space lamentation number 4c/draft 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
Silent be my wagon bumping along rutted pioneerless trails
Becalmed am I, aship windless seas far from the cape of good hope
Friendless in perpetual night, blinded am I in astarless darkness
Loneliness accelerates alone, daily salt brings sudden death
Sadness times sorrow, the moon is my pillow, space dust my final resting place
Softly silent melancholy melody drifting from earth; recollection rekindles rebirth
Spheres in motion produce trade winds and I begin to drift homeward.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Friday, April 19, 2013
thoughts on death and divorce; lovers on the stream of time, the soul and the body
thoughts on death and divorce; lovers on the stream of time, the soul and the body
fiction
edward w pritchard
footnotes and source credits later
Traveling as lovers propelled on the stream of time I know what will happen years later, how things will end; when you warn me you will leave after a reasonable period of time.
Now I cling to you too tightly knowing one day you will unravel; I retreat into magical thoughts concerning our time together as I rehearse our break-up our eternal time apart.
Longing for the right to stay in your presence I become flighty and awkward; fears grow in me until I am not me and you are not you.
You are the body and I am the soul. I long to ask you how much longer do we have together? This can't happen we apart. I refuse to accept it.
You who would lovers be on the stream of time accept that the soul and the body will part. So revert to magical thinking to relive and retain the security of union. The sacred continuation as life.
Rationalize that there is order in the chaos of the split of the body and the soul. Re- remember when the body gave you overly elaborate directions to find it. How alone together separated from the world you two secretly huddled under your cloak. Time stood still then. For now re-live the utopia of your edited past.
or
Be Realistic about the coming separation of the body and the soul. Decay and destruction are necessary, part of nature. Fall back on existence as a cycle, you will meet over and over in time united in eternal recurrence.
or
Things could continue in a steady state, we live on biologically through our offspring and the continuation of the species.
or
Maybe there are many universes with many variant times and outcomes, in forked time you will exist again in many versions and variations.
or
Escape, the soul is alone but I am only sleeping for a long long time.
Who would lovers be accept the separation and alienation of the body and the soul. You were foreordained to drift eternally apart and alone on the stream of time.
end
to time with tongue in cheek
heading "your divorce recovery document 3"
fiction
edward w pritchard
footnotes and source credits later
Traveling as lovers propelled on the stream of time I know what will happen years later, how things will end; when you warn me you will leave after a reasonable period of time.
Now I cling to you too tightly knowing one day you will unravel; I retreat into magical thoughts concerning our time together as I rehearse our break-up our eternal time apart.
Longing for the right to stay in your presence I become flighty and awkward; fears grow in me until I am not me and you are not you.
You are the body and I am the soul. I long to ask you how much longer do we have together? This can't happen we apart. I refuse to accept it.
You who would lovers be on the stream of time accept that the soul and the body will part. So revert to magical thinking to relive and retain the security of union. The sacred continuation as life.
Rationalize that there is order in the chaos of the split of the body and the soul. Re- remember when the body gave you overly elaborate directions to find it. How alone together separated from the world you two secretly huddled under your cloak. Time stood still then. For now re-live the utopia of your edited past.
or
Be Realistic about the coming separation of the body and the soul. Decay and destruction are necessary, part of nature. Fall back on existence as a cycle, you will meet over and over in time united in eternal recurrence.
or
Things could continue in a steady state, we live on biologically through our offspring and the continuation of the species.
or
Maybe there are many universes with many variant times and outcomes, in forked time you will exist again in many versions and variations.
or
Escape, the soul is alone but I am only sleeping for a long long time.
Who would lovers be accept the separation and alienation of the body and the soul. You were foreordained to drift eternally apart and alone on the stream of time.
end
to time with tongue in cheek
heading "your divorce recovery document 3"
St Francis, the persistence of memory/ draft 1
St Francis, the persistence of memory/draft 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
see " let me die on a rainy day"
The girl sleeps peacefully under the ashen white comforter of her grandmother's third story attic as I pull on my boxer shorts.
Voyeuristically as I walk around the bedroom I read the girl's self improvements instructions to herself neatly lining the walls like a first grade classroom. Each is lettered neatly in green and has a stick figure of herself drawn in thick purple crayon, some with herself smiling and some with herself looking quizzical or just a bit pensive.
" to get there dress like you have already arrived", and "fake it until you make it" and " Persistence ...
It's too intimate so I go to the window and watch and preach to the birds as they swoop down from the evergreen tree toward the purple surface of the Portage Lakes.
She said she had saved enough money to go to California and when she got there she would be an industrial fabricating design artist.
The sensations are long gone and I forgot the first name but the screeching swooping birds, the majestic green evergreen tree, dark purple lake water, and her purple jeans neatly folded on the chair seem very real despite the passage of many years.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
see " let me die on a rainy day"
The girl sleeps peacefully under the ashen white comforter of her grandmother's third story attic as I pull on my boxer shorts.
Voyeuristically as I walk around the bedroom I read the girl's self improvements instructions to herself neatly lining the walls like a first grade classroom. Each is lettered neatly in green and has a stick figure of herself drawn in thick purple crayon, some with herself smiling and some with herself looking quizzical or just a bit pensive.
" to get there dress like you have already arrived", and "fake it until you make it" and " Persistence ...
It's too intimate so I go to the window and watch and preach to the birds as they swoop down from the evergreen tree toward the purple surface of the Portage Lakes.
She said she had saved enough money to go to California and when she got there she would be an industrial fabricating design artist.
The sensations are long gone and I forgot the first name but the screeching swooping birds, the majestic green evergreen tree, dark purple lake water, and her purple jeans neatly folded on the chair seem very real despite the passage of many years.
end
Friday, April 12, 2013
progress, american indians and billy the kid
progress, american indians and billy the kid
fiction
edward w pritchard
Author responds to the long dead legendary outlaw billy the kid's comments in the previous blog about one of the stories the author wrote previously
author
i have wanted to write something about the native Americans and the invincibility shirts that were supposed to protect them from the Americans bullets at wounded knee and other places
billy the kid
i never know what the stories you write mean but it would be great if somehow, at some times, we could have invincibility from the slings, arrows and bullets of outrageous fortune.
author
the medicine men of today promise that if we have the right health insurance policy, a big house and the proper relationship with our personal banker.
billy
you need to write more
author
i have been thinking
billy
uh huh
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
Author responds to the long dead legendary outlaw billy the kid's comments in the previous blog about one of the stories the author wrote previously
author
i have wanted to write something about the native Americans and the invincibility shirts that were supposed to protect them from the Americans bullets at wounded knee and other places
billy the kid
i never know what the stories you write mean but it would be great if somehow, at some times, we could have invincibility from the slings, arrows and bullets of outrageous fortune.
author
the medicine men of today promise that if we have the right health insurance policy, a big house and the proper relationship with our personal banker.
billy
you need to write more
author
i have been thinking
billy
uh huh
end
progress, american indians and Billy the kid
progress, american indians and billy the kid
fiction
edward w pritchard
billy the kid
i like this that you wrote, can you expand on it?
Sunday, October 30, 2011
American Indian Boy's song
American Indian Boy's song
fiction
edward w pritchard
Once I ate seven apples in two days,
I was sick and sorry.
Another time a lady at the fort throw two bags of apples away,
because they have spots on sides.
I held Lite lamb as he died
Farmer shoot at us for taking apples from ground,
thousands of apples on trees,.
Hundreds of apples on ground.
Lite Lamb bleed slowly to death.
I wrapped lite lamb in my blanket,
light lamb shiver as he bleeds.
Blanket still show blood,
Christian lady at fort wash blanket three times.
I ride fast and chase soldiers now.
Wrapped in blanket I think of Lite lamb before battles.
Posted by edward pritchard at 1:59 AM Labels: american Indian
fiction
edward w pritchard
billy the kid
i like this that you wrote, can you expand on it?
Sunday, October 30, 2011
American Indian Boy's song
American Indian Boy's song
fiction
edward w pritchard
Once I ate seven apples in two days,
I was sick and sorry.
Another time a lady at the fort throw two bags of apples away,
because they have spots on sides.
I held Lite lamb as he died
Farmer shoot at us for taking apples from ground,
thousands of apples on trees,.
Hundreds of apples on ground.
Lite Lamb bleed slowly to death.
I wrapped lite lamb in my blanket,
light lamb shiver as he bleeds.
Blanket still show blood,
Christian lady at fort wash blanket three times.
I ride fast and chase soldiers now.
Wrapped in blanket I think of Lite lamb before battles.
Posted by edward pritchard at 1:59 AM Labels: american Indian
Monday, April 1, 2013
billy the kid comments on pritchard's writing
billy the kid comments on pritchard's writing
fiction
ed pritchard
billy the kid
I did read one thing that you wrote that I liked.
author
which story
billy
this one, let's work it in to my biography.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
three characters, no story, weak author
fiction
edward w pritchard
Trailer park whore
Small nondescript antiquated diner. Food good. Owners struggling. Building run down, equipment kept running by grandson, two daughter's waitress, ex-son in law cooks; Son in law lives in the trailer park behind property.
Enter, Molly the traveling trailer park whore. She sits at counter on the bar stool. Several of old, old male customers notice Molly for she is a full breasted woman. Forty five to fifty Molly has a faded glory about her. Molly orders the full eggs special, with meat and potatoes. Several of customers stretch themselves back to former times and hit on Molly. Molly waits patiently. Molly will sit at the bar until she finds some one from the trailer park to spend the next day or two with before she is on her way. Molly is the traveling trailer park whore.
Enforcer:
Small nondescript antiquated diner. Food good. Owners struggling. Building run down, equipment kept running by grandson, two daughter's waitresses, ex-son in law cooks; Son in law lives in the trailer park behind property.
Big man, fat but powerful. First he collects five twenties from the cook. He counts the money carefully and puts it in a crinkled envelopes and writes a few notes in a mini notebook. Work done he eats and eats. The waitresses joke with him. The cook doesn't talk with him after he is paid except to hand him his food.
The man is the enforcer. He collects money from small business owners. It is an antiquated practice but still very necessary.
The preacher gets the calling right now:
Small nondescript antiquated diner. Food good. Owners struggling. Building run down, equipment kept running by grandson, two daughter's waitresses, ex-son in law cooks; Son in law lives in the trailer park behind property.
Preacher sees enforcer pay cook five twenties at diner. The fire of the lord enters the Preacher that instant. Preacher decides to start his Church in trailer park behind this diner. Preacher walks up to trailer park whore and starts to preach.
Posted by edward pritchard at 2:07 AM Labels: mosaic
fiction
ed pritchard
billy the kid
I did read one thing that you wrote that I liked.
author
which story
billy
this one, let's work it in to my biography.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
three characters, no story, weak author
fiction
edward w pritchard
Trailer park whore
Small nondescript antiquated diner. Food good. Owners struggling. Building run down, equipment kept running by grandson, two daughter's waitress, ex-son in law cooks; Son in law lives in the trailer park behind property.
Enter, Molly the traveling trailer park whore. She sits at counter on the bar stool. Several of old, old male customers notice Molly for she is a full breasted woman. Forty five to fifty Molly has a faded glory about her. Molly orders the full eggs special, with meat and potatoes. Several of customers stretch themselves back to former times and hit on Molly. Molly waits patiently. Molly will sit at the bar until she finds some one from the trailer park to spend the next day or two with before she is on her way. Molly is the traveling trailer park whore.
Enforcer:
Small nondescript antiquated diner. Food good. Owners struggling. Building run down, equipment kept running by grandson, two daughter's waitresses, ex-son in law cooks; Son in law lives in the trailer park behind property.
Big man, fat but powerful. First he collects five twenties from the cook. He counts the money carefully and puts it in a crinkled envelopes and writes a few notes in a mini notebook. Work done he eats and eats. The waitresses joke with him. The cook doesn't talk with him after he is paid except to hand him his food.
The man is the enforcer. He collects money from small business owners. It is an antiquated practice but still very necessary.
The preacher gets the calling right now:
Small nondescript antiquated diner. Food good. Owners struggling. Building run down, equipment kept running by grandson, two daughter's waitresses, ex-son in law cooks; Son in law lives in the trailer park behind property.
Preacher sees enforcer pay cook five twenties at diner. The fire of the lord enters the Preacher that instant. Preacher decides to start his Church in trailer park behind this diner. Preacher walks up to trailer park whore and starts to preach.
Posted by edward pritchard at 2:07 AM Labels: mosaic
Perhaps our shortcomings; Billy the Kid / part 1/draft 1
Perhaps Our Shortcomings; Billy the Kid /part 1/draft 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
We study the past to help us understand ourselves. Perhaps the shortcomings of others long dead can help us to find our path in an indifferent world.
No person from the past is all bad. Proper historical writing about the past requires us to dig to find anecdotes and reports that reveal the positive as well as the negative character attributes of those long gone and forgotten.
Who is without sin spiritually and who is properly au fait to examine and judge another? Be they long dead or merely forgotten.
Our lives as humans must have a spiritual component and the spirituality must hinge on the revelation that we live, suffer and then are gone.
Study and write History to help us to now understand ourselves and those we share our Time with.
Billy the Kid was born in New York City and died in near fort Sumner New Mexico. No creditable records exist concerning his Mother's birthing experience with him, no records exist concerning the family journey from New York City to Indianapolis and eventually to the Old West, and we know precious little concerning Henry McCarty alias William Bonney's beliefs and prejudices concerning Manifest Destiny, the Civil War and slavery, Native Americans and the relentless push of Progress and civilization, or the Kid's preferences in when it came to women.
Who was the Kid and why do people still revisit his life?
end part 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
We study the past to help us understand ourselves. Perhaps the shortcomings of others long dead can help us to find our path in an indifferent world.
No person from the past is all bad. Proper historical writing about the past requires us to dig to find anecdotes and reports that reveal the positive as well as the negative character attributes of those long gone and forgotten.
Who is without sin spiritually and who is properly au fait to examine and judge another? Be they long dead or merely forgotten.
Our lives as humans must have a spiritual component and the spirituality must hinge on the revelation that we live, suffer and then are gone.
Study and write History to help us to now understand ourselves and those we share our Time with.
Billy the Kid was born in New York City and died in near fort Sumner New Mexico. No creditable records exist concerning his Mother's birthing experience with him, no records exist concerning the family journey from New York City to Indianapolis and eventually to the Old West, and we know precious little concerning Henry McCarty alias William Bonney's beliefs and prejudices concerning Manifest Destiny, the Civil War and slavery, Native Americans and the relentless push of Progress and civilization, or the Kid's preferences in when it came to women.
Who was the Kid and why do people still revisit his life?
end part 1
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