I know each word has its own meaning but I find myself going with the one I got from the first time I heard the word, first impressions so to speak. As with individuals we only have a few seconds to present a first impression and probably less time for forming such an opinion for / of someone. I find myself going to certain writings because of what the title says to me in those first meanings. Sometimes I am surprised, but most often I do not get the exact meaning the writer was going for. Sometimes I do. Sometimes I go to writing because of the writer, and the first impression I made of them, with my first reading. I once took this writer’s piece apart line by line based on what I got from the poem. It was not a critique, it was done out of an experiment, a workshop, to show each other what the reader read and what the writer wrote. The concept is based on a writer saying she did not enjoy readers telling her what they got in the reading when it was not what she wrote. She felt she was straight forward in what she wanted to say in the choice of words she used. It goes back to first meanings. What words mean to each reader. As an example, there is a car company here that has three letters for its name, but when I see this word I do not think of cars but what those three letters mean to a US Army infantryman from the Vietnam era. Even though I do not always get exactly what the writer meant, I do enjoy the read.
