fairyplain
- user since
- Sun May 13 2007 at 02:36:49 (1.5 years ago )
- last seen
- Tue Nov 18 2008 at 18:55:10 (9.9 minutes ago )
- number of write-ups
- 17 - View fairyplain's writeups (feed)
- level / experience
- 1 (Novice) / 1968
- C!s spent
- 21
- most recent writeup
- Jack LaLanne
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My Artwork
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Excalibrush
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I'm yours forever
The shelves were full of books, the desk was full of books and all over the floor. Under the high thin window was a bench, covered in more books a corner to sit and read in the silver drenched light of days so quiet you could hear clouds rolling by. The smell of oncoming rain was in the air. In a scurry of leaves , clean laundry was whipping , waving and snapping the clothesline for attention fearful of getting wet. He watched the wash wishing he had someone to play with, and imagined his tired body out by the clothesline playing with his imaginary friends, he counted , yes there was enough to play ball . Diving under the bed , pushing aside a stack of books to reach way back for his bat and ball he ran out to play ! Yeah! Whipped off the line , the clothes summersaulted and tumbled up to play again dispensed into whirlwinds around the bases . His first hit was a grounder bouncing off the side walk and hitting the side of the barn, Foul. The bat caught the next ball and the crack of the hit was echoed by thunder and a flash of lighting, at last his legs tired of bed covers were out running , with air drawn deep into his lungs he did a slow dive at the bag. OUT. I'm just getting warmed up, he told himself. Growling at the Ump, a little discouraged he kicked up dirt onto his not so clean anymore clothes . Two outs. The first drop felt hit his cheek to run down like a tear, Two Outs. Pick your balls. He waited it out, letting two inside slide by , his body coiled ready to spring , by twisting his wrist a little he was able to get underneath the ball and catching it square to fly up, the ball soared . He ran hat flying , hair loose , but the washed up players couldn't catch him he waaaas SAFE! The screen door slammed and a slender lavender dress rushed out. and taking one look at the wet once clean dirty piles of wet clothed scattered all over the yard her voice serious said , "Child, Stop playing and help me pick up the laundry the wind has blown all over ." Child lives in a metaphysical world, during the depression era dust bowl of America, where toys were scarce the imagination to create dinosaurs and suits of armor out of cardboard boxes, spaceships out of paintings and a washed-up baseball team out of dirty laundry live . Self educated from books on engineering in a time when the imaginations of American sustained the most harsh of times and curiosity wasn't a crime. He was an independent spirit in a family that had never fought in a war , except some cousin's commemoration of land somewhere signed by Abraham Lincoln that was leafed in amongst a ton of homely faced Gothic America photographs .thank you listlessness of summer daysleads kittens out on branches young girls with dangling legs dreaming of romances . . ~1 John 4:9-10~ "We love Him because He first loved us.". There are several strata of homelessness, there are some still able to fly , like a bird flown into a window pane falling stunned will spread it's wings again . There are layers of disillusion, broken wings, con men and napoleons in rags, men and women who see the world as one that had dreadfully wronged their place in it and they wrong it right back recruiting other scurvy scum , mumbling rants to anyone who'll listen for a dollar to give. On the very bottom strata fallen out of reach of helping hands and the painful myth that Dicksonion is dead, The Artful Dodger no longer wasted his feelings to shred on those barb wire fences , long given up the pain of expecting any milk of human kindness from the human race, he became a Holy Man. Beautiful in his independent filth, hair grown into dreadlocks, he sought out places where he didn't have to ask anyone for anything. 3 o'clock in the morning, lost and regretting that I had gotten off the freeway onto a small town road that wound around it's own whims and could care less about which way Rome was, there was nowhere open to stop and ask for directions. I was already to turn around and backtrack the wasted distance to the freeway when I saw him almost invisible in the monochrome colors of the wide streetlight lit street, pushing a shopping cart of empty bottles and cans in a silent zombie trance. Underneath a stench of torn rags hanging from his body long dreadlocks of matted hair surrounded a face that should have been riding a skateboard to his next class but for circumstances . I watched him and wondered if their was any cognizance. Obviously he never bothered the gas station to use their bathroom , never bothered anyone . If the same pain that had shredded his clothes into rags had taken his mind too, there didn't seem to be much point in my bothering to ask him for directions. " Please help me" I asked "I'm lost, " Drops of dew glissened and hung heavy in the air twinkling against dark shadows under the street light. The silent small town out of the chill , warm inside their houses slept tight as the soft glow of closed businesses held vigil along the boulevard. A slight breeze from the east touched my cheeks , we were far enough inland to escape the cold blanket of fog that rolled in a cold cover at night from the ocean miles away. "I got off of the freeway awhile back , I'm trying to get to Rome, can I get there this way?" His hazel eyes were clear and the directions back to the freeway he gave were clear and coherent. .-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The knave of hearts, he made some tarts to sit and eat wistfully by autumn's hearth .
1 lb bag orange lentils --------------------------------- It was summer. In the village a Mulberry tree umbrellaed a circle of small tables and straight back wood chairs of old men on the inland side of the bend of the road we followed south in the jeep down the coast along the sea .I was going to be on my own from my family for the first time for the whole summer. From the parking lot the camp was hidden well in behind the dark green foliage of the woods. Wound about on stone paved paths the camp connected unseen bunk filled cabins to each other . Each morning shutters folded up and chore minded young girls eagerly cleaned their cabins spotless , before running out to play. The raft was anchored in the deep water a challenge to learn to swim to reach it and spend summer afternoons climbing up and diving from one of it's sides into the perfect water of the sea, swim, climb on board again and lay claim to a spot to sunbathe . Out at sea a ship of fishermen had fought a losing battle against waves left behind from a storm. Their brightly painted old wooden boat, creaking and moaning threatened to burst it's sides open against the power of the waves before it could reach port , two of them had been spurned into the sea.--------------------------------- Camp councilor Jane had spent too much of her last semester in extracuricular activities, she vowed to find a nice quiet job somewhere where she could catch up on her grades , and maybe even get a little ahead in her studies before going back home to Texas. When the girls in the cabin of her charge went missing into thin air she hid the text book she was reading. When they didn't return by nightfall she was dumbfounded. There was no way they could have swam north through the thick reeds of the bird sanctuary and canoe picnics to find a path into the village without setting off an alarm, and the southern rock cliff was not an inviting climb . There were no leads to follow. Six young girls in bikinis would be hard to hide . The fishing boat angled in on the other side of the cliff out of the view of the camp , only the eye of a sunbathing girl caught it. A more challenging swim than the distance to the raft, the rocks at the base of the cliff posed a seemingly unpassable barricade , but they wouldn't know unless they tried . In agreement to see how close they could get to see if the boat had beached south of the cliff , crashed or anchored safe, they dove in. Before dawn camp councilor Jane had called Jack long distance. Responsible for giving her the summer position at the camp . Jane knew she had better find the girls before trouble found them and her, and she would need Jack's help. Jack had tried to joke about what the media jumping on a " The Missing Virgins of the Mediterranean " story would do. Caring friend that he was, Jack promised to be on the first flight to help if she needed it.--------------------------------- Slipping silently through the water to reach the raft she rested up before the swim to reach the rocks of the cliff. Jane caught up to the girls near the old wooden boat anchored in the sand along the breakwater, the girls in their western swimwear , were watching the young crew members of a boat help the fishermen make repairs, agile at climbing as little monkeys hiding up in the rocks above the beach, they were now trapped like little kittens out on a limb, their retreat route back over the cliff to return to camp had been blocked by fishermen drying and mending their nets , occupying the beach between them and the cliff . Jane could see the girls from the cliff rocks , but the same exposed area to cross over the rocks that kept the girls where they were, also kept her from being able to reach them . Not knowing the nature of the boat load of fishermen , they stayed hid, at best they might escape with just harassment and grabbing touches. Transfixed on the making of repairs and listening to the music of coming over the radio of the sailors boat. Close by where Jane hid, two drunken sailors "sleeping it off", cradled a bottle in their arms. Jane was developing a plan of her own, all she needed was a distraction to draw the attention of the crew away, and a dash to grab the clothes of the sunbathing fishermen. Soon she was dressed like a sailor, stumbling by the fishing boat swaggering an empty bottle.--------------------------------- 4 miles south of Edinburgh Castle , Jack's golf cart telephone rang . It was one of his new recruits , Jane, Jane Bond a fresh young college student . Jack, just about to tee the 9 th hole with a chosen iron to guarantee lift the distance up the hill fairlane, the most difficult hole of the course , was slightly perplexed , he had started Jane Bond on the easiest assignment in the agency, a babysitting job. All recruits had orders to call in the smallest of problems and he braced himself for a trivial happenstance . "Missing?" "six of them?" Jane Bond was smart enough to know what to do. Her little babysitting incident had the potential of being blown into the international arena . Jack phoned Mediterranean Maritime and then the Clubhouse Bar Stewart whom he had a running bet with to come in under par.--------------------------------- "Do you think we could swim out to that boat?" the raft rocked like a long walk, after awhile the holding of your head adjusts with the movement, and something similar to a dream state when the mind and body are one focuses, and reaches out to the possibilities in the world to hug and hold dear . The boat was close . Watching boats from classroom windows all year long, the girls hid and watched the damaged fishing boat repair it's rudder , helped by a sailboat that had come to it's aid .--------------------------------- Just able to return the sailors clothes, Jane followed behind the girls so they wouldn't hear what she was thinking, secretly shadowboxing, but caught up with them on the swim back to the raft , by the scruff of the neck she'd be thrown out if Jack wasn't there to work his magic, camp administration being what it was. Jane had brought a lot to the camp, light and warmth, among many other gifts that the girls needed, letting all of the blame fall on her shoulders would be their easiest out, in the cookie cutter world of the way things went she would have to shoulder it , happy to have the girls and their families remember her where her best memories were .--------------------------------- Back home the draft and college demonstrations far away taxed both her conscientious objections and her studies. The different perspectives of people she met of different nationalities exposed stanch differences of opposing beliefs held. The hard edges between them softened understanding the hugh spectrum of the changeability of humanity . Social Science was Jane's least favored subject, part of a well rounded education where her interests in other areas excelled . The swim felt good, Jane began to feel a little bit better, encouraged by efforts to break out of the domestic slave mold that women were locked into , thinking about the satisfaction her work gave her made her attitude about life in general better . |