Life in space/part 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
editor's note
Bold and adventurous attempts to see the future and tell how things might be deserve to be applauded. None more bold or often wrong than minor writer ed pritchard. Here look how Pritchard sees Mars from a vantage before anyone went there. [ harry bailey editor]
start
life in space/[part 1]
When you first get to Mars it's not what you thought it would be like. Later after your illusions about yourself and life have dried into the red dusty rock of the Martian surface you blame the writers, the writers who you read as a child and who speculated from the security of earth on what Mars and space travel would be like. The writers who got things so wrong about Mars. It's really not about Mars at all, but it's about life trying desperately to thrive; even if for a while in the hostile environment of space and anywhere away from the sanctuary of Earth.
I came out to Mars on the rumble run, from the Moon to Mars nonstop. Me and my eighteen year old bride Daria. Just the two of us on a seven month extended honeymoon; us and an eleven man crew and 75 security cadets headed for a three year tour of Jupiter. All eighty six of them and me too couldn't keep our eyes or thoughts off Daria after the first two weeks away from earth.. A Woman in space is a rarity and a pretty woman is very unusual.
Mars first impression:
The first thing I saw on disembarking on Mars was the Mercator rats. On the tail, for defense and protection they have a large bulb of flesh. Through evolution or something the bulb is flashed at anything behind the rat and shows as a distinctly human face. The faces are supposed to look like celebrities from earth, or at least that's what general opinion is. It's unsettling and a good inhuman way to start to accommodate one to the unfamiliar Martian environment.
end part 1
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
voyeur/previous post
Saturday, November 5, 2011
first dance number at the beauty college reunion/draft 1
first dance number at the beauty college reunion/draft 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
They are not called chairs but stations. It is an honor to call us who work or once worked at the stations girls, for no matter how far one of us who once was a beautician at the beauty college goes in life, our hearts are always partly here. Here being Mrs. Donna Washingon's School of Beauty in Richmond, Va.
At the first night get acquainted meeting of current beauticians in training, alumni, and instructors something spontaneous occurred. A beautiful outpouring of harmonious camaraderie.
Everyone was giving free styling and makeovers to the young high school seniors from the nearby local schools. Mostly pretty girls, the students from secondary, and most of the students in training attending Mrs. Donna's [Washington] school of beauty were dolled up for the ceremony, for they get their first designation tomorrow night; and the alumni were beautiful as only an older woman can be who was once a doll themselves.
I was bringing in the cake for Mrs. Washington for tomorrow night's ceremony and I couldn't stop my eyes from feasting on the beauty in the room. I had come in in the middle of things and every woman present at all of the stations was singing and dancing. Each singing to their imaginary to be lovers, even those who had already found him and had to settle for him as he was. But the school girls and some of the beauticians in training didn't know that yet and there was an electricity of subdued sexuality filling the mirrored, low ceilinged, bright white beauty college floor.
Beauty is the lust of the eye and I couldn't not watch. Swaying and strutting, but feminine and modest all at once. Everywhere. I looked and peeked, back, forth, up and down; nearly tripping over the cake, devil's food delight. Occasionally someone took notice of me but mostly the dancers were somewhere else. To supplement the sound system many many of the older women sang and gestured as they moved.
No matter how far a girl from Mrs. Donna's goes in life, Lawyer, Doctor or Real Estate Broker; she will always be bewitching and enticing to the afictionado's of beauty thanks to the teachings she started out with at Mrs. Donna's School of Beauty of 14 Harris Street, Richmond, Virginia.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
They are not called chairs but stations. It is an honor to call us who work or once worked at the stations girls, for no matter how far one of us who once was a beautician at the beauty college goes in life, our hearts are always partly here. Here being Mrs. Donna Washingon's School of Beauty in Richmond, Va.
At the first night get acquainted meeting of current beauticians in training, alumni, and instructors something spontaneous occurred. A beautiful outpouring of harmonious camaraderie.
Everyone was giving free styling and makeovers to the young high school seniors from the nearby local schools. Mostly pretty girls, the students from secondary, and most of the students in training attending Mrs. Donna's [Washington] school of beauty were dolled up for the ceremony, for they get their first designation tomorrow night; and the alumni were beautiful as only an older woman can be who was once a doll themselves.
I was bringing in the cake for Mrs. Washington for tomorrow night's ceremony and I couldn't stop my eyes from feasting on the beauty in the room. I had come in in the middle of things and every woman present at all of the stations was singing and dancing. Each singing to their imaginary to be lovers, even those who had already found him and had to settle for him as he was. But the school girls and some of the beauticians in training didn't know that yet and there was an electricity of subdued sexuality filling the mirrored, low ceilinged, bright white beauty college floor.
Beauty is the lust of the eye and I couldn't not watch. Swaying and strutting, but feminine and modest all at once. Everywhere. I looked and peeked, back, forth, up and down; nearly tripping over the cake, devil's food delight. Occasionally someone took notice of me but mostly the dancers were somewhere else. To supplement the sound system many many of the older women sang and gestured as they moved.
No matter how far a girl from Mrs. Donna's goes in life, Lawyer, Doctor or Real Estate Broker; she will always be bewitching and enticing to the afictionado's of beauty thanks to the teachings she started out with at Mrs. Donna's School of Beauty of 14 Harris Street, Richmond, Virginia.
end
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
fung shui and your hospital stay
fung shui and your hospital stay
fiction
edward w pritchard
I asked for the burnt orange sheets, the memory foam pillows and the Spring air mattress. One's hospital room in the CCU ward must have the appropriate fashion coordination to promote ideal well being.
My nurse was too busy to listen to my suggestions for sprucing up my temporary home. Apparently living with the imminent death of patients everyday keeps her from getting too attached at work.
fiction
edward w pritchard
I asked for the burnt orange sheets, the memory foam pillows and the Spring air mattress. One's hospital room in the CCU ward must have the appropriate fashion coordination to promote ideal well being.
My nurse was too busy to listen to my suggestions for sprucing up my temporary home. Apparently living with the imminent death of patients everyday keeps her from getting too attached at work.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
God and Jesus
God, Jesus and those Guys
fiction
edward w pritchard
Can we know God? God, Jesus and those Guys?
Turns out God and Jesus and the other deities are like celebrities. Once in a while they walk among us but then they have to split and go to all the important places they have to get to. Meanwhile we wait and wait assuming we can talk to God and the others whenever they show, feeling real close, good buddies.
Eventually you figure out that God, Jesus and those guys aren't knowable but at the same time they are knowable, familiar to us somehow or other. Gods are like celebrities, they know us in principle, if they could they would pal around with us and explain things to us, but then they wouldn't be famous if they were with ordinary people like us. They need us bad though for we are their audience, their public, without us the Gods wouldn't be special, even with all the incredible things they are capable of. So we are kept on a string. Waiting, unsure but more hopeful than not that God is knowable to us.
So which is the case. Can you know God, Jesus and those guys or not. You have this incredible longing to reunite and get to know them but they are never there for you. You hear about them a lot and who they are and what they do is a couple levels above everything else we know but are they really our close buds?
Can we know or not know God.
Man they cast a long shadow. Their voice is just out of reach. Sometimes you can not quite hear the echo of God's voice.
Sunny skies and bright times God's whistles far off we hear on the wind.
God dances and creation starts.
God gives us the green green earth,
but it's not a cycle, over and over.
Just this once this all goes down,
so every one wants to be onstage with God
but then it's our end, time is run out.
Just before we have an insatiable longing to know God
over and over we call , Om , Om, Om
in a dream we see him move
then it's gone and we forget
nothing, voidless nothing
If God moves, can he suffer?
Sad if he did.
Was God here before himself?
Is everything a manifestation of one ultimate reality?
Om, Om, Om
God and Jesus
My Jesus is not a compilation
fiction
edward w pritchard
My Jesus is personal. Jesus is not a compilation of other people. He was born and sadly he died; to save us, you too, even you who believe Jesus was a compilation of several Roman persons and deities.
Get to know Jesus. He says something you need to hear.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
fiction
edward w pritchard
Can we know God? God, Jesus and those Guys?
Turns out God and Jesus and the other deities are like celebrities. Once in a while they walk among us but then they have to split and go to all the important places they have to get to. Meanwhile we wait and wait assuming we can talk to God and the others whenever they show, feeling real close, good buddies.
Eventually you figure out that God, Jesus and those guys aren't knowable but at the same time they are knowable, familiar to us somehow or other. Gods are like celebrities, they know us in principle, if they could they would pal around with us and explain things to us, but then they wouldn't be famous if they were with ordinary people like us. They need us bad though for we are their audience, their public, without us the Gods wouldn't be special, even with all the incredible things they are capable of. So we are kept on a string. Waiting, unsure but more hopeful than not that God is knowable to us.
So which is the case. Can you know God, Jesus and those guys or not. You have this incredible longing to reunite and get to know them but they are never there for you. You hear about them a lot and who they are and what they do is a couple levels above everything else we know but are they really our close buds?
Can we know or not know God.
Man they cast a long shadow. Their voice is just out of reach. Sometimes you can not quite hear the echo of God's voice.
Sunny skies and bright times God's whistles far off we hear on the wind.
God dances and creation starts.
God gives us the green green earth,
but it's not a cycle, over and over.
Just this once this all goes down,
so every one wants to be onstage with God
but then it's our end, time is run out.
Just before we have an insatiable longing to know God
over and over we call , Om , Om, Om
in a dream we see him move
then it's gone and we forget
nothing, voidless nothing
If God moves, can he suffer?
Sad if he did.
Was God here before himself?
Is everything a manifestation of one ultimate reality?
Om, Om, Om
God and Jesus
My Jesus is not a compilation
fiction
edward w pritchard
My Jesus is personal. Jesus is not a compilation of other people. He was born and sadly he died; to save us, you too, even you who believe Jesus was a compilation of several Roman persons and deities.
Get to know Jesus. He says something you need to hear.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
Friday, October 7, 2011
Jesus raises the dead-reposted
Jesus raises the
dead-reposted
fiction
edward w pritchard
Jesus always insists that I accompany him and assist when he raises the dead. That's more than OK with the other followers because it's an ordeal when someone who has been dead for a while is brought back to life. Only Jesus can manipulate death and it's trying and disconcerting to be around the recently brought back to life and it takes it's toll on all those present at the time.
All the disciples and followers of Jesus want to be present when Jesus restores a blind persons sight or cures someone of leprosy. It's theatrical with outpourings of praise and gratitude and large crowds quickly gather as word spreads of miraculous healing. Hero's we are as followers of Jesus then.
When a child is raised from the dead it's solemn and the gratitude of the families is subdued by the presence of death. Even after death leaves a small room an overpowering melancholy surrounds the gathered. The first look that is exchanged between the recently revived child and Jesus is haunting. It follows me in my dreams for months when I have been at Jesus' side as he brings a dead child back to life. Not the parent's immense gratitude can make me forget the scrutinization when a child looks at Jesus after first being raised from the dead.
Why none of the other disciples or followers will assist Jesus when he raises a person from the dead is because of the reaction of an old adult who has been brought back to life miraculously by Jesus of Nazareth. A husband or loving friend has begged Jesus to bring someone back to life. Their faith and hope in Jesus' ability to manipulate death is enormous and Jesus sometimes succumbs and performs a miracle. Jesus out of experience insists that no one else be present in the tomb when the miracle occurs. Except me. I am always present with Jesus when death is defied.
The miracle has occurred successfully and the dead have been brought back to life. This time it's an old woman whose husband couldn't go on without her. She was dead three hours according to the best Doctors here. Now she's alive.
It's so mournful the sound she makes as she sobs. I am holding her. There is something beyond sorrow in her quiet wailing. Jesus understands. He knows what she has seen and experienced and Jesus always collapses for a few moments when death has been beguiled.
I leave the tomb and go to find the husband. The husband rushes hopefully in anticipation. The crowd takes notice. Everyone wants to see what miracle Jesus has done today.
After the miracle of raising the dead Jesus prays and prays in solitude. I approach Jesus then but do not confront him preferring to meet him later at a more appropriate time and place.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Jesus always insists that I accompany him and assist when he raises the dead. That's more than OK with the other followers because it's an ordeal when someone who has been dead for a while is brought back to life. Only Jesus can manipulate death and it's trying and disconcerting to be around the recently brought back to life and it takes it's toll on all those present at the time.
All the disciples and followers of Jesus want to be present when Jesus restores a blind persons sight or cures someone of leprosy. It's theatrical with outpourings of praise and gratitude and large crowds quickly gather as word spreads of miraculous healing. Hero's we are as followers of Jesus then.
When a child is raised from the dead it's solemn and the gratitude of the families is subdued by the presence of death. Even after death leaves a small room an overpowering melancholy surrounds the gathered. The first look that is exchanged between the recently revived child and Jesus is haunting. It follows me in my dreams for months when I have been at Jesus' side as he brings a dead child back to life. Not the parent's immense gratitude can make me forget the scrutinization when a child looks at Jesus after first being raised from the dead.
Why none of the other disciples or followers will assist Jesus when he raises a person from the dead is because of the reaction of an old adult who has been brought back to life miraculously by Jesus of Nazareth. A husband or loving friend has begged Jesus to bring someone back to life. Their faith and hope in Jesus' ability to manipulate death is enormous and Jesus sometimes succumbs and performs a miracle. Jesus out of experience insists that no one else be present in the tomb when the miracle occurs. Except me. I am always present with Jesus when death is defied.
The miracle has occurred successfully and the dead have been brought back to life. This time it's an old woman whose husband couldn't go on without her. She was dead three hours according to the best Doctors here. Now she's alive.
It's so mournful the sound she makes as she sobs. I am holding her. There is something beyond sorrow in her quiet wailing. Jesus understands. He knows what she has seen and experienced and Jesus always collapses for a few moments when death has been beguiled.
I leave the tomb and go to find the husband. The husband rushes hopefully in anticipation. The crowd takes notice. Everyone wants to see what miracle Jesus has done today.
After the miracle of raising the dead Jesus prays and prays in solitude. I approach Jesus then but do not confront him preferring to meet him later at a more appropriate time and place.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
soldier's report
soldier's report
all dates and place names reported as easiest to understand for an American reader in 2011
fiction
edward w pritchard
Noble Caesar Augustus, Emperor, Rome
from General Marius, Roman soldier/ from Mumbai India, month July, year 18AD
Augustus, I continue my report of my activities following Jesus of Nazareth to India. Today Jesus was to speak briefly at a gathering of holy men of different religions arranged by followers of the Hindu faith here.
When the time came for Jesus to speak he was not at the place of the conference but instead one mile away at a hospice for very sick children, those with multiple disabilities all being in a most pitiable state. I was there at the hospice myself doing my duty shadowing Jesus as ordered by yourself honorable Augustus. My assistant Titus was with the other religious participants at the conference nearby. At length Titus arrived with the other participants, many who had already spoken, giving a twenty minute summary of the major points of their religions belief system and philosophies which was the reason for the conference.
When it was time for Jesus to speak, apparently because of respect to be paid to your self Noble Caesar Augustus, for your fame and power is known here; my counterparts here in the armies of India insisted that the group of holy men should walk to where Jesus was to hear him speak.
When the Holy men arrived Jesus did not move or speak but continued to sit with a dozen or so very handicapped children of various ages who were unable to talk or barely communicate and seemed to be scarcely alive at times. These children were cared for by several nurses who routinely did this on a daily basis at this place for these children were sometimes abandoned by their families because of the expense and difficulty of seeing to their daily care. Additionally as this country has a caste system, as I have described to you earlier, it is not permitted for Priests and high born religious men to associate with these sickly children or their caregivers. I add that these priests only did come to this hospital because of the insistence of the intelligence community watching Jesus here in India; primarily because of their desire not to offend yourself Caesar as leader of the Roman empire. For although you are far from here Augustus, your power and fame is well known and this is how the group of Priests came to be sitting in this Hospital with these sick children waiting for Jesus of Nazareth to speak on his philosophy of Religion.
Jesus sat quietly among these children as the Hindu, Buddhist, Jain, Zoroastrian and other Religious leaders stood near, obliviously very disconcerted because of the pitiful nature of these children's afflictions. After an uncomfortable ten minutes or so of complete silence, Jesus of Nazareth stood up and addressed the group of Religious leaders assembled near him.
" All souls are infinitely valuable" said Jesus and then he left the hospital and went into a small grove of trees and bushes to pray as was his custom.
Only one additional noteworthy item to report. Before Jesus of Nazareth was joined by the other Religious leaders he did do something unusual. Jesus wept as he sat among those severely handicapped children. I will not comment on this Tiberius, being merely a simple soldier.
end
all dates and place names reported as easiest to understand for an American reader in 2011
fiction
edward w pritchard
Noble Caesar Augustus, Emperor, Rome
from General Marius, Roman soldier/ from Mumbai India, month July, year 18AD
Augustus, I continue my report of my activities following Jesus of Nazareth to India. Today Jesus was to speak briefly at a gathering of holy men of different religions arranged by followers of the Hindu faith here.
When the time came for Jesus to speak he was not at the place of the conference but instead one mile away at a hospice for very sick children, those with multiple disabilities all being in a most pitiable state. I was there at the hospice myself doing my duty shadowing Jesus as ordered by yourself honorable Augustus. My assistant Titus was with the other religious participants at the conference nearby. At length Titus arrived with the other participants, many who had already spoken, giving a twenty minute summary of the major points of their religions belief system and philosophies which was the reason for the conference.
When it was time for Jesus to speak, apparently because of respect to be paid to your self Noble Caesar Augustus, for your fame and power is known here; my counterparts here in the armies of India insisted that the group of holy men should walk to where Jesus was to hear him speak.
When the Holy men arrived Jesus did not move or speak but continued to sit with a dozen or so very handicapped children of various ages who were unable to talk or barely communicate and seemed to be scarcely alive at times. These children were cared for by several nurses who routinely did this on a daily basis at this place for these children were sometimes abandoned by their families because of the expense and difficulty of seeing to their daily care. Additionally as this country has a caste system, as I have described to you earlier, it is not permitted for Priests and high born religious men to associate with these sickly children or their caregivers. I add that these priests only did come to this hospital because of the insistence of the intelligence community watching Jesus here in India; primarily because of their desire not to offend yourself Caesar as leader of the Roman empire. For although you are far from here Augustus, your power and fame is well known and this is how the group of Priests came to be sitting in this Hospital with these sick children waiting for Jesus of Nazareth to speak on his philosophy of Religion.
Jesus sat quietly among these children as the Hindu, Buddhist, Jain, Zoroastrian and other Religious leaders stood near, obliviously very disconcerted because of the pitiful nature of these children's afflictions. After an uncomfortable ten minutes or so of complete silence, Jesus of Nazareth stood up and addressed the group of Religious leaders assembled near him.
" All souls are infinitely valuable" said Jesus and then he left the hospital and went into a small grove of trees and bushes to pray as was his custom.
Only one additional noteworthy item to report. Before Jesus of Nazareth was joined by the other Religious leaders he did do something unusual. Jesus wept as he sat among those severely handicapped children. I will not comment on this Tiberius, being merely a simple soldier.
end
happiness front and center
happiness front and center
fiction
edward w pritchard
So content,
so content sitting centered in the window,
the stuffed cat of happiness
winks at the passing world.
fiction
edward w pritchard
So content,
so content sitting centered in the window,
the stuffed cat of happiness
winks at the passing world.
Monday, May 20, 2013
CSI unit, please investigate the Kent State University Shootings/ draft 1 /part 2
CSI unit, please investigate the Kent State University Shootings/ draft 1 /part 2
fiction
edward w pritchard
April 30th 1970 Thursday 8PM[?]. President Nixon announces that the US government will not contract the Vietnam War as promised but in fact it is being expanded into Cambodia.
May 1st, 1970 Friday night 10PM. This writer and his friend drive the old blue convertible to Richfield, Ohio to pick up friend's father a truck driver driving into the company terminal during the teamsters strike. We were stopped not too politely at the gates of the trucking company by the Ohio National guard who were on duty controlling civil order at the teamsters strike. Both teenage boys respectfully and diffidently speak with the Guards lieutenant. It was our first confrontation with military authority and we were able to successfully complete our mission of picking up his Father without further incident.
May4 this writer hears of the shootings at Kent State and wonders what roll that Lieutenant played in the violence. He didn't seem like he could shoot unarmed young people.
Later that week in May 1970 This writer, then High School newspaper editor writes an editorial in school paper siding with students.
May 2013 this writer revisits the Kent State shootings intellectually as he often does in May of each year from time to time and finds some of his opinions may have changed but still is horror struck by unarmed students being shot in America.
end part 2
See story to be written soon: Allsion Krause, a Case of Arrested Development [ Allison, a KSU student, was a 19 year old shooting victim]
posted previously
when soldiers come
fiction
edward w pritchard
sky so low
spirits so high
then soldiers come
men bleed, women cry
children hide
soldiers stay
men cry, women bleed
children stare
soldiers here
sky high, wind fierce, spirits low
fiction
edward w pritchard
April 30th 1970 Thursday 8PM[?]. President Nixon announces that the US government will not contract the Vietnam War as promised but in fact it is being expanded into Cambodia.
May 1st, 1970 Friday night 10PM. This writer and his friend drive the old blue convertible to Richfield, Ohio to pick up friend's father a truck driver driving into the company terminal during the teamsters strike. We were stopped not too politely at the gates of the trucking company by the Ohio National guard who were on duty controlling civil order at the teamsters strike. Both teenage boys respectfully and diffidently speak with the Guards lieutenant. It was our first confrontation with military authority and we were able to successfully complete our mission of picking up his Father without further incident.
May4 this writer hears of the shootings at Kent State and wonders what roll that Lieutenant played in the violence. He didn't seem like he could shoot unarmed young people.
Later that week in May 1970 This writer, then High School newspaper editor writes an editorial in school paper siding with students.
May 2013 this writer revisits the Kent State shootings intellectually as he often does in May of each year from time to time and finds some of his opinions may have changed but still is horror struck by unarmed students being shot in America.
end part 2
See story to be written soon: Allsion Krause, a Case of Arrested Development [ Allison, a KSU student, was a 19 year old shooting victim]
posted previously
when soldiers come
fiction
edward w pritchard
sky so low
spirits so high
then soldiers come
men bleed, women cry
children hide
soldiers stay
men cry, women bleed
children stare
soldiers here
sky high, wind fierce, spirits low
CSI unit; please investigate the kent state shootings/ draft 1/ part 1
CSI unit; please investigate the kent state shootings/ draft 1/ part 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
We need the TV show CSI to investigate the crime scene of the May 4th 1970 Kent State Shootings. Four students were killed by the Ohio National guard and at that time in 1970 crime scene techniques were very primitive. M-1 rifle bullets flew for thirteen seconds at a crowded University Campus and there wasn't even an accurate inventory of which rifles were fired and some other basic CSI procedures.
Mostly though we need the CSI TV show format to address the issues between the students, the University, American Society at war with itself, and the Ohio National guard and summarize them for us, the general audience's understanding, and then reach basic philosophical conclusions for us to be able to put the disturbing incidence to rest.
The Kent State Shootings still bother me after all these years.
end part 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
We need the TV show CSI to investigate the crime scene of the May 4th 1970 Kent State Shootings. Four students were killed by the Ohio National guard and at that time in 1970 crime scene techniques were very primitive. M-1 rifle bullets flew for thirteen seconds at a crowded University Campus and there wasn't even an accurate inventory of which rifles were fired and some other basic CSI procedures.
Mostly though we need the CSI TV show format to address the issues between the students, the University, American Society at war with itself, and the Ohio National guard and summarize them for us, the general audience's understanding, and then reach basic philosophical conclusions for us to be able to put the disturbing incidence to rest.
The Kent State Shootings still bother me after all these years.
end part 1
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