survivorman; stuck in the grid of everyday duty
repost/ edit
fighting in your place on the castle walls
fiction
edward w Pritchard
So much I wanted to be far out in wild country, arboreal woods or infested swamps or frozen mountain tops alone. Anywhere but here on the castle walls resigned to death, prepared to die honorably.
In the midst of a prolonged siege by our longtime enemy I fight, I fight. Eventually one accepts that we must fight, we must fight on using any means to endure; so we can stay in our place in the grid of our responsibilities, duties and everyday tasks.
Fighting in your place on the castle walls after eight hours of intense battle one grows numb to the slaughter and begins to see the mayhem clearly, dispassionately and with more than idle curiosity.
The man to my left, the braggart as I had previously judged him had an arrow through his neck, angled low to high, he is now dead; but he hadn't fallen; the man once a braggart was now unceremoniously impaled and held up on his own spear. The man to my left had an arrow through his neck and was supported in death by his spear, the spear he probably polished before battles and stored between battles in a place of honor in his home.
Our purported invincible enemy below fuming and strutting at us as they fought; screamed in agony and cowardice when scalded by burning oil or spattered with small pieces of metal from our artillery. As I fired our cannons, round after round loaded with smoking steaming lead and metal the enemy below melted and evaporated with each roar I fired down upon them. For a few minutes after each blast they strutted no more.
In the midst of a prolonged siege by our longtime enemy I fought bravely but wished to be anywhere else. Back in my youth, hiking with my Father on the mountain pass near my grand fathers home, or in a small tent with Gemma before our marriage.
A light rain began to fall and the sweat on my arms and back bristled with chill as I continued with my duties of tending to the cauldrons of burning oil nearby the smoking canon I fired over and over. I waited in a light rain and cold wind for the enemies next charge. Again and again I reheated the small chunks of metal to be fired soon from our over heated field artillery machinery. I watched the enemy below as they were showered with the scalding pieces of lead and iron. Their strutting stopped temporarily when struck by the missiles. As I fired the canon I was careful not to work up a sweat, in the cold wind that I stood in as I manned the canon hyperthermia is a real possibility.
This my fourth siege here in the castle and it looks to be several more days before it will became known if we would succeed in our efforts to drive off our besiegers and save our children and wives from slaughter and mayhem.
I didn't plan to be here in battle today and I did not properly arm myself for the conflict. First, I used flint and steel I found laying about to start a fire, the fire that heats the projectiles I fire into our enemies bodies. Then I always carry a small Swiss style knife, my multi tool is always with me in battles. Shelter, I have no tent and must rest between enemy charges by dreaming of being in a tent far from here in place and time with Beautiful Gemma.
If I have time later I will gather more metal projectiles now laying scattered about the canon I tend to. Water, a small bucket sits near the canons to cool it between shots but I cannot drink, though I am deathly thirsty. The canon must be given my share of the water.
If there is a lull in battle perhaps I can catch a small mouse and lay him on the canons heated core and have a bite to eat between charges to keep up my strength. Obviously there is no time to clean the fur off the mouse.
The canon doesn't boom as it fires when full of molten metals, it thuds and then the enemy below scream. The winds are powerful here high up on the walls and they effect my shots from the canons. Sometimes I use my multi-tool to clean the bore of the canon between shots.
I am the survivorman. I do my duty as I wait to die.
Friday, December 6, 2013
Thursday, December 5, 2013
the role of superstitions in modern life
the role of superstitions in modern life
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
repost/ edit
streaming video
start:
Dr. Laura Kepis to ER. Dr. Kepis STAT, ER.
Lazily I awoke from a nine minute nap in the interns room. Asleep in a chair these last nine minutes, it sounded like my break was over. It was time to continue my sixteen hour rotation now that my nine minute nap was interrupted by a hospital wide emergency.
I ate a late supper of Lay's low fat potato chips on the run to ER. Through the three wings between me and the ER I dash, a healthy supper devoured and now I am fortified and good to go again.
A male nurse met me. This patient must be a security risk, we laid off all the night shift security guards. The nurse keeps calling me Ms. Kepis. I hate that, somehow he makes it sound so condescending. I am the diminutive psychologist on staff and the nursing staff treats me like a kid.
The patient is Canadian, like me. His accent gave him away. We had an immediate rapport. He's cute too, like my high school boyfriend, Byron.
The patient says if we put an IV in his arm the streaming video will be disrupted and he will die immediately. Protocol calls for an IV in a possible concussion. He is adamant. Apparently he grabbed the RN Mrs. Johnson's arm. I don't like her either, she is such a bitch.
The man's name is Neil and he is a musician from Toronto. He says everybody is in a reenactment all the time. If the streaming video is interrupted it's over, finale; putting in the IV will interrupt the streaming video for him. Putting in the IV will kill him he says, he believes it too.
I tried to reason with him. Local police are here, they arrived just after I did. The patient is sedated and the IV is in.
Back in the interns room later I heard the young man Neil had died. Curious.
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
repost/ edit
streaming video
start:
Dr. Laura Kepis to ER. Dr. Kepis STAT, ER.
Lazily I awoke from a nine minute nap in the interns room. Asleep in a chair these last nine minutes, it sounded like my break was over. It was time to continue my sixteen hour rotation now that my nine minute nap was interrupted by a hospital wide emergency.
I ate a late supper of Lay's low fat potato chips on the run to ER. Through the three wings between me and the ER I dash, a healthy supper devoured and now I am fortified and good to go again.
A male nurse met me. This patient must be a security risk, we laid off all the night shift security guards. The nurse keeps calling me Ms. Kepis. I hate that, somehow he makes it sound so condescending. I am the diminutive psychologist on staff and the nursing staff treats me like a kid.
The patient is Canadian, like me. His accent gave him away. We had an immediate rapport. He's cute too, like my high school boyfriend, Byron.
The patient says if we put an IV in his arm the streaming video will be disrupted and he will die immediately. Protocol calls for an IV in a possible concussion. He is adamant. Apparently he grabbed the RN Mrs. Johnson's arm. I don't like her either, she is such a bitch.
The man's name is Neil and he is a musician from Toronto. He says everybody is in a reenactment all the time. If the streaming video is interrupted it's over, finale; putting in the IV will interrupt the streaming video for him. Putting in the IV will kill him he says, he believes it too.
I tried to reason with him. Local police are here, they arrived just after I did. The patient is sedated and the IV is in.
Back in the interns room later I heard the young man Neil had died. Curious.
most of us won't be able to visit India
Most of us won't be able to visit India
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
repost/ edit
Travels from another time and place
This story is about the religion of Jainism which very few Americans know anything about. The followers of this religion seem like very holy people to this writer. The Cleveland museum of Art have several articles of religious art about Jainism, Buddhism and Hinduism I recall. Drive up to Cleveland and see them. It's a spiritual journey for those of us who can't visit India.
Science fiction story:
One afternoon while driving home from my job as an assistant professor at Kent State University in Ohio I picked up a man and woman hitch-hiking who were visitors to our area from the future.
The woman began to cry when they realized that they were not in India, but in Northern Ohio, my home. The man was very kind to the woman, but was embarrassed by her tears in front of me. After a while he was able to console her and he then went on to explain his own disappointment to me of their current location; for they had traveled a long time and distance to get to our time and it was very important to them that they see India.
When I understood the importance of their reaching the Country of India I began to offer alternative ways for them to get there. The woman now composed explained that they were honor bound not to travel beyond the immediate area where I picked them up. This was an important tenet of their religion of Jainism, of course originally founded in India; but now a major religion and philosophy in their time and place in the future.
As a compromise, the couple from the future agreed to let me take them to the Cleveland Museum of Art where I observed their bliss at being able to see a few statues and art works of Hinduism, Buddhism and Jainism.
We spent a few hours together and unfortunately I knew nearly nothing of Jainism. They in turn knew next to nothing of American culture in my time. They knew of only Henry David Thoreau, curiously of James Dean and they let slip that Lake Erie would expand and sink Ohio, Indiana and most of Pennsylvania sometime in the near future.
I spent a pleasant afternoon with the couple from the future and then dropped them off back by the roadside where I had originally picked them up hitchhiking near Kent, Ohio.
Since I met the couple from the future I have been studying a little of the tenets of their religion Jainism, still practiced throughout the world in my time by a small but holy group of followers. Sometimes as I drive along after work I think of a few of the principles of their religion that they said are still important in their time. Such as : Every soul is potentially divine, and we should regard every being as ourselves and harm no one. It's challenging for me but I am trying to remember those tenets and I try to put them in practice in my daily life.
Although I will never get to India it's nice that I could view artifacts of the religions of Hinduism, Buddhism and Jainism locally at the Cleveland museum of Art a world class museum only a short drive from my home.
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
repost/ edit
Travels from another time and place
This story is about the religion of Jainism which very few Americans know anything about. The followers of this religion seem like very holy people to this writer. The Cleveland museum of Art have several articles of religious art about Jainism, Buddhism and Hinduism I recall. Drive up to Cleveland and see them. It's a spiritual journey for those of us who can't visit India.
Science fiction story:
One afternoon while driving home from my job as an assistant professor at Kent State University in Ohio I picked up a man and woman hitch-hiking who were visitors to our area from the future.
The woman began to cry when they realized that they were not in India, but in Northern Ohio, my home. The man was very kind to the woman, but was embarrassed by her tears in front of me. After a while he was able to console her and he then went on to explain his own disappointment to me of their current location; for they had traveled a long time and distance to get to our time and it was very important to them that they see India.
When I understood the importance of their reaching the Country of India I began to offer alternative ways for them to get there. The woman now composed explained that they were honor bound not to travel beyond the immediate area where I picked them up. This was an important tenet of their religion of Jainism, of course originally founded in India; but now a major religion and philosophy in their time and place in the future.
As a compromise, the couple from the future agreed to let me take them to the Cleveland Museum of Art where I observed their bliss at being able to see a few statues and art works of Hinduism, Buddhism and Jainism.
We spent a few hours together and unfortunately I knew nearly nothing of Jainism. They in turn knew next to nothing of American culture in my time. They knew of only Henry David Thoreau, curiously of James Dean and they let slip that Lake Erie would expand and sink Ohio, Indiana and most of Pennsylvania sometime in the near future.
I spent a pleasant afternoon with the couple from the future and then dropped them off back by the roadside where I had originally picked them up hitchhiking near Kent, Ohio.
Since I met the couple from the future I have been studying a little of the tenets of their religion Jainism, still practiced throughout the world in my time by a small but holy group of followers. Sometimes as I drive along after work I think of a few of the principles of their religion that they said are still important in their time. Such as : Every soul is potentially divine, and we should regard every being as ourselves and harm no one. It's challenging for me but I am trying to remember those tenets and I try to put them in practice in my daily life.
Although I will never get to India it's nice that I could view artifacts of the religions of Hinduism, Buddhism and Jainism locally at the Cleveland museum of Art a world class museum only a short drive from my home.
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Lebron James; all rich and famous celebrities know each other you know
Lebron James; all rich and famous celebrities know each other you know
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
All rich and famous celebrities know each other you know. That's why it shouldn't surprise to hear that when I visited the sprawling mansion of Lebron James, only a dozen miles West of the crumbling home on Hickory street where Lebron grew up , two celebrities besides Lebron were visiting his house. Two house guests were quartered at Lebron's mansion in Bath, Ohio.
Lebron had allowed Hugh Hefner and a hologram of deceased Elvis Presley extended visit at his mansion. Since LeBron was living in Miami on business for the season he allowed Hugh Hefner to practice his lifestyle in the Akron, Ohio area and LeBron allowed the avatar hologram of the young Elvis Presley to roam the mansion and patronize his fine kitchens.
Hugh Hefner is a creature of habit. Classic Movie night Tuesday, nostalgia Wednesday, three-some colonial dress Thursday lunch hour and every morning business records review in his favorite robe are the routines that motivate Hugh to face each morning anew. Don't talk in movies, don't call the girls bunnies or gals, don't whistle on the premises and don't bring back one of the house vehicles low on gas after you have driven to the grocery store to bring back supplies. Hugh likes to patronize the West Point market over in Fairlawn. Never walk into Hugh's bedroom without knocking first; it's shocking what you might find. One can only imagine.
Elvis jumps from activity to activity trying to find purpose in his life. He is not really alive but his hologram is interesting to be around and damn he is a nice looking young man. Elvis really doesn't break out in singing like in his road movies. He does like to talk about Vegas through. Don't mention Anne Margaret. Don't talk about personal things at all, like Elvis' unusual dietary habits.
I had an interesting conversation once with Elvis about his philosophy of charity compared with Lebron's. I guess what I like most about Lebron James is that he is always helping the unfortunate. It makes me proud that we are both from Akron, Ohio. Akron's not a memorable or beautiful place but there are some good people from there, like myself and Lebron James.
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
All rich and famous celebrities know each other you know. That's why it shouldn't surprise to hear that when I visited the sprawling mansion of Lebron James, only a dozen miles West of the crumbling home on Hickory street where Lebron grew up , two celebrities besides Lebron were visiting his house. Two house guests were quartered at Lebron's mansion in Bath, Ohio.
Lebron had allowed Hugh Hefner and a hologram of deceased Elvis Presley extended visit at his mansion. Since LeBron was living in Miami on business for the season he allowed Hugh Hefner to practice his lifestyle in the Akron, Ohio area and LeBron allowed the avatar hologram of the young Elvis Presley to roam the mansion and patronize his fine kitchens.
Hugh Hefner is a creature of habit. Classic Movie night Tuesday, nostalgia Wednesday, three-some colonial dress Thursday lunch hour and every morning business records review in his favorite robe are the routines that motivate Hugh to face each morning anew. Don't talk in movies, don't call the girls bunnies or gals, don't whistle on the premises and don't bring back one of the house vehicles low on gas after you have driven to the grocery store to bring back supplies. Hugh likes to patronize the West Point market over in Fairlawn. Never walk into Hugh's bedroom without knocking first; it's shocking what you might find. One can only imagine.
Elvis jumps from activity to activity trying to find purpose in his life. He is not really alive but his hologram is interesting to be around and damn he is a nice looking young man. Elvis really doesn't break out in singing like in his road movies. He does like to talk about Vegas through. Don't mention Anne Margaret. Don't talk about personal things at all, like Elvis' unusual dietary habits.
I had an interesting conversation once with Elvis about his philosophy of charity compared with Lebron's. I guess what I like most about Lebron James is that he is always helping the unfortunate. It makes me proud that we are both from Akron, Ohio. Akron's not a memorable or beautiful place but there are some good people from there, like myself and Lebron James.
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
glass heart; shattered and scattered/part 2; my vita nuova
glass heart; shattered and scattered/ part 2 my vita nuova
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
see part 1
Bice= Beatrice,
I=Dante=myself
vita nuova= Dante's new life, long epic poetry and prose to Beatrice
start
In my confused state I have quite forgotten Bice, who I am in love with. Is it you and your immortal beauty, or, the lady who left town, the imaginary screen lady who I wrote of to deceive and side track others so they didn't realize I was actually infatuated and writing to you Bice, or do I write to myself; out of my self love while wallowing in shallowness I allow my heart to dictate my actions and waste precious life forces.
It's all so confusing. How long has this been going on? Odes to self.
Now you Bice deny me proper greeting. I want to speak more of my feelings but what more is there to say? Nine times have I approached you and nine times have you withdrawn.
So no more will I describe your garments. No more will I describe when first you granted me greeting, nine years exactly after I espied and clapped eyes on you.
My vita nuova? To separate myself denied greeting as protagonist of shattered and scattered broken glass heart from myself as aged author blathering of the folly of younger self. No more glorification of the lady. See you later in heaven. Guide me if you wish. Vida cor meum.
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
see part 1
Bice= Beatrice,
I=Dante=myself
vita nuova= Dante's new life, long epic poetry and prose to Beatrice
start
In my confused state I have quite forgotten Bice, who I am in love with. Is it you and your immortal beauty, or, the lady who left town, the imaginary screen lady who I wrote of to deceive and side track others so they didn't realize I was actually infatuated and writing to you Bice, or do I write to myself; out of my self love while wallowing in shallowness I allow my heart to dictate my actions and waste precious life forces.
It's all so confusing. How long has this been going on? Odes to self.
Now you Bice deny me proper greeting. I want to speak more of my feelings but what more is there to say? Nine times have I approached you and nine times have you withdrawn.
So no more will I describe your garments. No more will I describe when first you granted me greeting, nine years exactly after I espied and clapped eyes on you.
My vita nuova? To separate myself denied greeting as protagonist of shattered and scattered broken glass heart from myself as aged author blathering of the folly of younger self. No more glorification of the lady. See you later in heaven. Guide me if you wish. Vida cor meum.
Sunday, December 1, 2013
glass heart; shattered and scattered
glass heart; shattered and scattered
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
My glass heart shattered and scattered in ten thousand pieces of sharp unique glass chinks
each chink a sad thought
each thought an organic memory.
Taken to hospital they sold me a broom and dust scoop
after they put a tourniquet around my broken glass heart.
Better I swept up the pieces of glassy shards,
wrapped the chinks in last weeks newspaper
put the crinkled newspaper carefully in a brown paper brown
took a marker and wrote danger sharp edges on the bag
carried the bag to the third floor attic
and stored the bag, news paper, glass and my heart beside the unused Christmas ornaments.
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
My glass heart shattered and scattered in ten thousand pieces of sharp unique glass chinks
each chink a sad thought
each thought an organic memory.
Taken to hospital they sold me a broom and dust scoop
after they put a tourniquet around my broken glass heart.
Better I swept up the pieces of glassy shards,
wrapped the chinks in last weeks newspaper
put the crinkled newspaper carefully in a brown paper brown
took a marker and wrote danger sharp edges on the bag
carried the bag to the third floor attic
and stored the bag, news paper, glass and my heart beside the unused Christmas ornaments.
Where will my Shrink convene group session today?/ part 5
Where will my Shrink convene group session today?/ part 5
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
I had a Saturday lunch group counseling session with Dr. Fortner my psychologist, I always call him my shrink and I also had lunch with one of the other patients Mrs. Donaldson. Just me and Mrs. Donaldson were the only patients. I wanted to pay the restaurant bill today but Mrs. Donaldson negotiated that we all should pay our own bills there at the Japanese restaurant.
We just sat and talked and ate our vegetables. Our waiter was a man. I hate it when the waiter is a man instead of a pretty young girl. He was too slow but trying to rush us at the same time.
I wanted to be sure that Mrs. Donaldson and I got along in front of Dr. Fortner. There is some sexual tension between me and Mrs. Donaldson from before I suppose but I think nothing is wrong for me to enjoy staring at Mrs. Donaldson in her little costumes. That's how I think of her I guess, I have been doing that for a long time. She treats me formally and it drives me crazy. It's hard to describe what I mean by formally but it's somewhat cold and distanced. For example Mrs. Donaldson never takes my phone calls on the first original ring. She also watches her texts on her cell phone when we our together, that drives me crazy.
I noticed we both try very hard to treat Dr. Fortner as a professional. He is a psychologist but he is genuine and sincere when we go to lunch. I am not sure if anything is accomplished in our group sessions but its more enjoyable when there isn't a lot of controversy about things that went down before between me and Mrs. Donaldson.
Myself and Mrs. Donaldson should have talked a little more about the idea of needs versus wants while we ate lunch with the psychologist Dr. Fortner. How many things does one need to be happy in life? We didn't talk about that at lunch at all. It would have been interesting if we would have talked about material possessions and how it effects how people live their lives. I know that Dr. Fortner thinks about that philosophical issue in his own life. We never talked about that at our lunch at the Japanese restaurant. Instead I just stared at Mrs. Donaldson like I usually do and talked about normal things with old Doc Fortner for a couple of hours on a Saturday afternoon.
I am sure I will remember having lunch with Dr. Fortner and Mrs. Donaldson as a pleasant experience later. It's always nice when me and Mrs. Donaldson are civil to each other. I enjoy her company then more than she knows.
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
I had a Saturday lunch group counseling session with Dr. Fortner my psychologist, I always call him my shrink and I also had lunch with one of the other patients Mrs. Donaldson. Just me and Mrs. Donaldson were the only patients. I wanted to pay the restaurant bill today but Mrs. Donaldson negotiated that we all should pay our own bills there at the Japanese restaurant.
We just sat and talked and ate our vegetables. Our waiter was a man. I hate it when the waiter is a man instead of a pretty young girl. He was too slow but trying to rush us at the same time.
I wanted to be sure that Mrs. Donaldson and I got along in front of Dr. Fortner. There is some sexual tension between me and Mrs. Donaldson from before I suppose but I think nothing is wrong for me to enjoy staring at Mrs. Donaldson in her little costumes. That's how I think of her I guess, I have been doing that for a long time. She treats me formally and it drives me crazy. It's hard to describe what I mean by formally but it's somewhat cold and distanced. For example Mrs. Donaldson never takes my phone calls on the first original ring. She also watches her texts on her cell phone when we our together, that drives me crazy.
I noticed we both try very hard to treat Dr. Fortner as a professional. He is a psychologist but he is genuine and sincere when we go to lunch. I am not sure if anything is accomplished in our group sessions but its more enjoyable when there isn't a lot of controversy about things that went down before between me and Mrs. Donaldson.
Myself and Mrs. Donaldson should have talked a little more about the idea of needs versus wants while we ate lunch with the psychologist Dr. Fortner. How many things does one need to be happy in life? We didn't talk about that at lunch at all. It would have been interesting if we would have talked about material possessions and how it effects how people live their lives. I know that Dr. Fortner thinks about that philosophical issue in his own life. We never talked about that at our lunch at the Japanese restaurant. Instead I just stared at Mrs. Donaldson like I usually do and talked about normal things with old Doc Fortner for a couple of hours on a Saturday afternoon.
I am sure I will remember having lunch with Dr. Fortner and Mrs. Donaldson as a pleasant experience later. It's always nice when me and Mrs. Donaldson are civil to each other. I enjoy her company then more than she knows.
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