Fictionalize Yourself

[wil]

Originally Posted by InLove

wil--don't be mad! I misspelled "gardener" on purpose! (Too late to edit).

InPeace,
InLove

not mad...that was me fictionalizing myself...

[InLove]

wil, you sly fox.

[17th Angel]

In writing a story of myself... Things such as your god and such would not be included.... The story is of me... not of religion. I would play more on my darker sides... I would be the uncontrollable freaking psycho that is kept in a padded cell 24/7 in a straight jacket in fear of escaping.... I would be this beast that every man feared. I would tell of my rage, anger frustration of being restrained in this cell.... I can't get out, I can't cause harm, I can't harm myself... no matter how hard I smash my freaking skull against the walls and door, I can cause no pain or violence. You know how annoying and frustrating that is? When you go to slam a door wanting it to slam and smash and cause tension... but it doesn't, it slowly shuts? Or when you randomly grab something just to throw in any direction because you are so p'd off? But it floats away and doesn't hit anything hard??? That creates so much more anger and wish to cause pain..... Becoming nothing but a mere memory to a few… But, that memory is fading… I am dead in the mind of all… I have been put far, far away from civilisation. I am nothing anymore….. I cannot cause chaos or trouble I cannot demand attention, there is no longer anyway for me to do this……. Nothing makes sense, nothing has a point, everything is to simply slow down what is inevitable... All I can do is wait for it to find me. No windows, no communication with others, no day light, only electric light... A small beam at that, which comes through a small eye hole in my door.... They are watching me... They are always freaking watching..... I have never seen them... They simply observe, judge and sneer.... Being so isolated and desolate.... You begin to forget the things that make you human... The only thing to focus on is the small random dust particles that sometimes catch small reflections off the light "source"..... That gives no true light... Living in confusion and darkness... Am I already dead? Is this it? Will it ever come? Has it come? I do not know....

[flowperson]

17th...sounds a lot like Guantanamo to me. Get out...for G-d's sake get out!

flow....

[17th Angel]

Sounds simular eh? Nice.... I think you'll find the cell represents my own body....

[Prober]

Originally Posted by InLove

I have been seduced into imposing the will of calloused gardner’s feet upon the haughty brocade which refuses to stay clean.

Love this sentence.

It isn’t exactly fog, but more of a thick mist. Here and there the rays of a pale sun

I usually see a pale sun.

peek through, inciting shadows of leaves to dance upon the greening earth. There, the slip figure of a woman also dances, her snow white tufts of hair like unruly cotton candy, little wayward strings of it escaping from some hidden barrette to ride the random breezes. She wears a floursack shift, something I’m pretty sure I would not be able to identify in the humdrum vision of daily familiarity.

mmm...

There is an unrelenting urge to call out to her--to speak her name--but I cannot remember it. I know that the mere whisper of it would prompt her to look my way and acknowledge my presence. I know she is aware of her observer, but has no intention of interrupting the rhythm of her business for someone who cannot or will not attempt a decent introduction. I am so disappointed. I close my eyes within my dream, the name I know so well desperately clinging to my unwilling tongue, never escaping.

Love it!

[Prober]

Originally Posted by Prober

But I have no memory of freedom.

I wandered through impressions and memories and times and faces, always facing a lesson to be learned. Sometimes failing and sometimes suceeding, always hearing the faint call of home between my ears. A distant aum, a tidal surge, a bulging at the equator...no, just a small sound...

I could entitle the chapters of my book as follows:

03 Tugril Beg - Mongolian

04 Wilfred. Page to some knight whose name isn't important and I forgot anyway. (A Tale of Illicit Love)

05 Only white girl in the Prince's harem (and his favorite)

06 Devoted disciple of (name unknown) Benares

07 - 19 Alternating experiences of Soldier / Monk

20 American Indian Me

21 Died in an elevator in Chicago 1930

22 2007 - Breathing, Waiting

[InLove]

Prober--I am honored that you would appreciate my writing here. I've been playing around with those few paragraphs for a long time.

I am looking over your list of perspectives. Do you have a favorite?

I love this thread. You guys rock.

InPeace,
InLove

[flowperson]

InLove, Prober...I revel in the weaving of your word tapestries. It's the most fun possible for us human beings, and just maybe that was meant to be as part of our hard-wiring.

flow...

Rocking on now with Knowing...Chapter one ...scene three

“Dat was a hard place to keep clean. The walls an’ ceiling and floor in dat hallway to the secret room be all shiny metal jus’ like the stuff the airplanes was made out of. An’ it showed ev’ry litttle fly speck and spot I’ll tell you. But the boss, he say we got to keep it very clean, cause any dirt at all could mess up what went on behind the slidin’ double black doors at the end of the hallway. But you knows people. They’s jes’ can’t help but mess up a place they be in. Sneezing, spittin’, smokin, ...all that an’ more messin up where they be. O’course, mens be worse at that stuff than anyone. But the boss say it got to be clean all the time, so’s I spent at least an hour down there every day or two to make sure the boss...he be pleased wid’ my work.”
“Now dat night...I should say mornin’ ‘cause it be about 2:30 or there’bouts, I passed through the vacant guard station around the corner from the doors. I rounded the corner without thinkin’ much about anythin’ other than gettin’ out the ammonia an’ vinegar water and rags so’s I could polish up an’ clean the hallway. The boss, he checked up on the night crews’ work first thing in the mornin’. He usually checked the metal hallway early on to make sure we wasn’t slackin’ off overnight.”
Harold then seemed to pull himself up straighter in his chair than usual, as if what he were about to say deserved his full and dignified self and stature. Then he gazed into my eyes with an intensity that I had not seen before in the depths of his golden eyes.
“I got out my cleanin’ stuff and set my carryin’ basket of suppliies next to my broom that I’d leaned against the wall, pretty close to the black doors. I always be cleanin’ that end of the hallway first, jes’ to get it behin’ me quicklike. I be tellin’ you truly, they’s kind of spooked me them doors. I’m not bein’ a very religious man, but there be somethin’ spiritual about that place there if you knows what I mean. A feelin’ mor’n anything else that beyond them black doors were things that best be let alone.”
“I no sooner wetted my cleanin’ rags than the doors commenced to be slidin’ open. Scared the livin’ bejesus outta me. Nearly wet mysef’. The room inside looked all black and shadowy ‘cept for some blue lights shinin’

5.


down on a raised part of the floor that ‘peared to be covered with a gold-colored mesh of metal. Sittin’ under the blue lights be some boxes, each of ‘em ‘bout two feet by three feet. The boxes had handles on the sides an’ looked like some kind’a light metal or somethin’ like that. They be all covered by glass bubbles or some such. I commenced to be countin’ them and there be six pink ones and six light blue ones. They be one bright red and one ocean blue too. Let’s see ... that’d been fourteen in all. I thought I heard small sounds coming from the boxes, you knows like mebbe puppies or kittens. But I be too a’scared to go across the doorway and get a closer look-see.”
“ I didn’ knows what to do. Do I calls for the guard aroun’ the corner ‘an see if he be there ? Do I jes’ walk away an’ pretend I seen nothin’ an’ never-ever tell anythin’ to anyone, even my Lorene ? Jus’ then all my questions were decided fo’ me.”
He looked at me with a questioning gaze, as If I was already supposed to know just what I was going to hear. He took another swallow of tap water and spoke again, more quietly this time.
“They came walkin’ at me out of the shadows, smilin’, friendly like. Two women all dressed in gray tight fittin’ sweaters and pants, kinda’ like at the burlesque blackouts if you knows ‘bout dat stuff. They be tall as me, an’ I be close to six feet back den in my prime. One was older than the other and she talked to me the mos’. She had dark skin like me and very black hair with a white streak in it, an’ very big and dark eyes like almonds. An’ the other was white, had long blonde hair an’ had the bigges’ bluest eyes I ever did see.
They tole me not to be afraid, for I was witness to somethin’ holy ... thas what they say, holy. An’ den they said that it be very important to keep what I learned from them to myself and not to tell anyone else or the whol’ world might find itself in great dangers in the future.
The dark one ask’d me to help them carry the boxes into the hallway, and tol’ me they be leavin’ in a couple minutes. I followed them past the black doors into the place what my spirit tole me wasn’t good for me to go into, but I didn’ notice anything bad happenin’ after I did go into the dark room. We got to the stage and climbed up on it, it be about two to three feet off’a the dark metal floor I s’pose. The gold mesh gave a little.
When we got up to dem I looked into the boxes through the glass bubbles and it be amazin’ to see babies under them bubbles. Black, brown, red, white, yellow, babies, all new borns. You could tell that ‘cause they was

6.



all red-tinged and wrinkly but none o’ dem was cryin’. They jes’ wriggled and mewed like little animals that didn’ know where dey was or what dey was dere fo’.”
Harold was clearly emotionally moved as he told his story. But I remained silently watchful lest he take some false or imagined cue from my behavior, or if I asked him my mounting questions. He paused with a sigh and his shoulders trembled as he shuddered. He put up his hand as if to tell me he was ok. Out came his red bandana. He wiped his glistening face.
“ Dey says nothin’ more to me an’ it was certain they’s be wantin’ me to help move the babies in their bubble boxes out into the hallway. It only took a minute or two since they’s be so light and easy to carry. The two women then walked back into the shadowy room beyond the black doors and turn’d around and tole me again to remember that dis be a holy thing, and not to tell anyone what I seen, especially the gummint’ mens. Then the dark one, she reaches into a pocket on the side of her sweater and pulls out a small silvery-lookin’ stick and be handin’ it to me. She tole me to leave it on the floor between the red and blue babies. I noticed it had a red button on it, and around the sides of the button were the words, ‘play, stop, and repeat’.
I looked down into the boxes and seen that the baby in the red box was wrapped in a blue blanket, and in the blue box the baby was in a red blanket. In the other boxes the pink boxes had babies wrapped in baby blue blankets; an’ yep, the babies in the baby blue boxes be wrapped up in pink blankets. I was already so confused I didn’ even think about dat, and stooped down and put the stick-thing on the floor between the red and blue as I was askt’d. When I stood up they was turnin’ away and the doors slid shut behind them. I thinks I hear some music sounds just then, big music sounds likes organs an’ choirs an’ such, but mebbe I be jus’ hearin’ things. I seen a bright light around the doors. I jes’ don’t know. The whole thing be jes’ so damn strange.”
Mr. Uggins lowered his chin to his chest and closed his eyes. He remained that way for several minutes, breathing deeply. I thought he’d dozed off, but by and by he slowly opened his eyes, raised his weary head and continued.

[InLove]

Flow--wow. I just now got around to reading all of that! What a page-turner. I was afraid poor Mr. Uggins was going to.....wait, never mind.

Write on, my brother---

InPeace,
InLove

[flowperson]

End of chapter one...Knowing

flow....


“At firs’ I be panicky and a’scared bein’ alone in de hallway wid all dem babies. So’s I calmed mysef’ after a spell, and tried to think out what to do next. I grabbed my broom and swept to where the corner in the hallway was,

7.


an’ looked towards the guard station. The guard, Mick, he be back from wherever he been when I came by, and that hadn’t been five minutes before, so’s he couldna’ been there very long.
How do I tells him ‘bout de babies ? Does I act like I jes’ finds them there in the hallway outside de doors when I went down the hall ? I knew I couldn’t say anythin’ ‘bout the pretty womens and what they say. That would have been wrong to them, and de guard prob’ly woulda’ thought I be jes’ ‘nother crazy-ass negro. So’ I ducked back behind the corner an’ leaned the broom against the shiny metal wall again. I quick tippy-toed to the boxes and wiped the handles and the silvery stick off wid the damp rags I was preparin’ for de walls. Den I walks back aroun’ the corner kinda slow-like and bent over a little likes I was thinkin’ on somethin’
I says ‘Hi Mick’. Mick was an Irish ex-cop an’ nice enough to me. He say, ‘Hi Harold’, nice as can be as if I was jes another guy he knew. Mick say he missed me goin’ in ‘cause he went to the can an’ had jes’ now got back. I say, ‘Mick you needs to come wid me and see what I be findin’ around the corner.’
He gets up wid a grunt an’ comes aroun’ de corner wid me and stops dead still. ‘Holy Jaysus, Joseph, and Mother Mary’ he says. I keeps silent and jes’ nod my head, silently agreeing wid him. He walks over to the bubble boxes and looks down into dem and opens his mouth a few times likes he be a fish outta water gaspin’ fo’ air.
‘Whu...whu... whut happened here ?’ he say. I says thet I didn’ knows. I says I jes’ walks aroun’ de corner to clean up by the black doors an’ here they was. I say I as surprised as him, but bein’ a little a’scared of the whole thing, I thought on it all a while befo’ I come get him.
Mr. Uggins slumped in his chair again and I knew from past experience that he was done for the night. I’d come to know his habits in telling his stories over the past weeks, and when he was played-out, this is what happened. I told him that I’d meet him for some eggs, potatoes, and polish sausage down at the tavern tomorrow morning about ten o’clock if that was ok with him. My treat. He just nodded his head, closed his eyes, and dropped his chin to his chest again.
I got up, let myself out locking the door behind me, walked slowly down the stairs and across the street to the Ravenswood line station to catch my train across town.

[flowperson]

Continuing with Knowing...chapter two. February 25, 1942, 3:00am 8.


TWO

The Government Takes Charge


“Ya done the right thing Harold. But I just am surprised about all this. There’s never been anything going on in this area but the science people walkin’ in an’ out of the black room, “ Mick said.
The two of them stood there awhile thinking about who to call and what to do until the babies decided the matter for them by starting to cry all at once, as if on some kind of signal. Mick grunted again as he turned on the heels of his black brogans and clumped around the corner and down the hallway to his stand and the phone, his keys clinking against his leg as he ran.
It wasn’t but a couple of minutes until a group of about six military guards and civilians came running up to the guard station. Harold and Mick just pointed to the corner and the group ran around it. And then there was a sudden silence. All that could be heard was the wailing of the babies.
One of the civilians who had an ID tag around his neck on a lanyard that identified him as Douglas Berner ran back to Mick’s desk, picked up the phone and dialed two numbers.
“Who’s on duty up there ?...Well tell the three of them to call in the morning people first and then get their asses down to area “X” just as fast as they can. Tell them to bring as many clean cloths, sterile bottles, sterile surgical gloves as they can find. Yeah, you heard me right, and I want it done ten minutes ago. Oh, and call the cafeteria and tell them to scald about a gallon of milk and cool it to warm as soon as possible and have someone bring that down here too. Got it?”
Then Berner turned and looked at Harold and Mick with a blank expression and didn’t even have to ask the question before they both started to tell him what they knew about the events of the last ten minutes. But Harold didn’t violate the trust that he promised to the two women. He just stuck with the simple story that he told Mick.
By the time they finished and Berner was done jotting notes about their stories into a little three by five spiral padbook that he had fished out of his breast pocket as soon as they started talking, two young women and a young man in white jackets carrying a black bag and the things that Berner had asked for ran up to the desk.
Berner nodded and only pointed to the corner and the wailing. The

9.

group then moved as one and went round the corner to take care of things.
Then Berner picked up the phone again and dialed another two numbers.
“Who’s this ?...Doug Berner here....Who’s the OD ?... That’s no good ...he’ll screw this up. Do you know where Col. Asbury is tonight?...Yeah, he probably is....No, I think he should be called in. I’ve got a real serious situation going on in area ‘X’ and I don’t want to make any decisions on this until he knows the facts....No, I believe that this warrants his attention....Yeah, I’ll take all responsibility and cover your ass for you if that’s needed....Yeah, goodbye.”
Berner told Harold and Mick to stay right there at the guard desk and not let anyone pass without coming to get him first. Then Berner went back around the corner and found a scene he had never expected to see in a defense plant, and he’d been in a lot of them since 1940. The nurses were beginning to open the bubble tops on the boxes and were trying to comfort the babies without taking them out of their carriers.
“You dumb asses put out them butts,” he yelled at two of the guards who had lit up while waiting for things to happen. “ Go back to the guard desk if you have to smoke, but better yet, don’t smoke at all until we know what this is about. The smoke can’t be good for these babies, and they look like newborns.” One of the nurses raised her head when he said that and smiled and silently nodded. “And do not, I repeat, do not touch anything, except for the medical people tending the babies, until we examine what we have here.”
Berner felt as though he was acting more like a police detective than the research physicist that he was, but his training and education had taught him over and over again that when you came upon something new and unusual in the environment, it was best not to disturb anything until some basic facts were known. He wanted to make sure the FBI had a chance to run the boxes with their bubbles for fingerprints so that the custodian and guard could be cleared of further questioning if possible. In his opinion they were two innocents that had been accidently caught up in something very strange.
Berner noticed the silvery stick on the floor between the red box and the blue box. He picked it up using a handkerchief that he always carried in his back pocket. Luckily it was a clean one today. He put it in the side pocket of his sport coat, still wrapped in his handkerchief. He glanced about briefly, and no one present was paying attention to his movements.
He took stock of who was there and who was necessary to decode the situation over the next few hours. He decided that the engineer could go back to where he had come from on the line, after his stern

10.


admonishment not to talk about this to anyone since it was certain the FBI
would wish to question him about his role later. It was always better to limit information exposure to those who were to be questioned later so he sent him on his way. Then Berner sent the remaining military guard to the corner of the hallway and told him to serve as a back-up check point for those already at the desk. This left the two nurses, the young doctor, and his assistant Saul Feinstein by the black doors. He decided that they should wait right here and tend to the needs of the children until the brass showed up.

[Pathless]

Continuing on with my story. The perspective shifts a bit here.

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Music pours forth and touches me here. I am sleepy and I am hurt, but those sounds are beautiful, and that distant awareness is calling. I can hear it and feel it yearning. That feeling is familiar. Where am I and how long have I been sleeping?

Here I am on a carpet of stars and dark matter. Oh my...! Overwhelmed by beautiful fractals and something is happening. I don't think I will remember much of my dreams today. No, I don't think I will remember much of my dreams today. They are already fading and the morning is becoming more acute and painful. Am I becoming smaller and more refined? Curious. Damn, I'll miss the expansive skin of my Creator. Please. Let me stay. Please.

Shapes swim. Those musical instruments, I've never heard them before, and I want to play and dance the pain away.

They are dancing. They are unaware of the sadness coming. Terrible armies blot out their love. Terrible armies poise to posture new structures on the land and crush the people's spirits with de-spiritualized material. The ancient massacre is set to recur on another island in space. Has it happened there before, already? It is happening on that distant planet, tearing through the folds of our shared Creation and blinded by speed and the powerful kinetics of its own turning. Sometimes these things happen.

Their songs call us and we must come and go once again, once again. We, I among us, and I will split myself into fractal fragments to do more efficient work. Earth calls in divinely incarnated songs, calls us to incarnate. We respond, bringing waves of our awakening trailing in our wakes. We find the young ones with fruit ripening. We zoom in, sniff the air, listen to heartbeats and songs, weigh options and discern strengths to choose our temporary vessels.

This one will do.

Tasting the morning brew and finding it strong, Anaka feels the child in her womb kick its first kick.

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[InLove]

Originally Posted by Pathless

The ancient massacre....

"The". I believe you are onto something here, P. (Been reading your other recent posts, too )

InPeace,
InLove

[Pathless]

The ancient massacre: ongoing reality?

The ancient massacre: meta-reality template?

The ancient massacre: "War Amongst the Angels"?

Are we perhaps trapped/manifested in a time bubble, in a time stream that is one fractal manifestation of what could be seen as a ginormous struggle between "light and dark," "good and evil?"

Oh, the mysteries of seeing through our dark glasses--to steal and bend a coined pharse.