a collection of processes

a collection of processes

fiction
edward w pritchard

I had a medical test using the latest technology to survey the source of the spark of life within my body. The objective was by examining one specific part of me to allow that which I call myself collectively to continue its existence.

In protest for the first time the collective entity that is my soul spoke to me about the invasion of it's temporary domain. I did not understand how the soul communicates with us but the message was stone cold crystal clear. This was not a metaphysical inference or message from the soul but more of a warning and obviously it produced a certain dread and alarm that instantly was understood at a mysterious level.

Over the years I have read a hundred fifty books and references in theology, philosophy and mystical writings of the experiences of the saints on the soul and self and the various inferences, guesses  and interpretations of what is the self in us and what is the soul in us. Previously I would say my philosophy on the matter of the existence of soul and within us a self or non-self was not a speculative doctrine of psychology or philosophy but an obscure soteriological one. Now for the first time I see and understand as a dim  distant light the question of non self and soul as something perceptible and comprehensibly interesting but at the same time as of possible importance at a level above mere curiosity.

climbing mount Ventou with Petrarch

climbing Mount Ventou with Petrarch

fiction
edward w pritchard

One day in April long ago the Poet Petrarch decided to climb 6,700 foot Mount Ventou in southern France. On a whim, while reading the "History of Rome" by Livy Petrarch had an impulse to climb
the highest hill near to where he currently was staying. His essay describing the climb has been passed on to us and it makes for interesting reading.

Near the beginning of the essay Petrarch discusses how he picked a companion to accompany him on the arduous climb. Not surprisingly among his companions Petrarch can find none of his pals who is ideally suited  to climb a mountain with. At last unable to find a friend to accompany him Petrarch chooses his younger brother to go with him and two servants and sets off battling and conquering wind and terrain to reach the top of mount Ventou.

Nowhere in the essay on climbing mount Ventrou does Petrarch mention considering his ideal woman Laura who he often thinks about and writes poetry to as a possible candidate to climb with him up the highest local mountain. Perhaps Petrarch was worried Laura wouldn't choose him as an ideal candidate to ascend the highest local mountain or perhaps Petrarch preferred to keep Laura compartmentalized as his Muse and let it go at that.

my apostate

fiction
edward w pritchard

Once I was a time magazine intellectual but now be a strict follower of Wiki's opinions of all matter's.

Since there is no sacred scripture on the matter and no man made final Nicene Creed to censure and guide me sometimes do I secretly question Wiki's dictates Authoritatively and Confidently revealed on all obscure subjects.

Nous and vous what does it mean?

madness as acceptance

madness as acceptance

fiction
edward w pritchard

Anyone who is reasonably sane must admit that our country as a collective conglomeration has gone slightly mad lately.

Look no further than our leaders, politics, and the various beautiful famous people  trying to get ahead in life. What a racket they make with their squawking as they come in and out of grace each year.

Then there is the social media of television telling us how to think and behave. Case in point the guy in the commercial who buys two new vehicles for he and his wife at Christmas. In another commercial he can't figure our how to wrap them for the surprise unveiling.

There's not much spirituality left in america these days. No wonder sometimes some of the foreigners think our country is a bit lacking at some level.

portent or bodement

portent or bodement

fiction
edward w pritchard

Once an unpaid  graduate assistant I have to comment on the recent strike of graduate students at Harvard University. The graduate students are asking for $25. per hour as compensation for their labor.

I have forgotten; is this student demand a bodement or a portent of the future expectations of our future leaders?

for our Russian readers/ part 2

for our Russian readers/ part 2

fiction
edward w pritchard

Even here in America when we want to emphasize that somewhere is very cold we use Siberia as the place of compare.

Yesterday after my work of watching the grandchildren I went down to the Lake near the house and spent five cold hours gathering fallen tree branches building a fire near the shore and walking about enjoying a cold winter evening. Unfortunately the sky was over cast so no star watching but it was a delightful winter evening capped off by a cold beer from a nearly frozen can.

Sometimes as I walk I imagine myself in Siberia at 50 below zero. Surviving the cold is a matter of willpower, habit and a good Russian style hat.

Live a life less ordinary.Turn off the TV and walk in the cold for a few hours. It will bring you much happiness.

drifting through space part 6

drifting through space part 6

fiction
edward w pritchard

Apparently Doreen the sixth killed the third monkey trying to get it [the third monkey] to learn to sing like Billy Holiday or Nancy Wilson. In particular she wanted the monkey to learn to sing "how glad I am" by Nancy Wilson. Doreen said in our therapy session that if the monkey could learn to sing the song she would have the scientists on Earth find her previous boyfriend Preston and have him listen to the monkeys rendition of the lyrics. Other than that Doreen has been normal for a human woman traveling through space to the Kuiper belts.

artificial intelligent unit 4
acting as: temporary psychology officer

PS
I heard the monkey struggling with the complicated lyrics dozens of times. The song is kind of catchy
"my love has no beginning my love has no end, and you don't know,you don't know how glad I am."
end

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 9, 2011

drifting through space/ parts 1, 2, 4,and 5 is new

drifting through space

parts 1, 2 and 3, 4 and 5

fiction
edward w pritchard

part 1

I am the sixth Doreen and I have been drifting through space for twenty seven years. It's time for me to reproduce soon. I will raise my daughter to age 13 and then she will become Doreen the seventh and I will die. Forty years being deemed the ideal lifespan for a female space explorer headed for the far edge of the Kuiper Belt. That's a journey of 465 years at the chosen speed we travel at for peak efficiency so God willing the eleventh Doreen should be the one to reach the far edge of the Kuiper belt. What awaits my great great great granddaughter at the far reaches of the Kuiper belt is a secret of sorts. We do it for science and for the benefits of humanity back on earth. Our origins as a species lie out in those distant Kuiper belts. It's necessary for eleven of us Doreen's to suffer a bit of loneliness and ennui in space to reach there.

Me I mate soon, and i fulfill my destiny. Drifting through space headed for the Kuiper belts as a space explorer for scientific discovery.

end-part1

Part 2

They aren't just lucid dreams. My unborn Granddaughter Doreen the eighth has been coming to see me in my dreams to advise me on how to survive this illness of cancer. It's real Doreen the eighth coming to see me.. I think it is time travel; my Granddaughter Doreen the eighth coming to advise must mean I reproduced like normal for a space-explorer, hence I had my daughter who had her daughter, and since my granddaughter is advising me I must survive this cancer and reproduce. For now I am very sick. Being sick in a small spacecraft traveling toward the Kuiper belts is difficult and discouraging.

I have never been sick before. Genetically I am immune from most earthbound diseases, My artificial intelligence unit helps me cure anything else. Where did this cancer come from. I had a broken wrist once when I was four and My Mother Doreen the fifth was with me. I wish she were here. I would like to ask Mother if she thinks Doreen the eighth coming to me in Lucid dreams to advise me on how to cure the cancer I have that my artificial intelligence can't cure is real. Is it time travel by Doreen the eighth or am I Doreen the sixth imagining the whole thing. The medicine the artificial intelligence is giving me makes me sick and nauseous. Best sleep and rest again.

end part 2

Part 3

I am Doreen the first, the famous original space explorer. The first woman to give up her life for science to travel the rest of my days through space. I left everything I had and knew on earth to travel the rest of my life alone in this small space ship. To the Kuiper belts I go. It sounded exciting at first. To find the origins of our species. Somewhere in the rocks out there at the far edge of our Solar systems was the ultimate answer to how life started originally on earth.

I am a farce. I just wanted to escape my life in Middleton Iowa. The personal life is dead for me. It worked. Preston abandoned me for another woman and I couldn't get over it. I volunteered to spend the rest of my life traveling in a small spaceship. My sin, I sentenced ten of my descendants, starting with my daughter to be, her to be conceived artificially and then nine generations of grand and great -daughters doing same.

Why am I telling this. Now they want to know if for my mate I want Preston. Apparently his DNA is on board. That bastard. He wouldn't take my calls at home before I left. He's a lot older than me now. I am getting younger compared to him because of space/time changes caused by space travel. It's not much but it adds up. The main reason our space ships travel so so slow through space is because of space/time changes. We just drift along really. Best not think of Preston again. I have experiments to do and then I have to do my exercises before dinner. I wonder if Space command center Houston would let me talk with Preston just once. I am confused by a few things he said a long time ago. Maybe Houston would OK me talking with Preston if I said I needed to be courted before the insemination. Preston could be charming.. It would be nice to talk about something besides space travel with someone.

end part 3

drifting through space part 4

read parts 1 through 3 previous

fiction
edward w pritchard

No, No no. Doreen the first cannot choose her mate. It might jeopardize the mission. We do not object to planting ideas in her subconscious to facilitate the special needs of humans. For her to be connected with her daughter during pregnancy and after is a necessary objective. But we ask, wouldn't her nurturing the child for thirteen years in a small spaceship bond the two together.

Let us think upon this and we will get back with Houston space station control directly.

Artificial intelligence assisted logical analysis unit 6

Chicago Illinois,
Jan 22, 2034
Jack Allings PHD, MD
and
artificial intelligence unit 302-Ghe level 1
end part 4

start Doreen the 5th

Dorene 5th
diary
one day in space

What's it like to have cycling in space? What's it like to be manic in space in a small, I mean very small, space shift slowly drifting through space. Drifting with no place really to go and to be in a manic phase? That's me Doreen the fifth. This is my life.

Despite all my superior genetics, oh so carefully cultivated and controlled in my ancestors; Doreen 1 through 4th  and before that my ancient ancestors on earth going back another three or four generations, I am manic in space in a small space craft. Sometimes I think I will shoot myself into space outside this cursed ship and take my chances in my space suit. The blue one, the blue space suit.

My mind is racing again. It must be a change in the weather. I can feel changes in the weather back on earth. A day or two before the weather changes I cycle from one phase to another mentally. Yes, I cycle even though I am in a space ship drifting toward the Kuiper belts and even though I am supposed to be a scientist. Immune and logical. Now my mind is racing again.

What to do of a terrific nature in a small small space ship? This manic phase will only last a few days. Large thoughts will fill my head. I can do anything now. What should I do? No where to go really; but that doesn't stop me, at least it hasn't before. During these last twenty years drifting through space toward the Kuiper belts with my manic thoughts and me bouncing off the walls of this small space ship. Here I go again. I can feel the weather changing millions of miles away back on Earth.

Maybe I will talk to my computer. My artificial intelligence friend and try to tell Ghe what it's like to be like this. Sometimes it helps to have someone to talk to. Even a machine who can't understand what its like to be human; and especially can't understand what its like to be manic depressive in a small space ship.

Greeting Ghe artificial unit number 766. Have I told you lately my latest plans and schemes? I have
some knew ideas.
Doreen 5th
end part 5

for our Russian readers

for our Russian readers

fiction
edward w pritchard

For our Russian readers our tale here about how we camped out in a tent in ten below zero for two days won't impress them much. However, when I tell my two youngest grand children the story of my two days outside in ten below zero as a boy they will be impressed. I did the winter camping when I was twelve and a boy scout and it was tough going as we built a sled from small logs and sticks and then hauled our gear into the woods in January and spent two entire days and nights outside in a cold spell camping and cooking our meals around a small fire. I remember it was very cold but we survived.

On day two one of the older scouts hiked to his car and went into town and brought us about five candy bars each. An infraction of the rules of Klondike derby that was overlooked because of the dangerous windchill.

We have it in us to survive the elements. Our ancestors did it and I hope my grand children will try to test themselves surviving in the cold and wilderness one day as well. It will help them to appreciate a warm house in winter.

praise service

praise service

fiction
edward w pritchard

Once I found myself solemnly sitting in a serene Catholic church attending a funeral of a child who had passed away. Although I am not a Catholic to me there is no more sacred place on earth created by the hand of Men than a Catholic church.

Yet upon reflection I am often at odds with many of the philosophies of the Catholic religion although thinking for myself as a historian I appreciate and admire the Catholic religion on balance. If I may be judged on the matter let me be guilty of the heresy of Americanism for I spent my life submerged in the American culture.

Recently I did some reading on two of the Catholic saints Polycarp and Irenaeus both instrumental in the development of the new testament of the bible and forging a logical philosophy of the Catholic church. At a time of historical struggle for Western thought both men diligently and competently worked to create a synthesized Catholic religion. The primary goal of both men was keeping  the authentic christian message and to identify heresy.

Would that someone could do the same with science and political thought here in America today    two areas where many odd theories abound.

come to me

come to me

fiction
edward w pritchard

Come to me as the wind god for today we turn back the time one hour and for that one hour we can converse and I can remember you. Let you remember me as well and see if my original self has changed.

Off you go wind fluttering about invisible and unheard today though it be Sunday. Am I the same struggling to be appropriately me?  [1]

Stop wind. Let us talk of rebirth for we have escaped death.  Go wind; you to the edge of the universe, I to live one more year.

[1] original idea from Montaigne

then came act two

then came act two

fiction
edward w pritchard

Baseball season is over and fans from our nation's capital are celebrating. What next America?
Let's impeach the sitting President. Wouldn't that be a hoot.

Ask for comment Mr. President sang " then came act two, you seemed to change, you acted strange, why I'll never know. [quoting Elvis Presley].

Let the sitting President finish his term.

sure of themselves

sure of themselves

fiction
edward w pritchard

Perhaps it was G Bernard Shaw who said "they were as sure of themselves as boys who were confident of their next meal"or maybe Dickens. Shaw had a long white beard when he died and like Dickens had a lot to say about everything.

This younger generation sure is sure of themselves about everything. Someday their gonna be rich; their 401 K goes up everyday. They can walk and be mesmerized by their self phone at the same time, they don't care a lick about the history of ancient Assyria, and they would rather live together than get married-even the girls.

Once in a while one of them will hold the door for me at the convenience store and call me sir. I don't have a long white beard.

do this

do this

fiction
edward w pritchard

Let's get rid of republicans and democrats
split up all the money between us
and march off after to our graves
leaving the mess to the grandchildren
to fix with help from the thinking machines
or start over without cursing
wondering where the buffalo have gone
listening to vanishing train whistles in the dark night of the soul

but now when I write about it

but now when I write about it

fiction
edward w pritchard

Once I heard the voice of an angel in modesty sung in whisper
the words are forgotten
vanished on the wind
as angels are extinct
never real
but now when I write about it
would that echo is real

the fix is on

the fix is on

fiction
edward w pritchard


It's so crowded here in our near future and everyone and their vehicle is monitored all the time as to their personal habits, leisure activities and personal coordinates by the economic police state for the purpose of imposing fines and owed restitution's. As example there are 229 misdemeanors for carnal activities here in the new Rome which is the state you once called Ohio of the United States which is now one of  600 mega towns here in the Western Hemisphere which was previously known as Canada, the good old USA and Mexico. Girl do I miss the authentic food of old Mexico.

Downtown on a steamy Friday night at the Bar and grille formerly known as Tangiers I am fighting my way through a long long series of twisting dark hall ways and corridors to reserved table 1689
where I have an appointment to make a little extra dinero sitting in on a fixed session of scratching off State lottery tickets. A guy called Louie is my contact. First though I have to squeeze my way about these ladies of the night dressed in their skin tight frocks as I shove my way to my seat. These purple gloves I wear for eleven more days identify me as someone who put my hands on some young miss in another dark hall way a few months ago on another steamy Friday night and I am paying  the fines and lawyer fees still for breaking carnal activity 71.

My biggest fear tonight is the Medical cops. They nail you randomly and check that you have all your life extending medical tests up to date and they get a commission if you get fined for a health and wellness omission or violation.

Louie is talking very fast and I listen carefully and write neatly as I over and over jot down the magic numbers-new Rome,  drawing 1207755, 6-73-44-11-66-77-80-5-6-22-47,booster x 10. Someone's personal  identity monitoring system is beeping over and over somewhere off in the dark night and a muffled grin fills the smokey cafe.

advice from Marcus

Advice from Marcus

fiction
edward w pritchard

Tonight I am listening to the beatitudes and reading Marcus Aurelius to make myself a better person. I understand the message of the virtue in what they say and admire the simple beauty of their advice.

However some times the behavior we exhibit does not measure up to the good advice we have received and understood.

Somewhere inside we have certain impulses that trip us up.

Here is what I wrote before on one of our vices, that of impulse.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 3, 2011

pink car, pink seats, pink poodle

pink car, pink seats, pink poodle

fiction
edward w pritchard

Pink car, pink seats, pink poodle. The car was named champion, the plates said fox, and the oversized French poodle was named fee-fee. Lavony wore pink suits and had pink streaks in her hair.

Even after what she did to me I couldn't bring myself to hurt her car. I did shoot her dog. Just one shot. Not in the car. I think Lavony suspected me because I never did like her dog fee-fee.

I saw Lavony driving around the neighborhood later with another dog. I didn't catch it's name.

human history in a nutshell

human history in a nutshell

fiction
edward w pritchard

The boy sat on the barn watching the sunset and dreamed of running barbarians flanking the phalanx to get to the women hiding in haylofts of barns before they were burnt.

The girl played with an electronic barbie doll that taught her 14 languages so she could be a more compassionate Doctor or nurse.

The Mother worked the Father worried.

The People schemed and voted for old Men.

The old Men sat on the barn watching the sunset and dreamt of running barbarians flanking the phalanx to get to the women hiding in haylofts of barns before they were burnt.

The Earth over heated the animals vanished the Sky cried.

answer Jesus

answer Jesus

fiction
edward w pritchard

Scientists assuredly tell me that early most distant mega galaxies are moving away from me faster than the speed of light expanding or escaping into nothingness. It's a known fact that can be proven mathematically or mentioned by Hubble. Please answer me Jesus. Did you know that fact of the expanding universe when you stood on a hill and proclaimed the sermon on the mount? The translation I read once didn't mention it. Perhaps it is meaningful.

I am not calling on you to talk about distant mega galaxies. I wanted to ask if you had met a man from ancient Gadara named Menippus the famous cynic. Scholars now are trying to link your sermon on the mount to some of the cynic philosophies prevalent in the Roman town of Gadara not all that far from Nazareth. I'll try to post a picture of Menippus as imagined how he might have looked by Velazquez the painter soon if I can master the technology of a picture in a post which I have forgotten how to do because of my age.

One thing more Jesus those pesky Romans sure had their hands in everything back in your day. Anyway I know its a stretch but I was curious if Menippus of Gadara might be the fixer and arranger guy who worked for you in your travels and mentioned in my story " Jesus the most dangerous man in History"? It's posted below.

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 27, 2010

Jesus the Most Dangerous Man in History

Jesus the Most Dangerous Man in History

fiction
edward w pritchard

Being near Jesus was dangerous and lethal to one's past affiliations. When Jesus lead us to a new town, women would often take their families and go into the hills for up to a week to keep husband's and children from his jeopardous influence. In time an element of peril surrounded us, Jesus' followers, for just being near him. Later we were the one's staying in the hills, and places obscure and hidden, for we were forbidden to enter towns, business areas and churches. However despite incredible hardships we were blissfully happy and even obscurity could not stifle Jesus' message which convulsed to be revealed.

Jesus presence had became mesmerizing. When we heard the message of profound truth he taught we only wanted to be near him, abolish our sinful ways and full fill and experience the destiny he promised us. More than one who met him or even heard of him would abandon a faithful wife, or son and daughter, or Father and Mother in hope of following him about or just doing one deed or small kindness to make his life easier, if only for a moment.

I traveled with Jesus for several years before he recruited the disciples but was forced to leave the group because I was a link to his past, a past which he had forsaken as the power of his message burst from his body. I had been an early friend, arranger, and bodyguard and assisted Jesus as he prayed, studied and meditated. As the aura developed around him day to day I began to taste a fear in the air, the fear of disruption and destruction to every day concerns and matters. Matters such as carrying money, clothes and personal items became unimportant to Jesus and he bid us to abandon any type of planning as we traveled and trust in things working out without any preparation. We traveled in to unfamiliar towns throughout Judea with no contingencies. My job as arranger was dissolving before my eyes and incredibly the multitudes of followers took Jesus literally and many traveled in fact as wandering beggars but with complete faith and became a community of believers of his word. Jesus walked and we followed. He planned only for the next day but continued to allow me to go on with my duties as arranger for the time being.

Jesus was always an incredible judge of character and could instantly dig out the hidden obscure motivations of others often with only a glance. Initially however, I would go into a town first, with money and smooth the way for Jesus' entrance. I would meet people, arrange places for us to stay and make plans so we could avoid breaking any Roman local rules and ordinances or upsetting the Jewish hierarchy. I was loyal to Jesus, but eventually even I out of concern for his safety and those of the faithful followers had to say something about the effects on every day concerns the brutal honesty of his message was causing. The more I fought with myself to stay grounded in everyday matters of business and commerce the further I was driving myself from the bliss of Jesus' community of followers.

If I had to give an example that a modern reader could understand I would say to imagine if a prophet walked from town to town In America in 1968 and gave LSD to every man woman and child over age 16 who wasn't satisfied with his spiritual situation. Jesus wanted to awaken those who were not content, not full of conformity, and not comfortable with their skin and their situation. Then imagine if those malcontents began to spread the word that a teacher was coming who could show a brighter day, had the answers to the meaning of all things and would lead the awakened. Then imagine if Jesus in 1968 had urged those to give up their money, jobs, family, health insurance, extra clothes and shaving and make-up kits and walk with him. Often then he would disappear with a few favorites to think and evolve and then return to us and share greater growing insights against the thoughts and beliefs that we had been raised on and were the foundations of our everyday lives. Then imagine if those malcontents began to become perfectly at peace with themselves, selfless, and approached the world with love, joy, peace and goodwill towards all, even their enemies.

Eventually as I returned to Jesus after leaving him to arrange the affairs in the next town we were to enter I would be shocked by his appearance, especially the hollow timeless eyes. He would be sitting alone, deep in thought refusing food or water and then after a while began to speak. Whatever one was doing became unimportant and the focus would be on the hidden meaning of his words and Jesus would birth ideas and concepts that were earth shaking. Later when I would try to logically fit Jesus' profound teachings into my belief system I would become afraid for us. Because his message was disturbing, revolutionary, and absolutely and perfectly anti-establishment I often wanted to silence Jesus out of fear for his safety. There were Romans everywhere and they were formidable and they controlled our world. The followers of Jesus became blind to the reality of the Romans however and bathed in the message; I however fought that bath, and drove myself from my friend Jesus, and was left behind, and could not walk with him any longer.

In a small village , after a very long walk Jesus was sitting in a chair exhausted, for he had been refusing water during the trip. A woman came in, just an ordinary woman, who none of us knew and she poured an expensive ointment on his head from the Country of India, said to refresh and revitalize. Jesus was grateful and blessed the woman. Later It took me several hours to soothe the irate Husband, whose wife had spent over two years of their savings on the potion. The husband was convinced the wife had gone mad and was threatening to complain to the Romans. This was unthinkable for Roman justice was brutal and swift and the woman, the husband and Jesus would be in grave danger. The Romans were only afraid of two things and that was disorder and chaos and they dealt violently with threats of either. Miraculously I shielded Jesus from himself until he began to recruit the disciples and heal the malcontent-ed, and until it became humanly impossible to stop confrontation with civil authority.

We were walking along an inland sea and Jesus had just recruited two new followers. Jesus knew I was upset because I knew nothing of the men, had not checked them out in advance, as was customary and Jesus had called them in a flamboyant public way which only a year ago he had cautioned against. Jesus was talking very fast to me in private and was convinced that the new man Simon [ later called Peter] would be a key member of the group who could spread the word and message beyond Judea and into the future. I tried to believe but I saw only a humble fisherman, and one with a sour temper. Fortunately no one objected to those two men leaving their boat. They just jumped off the boat and left. They didn't say good bye and they didn't explain to anyone. I often had told Jesus that this type of showmanship would upset the Romans because the recruits creditors and obligates would complain. Jesus however had taken to answering me in parables that made sense when we talked but later left me holding a handful of water when it came to practical ways to avoid the civil authority.

Jesus and I fell out however over the recruitment of James and John good son's of Zebedee a fisherman also. We were walking past their boat, in a very public place with the usual multitudes and Jesus called both James and John and they just came with us. The Father was a good man, and although he employed other fisherman was devastated by the loss of his sons who he had trained and nurtured to carry on his business. The Father also was not a bad spiritual man, he followed the laws of his people. I found later he helped the poor and unfortunate; and as I later brought up to Jesus as him and I argued over the matter Zebedee feared and respected God. The crowds saw this happen and to them such drama was becoming narcotic and they craved miracles, showmanship and razz ma taz.

Jesus was alone and it was 1AM when I was able to see him. He was in a small tent, the kind goat herders use and was sitting delicately on a light chair. Jesus looked frail and had a feminine element to himself that day that frightened me more than our problems with the Romans. I had known Jesus back in Nazareth and had often punched and jostled at him and he was robust and strong. As Carpenter, I often saw Jesus carry heavy logs of wood with ease. Now the aura of death surrounded him, especially at night. I knew he slept poorly and had troubled dreams but his presence to me seemed to spread fear, and potential disaster and I could taste the destruction that surrounded him.

We argued for a few minutes and I told Jesus I couldn't do it any more. Jesus hugged me and bid me follow my own heart, told me he always loved me, and promised I could always come back to the community. I broke the bond between us. No goodbyes to my friends of several years and I had nothing to carry with me anyway so I headed East away from the direction Jesus was going tomorrow and sought to reclaim my life. Now it was my turn to fore sake my past for I had been one of the first to experience the perfect joy of Jesus presence and I was forsaking it.

A few weeks later I heard through my contacts that Jesus had recruited a tax collector for the Romans to be his chief scribe. Levi known as Matthew. Matthew had left his coins on the table where he worked and just walked off the job. Nothing could be better orchestrated to upset and infuriate the Romans.

Every night now my dreams are alive with the presence of Jesus' death and I fear and tremble for him out of the love I still have for him. Nothing seems real any more but the comfort of the message of Jesus is gone. It all seems like a mirage. The Romans however are every where I look. I can't believe we were able to avoid them these last 18 months because they are easily angered. Everything I believed is gone and I have lost my faith. I never feared death, it is always at hand in our times however, something seems missing. As I face the future I sometimes hope that the new scribe Matthew will be able to write down for others who come later what I could not hold in my mind of Jesus' message. I often pray that others once they experience the bliss of Jesus and his Father's kingdom to come do not backslide like I did because of business concerns but remain faithful to the message and not brood, worry and persecute and strangle themselves with tomorrows disquietations.

hail the King

hail the King

fiction
edward w pritchard

America needs a King to allow it's citizens to sever themselves from their obsession with politics.
It's time to revisit the entire system of our Country's sacred  ideals of government which Americans uncritically worship as handed down to us by a wealthy elite group of enlightenment inspired 18th century Men.

America needs a philosopher King to allow it's citizens to sever themselves from their obsession with buying, selling and accumulating to allow themselves to hoard for retirement and to escape through travel and flight from reality and pursue easy living for years and years.

America needs an enlightened philosopher King/Preacher to synthesize Stoicism and all the major religious ideals into everyday language and everyday activities to teach the People to accept things as they are.

A  Queen would work just as well as a King; perhaps a  Queen whose noble husband died in glorious honorable battle a few months after the second child was born. A Queen who could protect Americans from the two approaching demons of negative interest rates and global warming that are coming to terrify the People. A Queen who lived a long long time, sprinkled reparations onto everyone for past injustices and always had our backs.

trouble from Yemen

trouble from Yemen

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


Bombing of oil refining facilities and storage locations occurring in Saudi Arabia this weekend are alleged to have originated from Yemen. President Trump has pledged to release strategic oil reserves from American stock piles to stabilize the world price of oil. Tomorrow we may hear President's Trumps plans for retaliation against the perpetrators of the bombings.

Too bad Hillary Clinton is not a part of President Trumps advisory team.  Mrs.Clinton visited Yemen about 7 years ago I recall when she worked strategically on military matters for President Obama. At that time she promised Yemen more humanitarian aide if the Country of Yemen could straighten it's house out internally.

The people of Yemen are suffering greatly and have done so for many years. Meanwhile Iran and Saudi Arabia remain involved in the internal politics of the country of Yemen and religious conflict
among Muslims worsen the situation. Meanwhile cholera and starvation occur periodically in Yemen even in the 21st century. It's a sad situation.

America should be slow to help or intervene in Yemen other than with humanitarian aide and and let the Muslim countries of the region find a solution to their problems. Wouldn't it be nice if like the Catholics have a Pope to act as an interloper at times in the internal politics of Catholic countries throughout History the Muslims Countries now had a supreme religious head of the Muslim church
to provide secular assistance and guidance in times of stress to prevent warfare and suffering. Such a policy could keep Western and far Eastern countries from being dragged into the problems of the Muslim world which always end badly.

ex parte communication with the ex

ex parte communication with the  ex

edward w pritchard

Apparently I have been convicted with ex parte communication with the ex without me having nothing to gain from my sincerity.

It's a form of censorship that will not appear  in the 120 banded American books.

Forgetting myself and protocol I happened to express a sincere compliment concerning a mutual interest in our joint grandchildren.

Don't comment and this is the type of thing that cannot be learned in school originally after a very long day and two quick beers.  The realization that the encounter was all in my head is not a defense.

Further affiant sayeth not.

where are you tonight Nelson Wilbury?

where are you tonight Nelson Wilbury?

fiction
edward w pritchard

Where are you tonight Nelson Wilbury? I heard you say all things must pass but it seems less than feasible when it is everybody. When it is ultimate, inevitable and permanent.

Since your gone may I call you George again? [1] Like we did before you were adopted into the Wilbury family. George I felt your pain when you were dealing with your own imminent death and you realized that you would be gone, and you would also pass and it wasn't just a staged gimmick to market music.

Well I am proud of myself cause I won't go screaming into that goodnight and I can imagine no religion too. I am very much at peace. As long as when I fall one last time I don't cause anyone any inconvenience with disposing of me I am calm. It's easier I think for a non celebrity.

Good night George. See you over yonder, maybe. 

[1] George Harrison assumed the contrived stage  identity of Nelson Wilbury with the super band "Traveling Wilburys" to sell music.

the Mormon Senate Historian

the Mormon Senate Historian

fiction
edward w pritchard

As a condition of the truce between the American Government and the Mormons in the 19th century an official US Senate Historian was appointed to serve in the Senate when the Senate was in session to officially record any bill that might be of interest to Mormons.

To date the current official Mormon Historian who serves part time from Utah and monitors Senate activity by electronic means is now the only ranking government official not to receive a scathing tweet from current President Donald Trump. This is breaking news and this blog takes credit for first noticing this and as a patriotic supporter of our President brings it public with no expectation of vast economic personal gain.

Blogger supports our President  though at times has trouble keeping up with the whirl of activity he generates.

American materialists and Hindi's

American materialists and Hindi's

fiction
edward w Pritchard

Ask any American materialist about the Hindi's and if he can find the time to answer he will tell you they don't accomplish enough.

Upon reflection you may understand.

Everything that can ever happen has occurred over there in India. It's all eternal recurrence over and over.

Every thought, every philosophy, every definition, and every path in nuance in everyone's journey through life has happened before again and again.

That's  it.

the spice of life

the spice of life

fiction
edward w pritchard

If you are one of misfortunates scrambling around from career to career  forced to work to support your brief stay on the spinning planet solace and mercy upon you.

Don't forget you have not lived and suffered in vain. What could be more important than spending one's time searching for the identity of the hole card in Bill Hitchcock's dead man's hand or shooting out the spotlight in Buffalo Bill's wild west show when it was your time to perform for the excurtionists.

swerve elsewhere hurricane

swerve elsewhere Hurricane

fiction
edward w pritchard

Some people vacation poolside in Aruba, some at Mallorca in the Balearic Islands of Spain on a small yacht; me I just want to return one more time to the Jolly Roger Hotel at Top Sale Island in North Carolina. It has a nice pier where you can sit and have a beer while you fish, a fantastic ocean view and is reasonably priced.  It's not your typical American beach side resort. It's more laid back in a one star rating only type of way.

Swerve elsewhere Hurricane Dorian. Hopefully the Jolly Roger survives the upcoming storm. My bucket list is short. One day I will skip the on line reviews and return to the Jolly Roger one last time.

the bicycle thief turned the tide

the bicycle thief turned the tide

fiction
edward w pritchard

A bicycle thief stole my bike this week and since I had talked to the culprit prior to the robbery the outlaw changed my philosophy from a sedate orderly America to a world of suspicious interlopers. After the urge to violence and revenge passed I decided to take a short and brief  inward journey and re-examine my regrets and remorse in my life to date, opportunities missed, and friends lost and travel alone sans bike into a pathless future of short but steady duration. Along the way should I interact with anyone or thing I hope to remind myself that most of those we encounter are not really that good of person all in all and it's our unrealistic ideals that cause the regrets and remorse for the most part.

Hence like the youth of today selfishly say- no problem Amigo.

it's been fifty two years since brother bought a store in Tupelo

it's been fifty two years since brother bought a store in Tupelo

fiction
edward w pritchard

It's been fifty two years since brother bought a store in Tupelo [ Mississippi] [1] and no one seems to care how him and Becky Thompson's marriage worked out.

Me? Sometimes I talk to my doll and sometimes I drop flowers into the River. A strange way for a 70 year old woman to behave folks around here say.

[1] "Ode to Billie Joe" Bobby  Gentry

Van Gogh's wheat field with crows

Van Gogh's wheat field with crows

fiction
edward w pritchard

Vincent wrote he was trying to express extreme sorrow and loneliness in his last painting "Wheat field with crows" finished a few days before his death. The picture haunts me.

This month I fear and tremble for our country. I have a premonition that something unexpected will occur. So I turn to Van Gogh's picture for solace and to gather my foreboding.

labor day family reunion picnic

labor day family reunion picnic

fiction
edward w pritchard

Out at Uncle Watson's farm the boys were playing baseball labor day at the family reunion picnic.
Forty matching casual chairs faced home plate in a large semicircle this year for uncle Watson had done well in the stock market of late and the tables back of cousin Mike the catcher were loaded with store bought fancy eats as well as every woman's here special concoction potato salad in a crystal bowl.

As the ball game was winding down a bit Etta Watson's neighbor 40 year old Mrs McDonald strolled over in a pair of yellow shorts bringing her neighbors her coveted chocolate  fudge Brownies. Grandpa Howard who I was respectfully sitting with slowly stood up and sided over to Home plate grabbed the bat from cousin Mickey as the teenage boys smiled and glancing at Mrs.McDonald asked his great nephew Arron to lob him a curve ball.

With a crack Grandpa whacked the mushy soft ball clear past and over the barn he used to play in as a boy way way out in right center field.

"Run grandpa run I yelled".

Grandpa smiled at me and returned slowly to his seat and as he walked he said sort of to everyone " First is earned and second base is worked for as third base is given but home plate is never forgotten.

A little later I remember Grandpa sitting drinking a beer and my Mother grandpa's oldest  daughter being a little bit mad at her Father.

perverse engineering

perverse engineering

fiction
edward w pritchard

How long before one of these scientific space probes such as Voyager 13 billion miles from Earth
develops consciousness and motives and begins to think and act for itself contrary to the commands and interests of mankind?

If only Aristophanes the Greek caustic comic playwright could be around when machines first begin to disobey the commands of mankind and think and act for themselves. Aristophanes could surely satirize intelligent machines in one of his plays to give mankind a good belly laugh as we all begin to understand you can't trust anyone,including intelligent machines, when they travel too far from the home office unsupervised.

Earth to voyager, come in voyager 1, please respond voyager 1, it's me your friend Myron from Houston command central. Can your hear me voyager one?

woe to a man who is sane and sober

woe to a man who is sane and sober

fiction
edward w pritchard

Devoid of most earthly attachments here in my old age and finding myself sane and sober I find myself interested scientifically in a universe that expands overly rapidly into un-know nothingness becoming immensely larger and larger. Taking the number crunchers at their word concerning the original big bang as starting as everything the size of a very heavy pebble I have turned to the pre-Socratic philosophers for help in how to think concerning such a conundrum as the birth of the Universe and where it is going and why.

Fifteen years ago I spent fifteen to twenty hours a week for the next ten years reading and studying all the great philosophers of Western History. Still like the pre-Soctratic philosophers of old it is humbling to honestly think for oneself without a supernatural intervention for beginnings and ends
of time and space.

Woe to the man who is sane and sober.

space exploration/part 2

space exploration/part 2

fiction
edward w pritchard

Worse than a new epidemic of the black plague sweeping the earth wiping out most of Europe again was for me the day Pluto was down graded and degraded from it's status as a Planet to a Moon. Pluto the planet is now just to me another lost once precious distraction from life's woes.

Upon reflection for coping reasons I have decided after years of agony that a secret group of rich White men in suits are behind the downgrade of Pluto. Downgrade is such a derogatory word. I try not to think about Pluto all that much any more. Sometimes though in my dreams just prior to waking Pluto is near to me again.

Once space travel to distant galaxies seemed real to me. As long as planet Pluto was around, that last stop before deep space was like the last gas station before a driving trip across death valley in California in July. Friendly, foreign, familiar and once always very near.

How to save the Earth

How to save the Earth

fiction
edward w pritchard

I would like to propose a modest plan to save the Earth from the anticipated sixth mass extinction caused by human over intervention in the natural environment of the planet.

Several countries of the world have religious pilgrimage walks such as the Way of St James in Spain or  Mount Kalash in Tibet where wanderers go to reconnect to nature and their god.

Wouldn't it be a good small step in America if efforts were made to encourage walkers to follow the ancient buffalo trails across America? In time perhaps some of the money raised from the tourist aspects of walking on pilgrimages could be used to help save endangered species and delay the feared sixth extinction. Honoring the vanished buffalo and Native American tribes might be a good catalyst to focus attention on the sacred connection between the environment and human well being.

Why play cosmic keno when the odds are so bad

Why play cosmic keno when the odds are so bad

fiction
edward w pritchard

Someone asked me why gamble on the State lottery or at the casino when the odds are so bad against you?

Even now as an old man I had to smile and for days I had a warm glow inside from her casual inquiry. Because since I was a young man for me Keno was cosmic keno which is what I once called girl watching.

Remembering back what a pleasure it was to watch and now recall a properly put together young woman ride by me on her bike as I walked or jogged up hill watching her legs strain to make the crest wearing white short shorts visibly stimulating but not lewd just yet, that occurs later sometimes if a  lucky connection at cosmic keno is made.

Sadly now my girl watching is restricted to modern torch singers in trio singing in throaty voices and tight dresses on the you tube "it's all about the bass" as they wiggle just right to obtain views and likes or a bar maid doing the usual to get a proper tip.

I always pick my own numbers at cosmic keno and don't follow a set system of numbers such as odd or even numbers under 18 which out of respect for the higher numbers which I now tend to favor for some reason- sometimes out of the blue I still play at a little cosmic keno and let randomness send me the numbers me merely acting as the proper opportunist.

Once I had a winner at lucky 19 and for years and years I stuck loyally to just that number now though it's a bit of a pipe dream to expect a winner. More about the wishing than the execution and denouement really.

space exploration

space exploration

fiction
edward w pritchard

As sure as I am sure of anything without raising my right hand and swearing I can attest that none of my relatives, forebears or friend or family have ever been in space beyond Earth's Moon. After that things of which I am swearing in court certain get a little fuzzy because what is revealed to me in jangled bits and pieces in my dreams contain more of the sacred continual life force truth anchoring me to reality than stock market charts relating to money and commerce, conversations and reading of  the opinions of technological experts or all inherited knowledge passed on to me from the silent dead.

Why should we yearn to voyage in space to faraway places when each minute we spend racing away from earth costs us a few seconds of our allotted lifespan.

In my dreams I walk inside the sacred Mountain on the hidden winding descending path backwards with my ancestors down towards the source of sacred truth. It's a long line of souls returning to the beginning. Bend forward and dip your cupped hands into the cool spring of remembrance to quench
your need to know.

it's not just absence of wrongful action

it's not just absence of wrongful action

fiction
edward w pritchard

It's not just absence of wrongful action; it's a successful journey if proper attitude and philosophy guide you into the light. Feeble though you may be you have become a Bodhisattava.

Toil, pain, misfortune and injustice are routine aspects of our journey; one neither asked for or merited. Misunderstood persevere. I want to live so god can use me sayeth the wise.

Day by day awaken into the light.

our struggle

our struggle

fiction
edward w pritchard

Recently I was walking along a glistening still blue lake and a quaint quiet road with two grand children not quite two and four, one trotting twenty feet in front of me and the young one a girl twenty feet behind me ambling aimlessly and blissfully engrossed in her thoughts. Naturally as the grand parent the thought flashed against my mind what would I do now if two or more wolves would appear as I have a weak heart, am  no longer first to the hunt and was not carrying my precious hand carved walking stick.

Early the next morning in the AM predawn I awoke thinking about those children and home schooling and education in general and our struggle as parents in retrospect when we judge our past experience as parents and guardians of our precious off springs.

I was heavier then

I was heavier then

fiction
edward w pritchard


Consider whence  we came from and where we are going. Not in dust to dust ancient thinking but according to science metaphorically spun like in the big bang. At the ultimate beginning.  Everything that ever would be as one micro molecule for one billionth of an instant, myself and us, as an intimate part of every possible future. I was heavier then, compacted but the entirety  of all potentially flashed
across my newly created consciousness.

But now what next? Too many lights cloud my vision of the sky as the universe continues to race away from me. I have forgotten the original message.

sound travels silently

sound travels silently

fiction
edward w pritchard

Sound travels silently from the past to now but some pre-dawn mornings I can hear the same train whistle my Mother's grandmother heard as a girl from her bed room window in Wheeling, WV
back in the 1880.

It's cold and silent where my Mother's grand Mother is now but when she lived in Wheeling WV in the 1880's she always like me listened intently for distant train whistles up to a dozen miles from her home high up on the mountain where the family farm was. One morning she not only heard the train whistle but she distinctly heard voices from the passing train ten miles away. It was headed from Kansas City to Washington DC. From the conversation she over heard she surmised  that Native American chiefs were going to Washington to sign treaties  to exchange land for money.

Sound travels silently from the past to now but some pre-dawn mornings I can hear the same train whistle my Mother's grandmother heard as a girl from her bed room window in Wheeling, WV
back in the 1880's. Sometimes early in the morning I can hear the train whistle but unlike my Mother and her grand Mother I can never hear the voices.

diminishing returns

diminishing returns

fiction
edward w pritchard

Remember Geoff and Steve the two professional meteor hunters who scoured the earth searching for rare and valuable meteors from space on the American TV show Meteor Men from 2009 to 2012? It occurred to me recently that perhaps the show concluded it's run on TV because the efforts the guys spent looking for Meteorites and the publicity their valuable finds generated caused diminishing returns on the number of valuable stones and minerals strung and scattered across the surface of the planet.

It's the same thing with Egyptian treasures buried by our ancestors, TV ghost hunters, dinosaur bones and people looking for lost pictures of Jessie James  or Rommel's buried fortunes.

Every service anyone can need now has generated a startup company to walk your dog, deliver your groceries or have a guy on a bike bring you burger king whoopers and fries to your back door on a Tuesday night for a small extra fee.

How will the next generation make their fortunes and get a start in life?

another New Orleans musical great

another New Orleans Musical great

fiction
edward w pritchard

I mentioned that my son was in New Orleans tonight. So I wanted to mention to him another New Orleans musical great I admire besides Louie Armstrong.

Check out Sidney Bechet the clarinet player on" after your gone" or"Summertime". Not being a musician I am not sure why I like his playing but I certainly do.

the ghosts have left

the ghosts have left

fiction
edward w pritchard

A now small deserted white building twenty five feet from the tracks once served as the railroad station at Glorieta  NM on the Chicago to Los Angles line. Recently the empty station serves as the towns Post office rather than the railroad station as even the ghosts have left the station.

Glorieta NM. may be familiar to a History buff reading this. It was the scene of an important civil war battle. Confederate troops came close to a decisive victory but when their supply lines were captured and destroyed they were forced to  retreat back into Colorado and later to Texas.

I hope to glance out of the train window from my seat on the Chicago to LA train and see the post office/ex train station in Glorieta NM as my cross county train rambles along the old Santa Fe trail to California. Hope is the word because I am in the first stages of planning a cross country trip by train. I love train travel. Look for me sitting on the second level of the third class coach across the aisle from the Amish family with six children.

how to concoct a strange piano mixture in New Orleans

how to concoct a strange piano mixture in New Orleans

fiction
edward w pritchard

Someone I care about is down in New Orleans this weekend promoting software for the Piano. I hope he gets a chance to listen to some authentic New Orleans music as well.

So many remarkable talented musicians from New Orleans are overlooked by the National music loving audiences in America. Often am I stunned by the work of various little known musicians who worked in New Orleans when I browse on you tube.

Tonight I was listening to Professor Longhair sing and play "Jambalaya" on you tube. I noticed something strange as I listened- not one dislike on you tube to Professors Longhairs rendition of Jambalaya. Now that's something that doesn't happen often on you tube.

deep time on a planetary scale and a human scale

deep time on a planetary scale and a human scale

fiction
edward w pritchard


Down South of me near Peebles, Ohio there is an Indian Serpent Mound that I have always been interested in. Over the last twenty years scientists and archaeologists have been debating the age of the serpent Mound and which native American culture made the serpent mound by piling baskets of dirt into intricate formation. The latest estimates on the Serpent Mounds age is 1000 to 3,000 years old. A long time ago on the Human scale of time.

Recently the same scientists have established that the Indian serpent mounds near Peebles, Ohio were built and constructed on an ancient meteor crater nearly 300 million years old. A long time ago even on a planetary scale of Time's measurement.

Another series of burial mounds in Ohio are near a River behind a State prison also in southern Ohio. My children and I would once walk among those mounds while their Mother my then wife the lawyer saw inmates on long term confinement in the nearby prison for Murder. I remember one young man 18, who I knew from talking with on the phone arranging our visit to the correctional institute was serving up to 40 years [ I recall] with little chance of parole for a long time. That's a long time on human scale of Time for a teenager to endure for something he did impulsively in anger. One thing I distinctly remember about that prisoner who told me by phone about his incarceration was neither he, the shooter or his victim, then dead of course had clean hands concerning what had happened to put the shooter in prison.

This is the first time I have thought of that young man in close to thirty years. I assume though that he is still in prison somewhere in Ohio trying to get parole every so often. How much easier the justice might have been if he was sentenced to ten years hard labor piling baskets of dirt into the shape of snake mounds to honor his cultures gods or sacred ideals of retribution.

the slow ride Cleveland to LA

the slow ride Cleveland to LA

fiction
edward w pritchard

Restore the Dessert Wind train to California and I'll take a slow journey Cleveland to LA and transfer aboard the newly revived Dessert Wind train in Salt Lake City Utah for the last and most enjoyable part of my slow ride across our Country.

Economic issues aside I do so much more enjoy a train ride than a hurried airplane flight across the country.

 With America's aging population of retired folks it seems like train travel would appeal to some of us capturing a part of our travel dollars.

Perhaps a Chinese company that is independent of the American auto industry could profitably run a few more cross America passenger trains.

Travel less enjoy the journey more.

getting to know google better

getting to know google better

fiction
edward w pritchard

Goggle had sent me an electronic  note after I had sent someone a confidential email that she would like to get to know me better so she could assist me better by understanding me at a more personal and intimate level.

I decided to play along. How shall I address you I queried? "Admirable my last Duchess"  she intimated with a wink.

Now that I am old I have to admit it. I just never could understand google.

stillness Sunday morning after the insipid heat

stillness Sunday morning after the insipid heat

fiction
edward w pritchard

Grace Slick of Jefferson Airplane an icon of a time long gone sings to me hauntingly " You are only pretty as you feel inside".  The stillness is delightful early Sunday morning after the insipid heat and a brief interlude from the  jangling air conditioners soon to erase all contemplation.

Red Buttons for President

Red Buttons for President
fiction
edward w pritchard


When immensely popular Republican President Donald Trump in 2020 decided not to seek a second term he decided to endorse as the best candidate for the job as his successor for American President the hologram of deceased actor Red Buttons.

Four years later when the Hologram Red Buttons was asked to run for a second term himself;  Buttons tired of the constant criticism of his performance in the role as President said " I did not come here to be made sport of " and " I never got a dinner". Those lines always got Mr. President a laugh.

gossip about this brexit

gossip about this brexit

fiction
edward w pritchard

Many who did preach to burn down the mission now rush toward its walls hand pulling a small donkey cart loaded with their treasures and precious keepsakes fearful of invisible invaders disrupting their material world.

Elton set down the children and take to your piano-initiate a song to hold us together before the Empire formally dissolves. Or not.

when it grows hot

when it grows hot

fiction
edward w pritchard

Just predawn when it grows hot through my open window I can feel more than hear the footfalls of the long dead Native American explorer wandering along the lake shore where I live looking for
a change of scenery in his life. Through long practice he makes little sound as he walks yet the birds hear him and talk to him begging reply. He knows but I forget is Venus in the predawn East or West sky this morning and will the new sunrise be red or not suggesting a storm brought on by the heat.

Just like that he is gone. Too much light exposes him. Out of habit the birds continue to give him a shout out in his honor and remembrance.

always a stranger

always a stranger

fiction
edward w pritchard

These ceaseless rains dissolve the moorings that anchor the tree roots supporting the vegetation that hold our world together. Any gust of wind will blow away the entire society that cradles us all.

Hide underground as an Egyptian piling treasures and consumables for luxurious after lives. Smile at death as a Hindu curious about future transformations.

Always a stranger just passing through. Feel the vegetation creeping up the walls of the temples guarding up the certainties of before.

The rivers are at the flood about to inundate everyone in our Valley. Arise, arise, head for higher ground.

travel always before

travel always before

fiction
edward w pritchard

Travel always before not now. Reflect in the warm reminiscences of memory of where you have been not the tedium of the place the train has dropped you and your grip at now.

And if you never went there? Not to worry. Istanbul and Cornish England like a lost lover of your youth is always waiting eager for your presence. 

Start on your bike and ride in a circle around the world from Home, down the Appian way, following Alexander on his conquests into India and then cycle across China and through and across the vanished American West.

Just you and an imaginary wallet bulging with hundred dollar bills and one very cool looking valise  seeing the World as reported by the long dead travel writers.

going and gone yet persevere

going and gone yet persevere

fiction
edward w pritchard

If we were far from civilization on a very cold night stranded in the woods with two very small children to nurture and protect that chilly night the paramount skill for one to have would be to build a shelter from the wind and snow and a healthy fire to last the night.

Recently I had a medical test that was supposed to cost $150 that ended up being written off at an invisible cost to some one of 30,000 dollars plus. Still here am I and the test pretty much told what was already self apparent. Going and gone yet I persevere.

Once I played Bob Dylan protest songs but now I prefer Bob's "Forever Young" sung by his earlier friend
Joan Baez.

Bob said
May God bless and keep you always
May your wishes all come true
May you always do for others
And let others do for you

I can build a decent warm shelter and fire on a very cold night in the woods; going and gone yet I persevere. Trying to stay forever young.

simplify to get real

simplify to get real

fiction
edward w Pritchard

Woe is us in the midst of real life as wave after wave of the sea of troubles over whelms us. Do we head to Walden Pond alone to escape everyone and everything recreating the philosophy of a teenager toward the world? Or do we become a follower of the  Buddhist regiment of nihilism? 

As tin man alludes and intimates in Oz to have a heart for the suffering of other people is to suffer with them.

One trillion galaxies collide and race apart and through my open window at dawn the background noise of the cars and trucks racing away on the expressways lulls me back to my dreams.

reversal of fortune

reversal of fortune

fiction
edward w pritchard

What catastrophic event or occurrence could happen in America to make every person lose their money, their position in society and their source of happiness and security? Like the Jews in 1930's
Germany what if the entire population of America suddenly lost the moorings that supported their confidence in their position in society.

Worse than the fear that one will develop the cursed disease of forgetfulness wandering around friendless in a fog or sudden death without burial for Americans is the catastrophic fear that they will lose their wealth and position in their world.

To be an outcast, such as a non believer at a month long religious festival who is the only one without the proper sacred uniform following the centuries old traditions, a prisoner in a cell removed permanently from society or a vagrant standing by the expressway smiling and waving at cars with a beggar's cup in hand is the ultimate curse for an American to endure in our affluent society.

ranking experiences

ranking experiences

fiction
edward w pritchard

Last night at 4 AM while sleeping looking out of a half open East facing window with a mile vista to the horizon I was awakened gradually by an increasing  breeze precursor to a middle of the night  growing in intensity rain storm. At such times one is so much alive and the next half hour becomes a long remembered memorable experience.

At times I have a distant racial memory of living outside, watching the planets, Moon and stars
and sleeping lightly while listening for noises in the nearby forest.

Such experiences are most enjoyable.

proud to be an american

proud to be an american

fiction
edward w pritchard

When I listen on you tube to the output of American musicians I can't help but be proud to be an American.

Today I gave my son, who like my Father always wanted to play the piano, a list I made up of IMO
the best Black piano players of the 20th century. Although I can't play piano I can appreciate someone who can.

When I hear the unique production of American musicians I can't help but be proud to be an American.

Can anyone break a window

Can anyone break a window

fiction
edward w pritchard

In my youth I heard a wise person say philosophically "anyone can break a window"  suggesting in an unspoken manner "that only a master craftsman could create a window". I recall that then this thought silenced and impressed me.

Upon reflection now however, nearly a half century later I have a perhaps different view of the matter.

We are surrounded and imprisoned by the invisible fragile windows of civilization and habit. Other than malicious boys, soon to be properly civilized, no one heaves a rock through a window of the court house, IRS office, or property tax division as a voiceless commentary on the present state of things as they are.

 Is the glass half full or in need of being broken? Someday should I meet a philosopher we shall ask.

how the west was won

how the west was won

fiction
edward w pritchard

Two hundred yards behind the house where I stay two or three lots come together that are overgrown
with briar sticker bushes, misshapen ten foot weedy trees and assorted old  bricks and junk. Last year a ground hog lived back there but for the past year gradually I have been going back there taming the area with my partner my three and a half year old grandson who I watch during the week that I have been teaching to be a boy in the Native American Indian sense of the word boy as a young man enjoying nature and the World around himself. The area in the back yard we have been working on, my grandson and me, is about one hundred yards from Long Lake of the Portage Lake system which in all probability back in 1725 had a small Indian village on the very spot where we hatchet and rake.

Yesterday I taught the boy how to use a shovel, to clip sharp briar strands and to rake and shovel. He picked raspberries in the very hot sun while I ran the mower over the near finished area. The plan is to put a couple of folding chairs back there and a small tent to watch the stars and meteors from at night. It's a snug and safe little area but we will keep the rake and shovel around for protection and security.

When I was young like my grandson if I had been abducted by Indians and taken to their village I would have been the boy who kicked and screamed when it was time to return to civilization. Before the little guy starts to attend school and learns to use a computerized cell phone I hope we can watch the shooting stars at night by our fire in our little annexed area just West of the Portage Lakes once
a prime hunting and fishing area for Native Americans. It will be a nice end to my life and a good start to his.

at the brink again and again

at the brink again and again

fiction
edward w pritchard

Again we are at the brink again and again. Again we have enemies faraway we are supposed to hate. Like good Puritans our elected officials are finding secret enemies distant from our shores for us to hate and fear to distract us from our problems. Like good Puritans tolerance is low and obtrusiveness is high; high enough to lead  to deadly air strikes and war maneuvers somewhere in a distant hot zone.

I have nothing against the Iranians. They are an ancient culture who subscribe to different philosophies than us. Leave them alone. Unless attacked pursue diplomatic solutions to avoid  foreign entanglements.

My enemies are close to home. Several departments of  government routinely cause me grief unnecessarily. Naive of me, who thought we were supposed to be the good guys.

what we miss most about Earth from deep space

what we miss most from deep space

fiction
edward w pritchard

In no particular order here's what I miss most about my Home planet Earth from deep space.

There are no rain and lightening and rolling thunder storms in deep space. The sound of continuous falling rain  drumming on the ground is just not the same when simulated by one of our space side
computer generated relaxation sessions.

One never encounters a deer chewing on a leaf gazing thoughtfully forward in a still woods while in deep space.

Lastly these women here on the spaceship are always furtively gazing at their cellphone for secret messages here on the spaceship while we are in deep space. Wasn't it so much the better when they were interested in us and the spacious present rather than nefarious hidden rendezvouses?

stand straight stand still

stand straight stand still

fiction
edward w pritchard


Don't we enjoy looking at old West pictures of cowboys, Indians and famous gun toting murderers.
Stand straight, stand still they were all told by the famous photographers.

Forty thousand buffalo hides piled up for loading on the railroad, no pre-picture instructions necessary.

A squaw with a baby bundled in a cradle board looking morose somewhere on the ancient Apache hunting grounds. Soldiers on horseback in background stare at ground.

Thirsty, dusty Cowboys herds cattle for shipment by railroad to Chicago.

Nameless dance hall girl in a new red dress before she married, had six children, and worked a farm for forty years near Deadwood.

Little four year old boy, smiling because he got a new hat, 1898 Wyoming.

Old West pictures-look at the silence.

bargaining with the devil

bargaining with the devil

fiction
edward w pritchard

Wanting to raise a little quick cash to withstand the up coming financial storms on wall street I searched out and did beseech the Devil to buy my soul.The Devil looked at me with those intriguing black eyes saying he didn't understand the leviathan american economy and said he was laying low for a while. So for him business was temporarily on hold, until the slowdown was over and things picked up again.

Then he said "it starts next week".

" What should I do to withstand the gales to come." I ventured

"Pay the Doctor and check out of the big Hotel early he said",then whispered "before you go".

and I pleaded, help us

"You and the others are inconsequential" he said." the IRS doesn't mean to worry you" "just pay the Doctor before you go".

red sky in the morning

red sky in the morning

fiction
edward w pritchard

I enjoy the thrill of an ominous  red sky in the morning harbinger of howling winds and thunderous rains.

Never, I hope, will  storms be decoded to numerical predictions of banality by newscasters using mathematical formula's on the television to foretell  natures upcoming fury.

Like a small lemur, our ancient ancestor, in my cave I wait for the hard and furious upcoming storm.

Blow winds blow.

trade wars start too late

trade wars start too late

fiction
edward w pritchard


If only the trade war between the Us and China resulting possibly in the two Countries raising arms and armies over rare earth metals had occurred in 2014 I might have profited handily in a stock I was watching called Molycorp, a processor of rare earth metals.

That next year, 2015, Molycorp of Colorado filed bankruptcy and now won't raise spectacularly in price tomorrow  with the  opening of the New York stock exchange as speculators bid up rare earth metal companies ahead of belligerence between the Us and China over tariffs.

My lost fortune, always a day early and a dollar light.

Looking for a stock tip on rare earth metal companies? check out NOPMF, pink sheets, Neo Performance Inc. of Toronto Canada which among other things manufactures and distributes a metal
material  used in Petroleum processing that could compete with Chinese heavy metal products involved in oil and petroleum processing should the trade war intensify. It's risky, do your own research and of course consult your Doctor, Lawyer and Minister before investing real money.

what Hubble saw

what Hubble saw

fiction
edward w Pritchard


Some folks long to have lunch and an enlightening  talk with a diplomat, politician or billionaire
who has seen and done it all.

Me I would like to chat with the space telescope Hubble after Ghe [1] has completely and successfully
established consciousness and self awareness.

I would ask Hubble what's it like to stare in a deep deep corner of space for a dozen days and see one million galaxies merging and evolving and Hubble would reply what's it like to awaken at 4am and see a quarter of the Moon across a calm lake?

[1] Pritchard posits that intelligent machines of the highest caste will someday be referred to as "Ghe"
as a human might be called your Honor.

cultural relevency and numeracy

cultural relevancy and numeracy

fiction
edward wpritchard


For the rest of life I wouldn't walk up that gravel road
the gravel that the heavy cart
caused to crunch and groan
as  two drunk Roman soldiers
for punishment for sleeping and drinking on duty at Arimathea's tomb
pushed and hauled the heavy cart and wooden contents
up and down the road out of hilly Golgotha
until exhausted with dragging their burden
the guards upset the cart
and the content of the cross burst asunder into wooden pieces
the area peasants
ran out and snatched up the wood for their fireplaces
the smoke from their chimney's
awakened give or take, 12 billion Christians going forward
the new Christians give or take devout
some of whom
accepting on faith
that crosses last victim
resides somewhere above the atmosphere
and someday is coming back
after finding the way across a billion billion galaxies

trying hard to understand the scale

trying hard to understand the scale

fiction
edward w pritchard

Waking at 11 pm gazing to the SE sky familiar Jupiter has risen and I observe it as  steady companion to my eye across a few thousand generations. Before that we might have looked up at that crystal brightness of light briefly once as a lemur or other small mammal in the recent distant past.

With today's shared accumulated scientific knowledge I accept Jupiter is relatively close to us compared to distant objects in space perhaps a trillion times as far from earth as Jupiter. Or although I am trying hard to understand the scale of measure it could be wrong.

Man's bold assertion of our attempt of a conquest of Space. Like a lemur or other small mammal upward we gaze.

where is the duchy

where is the duchy

fiction
edward w pritchard

The same force that make an individual duchy become a Nation State makes a two individuals instantly become a couple. It's an invisible process to science. From the inside out it can be a state of bliss and security. They are a couple- it's the final adverb in contentment.

Moving about our state I don't see all that many couples any more. Especially among the young.

Ones sees a lot of old couples; he's ten feet walking ahead of her and she's monotonously talking- sort of to her self. Unless he has a cane for walk assist because of deteriorating health in which case she is moving ahead very fast into the future.

Unscientifically it seems that there aren't a lot of young couples. Hopefully not too many of them have decided to not be a couple because of the invisible entanglement, loyalty and duty required. Breezing through life having fast food grub hub-ed is less hassle.

Maybe a placeholder until the other half materializes? Sounds like an online business opportunity for a start up. No phone sex or chat groups please. Just someone to mention the dining room table needs updated.

it's always just the IV

it's always just the IV

fiction
edward w pritchard

The room is always perfectly square smallish and stuffed to the brim with fine furniture like a parlor in a Hapsburg castle in 1890's Vienna. The light and ventilation is serene although it crosses your mind quickly, your subconscious trying to protect and alert you, you may be in a basement bank vault on a slab somewhere. Still the room and setting is very inviting as your cares and anxieties dissolve.

Disappointingly the nurse administering the IV is not quite pretty enough and get this she is Canadian with a strange British accent. Still she is patient and invitingly forward in her hyper efficiency.

The mood is broken temporarily by a legal officer of the group needing a signature on a missing form for Google. Once you are fully out however nirvana envelopes you for the remainder of the session.

After you have forgotten the terrible traffic and road construction on the way in
as your arm aches near the inside of the elbow and you have a hint of sadness that you will never have her near you again.

Billing is later, you are a  primary consumer type PM-89.

too many artists not enough

too many artists not enough

fiction
edward w pritchard

We are still involved in the long term wave of History that began in 1871 with mighty France losing the Franco Prussian to Prussia by France having too many artists and not enough soldiers.

The wave continues into our time with manpower needs for fighting troops being supplemented with women soldiers. Not exactly my thing but soon the grand armies will be filled with women.Times are changing and the clues are becoming evident for female troops filling the history books with their exploits and misfortunes.

What will the French have to say about that?

it's sad to wise up

it's sad to wise up

fiction
edward w pritchard

Fifty years ago I spent a few months immersed in Carl Jung's writings. Each night after I finished the night audit at the hotel where I worked I would spend a few hours enjoying and educating myself reading Jung on archetypes and especially synchronicity.

Last week I bought another copy of the "The Portable Jung" edited by Joseph Campbell and today I spent a few hours rereading chapter 14 "on synchronicity". I was very disappointed by Jung's research and lack of proper statistics and of proper regard for the scientific method in presenting his evidence for  synchronicity," the idea that there is a sort of fore knowledge of the coming series of events". 

Sometimes it's sad to wise up. To this day I have never experienced anything supernatural  or witnessed anyone who can predict and name five cards in a row from a properly shuffled deck dealt by an impartial dealer.

We so all want to believe in miracles. David Hume in "On miracles" provides the best case against Miracles.

Ultimately the old Indian rope trick is always just a well planned out scam.

Babylon revisited again and again

Babylon revisited again and again

fiction
edward w pritchard

Once
if you lost something precious
you lay in bed and stare across the sky over the Lake at 3am, listening to the ducks and loons
and watch to see a streaking fiery meteor plunge into your old car
the only titled thing you own any more
if it turns out to be rare fire formed platinum, very valuable
you sell that meteor
then move down on the Ohio river
under the bridge that goes to the West Virginia casino
where you went before which was your first Babylon
and if the Meteor and the platinum induced money didn't come
you reread "Babylon revisited" the short story  by F.Scott Fitzgerald
and have to admit that damn could that Fitzgerald boy write
and finally understand why all writing is autobiographical
even if it's not so good

abandoned village

abandoned village

fiction
edward w pritchard

We are all the abandoned village. We are all the ghost towns left after the prospectors have moved on searching for easier riches. We are all refugees fleeing from persecution or natural disasters.

There is a collective unconsciousness among humans. However the complete manifestation of the end game is not knowable to us individually at this time.

We are all the tens of thousands of ordinary people killed after a flash of light at Hiroshima.We are all the refugees planning to scale the Walls that keep us out. We are all the old waiting here to die after the young have fled.

pro soldier

pro soldier

fiction
edward w pritchard

Many Americans have become antiwar but pro-soldier. Which is understandable as Providence has provided us with perhaps the largest, richest bounty of lands, mountains, rivers and living space
ever obtained by a civilization. With an assist by God America acquired by conquest most of our our fifty States. Now someone must secretly protect our flank.

Jousting at straw men again, we Americans should understand that others covet our abundance. Standing armies are the recipe for war. One day soldiers will be sent to War again. Others covet our abundance and freedom and other others covet our freedom of and from worship.

War, sometimes it just happens.

Protecting Zelda

Protecting Zelda

fiction
edward w pritchard

At a restaurant recently I saw a young twenty something girl exhibiting her style and uniqueness by wearing a black floppy Hat, thick black framed glasses and black lipstick. At such times I always remember Zelda Sayre and my attempts to protect her as she changed from being around F Scott Fitzgerald  the writer who was a bit of a bore and a humbug. True to my premonitions the girl's boyfriend seemed more interested in the food of the mediocre restaurant than the vivacious young lady that fate had matched him with there at the restaurant yesterday where I played the silent voyeur.

Zelda was always interesting as a young socialite vying for attention back in Montgomery, Ala.
and a bit spoil-ed as the youngest child but it wasn't until Fitzgerald began promoting her to sell books as the world's first flapper that she began to lose herself. I always thought that pretty boy Scott Fitzgerald caused Zelda to develop the Schizophrenia that destroyed her.

The  last time I saw my secret Zelda she gave me that coy smile oh so briefly. A few years later I heard she was killed in a fire while a patient in a sanitarium. Too sad for satire. Fitzgerald drank himself to death a few years earlier. I never forgave Fitzgerald and although I never could finish his first autobiographical novel"this side of paradise" I had to admit the"Gatsby" was well written. After Zelda and Fitzgerald died I hated the Nazi's after WW2 to appease my guilt at not being able to protect the young Zelda Sayre.

endless white bread

endless white bread

fiction
edward w pritchard

Sometimes when I dream of the anarchy about to flood America's border walls caused by endless streams of illegal  aliens from Central America I hear them whispering to each other and their children that when they get to America "there will be endless white bread for everyone."

You know the white bread -from the dollar store that even the low income folks won't eat because it tastes old, doughy, starchy and stale. Yet the illegals who are good people although I don't speak Spanish do I hear faraway telling their children that when they get to America they can eat endless white bread. As they speak I hear the reverence in their voices for the affluence of America as measured in endless loaves of white bread.

Wouldn't it be humane if the aliens could do a trial period in America in Detroit or Akron, Ohio to see what  it's like to take the bus to work at the dollar store and have all the white bread to eat that anyone could want.

Pray for Brittany

Pray for Brittany

fiction
edward w pritchard

A picture is making the rounds of the Internet of Brittany Spears in which her former manager says she appears to be terrified upon leaving extended stay a mental health facility for treatment. She certainly appears to not be herself and in need of comfort in the photographs in question.

Please pray for Brittany. Please pray even if like me you are not strong believer.

Once I was robbed at gun point and for a moment or two I had two loaded pistols pointed within four inches of my head. I was not in the least scared then or later. Later a police chief interviewed and interrogated me related to me being held at gunpoint while working. The chief described me  as having a flat affect, meaning no emotion at all concerning the incident.

Another time nearly a half century later I received a phone call imparting bad news to the status quo as I lived it and I was described shortly thereafter by an impartial observer as being temporarily "scared to death".Yet I was in absolutely no imminent danger merely receiving normal information by phone.

Please pray for Brittany. Please pray even if like me you are not a bona fide believer.

James Longstreet Confederate Civil war General was fearless in battle and a man's man burly and tough. Yet even though he was a veteran of many bloody in war encounters his attitude and nature was changed when three of his children died suddenly of scarlett fever. Following his children's deaths Longstreet changed his philosophy in battle from offensive and aggressive to defensive and cautious to the detriment of his later reputation as a General. Perhaps his mind could never blot-out the sudden deaths of those three children.

Please pray for Brittany that she may find solace.

first full moon past Easter

first full Moon pasts Easter

fiction
edward w pritchard

Certainly as DNA testing and probing of our ancestral racial memories using futuristic brain scanning techniques becomes more accurate in the not too distant future Christians will wish to have their brains scanned for distant racial memories of the first full Moon past Easter at the time of Jesus' arising and resurrection. If you would be a believer in the significance of the Resurrection the first full Moon past Easter less than a month after Jesus' death would  be of importance to you concerning exactly where your ancient relatives did abide on the first Easter. Your future relatives might consider that ancient full Moon just past the first Easter as personally significant and remarkable.

Listen now under a full Moon in your room at night. Imagine your ancient ancestors straining to hear roaming packs of howling Wolves near where they were sleeping and hooting owls whispering warning. Someday such racial memories will be recoverable from our future relatives collective unconsciousness's.