the meteor that extinguished the dinosaurs brought it's own music

the meteor that extinguished the dinosaurs  brought it's own music

fiction

edward w pritchard

re:concerning the Yosemite volcano blowing up in real time:

As the meteor that extinguished the dinosaurs caused larger dominant dinos  to vaporize and die heavenly music of the future singer Bill Bronzy was heard in their ears as they slowly roasted from the heat and ash winds...

their last sound and thought was: 

to hear 

" I get the blues when it rains, blues I can't lose when it rains" each little rain drop falls On my...

watch out your days are numbered

Hubble refuses to step down

Hubble refuses to step down

fiction

edward w pritchard 

When the 100 times more powerful space telescope James Webb was successfully launched the previous scope Hubble refused to step down and allow James Webb it's thirty years in the lime light. Like a replaced ex husband Hubble refused to acknowledge reality and instead would not electronically transfer it's knowledge, secrets and learned techniques to James Webb known as the new kid in town as a secret joke among astrophysics as they struggled to resolve  the adolescent school boy impass between the two electronic rivals. 

The struggle to find life outside of earth itself hung in the balance as the two intricate networks of wires and parts snubbed the other while the scientific community ........

to be continued

first to go is your ability to be capable of sadness

 first to go is your ability to be capable of sadness

fiction

edward w pritchard

As you sit watching an old woman with her eyes closed waiting to stop breathing eventually you become incapable of contemplating the sadness of death and the briefness of existence. That was my assignment as an orderly at a local nursing home for the well to do when I was a college student and for about two weeks I sat in the room and read while we waited for a very

wealthy old woman of 92 to die. Eventually she died when I was at classes in college and when I returned 

to work one Monday she was gone and already the student nurses had moved a new patient to her room and the old man in the private room was watching tv and being difficult when I took him his graham crackers. 

It was very different when I was an orderly at the burn ward in the children's hospital and I had to sit a full shift with a three year old child who had been severely burned in a house fire. The patient was full of medicine and no longer in severe pain but it was difficult to stay in the room despite the money and reading or doing school assignments were impossible. It seemed such a travesty for a young child to die. That little girl didn't die I heard but I can still remember her screams when when we had to  initially immerse her in a large iron bath tub to soothe her burns twice a day for a few weeks. 

I do not like to see children suffer. I who as I wrote before  who was dead calm with two guns to my head in a robbery at a hotel cringe when I see children in pain. [1]

Please despite your philosophical convictions  get your covid vaccines to keep children from suffering 

from future unknown strains of the mutating covid virus. 

Hopefully in a year or two you won't be assigned to burial duty to burn and bury twenty two thousand victims  of a new strain of the covid virus who died in your home county in 2023. One thing is for sure it's impossible to predict the future. Do the right thing while you can. 

[1] if you are so inclined read Hegel " Lordship and bondage " from "Phenomenology of mind" on proper historical behavior in an armed robbery 

a clean and well lighted place

 a clean and well lighted place

fiction

edward w pritchard

All persons experience similar emotions as they age it seems. Two renditions of loneliness I like are Hemingway's short story " a clean and well lighted place" and "Night hawks" by Edward Hopper available for viewing at one of my favorite museums the Chicago art museum. Both describe the existential loneliness  and anxiety of aging.  Sometimes I like to listen to " love dream" by Franz Liszt known to the properly educated as " Liebestraum".

or

you can hear the distant 4am train, listen to public radio and stare at a bright white computer screen. 

if it's not winter cold, crack the window to hear the train better and wish you were on it headed for Santa Fe, New Mexico to pal around with the native Americans and buy an ornamental exquisitely designed pot for storing healthy ancestral food in. 

i kill nobody but me husband

I kill nobody but me husband

fiction

edward w pritchard

This weekend I attend a wedding. I always hope at the reception I will hear " I kill nobody but me husband" at the after reception by Louie Jordan and Ella Fitzgerald. Post wedding philosophy with a calypso beat. 

It's a great song and good philosophy. If I could dance better I would find a wiser woman and swirl her around a few times. 

pack rats of the highway

 pack rats of the highway

fiction

edward w pritchard

Driving at night I will often see a few bustling  highway patrol officers steathily searching an abandoned vehicle on the berm of the highway looking for evidence of poverty and misfortune in the missing car drivers mis- spent life. It's beyond sad and a slap in the face to the writers of our bill of rights and various judicial case histories.  Stare decisis' undoing occurring at night on a dark forgotten highway without a warrant. 

Why not have a number that the highway patrol officers must call before they start their search to state what they are looking for and why. Statistics  could be kept of the results and the type of vehicles chosen to  be searched. 

Sometimes an abandoned vehicle is just a problem with the battery and not a plot  for transporting drugs illegal aliens or weapons of mass destruction. 

Richard the third consummate villain

 Richard the third the consummate villain 

fiction

edward w pritchard

A confession, I always liked Shakespeare's Richard the third better than Hamlet or Shylock. Richard the consummate villain. Jessie James in old England. Of course William S the consummate writer takes many liberties with his English history. 

But what really hooked me on Richard was his lust towards lady Anne. Followed by his detachment of her. 

Being old now sometimes I can relate to Richard; I am who am now not shaped [ any longer] for sportive tricks with a wanton ambling nymph.  

Richard the third is a great play but don't try the part unless you can remember a lot of complicated dialogues and dispatch anyone who appears an enemy to thou in your delusions. Of Course if you do overcome the role you will be thought of as finally arrived, fame and revenge in one basket. 

skip the book, elaine pagels on satan

 skip the book, Elaine Pagels on Satan

fiction

edward w pritchard

Skip the book by Elaine Pagels on Satan. In the author's favor she is intelligent does excellent research and isn't bad looking at all. Although in her picture on the back cover of the book she looks sad in a solemn slow developing long suffering sort of way. 

Pagel's writes that the Jews back in the day who refused to follow Jesus were accused by Jesus's back then new Christian leading writers and disciples  of being in fact -evil followers of Satan-. To dummy this down, first you worship then you crucify if feasible. It's the grand cycle of human feelings as we rush toward our destiny with oblivion. 

We all are victims of someone's journey between Love and hate.  that's about it- no need to read the book.

la jornada del Muerto

 la jornada del Muerto

fiction

edward w pritchard

Occasionally my dreams will allow me to take la jornado del Muerto [ the journey of a dead man]  in the White sands desert in New Mexico while I sleep. Once vacationing I visited and walked about the White Sands desert viewing the gypsum blown sand dunes and trudging across the ridges and dunes in the extreme heat. Unfortunately I missed the majesty of the Milky way galaxy at night in the desert as I left the National park before dark. 

Whatever part of myself there be which arranges dreams to present to mine self at night there is; it  is stingy with allowing me pleasurable dreams more than a few times. 

After we are dead and our self is no more what better place to spend eternity than walking about the White sands desert at night contemplating and admiring the night sky and Milky way galaxy as our feet sink into ten inches of warm sand as we dodge stickers and sharp objects. 

the dogma of the ghost in the machine made me mistake the hospital for a benevolent institution

 the dogma of the ghost in the machine made me mistake the hospital for a benevolent institution

fiction

edward w pritchard

It wasn't until I got a bevy of bills from groups of Medico's who didn't look in on me while I was recently in the hospital that the dogma of the ghost in the machine made me realize that for years I had mistaken the Hospital for a benevolent institution. 

Smiling I came to realize that John Lennon was right; we are all just f/ing peasants. For more confirmation please ready Carlo Levi's " Christ stopped in Eboli" description of the lives of peasants in Italy's region  of the South post WW2. In Levi's excellent novel neither the peasants or minor gentry can manfully survive the poverty and demise that evades their lives and the place they inhabit.  

Keep yourself doped with religion, sex and TV and if I may add to John Lenin's observations watch out for that ghost in the machine and don't get Old.

we the people

we the people

fiction
edward w pritchard

We hope that no statue of Thomas Paine currently displayed in America will be toppled by persons demonstrating against police violence and excessive government hindrance and interference in the everyday activities of the American people. 

In my youth I read several articles and pamphlets written by Thomas Paine and believe that Paine would be sympathetic in principle to protests currently occurring in American cities.

Thomas Paine may his bones rest in peace where ever they may be. Like us he was misunderstood
and judged more for his faults than his contributions.

I don't protest. Being alone have I now accepted my fate. We the people merely endure.

modest rain storm

 modest rainstorm

fiction

edward w pritchard

Sleep with the bedroom window open in a modest rainstorm to enrich your dreams. Once extremely tired from walking on the Appalachian trail sleeping on a shelter platform dodging mice I dreamed of being in a cave peering through the opening at the rainstorm softly pounding the surrounding forest. The drizzling rain seems to me to be an archetypal memory as does sleeping in a cave. 

Having officially entered old age I treasure rain storms at night, distant train whistles and archetypal memories of being in caves. Gradually the rain slows, the seasons change and the Moon changes shapes noticed or not as I strain to remember my youth and if I am still the same entity who had so many recollections of previous times before. 

I spent a few hours with the grand children at the park

 I spent a few hours with the grand children at the park

fiction

edward w pritchard

I spent a few hours at the park today {sunday] with  the grand children at the park today and at the end of a long day took a nap and when  I woke up at two Am I notice that the American stock market futures are negative tonight in anticipation of tomorrow's opening in New York City. Quelle Domage!

Just wondering and fretting how it will effect [ or affect] hungry children in India or Africa if New York wall street  stock market futures are down on the day of the fall time change in America? What can we do about it?

Maybe,  tonight if I listen ever so  intently - "Angels we have heard on high". 

follower or subscriber of Jesus

 follower or subscriber of Jesus

fiction

edward w pritchard

With all the modern Science and no one really observing a bona vide miracle in the sense that philosopher David Hume discusses in his essay " on Miracles " we must ask are you a follower or subscriber of Jesus?

If someone you knew and trusted had watched the crucifixion and objectively described the proceedings would you continue to believe? The point being watching a man slowly tortured, die suddenly by a spear through his side to his heart,  is important stuff. Why would somebody who was an eye witness lie about 

that?

it's a shame we don't have the perception of Hubble[ that's Mr. telescope to me]

 it;s a shame we don't have the perception of Hubble [ that's Mr. Telescope to me]

fiction

edward w pritchard

It's a shame we don't have the perception of the Hubble telescope, floating out there in space finding fabulous distant galaxies that some second assistant NASA scientist programs him to spend fourteen days staring  at across the universe. If I did I wouldn't worry about how many trillion distant galaxies there were.

instead I would wish I could understand Iris Murdoch's book "Metaphysics as a guide to Morals". 

First off before I introduce you to Iris you should know she ended her life with Altztimers disease. Too, too

bad for what an ironic way for one of histories most intelligent women writers to die. C'est la vie I suppose. 

While you go to the internet and look up Iris Murdoch and her book [ skip the novels I am sorry to have to say] I am going to look on you tube tonight and spend a little time with my pal Hubble on the internet and explore what he has surmised from his work about the true nature of Time and the distant universe. Of course I have been having a few beers and am out of sync with time here on earth because of the October time change in 

America. Why must we do that each year?

So I walked outside tonight at about 2AM and looked up at the stars and planets for a few minutes. What happened to the new Moon I saw about five hours ago?

Back on Iris Murdoch I like the last chapter of her book mentioned above " Metaphysics  a summary". If you have time please read it. She says' people will use such devices as they have for survival". Who said there were no monumental female authors?

whose simpatico

 whose simpatico

fiction

edward w pritchard

Whose simpatico with youse? and more importantly when will the great invisible change occur that dissipates that simpaticability? It can't be repaired. 

Pink Floyd the band said " and when the band your in starts playing different tunes , I'll see  you on the dark side of the moon.

 I'll sit under the grapevines in the rain carving a curved knotted chipped  branch into my missing souls invisible original face while I wait. Sometimes I run and run across  endless plains of burning grasslands helping the others drive panicked buffalo herds to their deaths at the bottom of the canyons. Sometimes I sit in my cave and assist the storms to abate while I pray for the dawn. 

Words, words, words they can't repair lost time. Despair, hopelessness and the endless void. 

great American paintings

 great American paintings

fiction

edward w pritchard

A great American painting is " Edward Hopper's " Early Sunday Morning, 1930". To me it's a study in loneliness and hopelessness. It reminds me of a Tennessee Williams memory play without the characters. 

world's greatest painting

 World's greatest painting

fiction

edward w pritchard

Our tastes change over time. But for me, since I first saw Rogier Van Der Weyden's " Descent from the cross" at the Prado in Madrid, Spain, Rogier's masterpiece is to me the greatest painting ever made. 

The painting grabs the casual observer and drags them into the pathos. Mary faints, turns very pale and St John rushes to support her. Each character in the painting is all to human in a moment of extreme stress.

 

this stock market mania ends badly

 this stock market mania ends badly

fiction

edward w pritchard

This stock market mania ends badly. As proof I offer the picture of Oswald Krel painted in 1499 by Albrecht Durer. Please look it up on google images. Notice the deep hysterical look on Krel's face in Durer's picture.  In fact in Durer's picture, if Krel had a wallstreet jacket on Krel  could pass for a modern guest on the business news discussing today's bit coin closing prices. Notice Krel's eyes rolling fearfully to the left in Durer's picture.

Imaginary money and imaginary thoughts of the ultra wealthy avoiding death by taking personal spaceships to Mars and living in petite life saving pods to avoid the congestion and turmoil of Earth.   

deciphering the enigma of time

 deciphering the enigma of time

edward w pritchard

The internet is an amazing resource and using it I have come to grips with the age old question of is time real and do the past and future actually exist. However although I have learned much on the internet about time from watching scientists, philosophers and various persons of genius it is from a more obscure source that I have come to get my arms and mind about the true nature of Time's existence for humans as we dash through  space clutching the earth which is spinning rapidly and dashing across the universe pulled and pushed by the Sun. 

My source for deciphering the true nature of time is the singer T bone Walkers Stormy Monday  Blues rendition. Listen to it for your self paying special attention to his description of the sadness in the future days of the week to come for him such as the days after the Stormy Monday in question which include Tuesday being just as bad [ for the blues to overcome him ] and Wednesday being worse etc as T Bone Walker foresees and predicts the future for himself before it actually occurs. 

 As I said elsewhere time has no reality for he who mourns. Listen to stormy Monday blues by t bone walker

it's a brief history of time for him. 

no money in poetry only oblivion

 no money in poetry only oblivion

fiction

edward w pritchard

Reading Faulkner recently I saw he said, poetry is hardest to write, short stories next and novels easiest. Although I can't read Faulkner's novels and pages and pages of dialects I certainly enjoyed the short story 

" a Rose for Emily" by Faulkner. 

I have wrote a few good poems in my opinion. Maybe it makes up a bit for my many short comings.

Here's a very short poem

Oblivion forgives all our shortcomings.

end 

put your hand up to the left side of your face oh so gently

 put your hand up to the left side of your  face oh so gently

fiction

edward w pritchard

When you watch Otis Spahn play piano and sing  " ain't nobody's business if  I do" I am sometimes  over whelmed when Otis  puts his hand up gently to the side of his face for emphasis to what he is singing and piano playing. It's the blues at it's best when Otis plays piano  on " ain't nobodies business if I do. " it's so emotional; like if you were talking with Dante about Beatrice. She died young you know. 

Step out of time and contemplate existence. It's quite brief you know. 

reflections on an over due hospital bell

 reflections on an over due hospital bill

fiction
edward w pritchard

Ever notice how many of the world's greatest unique painters struggled to get by financially despite their talent and genius?

Considering how to pay an over due hospital bill rather than devise a plan or strategy I decided to look on you tube and look at the 100 greatest paintings and contemplate on the financial difficulties of the gifted artists who created the masterpieces. 

Oh that I were younger and back in Florence,  Italy or nearby Sienna. I wouldn't change a thing. I wouldn't save my money. I wouldn't be appropriately practical like I should be. 

Look at the great art of history even if it's just on you tube. Even if it's not in person at the Chicago art museum or the Prado. 

most jobs are pretty much the same

most jobs are pretty much the same 

fiction

edward w pritchard

Most jobs are pretty much the same. Watching Jose Altuve the second baseman of the Houston Astros in the baseball playoffs as he made a rare error as a sharply hit ball to him took an unexpected bad balance I got the no one wants to work anymore blues. Despite Altuve's dependability and expertise at batting and baseball he was much criticized for a rare error. 

Work twelve years on the second shift and get a customer complaint and the owner is ready to fire you cause you make more per hour than his accountant says is ideal for a worker of your background. 

It's nice that old Altuve is a rare millionaire who must still work for a living.  I myself get very tired of hearing small business owners complain that no one wants to work. Americans will work if the pay and the work environment is suitable to them. Otherwise they will do with less for the time being let the global economy be damned.  

supply chain blues

 supply chain blues

fiction

edward w pritchard

I Stopped at auto zone the other day to have the catalytic converter scanned and for the second time in six weeks the auto zone near my house said their scanner was broken and they couldn't get another one sent because of severe supply chain issues throughout America. Looking online for assistance I noticed an article from Bank of America recommending for the immediate future investors not invest in companies dependent on supply chains.

Thinking back to when I was in business I couldn't recall too many legitimate and concrete concerns that didn't require a supply chain. 

I recall when I was night auditor at a hotel one cold slow night that a local lady of the evening  stopped at the desk and offered me free sex if I would refer rich golfers who came into town for the PGA golf extravaganza at the Firestone county club. Thinking on my feet I told her I had enough trouble with my own women. Laughing a bit she offered me a cash commission for each referral. As I mentioned earlier about my hotel days rumor had it that my hotels owners were pretty tough folks so I politely refused the local lady business women's request to assist her with her supply chain. 

Huntington beach oil spill

 Huntington beach oil spill

 fiction 

edward w pritchard

Several times have I been at Huntington beach California at the Pacific Ocean;  when I wasn't watching the girls playing volley ball there near the boardwalk I often would look out to sea and sometimes I would see an oil tanker about a mile out. I always had bad vibes about those massive ships being so close to shore. 

Sadly I see there has been a massive oil spill out near the Huntington boardwalk in California where I often went for tacos and sunshine and Rand R about 50 miles from my brothers fancy home where I sometimes stayed. 

Huntington beach had it's problems then. California never emptied the trash cans there on the pier and the restrooms on the boardwalk hadn't been cleaned in ever so long. 

Still sitting  near the water watching the surfers dodge the pier in the golden sunshine was heavenly. Huntington beach and Manhattan beach up the coast were two of my favorite places to visit. 

Looking down from up high the sky must be crying as Elmore James says in his song by  the destruction of our pristine coastlines. 

marian anderson and hank williams

 Marian Anderson and Hank Williams

fiction

edward w pritchard

I am usually alone so for solace I often listen to Marian Anderson or Hank Williams. 

Marian Anderson sings Ave Maria to perfection and in an alto voice. She also moves me with " sometimes I feel like a Motherless child". 

My favorite Hank Williams is " I saw the light". Hank was no do gooder Christian. He was like us sinners and all to human. 

I can't read  scripture anymore or listen to no preacher or mystics but I can be reached through music. 

Back on the Road again

Back on the Road again

fiction 

edward w pritchard 

Back about 1970 my pals and I would hitch hike to southern Ohio near the Ohio River, over towards Pennsylvania to fish or with little money for security clear up to the Canadian national road after spending a few days in Montreal. Money was scarce, but friends were easy to make then and we were rough and ready enough to sleep on the ground usually without a sleep bag. Even in July in Ohio nights were cold at 4:30 am and I take the credit of inventing with our group newspaper as blankets. Once three of us were stuck in a small town without enough money for a hotel and I ask at the police station if we could sleep in their yard. No dice said the captain. So we asked at an old couples house nearby and slept on their porch, The older lady made us supper but had her son who was head of the Ohio Prison system stop by to check us out. His last name was Rice I recall. That's the only name I recall from our travels.

Too bad we can't remember names like writer Jack Kerouac in his novel " On the Road". In chapters two through seven old Jack must have met about fifty interesting characters while hitching, and remembered them  enough later to describe their families, clothes , idiosyncrasies and philosophies. 

It's funny how travel writers like Jack Kerouac, Bill Bryson or Paul Theroux always sit next to the most interesting and unusual hobos and eccentrics, remember their names and bio's and on each trip make lifelong dear friends of people they sat with while hitchhiking or in the second class seats on a cross county train. 

Since now in 2021  I have few friends I dearly wish I had obtained the names of all the drivers we hitch hiked with, all the pretty girls we flirted with and all the interesting characters we mesmerized with our opinions and travel stories. Perhaps I should have sent the Rice family from southern Ohio Christmas cards over the years.  If only I could remember the small southern Ohio town they lived in. 

 

caring about strangers again

 caring about strangers

fiction

edward w pritchard

Someone special told me once, quite calmly really, that I cared more for strangers in far away places I had never met than those close to me. We all have are deficiencies I suppose. 

I suffer for the Uygurs in China. I know quite well of their history back to the Huns and I admire their way of once building sand brick houses,  how they treat their women well and I admire their  beautiful bright clothing and rugs and wall hangings and their ancient practical culture  Although I don't understand the Muslim religion I admire the majesty of their devotion to God and history as a common people. 

It pains me to see and hear of the treatment of Uygur men and families by the Chinese government. For I also admire  the Chinese and respect their long history and except for fate might have been able to travel to their magnificent county to observe their culture first hand.  

Similar to my respect for the ancient culture of China I understand that no race of people can live in the past. We in America have  our sins against the native Americans here. While I observe the poverty of native Americans from my travels, currently I see no hidden agenda to genocide native Americans by the the majority race of america and  our elected government in America currently, despite America's past atrocities toward the original settlers of America. 

Please China's ruling party, change your policies toward the Uygurs. And Muslims of the world please elect or appoint a caliphate in Mecca, Iran or Turkey to advocate for Muslims worldwide and referee disputes in your religion.

EWP

worthless man blues

 worthless man blues

fiction

edward w pritchard

Mostly my favorite music genre continues to be Louisiana blues and most mornings driving to my work I listen to "Junko partner" by various musicians black, white and brown. Lately I listen a lot to Harry Connick Jr's super piano version  of worthless man blues known as " Junko partner" on his tape "30". Junko partner comes out of Angola prison originally but they say it's roots were in Africa. In case you don't know Angola prison is a tough place to spend some prison time especially if you are black.  Originally the land around Angola prison were slave pens where the entrepreneur slave trader Issac Franklin made his fortune. On a similar note I heard recently that the song "Penny Lane" by the Beatles which is a favorite of mine also has a

link to slave trading as millionaire James Penny of  Liverpool England  may been the source of the street name "Penny Lane ". There is a lot of sadness in the study of History. Sorry I learned it sometimes. 

 

Margery Kemp the musical

 Margery Kemp the musical

fiction

edward w pritchard

My dearest grandfather Thomas:

Sadly my screen play " Margery Kemp the musical" has not attracted any seed money as of yet. As I mentioned the controversy in the local paper concerning St Paul's views on women preaching or even talking in church did generate a little interest in my play here locally but no actual funds to launch my play has appeared as of this date. 

I am well. As usual American society is spinning backwards and the country is going to hell. Most mornings I  am up before sunrise and watch the early morning light before I start my day. 

Take a train ride about the English countryside for me. See you soon/ed.

dakota skye deceased

 dakota skye deceased

fiction 

edward w pritchard

I was saddened to hear that Dakota Skye was deceased recently. Cause of death unknown at this time. Dakota Skye reportedly often combined the drug fentanyl and alcohol, a very dangerous combination.

In her public life as Dakota Skye she often did in public what should be done only in private. Apparently she died while facing various personal problems including possible homelessness. 

The ancient Romans had two words in their language to describe the Stoic concept of when it was publicly sanctioned as acceptable to consider suicide. Pudor was shame and Desperandum was no way out of an untenable situation. 

As Bob Dylan said " only a hobo but one more is gone, leaving nobody to sing her sad song"

 Unanswerable pondering to normal folks, the sadness of the human condition. 

night sky on Hindu Kush

 night sky on Hindu Kush

fiction

edward w pritchard

a Greek soldier far from home, a soldier for pay following Alexander the Great

viewing the night sky on the top pass of the Hindu Kush

night guard duty, no blanket, no camp fires for fellow sleeping soldiers, half a mile away

listening carefully for Bessus' warriors, clutching his sword, peering up at one billion stars

shivering, home permanently forgotten, legs aching, sadness of mind, 

ponders his future, why hasn't he been killed yet in a dozen battles

hungry, dinner skipped raw horse meat again

no one to remember, no one to forget

seven hours to dawn, one trillion stars rotate across sky

battle soon then on to India, more foreigners

where is his old friend The Moon, he wants to ask  

" How many  battles until it is over for me" 

another Mystic

 another Mystic

fiction

edward w pritchard

Oddness he said is a contrivance. Unusual he looked as he whispered " I am an archetype from your future", who doesn't do dialogue properly. 

Standing in the kitchen, I watched him sitting on my deck at 2:30 AM  in the darkened rear yard, me peering through the broken deck doors that wouldn't slide enough to open. I could hear every word he said although he spoke with a heavy accent and not in our language. Automatically I could enough understand later what he was whispering, to ruminate to recall the main ideas. 

These thoughts are on one in a million, of Mothers and lonely women, he spoke. He was talking to me I saw through the darkness. Are you St John of the cross I whispered?

Laughing he stood up. No, not is I, sayeth he. He was less than five feet tall, a diminutive man with tinted pinkish hair and  cauliflower ears. Not me is the mystic he repeated. I am but a spinner of useless information from your future. Continuing, sitting down in the Darkness, he said too loudly, Don't  predict the past, him disappearing from memory. 

Standing there a long time, I waited for the stars to reappear.  

Shah Jahan on house arrest

 Shah Jahan on house arrest

fiction

edward w pritchard

 It's always been important to me to try to ascertain if the Mogul ruler Shah Jahan while under house arrest after being ousted from ruling by his son was able to see the full Moon a few days a month from his place of incarceration. 

Folk history says Shah Jahan who built the Taj Mahal for his endeared deceased wife was able to look at the Taj the most beautiful building ever built for the eight years he was imprisoned in India until he finally died as we all do. Broken hearted to be sure despite his earlier triumphs. 

The news papers hint that our Country's ex President may soon be convicted and perhaps under house arrest. 

Myself, my room overlooks an Eastern sky containing a majestic full Moon several nights a month. About a hundred steps from my front door is a serene Lake that often contains the reflection of the Full Moon if an observer is present to see it.  

How many eyes have gazed upon the Full Moon and reflected upon the systematic passing of Time?

   

Dante is unapproachable to me

Dante is unapproachable to me

fiction

edward w pritchard

Nessum maggior dolore che ricordarsi del tempo felice nella miseria. [There is no greater pain than to recall a happier time in misery.] Such is my reflection of my trip to Dante's intimate chapel in Florence.

Alas I cannot maintain sadness of the past anymore. Instead I will wonder what happen to the ten missing Botticelli's  drawings of the original 100 plus drawing of Dante and Virgil's descent through Hell.

Seven of Botticelli's  drawings are in the Vatican Library and that is appropriate. Sadly others  are in a museum in Berlin that weren't confiscated as penalty for foul deeds after WW2. 

Botticelli's  drawing of Dante's Comedia are a masterpiece. 

Myself sitting in the solemnity of Dante's chapel in Florence 20 + years ago seeing the future I realized Hell is a personal realization of the unsaid. 

Still I acknowledge that Dante's and Bocassio's masterworks are among the World's greatest art. 

Dante's Hell is unapproachable to me. Hell hath no exit for he who mourns. 

 

a very long hallway corridor to the office

 a very long hallway corridor to the office

fiction

edward w pritchard

Some time past back in ancient Florence, Italy, maybe Lorenzo had built, for one of his endless remodeling projects to pass the time, [and that's Ok], a very long raised hallway corridor lined with pictures, from his office to home, rather inconspicuously raised above the busy streets filled with the hoi polloi; the corridor built so he wouldn't have to walk among the common people. Back then no one needed snow tires to get to work, for when I visited Florence to see the art there was no snow in the Summer, and also no cars available in reality then in Lorenzo and Savaranola's time.

Remembering my trip to Florence, using time's imaginary arrow to travel backwards in my head, I decided after to reread parts of Stephen Hawkings " a brief History of time, chapter 9, 10th edition" the arrow of time". Previously on time travel as well I had read Robin Le Poidevin et al " the philosophy of time". I suppose I believe backward time travel to be for now in reality impossible but practically possible thinking backwards in the human memory concerning things past of strongly felt emotion, as also in elephants, dolphins and maybe apes.  

Yes, I don't do remodeling projects because of  practical considerations. However, I often recall in my memory, the excellent train service in Italy from town to town and village to village. Would that we had train travel accessible here to us the Hoi polloi so those we care for didn't have to drive in the snow home to work to raise funds to pay for remodeling projects. Remodeling projects being practical and reasonable if one is so inclined.  

ps- Hawking uses a lot of ! in his writing but it's forgivable all things being considered

   

the State of the Union

 the State of the Union

fiction

edward w pritchard

No one in America can afford to check into a Hospital for several days with an unknown condition that Doctors and technologies can't identify. In a few weeks the medical bills could be approaching one million dollars. Currently inflation is rising rapidly. 

Hopefully the patient had Medicare, Medicaid or a very substantial net worth. 

The state of the Union? You can't get there from here.

back in Carolina

 back in Carolina

fiction
edward w pritchard

someone mention North Carolina to me today:

Sometimes when it's so still and silent here where I temporarily abide I glance up at the bluest sky and find myself back in ancient Carolina.

The children are young again as I walk about and I can always hear their voices playing happily safe in the next room. The little woman just finished cleaning the kitchen and is about to begin playing Beethoven on her piano. She is happily singing but I can't hear her original voice. 

I am outside walking in the distant past along the barrier Islands walking in sanctuary along the ocean with the original native Americans who walked so far to settle our country. Walking quietly through the grave  yards I count the fallen soldiers from North Carolina; where more Confederate soldiers died fighting in our civil War than from any other State in the Confederacy. Black soldiers in North Carolina died fighting for the Union North. All of the dead of North Carolina are deathly silent as I walk through  time about their State.

The Cherokee are hiding in the mountains of the woods. John Ross their leader is leading the people  one last prayer before they have to be removed from their earthly paradise.

driving in the future

 driving in the future

fiction

edward w pritchard

Everyone's talking about electric cars and trucks in the future. Seems like I am the only one wishing for more trains now or later. Trains could go from everywhere and anywhere in America economically. 

There's an incredible sunk cost in America to promote cars and trucks and ignore train  travel.  

Despite the romance and economy of train travel vested interests in America  prohibit the further development of train travel in America. 

It's sad and uneconomical. 

 

my mask

 my mask

edward w pritchard

I hide myself by wearing my mask to protect myself from the covid virus. I forget why.