Junko partner goes Nepalese
fiction
edward w pritchard
the stalker was once the lover
the lover was once the friend
the friend was once the ideal
the ideal was once the self
the self was once the selfless
the selfless reintegrates the self the lover and the stalker
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
help me
help me
fiction
edward w pritchard
Two farmers are talking:
" I put his car in my barn," said cousin Haskins, always the hero of his own stories.
Cousin Melvin, knowing Hatkins for 57 years wanted to hear more of the story about putting the car in the barn, but knows better than to encourage Hat to start one of his tales.
Melvin nods to Hatkins, smiling the smile that lit up female hearts here in Louisville up to five years ago.
Hatkins seeing his cousin nod continues " He didn't know where he was, he kept saying everything had moved and changed" "Well, not exactly moved".
"Everything seemed different to him because he didn't have his access codes"
Hatkins looked at Melvin to see if he was listening, then continued.
" He had no access codes to his cell phone, so he couldn't call anyone, and he had inactive bank ID pins, and then Hatkins continued nervously, " He didn't have the daily access codes to his medicines so besides being unable to call or get money his health was in jeopardy".
Picking up the expensive wool over coat and fur trimmed gloves on the seat of the car here in Hatkins barn, Melvin says " How can a Bank President not know his Bank ID's and daily pin numbers?
Hat, exasperated with Cousin Melvin, the newspaper reporter's slowness to grasp"
"He didn't know he was a Bank President, he didn't know his last name, He said he was Jerry and I guess he had amnesia, or at least was confused about who and where he was."
Nodding up and down at Melvin, Hatkins continues
" He was hurt in the car accident out on 30 East near the State Park and started walking back to town after he woke up. He went to a few businesses and I found him sitting on the curb at Rosie's Fresh Market. I drove him back to his car, left the tractor on 30 and drove him back here".
"Where's he now" asked Melvin.
"He's inside with his lawyers, his daughter and Mariah made him some of her vegetable soup. He's good as new I guess".
Suburban Crier
Help Me
by Melvin Stewart
What would you do if you found yourself in a strange location and everything was foreign and you didn't know who you were? What would you do if you had no money, no friends and you found yourself wandering about a strange town? What would you do if you were injured from a recent car crash and you had amnesia. What would happen if the town in question was Louisville, Ohio, the car accident was on 30 East. How would the locals treat an injured confused uninvited traveler?
Such was the experience of Cleveland Bank President Kemper DuBois. On February 4th, Mr. Dubois was involved in a single car accident on 30 near Rosie's Fresh Market. DuBois was traveling South through Canton on Bank business and decided to take the back way to Wellsville on the Ohio River by driving East on 30. Dubois' vehicle slid off the road near Kendall State Park and his car rested in a small grove of trees 60 feet South of the roadway. DuBois lay unconscious for up to twelve hours and then walked back into Louisville, finally attracting attention at Rosie's Fresh Market. Mr.DuBois appeared to be injured and confused as to time, place and who he was.
Hatkins Stewart who happened to be at the market assisted the unfortunate stranger. Stewart drove the injured man back to his car on 30, switched vehicles and took him to the Stewart Farm. While Mr. Dubois ate some of Mariah's Stewart's vegetable soup, Stewart's son in law Doc Phillips was able to determine the cause of the amnesia. After talking to DuBois daughter, Jennifer Dubois, of Cleveland, also a physician a zinc deficiency was identified as the likely cause of the temporary amnesia.
DuBois had missed two days of his zinc supplements following his accident and that and the stress of the car wreck and unfamiliar surroundings must have triggered the amnesia said Doc Phillips.
How did our town of Louisville treat it's uninvited guest?
Mr. DuBois, an important man in Cleveland said he never experienced such a feeling of isolation, confusion and loneliness as when he walked along 30 toward Louisville. He didn't know who he was and familiar things seemed hostile and menacing.
As an aside, this reporter had to wait to interview Mr. DuBois as he recuperated after taking the zinc supplements provided by Doc Phillips and ate Mariah's soup. The Stewart's long dinner table was surrounded by lawyers. They had got the word that Cleveland Bank President Kemper Dubois was injured and Kent and Canton law firms sent emissaries to look in on and fawn over their important client. An important man indeed.
Original word of the whereabouts of DuBois had came from his cell phone provider. Apparently unable to get the phone to work because of the issue with the daily codes at the accident scene had driven Dubois to type-Help Me- into his phone. As next of kin DuBois' daughter was then notified by the cell phone company and that's how word got out that Bank President DuBois was in peril. Doc Phillips was patched through to Doctor Jennifer DuBois when he called missing persons in Canton through Ohio's 911 network.
How would Louisville Ohio greet an injured confused traveler? How would our town treat an uninvited guest in need?
Nice job Hat. You made us proud.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
Two farmers are talking:
" I put his car in my barn," said cousin Haskins, always the hero of his own stories.
Cousin Melvin, knowing Hatkins for 57 years wanted to hear more of the story about putting the car in the barn, but knows better than to encourage Hat to start one of his tales.
Melvin nods to Hatkins, smiling the smile that lit up female hearts here in Louisville up to five years ago.
Hatkins seeing his cousin nod continues " He didn't know where he was, he kept saying everything had moved and changed" "Well, not exactly moved".
"Everything seemed different to him because he didn't have his access codes"
Hatkins looked at Melvin to see if he was listening, then continued.
" He had no access codes to his cell phone, so he couldn't call anyone, and he had inactive bank ID pins, and then Hatkins continued nervously, " He didn't have the daily access codes to his medicines so besides being unable to call or get money his health was in jeopardy".
Picking up the expensive wool over coat and fur trimmed gloves on the seat of the car here in Hatkins barn, Melvin says " How can a Bank President not know his Bank ID's and daily pin numbers?
Hat, exasperated with Cousin Melvin, the newspaper reporter's slowness to grasp"
"He didn't know he was a Bank President, he didn't know his last name, He said he was Jerry and I guess he had amnesia, or at least was confused about who and where he was."
Nodding up and down at Melvin, Hatkins continues
" He was hurt in the car accident out on 30 East near the State Park and started walking back to town after he woke up. He went to a few businesses and I found him sitting on the curb at Rosie's Fresh Market. I drove him back to his car, left the tractor on 30 and drove him back here".
"Where's he now" asked Melvin.
"He's inside with his lawyers, his daughter and Mariah made him some of her vegetable soup. He's good as new I guess".
Suburban Crier
Help Me
by Melvin Stewart
What would you do if you found yourself in a strange location and everything was foreign and you didn't know who you were? What would you do if you had no money, no friends and you found yourself wandering about a strange town? What would you do if you were injured from a recent car crash and you had amnesia. What would happen if the town in question was Louisville, Ohio, the car accident was on 30 East. How would the locals treat an injured confused uninvited traveler?
Such was the experience of Cleveland Bank President Kemper DuBois. On February 4th, Mr. Dubois was involved in a single car accident on 30 near Rosie's Fresh Market. DuBois was traveling South through Canton on Bank business and decided to take the back way to Wellsville on the Ohio River by driving East on 30. Dubois' vehicle slid off the road near Kendall State Park and his car rested in a small grove of trees 60 feet South of the roadway. DuBois lay unconscious for up to twelve hours and then walked back into Louisville, finally attracting attention at Rosie's Fresh Market. Mr.DuBois appeared to be injured and confused as to time, place and who he was.
Hatkins Stewart who happened to be at the market assisted the unfortunate stranger. Stewart drove the injured man back to his car on 30, switched vehicles and took him to the Stewart Farm. While Mr. Dubois ate some of Mariah's Stewart's vegetable soup, Stewart's son in law Doc Phillips was able to determine the cause of the amnesia. After talking to DuBois daughter, Jennifer Dubois, of Cleveland, also a physician a zinc deficiency was identified as the likely cause of the temporary amnesia.
DuBois had missed two days of his zinc supplements following his accident and that and the stress of the car wreck and unfamiliar surroundings must have triggered the amnesia said Doc Phillips.
How did our town of Louisville treat it's uninvited guest?
Mr. DuBois, an important man in Cleveland said he never experienced such a feeling of isolation, confusion and loneliness as when he walked along 30 toward Louisville. He didn't know who he was and familiar things seemed hostile and menacing.
As an aside, this reporter had to wait to interview Mr. DuBois as he recuperated after taking the zinc supplements provided by Doc Phillips and ate Mariah's soup. The Stewart's long dinner table was surrounded by lawyers. They had got the word that Cleveland Bank President Kemper Dubois was injured and Kent and Canton law firms sent emissaries to look in on and fawn over their important client. An important man indeed.
Original word of the whereabouts of DuBois had came from his cell phone provider. Apparently unable to get the phone to work because of the issue with the daily codes at the accident scene had driven Dubois to type-Help Me- into his phone. As next of kin DuBois' daughter was then notified by the cell phone company and that's how word got out that Bank President DuBois was in peril. Doc Phillips was patched through to Doctor Jennifer DuBois when he called missing persons in Canton through Ohio's 911 network.
How would Louisville Ohio greet an injured confused traveler? How would our town treat an uninvited guest in need?
Nice job Hat. You made us proud.
end
il diablo
il diablo
fiction
As a result of oversight Byron's son Westley had again summonded the devil. As usual il diablo caused a large amount of disruption, mischief, and evil in Westley's life before Westley's Father Byron found out that il diablo was back.
When Bryron found out that il diablo was tormenting his son again he jumped in his car and went out angrily looking for the devil. Byron after looking for several hours found il diablo near a fast food place up on Exchange Street. Byron slammed on the brakes and jumped out of the car before it fully caught in park and kneed the devil in the lower back. While the devil was down Byron dragged Diablo over to his car opened the hood and slammed the devil's head between the hood and engine block three times. Shouting in hostility, Byron grabbed the devil's left wrist and bent Diablo's fingers back at more than a hundred degree angle. As Byron prepared to elbow the devil in the eyes, the devil rolled and raced off.
Much later and fully recuperated Il Diablo waited for Byron, son of Westley, to summon him unintentionally again.
fiction
As a result of oversight Byron's son Westley had again summonded the devil. As usual il diablo caused a large amount of disruption, mischief, and evil in Westley's life before Westley's Father Byron found out that il diablo was back.
When Bryron found out that il diablo was tormenting his son again he jumped in his car and went out angrily looking for the devil. Byron after looking for several hours found il diablo near a fast food place up on Exchange Street. Byron slammed on the brakes and jumped out of the car before it fully caught in park and kneed the devil in the lower back. While the devil was down Byron dragged Diablo over to his car opened the hood and slammed the devil's head between the hood and engine block three times. Shouting in hostility, Byron grabbed the devil's left wrist and bent Diablo's fingers back at more than a hundred degree angle. As Byron prepared to elbow the devil in the eyes, the devil rolled and raced off.
Much later and fully recuperated Il Diablo waited for Byron, son of Westley, to summon him unintentionally again.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Survival amigo
Survival amigo
fiction
In a survival situation where a rash act can lead to perilous consequences it is paramount to plan activities carefully and sequentially.
I lay for a long time thinking of my next step. At length, planning is finished and its time for bold action. Rising quickly from the couch, I move quickly and grab three Oreo cookies and then return to the red couch, wrap up in the small blanket, and savor the light meal.
fiction
In a survival situation where a rash act can lead to perilous consequences it is paramount to plan activities carefully and sequentially.
I lay for a long time thinking of my next step. At length, planning is finished and its time for bold action. Rising quickly from the couch, I move quickly and grab three Oreo cookies and then return to the red couch, wrap up in the small blanket, and savor the light meal.
Cousin Ramses
Cousin Ramses
fiction
edward w pritchard
see Dear Grandma 10-10-10
and Grandma discovers youtube 01-19-2011
Our town had been dieing for a long time but what mattered to us was when Grandma Weathers passed away. We have a big family and of course everyone showed up for the funeral.
I sat with cousin Ramses and we talked a little about his experiences over in Pakistan. He is shy to talk about the war but I promised my sister Katey I would draw out cousin Ramses on his war experiences. Me a psychologist; still I am having trouble assimilating the little he told me.
Ramses was a highly dedicated pilot and officer but he came home as a private. Ramses has changed a lot since he got back and is now kind of low functioning and remembering how he was in College it is hard to believe he is the same person. I guess the military can change you. Still, speaking as myself in my professional capacity, Ramses always seemed to have a gentleness about him, which probably wasn't good for a soldier; and may have made him ineffective as a pilot and squad leader over in Pakistan. It must take an iron constitution to condone some of the things we do over there in Pakistan, Afghanistan and Iraq in the name of protecting democracy.
I have decided not to follow traditional reporting and documentation style in transposing my notes of my two meetings with Ramses. Since he is a relative and the work is pro-bono I am going to reproduce a few of the short stories of that writer Edward w pritchard and then write out my case summary. I hope my efforts can help Ramses with the disability hearings with the State. I have come to believe from talking to Ramses that not everyone is cut out to be an effective soldier; especially in the kind of silent and secret war we are now fighting in Pakistan where Ramses served.
end part 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
see Dear Grandma 10-10-10
and Grandma discovers youtube 01-19-2011
Our town had been dieing for a long time but what mattered to us was when Grandma Weathers passed away. We have a big family and of course everyone showed up for the funeral.
I sat with cousin Ramses and we talked a little about his experiences over in Pakistan. He is shy to talk about the war but I promised my sister Katey I would draw out cousin Ramses on his war experiences. Me a psychologist; still I am having trouble assimilating the little he told me.
Ramses was a highly dedicated pilot and officer but he came home as a private. Ramses has changed a lot since he got back and is now kind of low functioning and remembering how he was in College it is hard to believe he is the same person. I guess the military can change you. Still, speaking as myself in my professional capacity, Ramses always seemed to have a gentleness about him, which probably wasn't good for a soldier; and may have made him ineffective as a pilot and squad leader over in Pakistan. It must take an iron constitution to condone some of the things we do over there in Pakistan, Afghanistan and Iraq in the name of protecting democracy.
I have decided not to follow traditional reporting and documentation style in transposing my notes of my two meetings with Ramses. Since he is a relative and the work is pro-bono I am going to reproduce a few of the short stories of that writer Edward w pritchard and then write out my case summary. I hope my efforts can help Ramses with the disability hearings with the State. I have come to believe from talking to Ramses that not everyone is cut out to be an effective soldier; especially in the kind of silent and secret war we are now fighting in Pakistan where Ramses served.
end part 1
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
grandma discovers youtube
grandma discovers youtube
fiction
edward w pritchard
see also Dear Grandma- 10-10-10
Grandma Weathers was worried about Ramses and her great-grandson Tyrone introduced her to youtube to get her mind off the matter.
Grandma only wanted to watch the pianist Albert Ammons play Swanee River Boogie. Over and over Grandma watched the old video someone pieced together and posted on youtube on Tyrone's lap top. Grandma enjoyed seeing the fat man Ammons play and his chunky hands, his strange teeth and shy smile and exaggerated mannerisms intrigued her. Another favorite musician of hers from her youth also played with Ammons, on the videos. Pete Johnson the pianist played backup on Swanee River Boogie.
Uncharacteristically, Grandma asked her Granddaughter Katey, recently divorced but still well to do, to buy her blue ray, HD TV and some elaborate speakers. Tyrone hooked up the system so Grandma could watch the old boogie woogie videos by her favorites and lots of us great grandchildren began to enjoy that style of music.
fiction
edward w pritchard
see also Dear Grandma- 10-10-10
Grandma Weathers was worried about Ramses and her great-grandson Tyrone introduced her to youtube to get her mind off the matter.
Grandma only wanted to watch the pianist Albert Ammons play Swanee River Boogie. Over and over Grandma watched the old video someone pieced together and posted on youtube on Tyrone's lap top. Grandma enjoyed seeing the fat man Ammons play and his chunky hands, his strange teeth and shy smile and exaggerated mannerisms intrigued her. Another favorite musician of hers from her youth also played with Ammons, on the videos. Pete Johnson the pianist played backup on Swanee River Boogie.
Uncharacteristically, Grandma asked her Granddaughter Katey, recently divorced but still well to do, to buy her blue ray, HD TV and some elaborate speakers. Tyrone hooked up the system so Grandma could watch the old boogie woogie videos by her favorites and lots of us great grandchildren began to enjoy that style of music.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
non attachment
non attachment
fiction
edward w pritchard
Fighting the biology of evolution we eventually realize that attachments lead to unhappiness. Human perfection is impossible and our idealized imaginings are crashed by reality. Eventually even us who are blind see it.
God is the same case. He lets us down time after time and whether we believe in him or not he is unable to live up to the idealized image that is a Sine qua non of a divine being.
Non attachment means turning your back on those you love. At least in the sense of trying to control outcomes of those around you. No one told you originally as you rushed to attach to fulfill your biological destiny. You didn't ask for the sensibilities that leads to your intense misery at the suffering of those you became attached to. Are you clinging when you wish for those you love not to suffer. Is your attachment to the idea that someone you care about should not be suffering ignoble?
Sit in a cave alone or stare at a tree for a week. With no connections to others will we be happy?
fiction
edward w pritchard
Fighting the biology of evolution we eventually realize that attachments lead to unhappiness. Human perfection is impossible and our idealized imaginings are crashed by reality. Eventually even us who are blind see it.
God is the same case. He lets us down time after time and whether we believe in him or not he is unable to live up to the idealized image that is a Sine qua non of a divine being.
Non attachment means turning your back on those you love. At least in the sense of trying to control outcomes of those around you. No one told you originally as you rushed to attach to fulfill your biological destiny. You didn't ask for the sensibilities that leads to your intense misery at the suffering of those you became attached to. Are you clinging when you wish for those you love not to suffer. Is your attachment to the idea that someone you care about should not be suffering ignoble?
Sit in a cave alone or stare at a tree for a week. With no connections to others will we be happy?
after the volcanos
after the volcanos
fiction
edward w pritchard
After the volcano's we walk bent for a long time. Fearful of flying debris, we peer hopefully for the return of sunlight. Eventually we gaze towards the mountains and reflect on what it means and why it happens.
fiction
edward w pritchard
After the volcano's we walk bent for a long time. Fearful of flying debris, we peer hopefully for the return of sunlight. Eventually we gaze towards the mountains and reflect on what it means and why it happens.
cease winds
cease winds
fiction
edward w pritchard
Raging winds cease
go away
forgotten, rest unseen
order will return
chaos conquered and forgotten
comfort and stability welcome and expected
calm prevailing again.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Raging winds cease
go away
forgotten, rest unseen
order will return
chaos conquered and forgotten
comfort and stability welcome and expected
calm prevailing again.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Serving in Pakistan with the US army
Serving in Pakistan with the US Army
Note see also--In the tent--
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
fiction'
edward w pritchard
Serving in the Pakistan with the US Army is awful. Our enemies hate us powerfully and our allies mislead us and beguile our leaders to keep us here. Your friends die, not in any pattern just here and there, now and then. Some just get wounded and that's worse. Death here is not sudden and final like a soldier should experience; but mysterious and creeping.
Eventually you decide not to have friends. Other soldiers decided to follow a different philosophy to cope. Other soldiers decide that they need friends so you still know people, some of whom are going to die or be wounded, maybe you.
The foods not much even for us poor people but you enjoy it sometimes, and then its not that bad. We drink a lot but it's discouraged to drink in public. Both our friends and enemies here are supposed to disapprove of alcohol according to their religion. Alcohol and the comradely it allows then like everything else becomes foreign.
Nature is good and you get to travel but there's always the war. Home is gone, no longer real or possible.
The only good thing is when you are in your own tent. After supper. Your fellow soldiers are on guard and they will be in their tents in a while and we all work very hard to make it so when one is in their tent they are safe, as safe as one can be in the army. We have billions of dollars worth of technology here, but we still sleep in tents in the field, like soldiers always have.
When we get somewhere and I must put up my tent I always follow the same procedure. I take lighter fluid and burn off the grass, to kill and drive away all inspects. I find the best spot I can, not wet or sloping and away from trees and with some kind of a view for coming and going. Then I put down something for a ground cloth, if available. Then I have my tent face the appropriate direction depending on too many factors to list. When it's all ready I put my stuff in there including my loaded rifle, I don't want to die without being ready. I also am duty bound I think to help my fellow soldiers, even ones I don't know.
Then at last I get in my tent, bravely turn my eyes from the opening and gradually drop off to sleep for about 35 minutes usually. I always wake up worrying and anxious or aggressive according to what's appropriate based on what might happen next. However, those 35 minutes are the best part about being in the army.
I get to go home in 27 months and eight days, if I can make it.
Labels: sanctuary
Note see also--In the tent--
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
fiction'
edward w pritchard
Serving in the Pakistan with the US Army is awful. Our enemies hate us powerfully and our allies mislead us and beguile our leaders to keep us here. Your friends die, not in any pattern just here and there, now and then. Some just get wounded and that's worse. Death here is not sudden and final like a soldier should experience; but mysterious and creeping.
Eventually you decide not to have friends. Other soldiers decided to follow a different philosophy to cope. Other soldiers decide that they need friends so you still know people, some of whom are going to die or be wounded, maybe you.
The foods not much even for us poor people but you enjoy it sometimes, and then its not that bad. We drink a lot but it's discouraged to drink in public. Both our friends and enemies here are supposed to disapprove of alcohol according to their religion. Alcohol and the comradely it allows then like everything else becomes foreign.
Nature is good and you get to travel but there's always the war. Home is gone, no longer real or possible.
The only good thing is when you are in your own tent. After supper. Your fellow soldiers are on guard and they will be in their tents in a while and we all work very hard to make it so when one is in their tent they are safe, as safe as one can be in the army. We have billions of dollars worth of technology here, but we still sleep in tents in the field, like soldiers always have.
When we get somewhere and I must put up my tent I always follow the same procedure. I take lighter fluid and burn off the grass, to kill and drive away all inspects. I find the best spot I can, not wet or sloping and away from trees and with some kind of a view for coming and going. Then I put down something for a ground cloth, if available. Then I have my tent face the appropriate direction depending on too many factors to list. When it's all ready I put my stuff in there including my loaded rifle, I don't want to die without being ready. I also am duty bound I think to help my fellow soldiers, even ones I don't know.
Then at last I get in my tent, bravely turn my eyes from the opening and gradually drop off to sleep for about 35 minutes usually. I always wake up worrying and anxious or aggressive according to what's appropriate based on what might happen next. However, those 35 minutes are the best part about being in the army.
I get to go home in 27 months and eight days, if I can make it.
Labels: sanctuary
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Marvell joins a team -edit 2 act 1-scene 2
Marvella joins a team act 1 scene 2
fiction
edward w pritchard
Marvella's background at the club or inability to dance is of no concern to Mr. Sophia. Mr. Sophia wants Marvella on his team and he is rich enough and influential enough to get what he wants.
Mr. Sophia has found Marvella on the internet. While doing arcane research on a project concerning time theory and philosophy that relates to a bond trading investment he is considering; Mr. Sophia has noticed a college paper by Marvella, concerning the reality of time. Marvella, has caught Mr. Sophia the billionare's attention because as a freshman at Youngstown State University in a College English course, while doing a paper in a course for which she received a "D"; Marvella wrote a two page paper on Time Theory that now appears on scholarly web sites devoted to the question of the reality of time. Mr. Sophia has journeyed to Ohio, to interview Marvella, a stripper at a men's club, on her fifteen minute break from her dancing.
Mr. Sophia leaves the meeting convinced that Marvella has the ability to do A Priori theorizing on time theory. Additionally, Marvella is passionate and interested and excited by the subject of time theory in a way that no one else on the talented, highly paid team Mr. Sophia has recruited to work on the bond project is. Mr. Sophia has offered Marvella a position on the bond project, as a full partner, which means Marvella has an opportunity to make a lot of money if the project is successful.
end act 1 scene 2
fiction
edward w pritchard
Marvella's background at the club or inability to dance is of no concern to Mr. Sophia. Mr. Sophia wants Marvella on his team and he is rich enough and influential enough to get what he wants.
Mr. Sophia has found Marvella on the internet. While doing arcane research on a project concerning time theory and philosophy that relates to a bond trading investment he is considering; Mr. Sophia has noticed a college paper by Marvella, concerning the reality of time. Marvella, has caught Mr. Sophia the billionare's attention because as a freshman at Youngstown State University in a College English course, while doing a paper in a course for which she received a "D"; Marvella wrote a two page paper on Time Theory that now appears on scholarly web sites devoted to the question of the reality of time. Mr. Sophia has journeyed to Ohio, to interview Marvella, a stripper at a men's club, on her fifteen minute break from her dancing.
Mr. Sophia leaves the meeting convinced that Marvella has the ability to do A Priori theorizing on time theory. Additionally, Marvella is passionate and interested and excited by the subject of time theory in a way that no one else on the talented, highly paid team Mr. Sophia has recruited to work on the bond project is. Mr. Sophia has offered Marvella a position on the bond project, as a full partner, which means Marvella has an opportunity to make a lot of money if the project is successful.
end act 1 scene 2
Marvella joins a team -edit 2
Marvella joins a team-edit 2
fiction
edward w pritchard
Act 1 Scene 1
draft 2
Marvella is a failed exotic dancer at a men's club near the expressway just outside of Youngstown, Ohio. The other dancers make fun of her, and joke at her expense. Marvella can't keep herself from tripping and falling off the long bar counters, and several times she had tumbled awkwardly and heavily to the floor. The patrons don't accept her clumsiness well, because they are embarrassed to see one of the girls as needing even if momentarily the milk of human kindness. It's a mood killer. Although Marvella blames the tripping on customers poking her with dollar bills and upsetting her balance, Mrs. Robertson the club owner, sees it different. Mrs. Roberston, an ex-dancer herself here at the strip club, blames Marvella's falls on Marvella's nearsightedness, lack of coordination; and in her 30 day review warned Marvella she is about to be sacked from her job. This job for Marvella is destined to be another in a history of short term employments.
Marvella is sitting in the strip club this morning and is reading a fax she received a few minutes ago. Mrs. Robertson, the club owner watches Marvella as she reads the facsimile. Mrs. Robertson has read the fax and she is happy for Marvella. Mrs. Robertson has of course head of Mr. Sophia, the wealthy businessman who sent the fax to Marvella. Mrs. Robertson assumes Mr. Sophia is an admirer and suitor from afar of Marvella and feels relief that the dancer she is about to let go; maybe by a stroke of luck, caught the eye of a wealthy patron of the club.
Marvella asks Mrs. Robertson for permission to meet with the customer and asks Mrs. Robertson her opinion on the matter. Mrs. Robertson is paternal with all her dancers but especially so with girls like Marvella, who is a lost sheep. As a precaution Mrs. Robertson asks the bouncer Bo-Fly to keep an eye on the meeting between Mr. Sophia and Marvella. Mrs. Robertson offers Marvella use her office for the meeting.
Marvella fax's Mr. Sophia back, confirming that a meeting at 8PM tonight is fine.
end act 1 scene 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
Act 1 Scene 1
draft 2
Marvella is a failed exotic dancer at a men's club near the expressway just outside of Youngstown, Ohio. The other dancers make fun of her, and joke at her expense. Marvella can't keep herself from tripping and falling off the long bar counters, and several times she had tumbled awkwardly and heavily to the floor. The patrons don't accept her clumsiness well, because they are embarrassed to see one of the girls as needing even if momentarily the milk of human kindness. It's a mood killer. Although Marvella blames the tripping on customers poking her with dollar bills and upsetting her balance, Mrs. Robertson the club owner, sees it different. Mrs. Roberston, an ex-dancer herself here at the strip club, blames Marvella's falls on Marvella's nearsightedness, lack of coordination; and in her 30 day review warned Marvella she is about to be sacked from her job. This job for Marvella is destined to be another in a history of short term employments.
Marvella is sitting in the strip club this morning and is reading a fax she received a few minutes ago. Mrs. Robertson, the club owner watches Marvella as she reads the facsimile. Mrs. Robertson has read the fax and she is happy for Marvella. Mrs. Robertson has of course head of Mr. Sophia, the wealthy businessman who sent the fax to Marvella. Mrs. Robertson assumes Mr. Sophia is an admirer and suitor from afar of Marvella and feels relief that the dancer she is about to let go; maybe by a stroke of luck, caught the eye of a wealthy patron of the club.
Marvella asks Mrs. Robertson for permission to meet with the customer and asks Mrs. Robertson her opinion on the matter. Mrs. Robertson is paternal with all her dancers but especially so with girls like Marvella, who is a lost sheep. As a precaution Mrs. Robertson asks the bouncer Bo-Fly to keep an eye on the meeting between Mr. Sophia and Marvella. Mrs. Robertson offers Marvella use her office for the meeting.
Marvella fax's Mr. Sophia back, confirming that a meeting at 8PM tonight is fine.
end act 1 scene 1
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Mid morning at the strip club
Mid morning at the strip club
fiction
edward w pritchard
Pre-quel to Marvella Joins a Team, a look at Time Theory, and Questions the Reality of Time
to be rewritten and edited
Mid morning at the strip club Darcella, one of the featured dancers, sits at the bar and works on her homework in Statistics. Darcella a graphic artist, struggling with Statistics, hopes to finish her degree yet this year.
Rhonda and Lesette are exercising, practicing some sort of yoga routine. Rhonda, a dancer here at the club, battles with her weight. Mrs Robertson the owner of the club out here near the Boardman Mall has an iron clad policy; she never lets anything stand in the way of the profitable operation of the club. Rhonda has been told to lose weight, or move on.
Paulette is exercising too; with Wiley, a beauty shop owner from Cleveland, Ohio. Wiley drove all the way over in the middle of winter to talk to Paulette today. Paulette is having some sort of marital crisis again and Wiley came over when she called crying on the phone.
Lea, another featured dancer, is glad Wiley is here. Lea's ex-boyfriend is threatening her since she broke up with him. Wiley a gay beautician has a violent temper and does not like Lea's ex. Once at a Christmas party Bo-fly the janitor at the club had to pull Wiley off Winston, the ex-boyfriend. With Wiley and Bo-Fly in the club Lea can relax and feel safe for a few hours.
Bo-fly is the handy man around the strip club, part-time janitor and sometimes bouncer. Today Bo-Fly drove over with Wiley. Last week Bo-Fly cracked a couple of the oak boards on the side of the long bar the girls dance on by throwing a customers head into the shiny oak boards. He was just doing his job as a bouncer; but Mrs. Robertson who likes Bo-Fly gave him hell for throwing a customer into the bar. Bo-Fly knows better than to damage the oak bar.
Tina another dancer is stretching, holding onto the bar and listening to the blues music, James Booker New Orleans piano man that Bo-Fly plays as he works. With the hammering and blues music Marvella sitting alone is having trouble concentrating.
Marvella is not popular with the other dancers. They think she is odd. Today Marvella reads an important letter she has received via the club's fax machine. It is from a famous businessman who wants to meet with her tonight during her shift.
Gretchen is standing near Marvella and is practicing her new specialty act. Mrs. Robertson told her she is getting too old to dance and must develop a specialty if she is still to work at the club.
Mrs. Robertson carries a plate of eggs and toast out of the kitchen in the back that she made for Bo-Fly. She has been helping Bo-fly fix the counter between working on balancing receipts for the accountant who is due in at noon. Mrs. Robertson cooked the eggs for Bo-fly. She has held just about every job around the club over the years including dancer. Five years ago she married a customer and he bought her the club. The club has lost money ever since. Mrs. Robertson is afraid she may have to lay off a few of the dancers and maybe someone from the bar staff soon.
Thinking about laying off dancers leads Mrs. Robertson to glance over at Marvella. Many strange girls have danced here over the years but Marvella is very odd here or anywhere. Deep in her head, Mrs. Robertson thought what to do with Marvella?
end part 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
Pre-quel to Marvella Joins a Team, a look at Time Theory, and Questions the Reality of Time
to be rewritten and edited
Mid morning at the strip club Darcella, one of the featured dancers, sits at the bar and works on her homework in Statistics. Darcella a graphic artist, struggling with Statistics, hopes to finish her degree yet this year.
Rhonda and Lesette are exercising, practicing some sort of yoga routine. Rhonda, a dancer here at the club, battles with her weight. Mrs Robertson the owner of the club out here near the Boardman Mall has an iron clad policy; she never lets anything stand in the way of the profitable operation of the club. Rhonda has been told to lose weight, or move on.
Paulette is exercising too; with Wiley, a beauty shop owner from Cleveland, Ohio. Wiley drove all the way over in the middle of winter to talk to Paulette today. Paulette is having some sort of marital crisis again and Wiley came over when she called crying on the phone.
Lea, another featured dancer, is glad Wiley is here. Lea's ex-boyfriend is threatening her since she broke up with him. Wiley a gay beautician has a violent temper and does not like Lea's ex. Once at a Christmas party Bo-fly the janitor at the club had to pull Wiley off Winston, the ex-boyfriend. With Wiley and Bo-Fly in the club Lea can relax and feel safe for a few hours.
Bo-fly is the handy man around the strip club, part-time janitor and sometimes bouncer. Today Bo-Fly drove over with Wiley. Last week Bo-Fly cracked a couple of the oak boards on the side of the long bar the girls dance on by throwing a customers head into the shiny oak boards. He was just doing his job as a bouncer; but Mrs. Robertson who likes Bo-Fly gave him hell for throwing a customer into the bar. Bo-Fly knows better than to damage the oak bar.
Tina another dancer is stretching, holding onto the bar and listening to the blues music, James Booker New Orleans piano man that Bo-Fly plays as he works. With the hammering and blues music Marvella sitting alone is having trouble concentrating.
Marvella is not popular with the other dancers. They think she is odd. Today Marvella reads an important letter she has received via the club's fax machine. It is from a famous businessman who wants to meet with her tonight during her shift.
Gretchen is standing near Marvella and is practicing her new specialty act. Mrs. Robertson told her she is getting too old to dance and must develop a specialty if she is still to work at the club.
Mrs. Robertson carries a plate of eggs and toast out of the kitchen in the back that she made for Bo-Fly. She has been helping Bo-fly fix the counter between working on balancing receipts for the accountant who is due in at noon. Mrs. Robertson cooked the eggs for Bo-fly. She has held just about every job around the club over the years including dancer. Five years ago she married a customer and he bought her the club. The club has lost money ever since. Mrs. Robertson is afraid she may have to lay off a few of the dancers and maybe someone from the bar staff soon.
Thinking about laying off dancers leads Mrs. Robertson to glance over at Marvella. Many strange girls have danced here over the years but Marvella is very odd here or anywhere. Deep in her head, Mrs. Robertson thought what to do with Marvella?
end part 1
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