Director Ridley Scott, actress Noomi Rapace and Billy the Kid
fiction
edward w pritchard
Billy the Kid
Hello Mr. Pritchard. Jack the Ripper suggested I contact you.
author
Yes, I have been expecting you. How was your journey.
Billy the Kid
It's a long way from where I am now, on the other side
author
You still look quite young.
Billy
You see me as you think I should look.
author
How is Jack the Ripper?
billy
About the same. He's quite gloomy lately
author
nods
Billy
Well, I discussed with Jack the Ripper that you might be my publicist. To get me better known posthumously.
author
Did Jack tell you I wasn't very successful with having people read what I wrote about him?
Billy
I want you to try to get people in your time talking about me. I crave fame I am afraid.
author
I was thinking about famed director Ridley Scott of "Alien" and "Bladerunner" and "Prometheus" doing an action adventure space monster movie with you as the lead and Noomi Rapace as your love interest.
Billy
You mean science fiction
author
yes, that genre is the rage now.
Billy
well I was hoping for a Western
author Pritchard
we could do a morality play set in outer space. The emerging life form could be impervious to all weapons but a six shooter. Using DNA reconstruction we could bring you back and using cryogenics ship you to a distant galaxy.
billy
what's a galaxy
author
leave me now I have to let my mind wander a bit. I'll handle everything.
end
author
note to self;
How would I go about contacting Noomi
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
philosopher
philosopher
fiction
edward w pritchard
To become a philosopher:
Following your birth it's best if your Mother dies from complications of child birth.
Your father should drown honorably at sea by your seventh birthday.
Raised by grandparents until school, you have five difficult years at boarding school. At twelve years old you realize you lifelong idee fixe.
Productive energy among your lady's skirts should produce a son. He belongs to the State.
Passion exhausted, to commerce, overseas perhaps, to the Raj. Build a fortune; otherwise inherit.
Disenchanted back to tramp and bum, sympathize with the poor.
Later live abroad, to write, drink and eat convivially on the cheap.
Home again, wander the hills of the Lake district, no more moist caves or low mountains. Rejecting Mother Gaia disavow the senses.
Contemplate, send your mind one billion trillion miles into the universe. With Chronos, time, find the edge of everything. Write your masterpiece.
Renounce philosophy, sit under a Banyan tree, think of a sick man, an old man and your corpse. Better to not be born at all, or eternal recurrence.
Time is short, sit on a dock at a lake and watch the rain storm move toward you. Seek the way.
Catch a fish, cook a fish, wash up your only bowl.
No matter, no mind,
what's next?
fiction
edward w pritchard
To become a philosopher:
Following your birth it's best if your Mother dies from complications of child birth.
Your father should drown honorably at sea by your seventh birthday.
Raised by grandparents until school, you have five difficult years at boarding school. At twelve years old you realize you lifelong idee fixe.
Productive energy among your lady's skirts should produce a son. He belongs to the State.
Passion exhausted, to commerce, overseas perhaps, to the Raj. Build a fortune; otherwise inherit.
Disenchanted back to tramp and bum, sympathize with the poor.
Later live abroad, to write, drink and eat convivially on the cheap.
Home again, wander the hills of the Lake district, no more moist caves or low mountains. Rejecting Mother Gaia disavow the senses.
Contemplate, send your mind one billion trillion miles into the universe. With Chronos, time, find the edge of everything. Write your masterpiece.
Renounce philosophy, sit under a Banyan tree, think of a sick man, an old man and your corpse. Better to not be born at all, or eternal recurrence.
Time is short, sit on a dock at a lake and watch the rain storm move toward you. Seek the way.
Catch a fish, cook a fish, wash up your only bowl.
No matter, no mind,
what's next?
syria/repost
syria/repost
fiction
edward w pritchard
fiction
edward w pritchard
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Wake softly Syria
Wake softly Syria
fiction
edward w pritchard
Wake softly Syria,
the sun has risen bringing morning breezes to soothe your sorrows.
Look to the horizon Damascus ancient Mother city.
Streaks of gold light entice you, awake; stir again Mother Damascus arouse your children
to productive activity.
Up and about to the souk hearty Aleppo.
Send men to trade and build.
Daylight is upon us Halab, greet foreign traders in the marketplaces.
Whisper in Aramaic humble Ma'aloula, tell the nations what comes next.
Joy and create sleepy Ras Shamrah, out to Ugarit to remind the world who taught them to write.
Awake sleeping Syria, ancient land. Your friends far away bid you reclaim your destiny.
Wake softly Syria.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Wake softly Syria,
the sun has risen bringing morning breezes to soothe your sorrows.
Look to the horizon Damascus ancient Mother city.
Streaks of gold light entice you, awake; stir again Mother Damascus arouse your children
to productive activity.
Up and about to the souk hearty Aleppo.
Send men to trade and build.
Daylight is upon us Halab, greet foreign traders in the marketplaces.
Whisper in Aramaic humble Ma'aloula, tell the nations what comes next.
Joy and create sleepy Ras Shamrah, out to Ugarit to remind the world who taught them to write.
Awake sleeping Syria, ancient land. Your friends far away bid you reclaim your destiny.
Wake softly Syria.
Cyrus' current financial woes/ was it foreseeable in 2011?
Cyrus' current financial woes/ was it foreseeable in 2011?
fiction
edward w pritchard
author wrote this previously: as usual, convulted thinking may see a metaphorical reference to current issues in cyprus
fiction
edward w pritchard
author wrote this previously: as usual, convulted thinking may see a metaphorical reference to current issues in cyprus
Saturday, May 28, 2011
a Greek hero in Cyrus, along the Green Line
a Greek hero in Cyrus,along the green
line
fiction
edward w pritchard
see Patriots at the ready -today's blog
Olives were the currency and olive oil was the wealth in our family.
Each of us was dis-satisfied with how papa's estate was to be split. None of the rest of us would voice our displeasure for our Father was still very much alive and once before he had staged this death bed ritual. Then we had been all but prepared to throw dirt across our Father's chest and he had survived until now, another two years later, he was alive but again on his deathbed. This time my oldest brother risked two years of hard stares from Papa should he survive by speaking his mind about the planned split of the Family olive business here in Nikos, Cyprus.
We are Greeks and are a proud people and to my Father olives are not just a business or a means to make a living; the success of the family olive business enable us to be respected and well thought of on our little Island. Father's philosophy of business was customer first, we sold the finest product in the world he said but unless our customers were happy with every transaction we had failed in the business plan. My oldest Brother by tradition Father's heir apparent had a different philosophy. Never give the customer a chance to back out of a deal, before or after a sale, -he might,-. My oldest Brother had learned to run a business in business school studying in America. My oldest Brother could grow a business; he had grown the family business many many times over since Father's illness two years ago but he had displeased our Father with his methods. Now Father was dieing and preparing on leaving the day to day running of the family olive business to my youngest Brother Mikos.
end part 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
see Patriots at the ready -today's blog
Olives were the currency and olive oil was the wealth in our family.
Each of us was dis-satisfied with how papa's estate was to be split. None of the rest of us would voice our displeasure for our Father was still very much alive and once before he had staged this death bed ritual. Then we had been all but prepared to throw dirt across our Father's chest and he had survived until now, another two years later, he was alive but again on his deathbed. This time my oldest brother risked two years of hard stares from Papa should he survive by speaking his mind about the planned split of the Family olive business here in Nikos, Cyprus.
We are Greeks and are a proud people and to my Father olives are not just a business or a means to make a living; the success of the family olive business enable us to be respected and well thought of on our little Island. Father's philosophy of business was customer first, we sold the finest product in the world he said but unless our customers were happy with every transaction we had failed in the business plan. My oldest Brother by tradition Father's heir apparent had a different philosophy. Never give the customer a chance to back out of a deal, before or after a sale, -he might,-. My oldest Brother had learned to run a business in business school studying in America. My oldest Brother could grow a business; he had grown the family business many many times over since Father's illness two years ago but he had displeased our Father with his methods. Now Father was dieing and preparing on leaving the day to day running of the family olive business to my youngest Brother Mikos.
end part 1
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