the current version of myself/ update 2

the current version of myself/ update 2

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


Freed from the marble that has constrained my spirit the current version of myself meanders down the path toward reunification with my best self.

At peace one thousand connections dissolve.

Eyes sky ward I am reborn, motionless I am becalmed.

With empty hands I reap my bounty, with steady heart day and night slips into tomorrows.

Free from pretense, without imposture.

My voice does not echo, my eyes do not shine, my heart does not speak.

Listen, hear the silence of bliss

our habits are independent of our moods

our habits are independent of our moods

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Our habits are independent of our moods. By this author means that we might wake in an aggressive mood, or mad at the world mood or timid and fearful. Reason for our mood is unknown to us.  As we interact with those around us such negative moods may cause others distress and pain and lessen our effectiveness in the World.

Let your good habits rehearsed over time in low stress situations carry you from day to day. Be kind to children, respectful and helpful with women and optimistic towards life. If your moods trip you up get some exercise, more sleep and eat healthier. Read something inspirational and count your blessings.

You are blessed to be alive, your situation could be so much worse.

Here's what I wrote before, about someone "waking up" with a particular mood; the girl on dock represents good mood, the war in Verdun France represents bad mood. Control your moods by having positive habits when possible. Help others in need always to the best of your ability and resources and as appropriate.

Don't paint the World Black, turn towards the blinding bright light of happiness. Drenched in contentment find your bliss.


wake up, wake up

fiction
edward w pritchard

Oh no, don't let it be the trenches again. God please, oh please, don't let me wake up in the trenches again there in Verdun France. Not 1914, anywhere or any time but July of 1914. I don't want to be in the trenches in World War One in 1914 fighting with the French Army against the Germans.

Let me wake up at the beach at the small Lake. When I was sixteen. laying next to a pretty girl on a dock in a pink bathing suit. Laying on the hot wet boards and watching the girl.

I can hear the shells and the bullets. Someone is yelling in French.

Don't open your eyes. Anywhere but Verdun France.

Hint; the House is not the ballast

Hint; the House is not the Ballast

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


Hint; the House is not the Ballast.

So long as the Lady of the house hums about the kitchen as she works and cleans the house is a Home. Though the doors be a-square and the windows cracked and leaking cold air all is well with the family and the House is a Home.

Don't worry too much over the interest rates or the points to purchase the first House when the family is ready to begin; let the woman find the House, let the woman begin the nest.

Let the House be a fortress to him, let the house value over inflate in his mind, let the house provide the sanctuary, let the house provide the motivation to endure, let the house be the Ballast against the sorrows of fortune.

Hint; the House is not the Ballast let the Woman feather the Nest.

trouble in North Korea

trouble in North Korea

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


The last part of myself I refused to reveal to my inquisitor. He knew there was one thing left I wouldn't reveal about America. Under torture, mostly lack of sleep and guk food.

His name was Salt and he knew everything about America. He knew about the boardwalk in Atlantic city, and laying on the beach at Nesbitt Lake in my hometown in Ohio with a girl in summer and taking her tee shirt off in the water at night. He told me she won't remember me now that I am a prisoner and she wouldn't care anyway. Ten years ago back in America is forever ago.

I am very special though. When we crossed the demilitarized zone I am the one who stood up and hit a baseball at the North Koreans. They have the pictures, they were in the American papers. Whatever my captors do to me I will die famous back Home. They hate that. They shave my head. They make fun of my tattoo.

I get in Salt's head too. It drives him crazy when I don't know anything about Korean history or culture. I'll go on for hours under deprivation torture about how beautiful Chinese Art and sculpture is and how I like the Japanese giant Wave painting or Mount Fuji prints but I really don't know anything about Korea North or South and he losses his professionalism and sometimes slaps me in the face over my ignorance and that keeps me going.

There's on thing about America I know that is just my secret. If I die it dies with me and I will have won even though my buddies in my unit can't rescue me and I'll never get Home. One thing, that's why I go on. A secret only I know; I won't tell the North Koreans and won't reveal to the world even under torture.

I always smile at Salt now when we start our sessions. He knows that smile guards my one thing. He is so determined. They watch Salt too as he works and I can tell they are getting upset with him. Maybe he is over budget and they will fire him. I laugh out loud, Salt is starting to hate me I can see it in his eyes.

can't find my classroom

can't find my classroom

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


Can't find my classroom and as I ask the busy secretary at the counter where I was teaching she instructed me formally to go into the Principal's conference room.

It's always a Black man at Principal, a heavy woman with stacks of folders and a pretty young teacher from the teachers unions at these meetings. I was getting fired again.

The Principal talked too long and was confusing to follow so I remembered to ask the young Lady from the union for the summation page which the stern heavy woman said for the record I had been given a copy of fourteen days ago, hand delivered and signed for. The first citation on the list said I was late for class often not knowing where my room was causing havoc and commotion in the south hallway.

After, I asked the secretary for help with the bus schedule to find a ride back to Little Towers apartment homes. The secretary gave me an umbrella to use because it was raining outside. I was glad to see the office wasn't so busy since it was between classes and the secretaries could take a breather for a moment or two.

Lebron James and my trip to Manhattan

Lebron James and my trip to Manhattan

a certain whistling/ draft one in progress

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


Time produces a certain whistling when blown across unique personalities. There is a tune produced but no one can hear it. One plucked string across a unique personage makes a certain doinking every few centuries. Together over eons a melody occurs.

I distinctly heard the whistling sound of a plucked harp. The note hung in the air for a moment and was gone absorbed in an instant into the din of Madison square garden ..

A little later after the game as I fought the crowds in front of the Pennsylvania station I looked out at one of the tall Black touts blocking the path towards my Hotel across the street and it was Lebron James himself. Lebron and a few other large Men were hawking site seeing tours and taxi rides about Manhattan. I distinctly heard the plucked string of a harp again and Lebron picked me out of the large commotion of humanity and gave me a surprised nod as he continued about his work.

Lebron must have showered and changed in a hurry to get from the fifth floor of the Madison square garden to street level ahead of me because I stayed till the end of the game and as I exited my seat I noticed old Lebron heading down the tunnel with the other players. ...

in progress

one doesn't hear much about Harlem anymore; one being out here in Ohio

one doesn't hear much about Harlem anymore; one being out here in Ohio

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


One doesn't hear much about Harlem anymore if one is out here in Ohio. Separated by space and time from Harlem one doesn't hear the news about what's happening there.

Do they still think STEM schools, science, technology, math etc. are the Future for the Youth of America? Is Poverty still insidious up that way? Are there still relationships between unemployment and basic dignity in families? Do Black celebrities check in there from time to time?

Author is heading out to Manhattan by third class train tonight in the fifteen degree sub zero weather to see the art museums. Author would like to visit the Cloister's museum near Harlem again if a Manhattan taxi will take me there at a reasonable price so I can maybe catch up on the News from Harlem, New York, February 2015.

 One from here in Ohio can learn a lot about America from visiting Harlem.

Here's what I wrote before about someone like myself going to Harlem a good many years back;

A union Plumber comes to Harlem

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

It's not raining and he's carrying an umbrella and it's not cold and he's wearing a gray silk scarf. It's not the 1940's and he's talking about count Basie and it's not Saturday night and he wants to hear swing music. A union plumber comes to Harlem.

Grandma wanted a white man to fix the problem with the pipes.

It's the same each time. Southern cooking is the best they ate it as a boy. Langston Hughes is a significant writer and Duke Ellington is a consummate artist.

Southern cooking killed Grandpa of heart attack and we just want to get our pipes fixed at a reasonable cost.

It's not raining and he's carrying an umbrella and it's not cold and he's wearing a gray silk scarf. A union plumber comes to Harlem.

Above all let them go out with dignity

Above all let them go out with dignity

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


The Facts were without dispute. Byron ran a drive-thru and had shoved an unarmed  robber and killed him and under our States laws technically Byron deserved the Death penalty.

Since there were so many extenuating circumstances Bryon had served in a low security settings through the first two appeals processes and tonight at 10 PM the mandatory third appeal expired and the Death sentence would be formally read to Byron Childers and the next day Byron would be formally executed.

I was Byron's personal security guard this shift on the last day of his formal third appeal process and I walked with him about the low security prison to fulfil his mandatory locomotion time. Every prisoner here in our State in low security is allowed and mandated a certain number of hours of walking about Time and Byron needed the last hour to conclude his customary one hundred hours of walking about time. My boss ordered me to keep Byron walking until the 10 PM reading of his formal 3rd final Guilty sentence.

As we walked I watched Byron next to me carefully for he had grown uncharacteristically quiet. Byron had spent his time in prison in weight training and martial arts and was a large powerful man. I am an over weight guard in a low security prison nearing retirement with heart problems.

We were near the secretarial pool when the nine forty five bell chimed on the Old prison clock. The girls were buzzing quietly to our left but the prisoners in their cells were deathly quiet out of respect to Byron who was popular here in Low security.

Fifteen minutes until the reading of the verdict. How would Byron take the news and would I be able to manage things until Byron's time was Up? My philosophy has always been in these situations let them go out with Dignity but I had a bad feeling about things.

It would be a might wimpy of me but as the old prison clock ticked down the minutes to the 10PM formal reading of Byron Childers' death sentence I was considering calling for backup. I knew in my heart Byron wouldn't do anything to hurt me in my situation but I was getting a bad feeling about things all of the sudden.

Leslie Gore; a short tribute Good bye

Leslie Gore; a short tribute Good bye

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

I often like a woman based on her voice especially one I never get the opportunity to know.

I was sorry to see that Leslie Gore the singer passed away earlier this week. I always had a celebrity crush on her. By celebrity crush I mean the kind of feelings that would dissolve quickly if you knew anything about the real person not just the persona that they project as part of their urge to succeed and be well known.

Good bye Leslie Gore I enjoyed your music.

Here's what I wrote before about Leslie Gore:

My crush Lesley Gore misbehaved on the bus to nowhere/ draft 1 in progress

please watch Lesley Gore sing on you tube " sunshine lollipops and rainbows" from 1965's " Ski Party"

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

My crush Lesley Gore misbehaved on the bus to nowhere. See her on you tube perform " sunshine lollipops and rainbows" posted by orele 1. Lesley has been riding around on that bus singing the same upbeat song over and over for nearly fifty years never reaching her destination somewhere off in cosmic beach movie nirvana.

The short you tube video starring Lesley Gore singing presents a brief essay in video of how a group of budding actors and actresses vie for success in America while riding endlessly on a bus to nowhere and breaks new ground as two handsome leading men dress in drag and pretend to be girls to pursue some other girls. As you listen to the song " sunshine etc." that Lesley sings note how the other actors and actresses interact with the camera and adapt to Lesley Gore's light hearted and unaffected domination of the camera and the spotlight.

Duane Hickman, he played Doby Gillis before this role, is the center of Lesley's attention as she sings and dances in the narrow aisle of the bouncing bus. Lesley misbehaves by laying Duane's right hand and arm across her left breast as she dances, and that's after putting her arm around his neck earlier in the performance. There's a lot of subtle context going on in the number as Lesley dances and the bus rolls along back in 1965. Duane rolls his eyes appropriately, sex was just blossoming in America prior to the summer of Love of 1967, before that sex didn't exist in America, just by suggestion.

In the movie, " Ski Party" the bad guy is blond arrogant handsome Aron Kincaide.  See his reaction to Lesley inadvertently poking her elbow into his face.

They say Lesley Gore's sexuality is provocative. As she rides along singing and swaying on the bus to nowhere she seems always a Lady to me.

Good bye sweet innocent Leslie, may you someday reach cosmic celebrity beach movie nirvana.

faith, burgers, and coca cola/ part 2; the pipe dream of happiness

Faith, burgers, and coca cola/ part 2; the pipe dream of happiness

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Pop's pipe dream was that the kids could be little again and the whole family would be blissfully happy again having coca cola and burgers back Friday nights at the little diner across from the soccer field.

The diner was owned by that Harry guy who never left his diner. Every day the regulars would come in and plan how to regain the former glory of their lives.

Once a year the traveling salesman from the New England territory stopped by and bought everyone a cola until his sugar got too high and he confessed to murder. Harry the diner's owner just wanted to go for a walk around the block someday.

Sometimes life is like a really long and really sad play based on the writings of Gorky's " the Lower depths" by Eugene O'Neil called the "Iceman cometh" that's way too long to watch and very depressing to sit through.

Other times life's not too bad if one just goes to the diner alone and has a tolerable hamburger and a coca cola with the proper amount of ice in a suitable glass and doesn't try to control things or fix the Past.

Faith, burgers, and coca cola

Faith, burger, and coca cola

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Sometimes in a moment of lucid insight the entire enterprise is instantly reviewed stem to stern in one's Mind and brilliant understanding occurs.

A burden is lifted from the Heart as one's ability to maintain and control events becomes in proper perspective, one is No longer a god, and one surrenders to forces larger than one's self.

Faith is born. The Mind becomes a calm sea.

No need to search the entire Holy Land for buried shrines and relics.

Open your back door and pilgrimage around your territory. Walk till empty.

A traditional burger and a coca cola and a place to sit in a small local diner  are all that is required as the Mind becomes a calm sea after years of pitching and crashing.

gun control and young relatives

gun control and young relatives

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Here's what I wrote before on guns. Sometimes it's best to have a partner on the road but a gun sometimes keeps a silent vigil if one travels alone.


Do Over -part 2

fiction
edward w pritchard

There's more to truck driving than driving from here to there and back. You have to keep the log and handwriting is important. The PUCO reviews the log and there are fines and the owner of the trucking company doesn't like that. I got to write the logs on the run to Montana because I have a lot better handwriting than Jake. Jake is my Grandfather, the truck driver. I am Ciana and I have been sick and can't go to school for 10 days. I am just getting over a contagious disease and can't be left home alone, at 11 years old. I am going on the truck with Jake, that's what I have to call him when we are on a run, this time to Montana. He always calls me Chene [ long e, long e] even at home.

Time is critical on the run. You log it and you don't burn it or waste it. Even though we can't burn time Jake wanted me to see the woodchuck's and it was interesting. They live in groups like humans and the place we went in Montana has about 400 of them in one large community. Jake says you can learn a lot about human behavior by watching them. He stops by to see the woodchucks now and then when he's out this way. He has been driving a truck for 48 years so I guess he has stopped here a lot.

Meals are the best time. Everyone knows Jake at the restaurants and truck stops and the drivers and even the waitress call me pretty girl, in a nice way. If anyone gets too personal Jake stops them. Jake is nice to me but he gets mad easy sometimes if he is threaten. He says he has to be that way when he is alone on the truck, which is most of the time. I always can order any thing I want and as much as I want. You have to be careful, not ordering too much because the waitresses make sure the drivers get a lot of food because they tip well. If you are an 11 year old girl you are special on the trips and you get even more food. Jake gives me money each day for my pay for keeping the log but I am expected to pay my own tips.

We sleep in the truck. It has plenty of room for two behind where we drive in a little box like enclosure. I call it a cave and Jake doesn't like that but he doesn't get mad and sometimes he calls himself a cave dweller after I slip and call the sleeping area a cave. Jake misses Grandma Denise. She used to travel with him a lot before she got cancer and died in just three months. Jake still drives but Mom says it's not the same for him.

I get to sleep in the back of the sleeping area up by the skylight. I open the skylight and watch the stars and moon. I can hear the animals all night and the birds wake me about by 4AM. I am never tired even though I am supposed to be sick and run down. Being on the truck with Jake is revitalizing for me.

Jake always walks completely around the truck before he gets into bed. He doesn't sleep well when I am with him. I know he worries about me when we are far out away from a truck stop and the other trucks when we sleep. Jake keeps a gun under his pillow and in two years when I am thirteen and a teenager he is going to teach me how to use it. Jake says you have to know how to use it for safety when you are out on the road alone.
end

un-romantic valentine's day rememberances

unromantic Valentine's day remembrances

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


Here's an unromantic look at Love and affection.

Poor Mrs. McGhee below who is waiting to hear that her Husband, Miles McGhee, of seventeen years marriage has left her with eleven children and no where to live back in Morgantown West Virginia in 1942. Miles is one of the Men soon to be found dead in a mining disaster in the middle of World War two. But the enemy is not Japanese kamikazes but gravity and expanding poisonous gas causing a mining disaster 1000 feet below ground.

Love and affection has married the McGhee's and given them eleven children. Now poor old Mrs. McGhee faces the future alone.



here's what I wrote before:

start

Old time Religion on a Slag Heap

fiction
edward w pritchard

Please God, Oh God what will become of me. Stuck with eleven children and my husband Miles McGhee trapped or dead five hundred feet underground in Osage, West Virginia.  Fifty men already dead, Miles missing these six days in the Christopher mine number three, May 1942.

Who will want me? A widow with eleven children, no face, no looks and no where to go. Will the company let me stay on in the company house?

Best pray for God's help. There is a service over at the mission house in Osage every night.

No, I better go to the revival prayer meeting out in the big tent on the slag heap.

Me with eleven children and no prospects. Better to go find old time religion on a slag heap. I need a miracle to have Miles found alive. What will become of me poor old Mrs. Miles McGhee, tragic victim of too much Love and affection.

end

stone sober

stone sober

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


It's good for a man to be stone sober occasionally. Not for ever mind you, but sometimes it clears the head, provides a perspective on where he stands in life's hierarchy and organizes one's priorities.

There's a lot of coughing at night down at the county farm, that's what they call the local jail here. The coughing wakes me up around five AM and I can't get back to sleep. I spend the hour until showers and breakfast reflecting on what has happened in my Life since I was here last and try to piece together what it all means.

I don't look at anyone during showers and priority one is to get through it without fighting or a verbal
accosting. Five days mandatory time for disruption in showers is enforced.

Hung-over nothing could be worse than stiff white toast and artificial yellow eggs. Coffee has unlimited real sugar but is stirred with a wooden stick, the kind a doctor uses. It's hard to gag it down.

If Bowman is on AM duty he reads a short prayer. Prayer is illegal now so he always says it's the verse of the Day.

If one is ready in the morning to be Judged there is a sure fire test to see if one is sober enough to go before Judge Murphy.

There's a long narrow raised walkout that crosses the canal between the Jail and courthouse with no rail that many a drunk has fallen back into before he faces Judgment. Fall into the Water and it's back to jail.

Sometimes a man needs a good dousing before he is judged. But not today for me. It's good for a man to be absolutely stone sober occasionally and to maybe get another chance.
 

Valentine day accrues in absententio

Valentines day accrues in absententio

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


Naturally, alone; you absententio, I spend the next twenty four hours of another removed unaccrued Valentines day in the Desert of the Superstition Mountains.

It's dry in the Desert, the Cactus juice is poisonous and God it's hot. The loneliness is worse though.

It's quiet in the Desert. I always collect yellow cactus flowers but they wilt without water.

There's no path across the Desert but I've been this way before.

cash flow analysis 101 and stock prices

cash flow analysis 101 and stock prices

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Buy a stock when the leader of the company first stands in tennis shoes at a podium before a flickering light addressing his Cult and sell the stock when a box of three ring binders full of legalese disclaimers and marketing paraphernalia are presented at purchase along with exactly one of the end product for sale.

If it's a Bank stock sell the Stock when the Company first sponsors Hispanic civic organizations there locally; that is if the Attorney General is a Hispanic Woman at the time in question.

One has only a few occasions to make a bundle so don't tarry. If you fail c'est la vie, "don't take the Game too seriously." [ 1 ]

[ 1] "don't take the game too seriously"- Chaucer

Mom and Pop in Ecstasy

Mom and Pop in Ecstasy

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

note- see also proclaim thee the light of the Lord January blog

start

Many a Family had prospered in the Old way because The Company,  The Good-Year , here in Akron in it's Paternalism provided a bountiful steady Pension to retirees long after their productive years had passed.

As former director in honor of Old customs I was afforded a special seat at the emergency meeting to discuss the upcoming merger and specifically to announce the drastic cuts in the employee retiree pensions necessitated by changes in the Tire industry. A foreign ownership was changing the Good- Year forever and with the drastic cuts coming in the newly merged company many retirees would not make it because of the inflation and stag-flation now ravishing our economy.

I remembered Mom and Pop Fincher well; he worked in truck assembly and she was once a pretty girl in the secretarial pool. That was fifty years ago but I remember he liked to fish and she was a Saint of a woman.

Mom Fincher was riding on a small Donkey as Pop lead her slowly into our retirement meeting. To light the dark room Pop lit Mom on fire and then himself as a silent statement to protest the cuts in the Pension plan for older workers. Like many others they feared that they wouldn't be able to make it if their pension was lowered what with rising prices for everything here in Akron; Property taxes alone were up ten per cent year over year and another Public school levy was planned for the spring.

As a director I was honored and privileged to attend the special merger meeting so I read again my copy of the retirement proposal carefully there in the flickering, crackling light.

Yes old Mom Fincher was a saint of a woman and I should have called Pop Fincher more often to fish after our retirement. But time passes so quickly, one never has enough time to get to the truly important things in life, like fishing.

pull the family together part 2/ with edits

Pull the Family together with edits/ part 2

 fiction

Edward w pritchard

 

Thursday, January 22, 2015

pull the family together

pull the family together

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


Third generation cell phones and artificial intelligence in computers and machines has leveled the playing field between children and adults within the family unit while the role of strength in the father or maternal instinct in the Mother has been lessened by civilization and easily accessible community knowledge.

Author visits two of his favorite themes here: children are not larval adults but unique individuals with remarkable abilities and instinct tops reason supplying a natural order to the world.

Pull the family together:

Mother and father were fighting about an insurance policy and the family home was in turmoil. The brother was in his room cocooned in his headphones escaping into his music and the baby girl was taking care of herself in the yard.

When the Mother rolled the insurance policy up like a club and thumped it against the walls of the living room continuing the running argument with the husband the boy to escape the noise went to the back yard to find his sister.

The girl was sitting near a pile of stones at the rear of the yard that the Father had bought some time ago to pave a path back to the gate running to a walking path near the fence. The girl was
industriously piling stones into groups. As she worked she hummed a little. The brother joined her in the work.

Fifteen minutes later the Father walked in to the yard followed by his wife to check on the Children. The wife had unrolled the insurance policy and was reading section heading 11 as she walked.

Hours later the four family members sat in a circle sorting and chipping stones, As they worked they hummed the song originally composed by the girl. The little family continued at their work till the mosquitoes drove them back into their Home.

continue

The families other daughter had been left forgotten in the house while the other Family members worked at the rock chipping outside.  Although only four years old the youngest daughter was actually one of those Ninja Turtles. The youngest daughter, one of those Ninja turtles didn't need anyone to take care of her but as usual the fight about the insurance policy was actually part of the continuing debate between the Father and Mother and within the Family about what to do with the child who didn't quite fit in.

The Brother gave the Ninja turtle sister the jar of mosquitoes he had collected as they worked at the stone chipping as a snack while the Mother prepared dinner for the family.

No-one watched the odd looking daughter as she ate the mosquitoes. With the bright colored shell and mask across her eyes the youngest daughter did not look at all like the other two children both of who were quite normal looking; at least normal for children in the suburb where the Family lived.

As she worked the Mother continued to discuss the insurance policy with the Husband as it concerned the youngest daughter, the Ninga turtle's going to school next Fall. Having a child who was a little different caused a lot of argument within the Family but for the most part the Family usually just accepted it as part of coping with a child who was a little different.  

who is in the Know?

Who is in the Know

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


It is humbling to contemplate how many folks have come before us and how few of them have left a mark that they were here.

Author writes he is fascinated by unknown cave dweller who took time out to draw an outline of His or Her hand.

Have we evolved past that statement?

Author has been thinking upon the existence of intelligent design. Specifically rereading St Thomas Aquinas who author dismissed as a student. A fool has said in his heart that there is no God but is there any reason or purpose to Reality? Is This, what we do, Real?

Intelligent design is related to the question of What is Real presently in my philosophy. Free from pain hunger and want I contemplate.

Who is in the Know? What is Real?

I wake up routinely at 4AM and quickly check what money is doing around the World. I check the Yahoo finance boards for catastrophic movements in Stocks or Bonds first then Yahoo News for World changing events. Such things happen seldom.

Brief candle is our lives [ 1].

Today one small biotech stock I follow Inovio- INO continues a week long drop downward in price, despite a strong stock market. I search company press releases, cash flow statements as reported on yahoo finance [ which are outdated] and in desperation Yahoo message boards for insight and explanation. Despite great potential in Exvaporation, a process to treat cancers, INO has temporarily lost its mojo. Who knows what or why?

What is Real?

Old dull St Thomas Aquinas sent his mind across Space and Time to Find some kind of Truth in a first mover, a cause of This. Perhaps his senses were limited and his reason outdated. Still he ask the question. What caused This?

Old St Thomas walked about Europe thinking until his will collapsed. Had he lived a little longer he would have collided with his inquisitors but instead he became Sainted. The Beacon to billions of Catholic souls.

Who is in the Know? What is Real.

[1] out, out brief candle] attributed to Shakespeare

the disinclined beauty/ repost/edit 1

the disinclined beauty/ repost/ edit 1

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


the disinclined beauty

fiction
edward w pritchard

Everyone was obsessed with physical appearance. Nature played a cruel trick on him and bestowed divine beauty a plenty to him and try as he may, with his indifferent weakened will, Nature insisted that the fruit be properly and timely displayed during his brief bloom.

I the Father, knowing his nature, was saddened by the forgone loss and ironic poignancy of the situation. With a proper Father's love, I like others was often startled by the eyes and rarely when he smiled beguiled by divine beckoning, evidenced in his face, for if Gods there were, they surely would look like this.

Years pile up and God is merciful and the beauty goes from all, but for a time that light shines itself, as absolute brilliance. God's reluctant beauty.

unaffiliated I search for the way; for now a trip to the Clositers will do

Unaffiliated I search for the way; for now a trip to the Cloisters will do

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Three Pilgrimages are suggested for Catholics, To St Peters in Rome, To Jerusalem and The Way of St James in Northern Spain.

Unaffiliated and un- Catholic  I have decided to set forth to view the Cloisters medieval museum in Manhattan to see the best medieval religious artifacts housed in America.

I will not walk or bicycle on my quest but will travel to New York third class by train.

Setting my own agenda I will view the ' seated Bishop Saint"  by Tillman Riemenschneider carved from Lindenwood in Warzburg, Germany circa 1495.

Unaffiliated I search for the way; for now a trip to the Cloisters will do.

unfortunately the wheel of life is made up of days and days not life time after life time

unfortunately the wheel of life is made up of days and days not life time after lifetime

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Felix [1] good fellow.

Envy the person content to work most of their allotted Time to accumulate enough to be happy in their few remaining years until they cease to Be.

Unfortunately the wheel of life is made up of days and days not life time after lifetime.

St. Thomas Aquinas feverishly wrote tens of millions of words and words and one day suddenly on the way to answer to the power brokers of his day he way gone, ceased to be. Immortalized as a Saint, Aquinas's ideas borrowed and re-polished from Aristotle and Plato changed the World.

Now  seldom read, a might dull, Felix good fellow Saint Thomas Aquinas has ceased to Be. Did he use his allotted days wisely?

Sainted by The Catholic Church did Thomas Aquinas accomplish more with his writing and ideas than the anonymous cave painter who drew pictures of bison's and an outline of his own hand deep in a dark cave at Altamira?

Saint Thomas Aquinas kept busy writing words and words, ten or twenty million worth. Gone now 850 years is St Thomas. The anonymous cave painter at Altamira gone now maybe 25,000 years.

Earth and Space here maybe 15 billion years; you here maybe 81 years.

Keep busy the wheel of life is made up of days and days not life time after life time.
end
[1] felix means lucky or happy [one].

New York, my Manhattan; Manhattan my dream

New York my Manhattan; Manhattan my dream

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


We are still the same person, the same cells, electrons and atoms and quarks wherever we go. But what we eat and drink, see and feel, experience and revel in can change us.

Manhattan my dream; I always change when I am near you. Bright lights,75 stories and high vistas;  every building touches the sky and has a porte cochere just for me.

Here's something I wrote before about Manhattan; a tongue in cheek poem to my favorite place away from here.


twenty five thousand restaurants and nowhere to eat

fiction
edward w pritchard

Twenty five thousand restaurants and nowhere to eat. Greater New York has restaurants. I take offense easily but where am I to eat. Alone I enter hopes high, then the waiter slights me, the waitress ignores me and the owner insults me. Day after day it's like this for me.

Maybe out in Jersey. People are better out of the City.

Advice for Fathers

Advice for Fathers

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


The profound insight of the Buddha was that all who are born will one day die. Related to that startling insight is some practical advice for Fathers.

You can't help yourself. Be you a good father or indifferent Father you will fall in Love with your child and everyday they will be getting larger and more grown up. Closer to the day they will leave you.

Eventually your child's helplessness will subside and someday when the boat anchor is tangled and stuck in a submerged tree stump beneath your rowboat on the annual lake fishing vacation it will be time for your Son to dive over the side into the freezing murky water to untangled the mess of the impeded rope and anchor and send you on your way.

It's a good thing when the Father realizes that the Son is the more capable now. Don't fight it and don't impede it. Wait for the grandchild to start the cycle again.

If your family is lucky the parents will get old and the Children will pick up the slack. Wait for your Grandchildren to start the cycle again.

superbowl 2015, NFL loses it's grip

superbowl 2015, NFL loses it's grip

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

I saw on the business news last week that twitter claims to influence the buying decisions made by 250 million viewers per year and they wish to be compensated for same.

Perhaps now that the NFL is losing it's grip on things, the NFL has had a bad year for real dude, the NFL should take the same approach twitter is using and the NFL should get a cut from the food industry of the pizza, wings, beer, chips and other junk food sold on superbowl day. That would help the owners turn a profit and compensate the players on a more equal basis for their risky work performed during the games.

What's really wrong with the NFL?

Not sure but here is what I wrote before: enjoy the game
a fan

There's too much passing in professional football

fiction
edward w pritchard

There's too much passing in professional football. Too much passing in football is caused by the desire by everyone for instant gratification of all their needs. Instant gratification causes the slow demise of the school systems which keeps the young from being properly educated. Lack of education is causing politicans to be selfish and not altruistic and greedy and dishonest. Poor performance by politicians screws up the economy. A screwed up economy makes people cash poor and poor people can't afford tickets to professional football games.

In time the system is self correcting. Until then maybe women quarterbacks, it's indisputable that women can't throw a football as far as men; all other things being equal