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  • #3996
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      The following is an e-mail from the past, composed on July 01, 2010. It is being delivered from the past through FutureMe.org

      Dear FutureMe,
      The Absinthe Cafe
      Dawn and Mark had a bottle of Absinthe (the proper stuff with the WORMwood in
      it, which is illegal in France) but forgot to bring it. Wandering around at
      some point, we chanced upon a cafe called Absinthe. Sitting on the terrace, the
      waitress came up and looked right at me and said “Oh you are booked to come here
      tomorrow night!” and then said “Forget I said that”. Naturally that got our
      attention. After we left Dawn spotted a kid with 2016 on the back of his T
      shirt. We asked Arkandin about it and we have a concurrent group focus that does
      meet in that cafe in 2016, including Britta. Dawn’s name is Isabelle Spencer,
      Jib’s is Jennifer….
      The Worm & The Suitcase
      I borrowed Rachel’s big red suitcase for the trip and stuck a Time Bridgers
      sticker on it, and joked before I left about the case disappearing to 2163. I
      had an impulse to take a fig tree sapling for Eric and Jib, which did survive
      the trip although it looked a little shocked at first. As Eric was repotting
      it, we noticed a worm in the soil, and I said, Well, if the fig tree dies at
      least you have the worm.
      At Balzacs house on a bench in the garden there was a magazine lying there open
      to an ad for Spain, which said “If you lose your suitcase it would be the best
      thing because you would have to stay”.
      Later we asked Arkandin and he said that there was something from the future
      inserted into my suitcase. I went all through it wondering what it could be,
      and then a couple of days ago Eric said that it was the WORM! because of the
      WORMwood absinthe syncs, and worm hole etc. I just had a chat with Franci who
      had a big worm sync a couple of days ago, she particularly noticed a very big
      worm outside the second hand shop, and noted that she hadn’t seen a worm in ages
      ~ which is also a sync, because there was a big second hand clothes shop next to
      Dawn and Mark’s hotel that I went into looking for a bowler hat.
      Arkandin said, by the way, that Jane did forget to mention the bowler hats in
      OS7, those two guys on the balcony were indeed wearing bowler hats, and that
      they were the same guys that were in my bedroom in the dream I had prior to
      finding the Seth stuff ~ Elias and Patel.
      Eric replied:

      And another Time Bridger thing; a while ago, Jib and I had fun planting some TB stickers at random places in Paris (and some on a wooden gate at Jib’s hometown).
      Those in Paris I remember were one at the waiting room of a big tech department store, and another on the huge “Bateaux Mouches” sign on the Pont de l’Alma (bridge, the one of Lady D. where there is a gilded replica of Lady Liberty’s flame).
      I think there are pics of that on Jib’s or my flickr account somewhere.
      When we were walking past this spot, Jib suddenly remembered the TB sticker — meanwhile, the sign which was quite clean before had been written all over, and had other stickers everywhere. We wondered whether it was still here, and there it was! It’s been something like 2 years… Kind of amazing to think it’s still there, and imagine all the people that may have seen it since!
      ~~~~

      The Flights

      I wasn’t all that keen on flying and procrastinated for ages about the trip. I
      flew with EASYjet, so it was nice to see the word EASY everywhere. I got on the
      plane to find that they don’t allocate seats, and chose a seat right at the
      front on the left. The head flight attendant was extremely playful for the
      whole flight, constantly cracking up laughing and teasing the other flight
      attendants, who would poke him and make him laugh during announcements so that
      he kept having to put the phone down while he laughed. I spent the whole flight
      laughing and catching his mischeivously twinking eye.
      I asked Arkandin about him and he said his energy was superimposed. I got on
      the flight to come home and was met on the plane by the same guy! I said
      HELLO! It’s YOU again! Can I sit in the same seat and are you going to make me
      laugh again” and he actually moved the person that was in my seat and said I
      could sit there. Then he asked me about my book (about magic and Napolean). He
      also said that all his flights all week had been delayed except the two that I
      was on. He wanted to give me a card for frequent flyers but I told him I
      usually flew without planes ~ that cracked him up ;))
      ~~~

      The Dream Bean

      Eric cracked open a special big African bean that is supposed to enhance
      dreams/lucidity so we all had a bit of it. The second night I remembered a
      dream and it was a wonderful one.
      (Coincidentally, on the flight home I read a few pages of my book and it just
      happened to be about the council of five dragons and misuse of magical beans)
      In the dream I had a companion with magical powers, who I presumed was Jib but
      it was myself actually. It was a long adventure dream of being chased and
      various adventures across the countryside, but there was no stress, it was all
      great fun. Everytime things got a bit too close in the dream, I’d hold onto my
      friend with magical powers, and we would elevate above the “adventure” and drop
      down in another location out of immediate danger ~ although we were never
      outside of the adventure, so to speak. At one point I wondered why my magical
      freind didn’t just elevate us right up high and out of it completely, and
      realized that we were in the adventure game on purpose for the fun of it, so why
      would we remove ourselves completely from the adventure game.
      In the dream I remember we were heading for Holland at one point, and then the
      last part we were safely heading for Turkey…..
      The other dream snapshot was “we are all working together on roof tiles” and
      Arkandin had some interesting stuff to say about that one.
      ~~~

      There were alot of vampire imagery incidents starting with me asking Eric if he
      slept in his garden tool box at night, and then the guy who shot out of a door
      right next to Jib and Eric’s, in a bright orange T shirt, carrying a cardboard
      coffin. He stopped for me to take a photo (and Arkandin said it was a Patel pop
      in); then while walking through the outdoor food market someone was chopping a
      crate up and a perfect wooden stake flew across the floor and landed at my feet.
      The next vampire sync was a shop opposite Dawn and Mark’s hotel with 3 coffins
      in the window (I went back to take a pic of the cello actually, didn’t even
      notice the coffins). Inside the shop was an EAU DE NIL MOTOR SCOOTER Share, can
      you beleive it, and a mummy, a stuffed raven, and a row of (Tardis) Red phone
      boxes.
      I had a nightmare last night that I couldn’t find any of my (nine) dogs; the
      only ones I could find were the dead ones.
      ~~~~

      Balzac’s House

      The trip to Balzac’s house was interesting, although in somewhat unexpected
      ways. (Arkandin was Balzac and I was the cook/housekeeper) The house didn’t
      seem “right” somehow to Mark and I and we decided that was probably because
      other than the desk there was no furniture in it. Mark saw a black cat that
      nobody else saw that was an Arkandin pop in (panther essence animal), and Dawn
      felt that he was sitting on a chair, and Mark sat on him. (Arkandin said yes he
      did sit on him ;) The kitchen was being used as an office. Jib felt the house
      was too small, and picked up on a focus of his that rented the other part of the
      house. (The house was one storey high on the side we entered, and two storeys
      high from the road below). There were two pop ins there apparently, one with
      long hair which is a connection to my friend Joy who was part of that group
      focus, and I can’t recall anything about the other one. Dawn was picking up
      that Balzac wasn’t too happy, and I was remembering the part in Cousin Bette
      that infuriated me when I read it, where he goes on and on about how disgusting
      it is for servants to expect their wages when their “betters” are in dire
      straits. Arkandin confirmed that I didn’t get my wages.
      The garden was enchanting and had a couple of sphinx statues and a dead pigeon ~
      as well as the magazine with the suitcase and Spain imagery. Mark signed the
      guest book “brought the cook back” and I replied “no cooking smells this time”.

      #3987

      Jolly glad Evangeline’s not my character, Liz said, to nobody in particular.

      #3983

      In reply to: Mandala of Ascensions

      Dispersee sat on a fallen tree trunk, lost in thought. A long walk in the woods had seemed just the ticket to release her from her turbulent thoughts, but alas, she had been unable to stop thinking about the ramifications of the new message from the popular ghost.

      At first she had been delighted to see it. She had agreed with it. But then she wondered why. Because she already knew all this, and in fact, it was information that could so readily be gleaned by anyone at all simply by engaging ordinary common sense, and run of the mill human compassion. Nothing esoteric was needed. No enlightened messages from the great beyond. In fact, she had said the same as the ghost, and on many occasions. The truth of the matter was that one had to be dead these days to be heard. Nobody was interested in the wise words of the living anymore. It could almost be said that nobody was all that interested in living at all: everyone wanted to be in the future, or the past, or in some other dimension, or planet, or not even physically alive at all anywhere. The individuals in the ascension process were particularly infected with this strange disorder: many of the ordinary uninitiated public were already quite well aware of the contents of the message and were already actively engaged in the process. It was as if the interest in so called shifty matters was an obstacle, an ugly carbuncle over the heart.

      Dispersee seriously wondered if the whole shift thing had been a good idea. She was beginning to doubt that it was. The alacrity with which people relied on messages from ghosts at the expense of exercising their own powers of deduction and intuition had caused the whole plan to do disastrously wrong. People didn’t even know how to behave like people anymore. Not only were they afraid of other people, afraid of their governments, afraid of their food, of the sun and the water and the very earth itself, they were afraid of their own human responses, or had forgotten them altogether.

      Did it really need a ghost to advise people on media propaganda, and remind them to be compassionate to others who were on an incredible journey, an extraordinary movement during these times of change? And more to the point, did Dispersee need to be involved at all in this futile ascension malarkey?

      #3982
      Jib
      Participant

        “Are you following me, cousin ?” added Liz with a snort. “I never understood why you chose to hide yourself in that stinky town with your dead fishes. Maybe you are looking for a way out. There is nothing for you where I come from. I’ll never give you the teleportation ab-original codes.”
        “Oh you never understood anything about me, or did you ?” said Mater, “You were too preoccupied by your followers. Is Big G still with you ? And that suspicious maid of yours. Is she still moulding dust critters ?”
        “Dust critters ? What are you talking about?”
        “What codes ?” asked Mater, squinting her eyes.
        “Nothing,” said Liz, realizing she might have talked too much. But she couldn’t help it, her body was unable to contain all the words in her mind, they had to get out. She tightened her lips, trying to resist the outburst.
        “What was that ?” asked Mater looking around, “did you hear that noise ?”
        “Nope”, said Liz, “maybe an earthquake, or a storm approaching.” It had to get out one way or another she thought.
        “Don’t talk nonsense with me, I tell you I heard something.”
        Devan interrupted them. Liz looked at the young man, her cougar senses on alert.
        “I got the paper”, he said.
        Paper, with words.
        “May I ?” she asked, showing the paper.
        “Don’t try to seduce my boy”, said Mater, “I know you.”

        #3981
        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          Speaking of the devil, that was the moment where a screeching car braked on the gravel of the front door. No sooner had Finnley rushed to the door than it flung open to reveal…
          “Hello Darlings!” the infamous and morbidly herself Lady Badul Trump Smith Saint-John Ringo Duchamp Clooney née Belette appeared in a ready to burst red silicone dress.
          Finnley deadpanned “Madam Badul… What a joy.”
          “You can call me Bubbles darling, everybody does.”

          #3978
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            A strange peacefulness enveloped Idle as she stood immobilized beside the sapling. A feeling of imperturbability washed over her, the grace of stillness. She glanced down at her legs and rather liked the smooth cold marble effect; so much more attractive that purple veins and loose skin. While her neck still had a degree of flexibility, she looked around, appreciating the hard still silent trees, their infinite serenity and refreshing lack of hustle bustle.

            But her quiet reverie was not to last long. The sudden appearance of a partly clad woman sent flocks of birds squalking away from the treetops in alarm.

            The woman immediately set to removing her shirt and rearranging it across her torso in an attempt to gain some kind of conventional modesty, dislodging the sticky paper scraps.

            Devan, who had chanced upon this usual scene in his search for his aunt, failed to notice the paper at first, so entranced was he with watching the attractive woman attempt to cover her voluptuous body with a gardening shirt. Mater, breathing heavily from the exertion of the search, came up behind him and slapped him soundly on the back of the head and gave him a push.

            “The paper!” she hissed. “Get the paper!”

            #3972
            F LoveF Love
            Participant

              Suddenly there was a piercing scream.

              Finnley’s face had turned white—although later she would claim it was not fear but rather the cucumber mask giving her face a death-like appearance—and she was pointing a shaking finger in the direction of Roberto’s derrière. Or more accurately, towards where Roberto’s derrière had been prior to the scream; like the others, he had jumped up in alarm at the ear splitting noise.

              “What the devil is the matter?” gasped LIz. She grasped Finnley’s shoulders firmly and shook her. “Pull yourself together; it’s just a bum crack. I know it is a long time since you will have seen a man’s bum, but really as I keep saying to you, if you will just smarten yourself up and make a bit more effort. I mean, look at you; you’ve got vegetables falling off your face ….” Liz shook her head in confoundment.

              “It’s not the bum crack,” snarled Finnley, recovering her usual unflappable composure. “It is the tattoo on his bum. The tattoo of the girl with the glass feet. Do you not know what that means?”

              Roberto’s eyes narrowed as he began to back away towards the gate.

              In all the excitement, nobody noticed Godfrey picking up the sticky and ripped shreds of paper which Liz had let drop to the ground.

              Or did they?

              #3968
              Jib
              Participant

                Then she collapse, her body rigid like stone. Actually her skin began to take on a shade of grey, and several colonies of moss found their way into the wrinkles and meanders of the granite like hair.
                Mater arrived at that moment.
                “Oh! my! Dido, what did you do ?”
                The old lady looked at the table, saw the empty jar, the lines of ants already pillaging the sweet spots on the table and on Idle’s fingers. Some of them had already turned into stone. Mater tried to forage into the jar to find the small package. It contained the mantra to release the hungry ghost from the stone trap of the termite honey.
                The jar was meant for rats, Mater would feed them with termite honey to change them into stone and sell them on the market. A little hobby. She would never have thought Idle would eat that stuff. It smelled quite awful.

                #3938
                Jib
                Participant

                  Roberto had just heard the end of their conversation. I want to hear about dear cousin Badul, the old tart had said to the maid. Something in his brain was triggered by that name, something he had been led to forgot by his handlyer in Vegas before… his mission. Yes he remembered now that he had a mission. But still all the little tickling wheels in his brain were catching up with the forgotten memories.

                  He looked inside the house. The old tart was handling what looked like a sheep skull. Was she doing some dark magic ? Was she a bruja ? He was not particularly superstitious or religious, but he had learned to fear the brujas of his village in the desert.

                  “Put that on the library between Byron and Baudelaire, will you?”
                  The maid looked at the skull, then at her mistress with the same rollling eyes. Oh it was subtle, so very sutble that the old lady had certainly not seen it, but he had been trained to read people’s faces… well he had read an old book of Chinese face reading that his grand mother had when he was living there… That’s why they recruited him.

                  The maid left with the skull, removed a few books from the shelf and put the skull unceremoniously in between. She shoved the remaining books randomly on other shelves and shrugged.
                  “I’m going to make a banana yogurt cake… without yogurt”, she said to nobody in particular.

                  #3927
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    “There hath he lain for ages,” Mater read the strip of paper, “And will lie Battening upon huge seaworms in his sleep..” Buggered if I know what that’s supposed to mean, she muttered, continuing to read the daily oracle clue: “Until the latter fire shall heat the deep; Then once by man and angels to be seen, In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die…..”

                    Mater had become increasingly irritated as the morning limped on, with no sign of Prune. Nobody had seen her since just before 3:00am when Idle got up for the loo and saw her skulking in the hallway. Didn’t occur to the silly fool to wonder at the time why the girl was fully dressed at that hour though.

                    The oracle sounded ominous. Mater wondered if it was anything to do with the limbo of lost characters. She quickly said 22 Hail Saint Floverly prayers, and settled down to wait. If Prune had accidentally wandered into the lost characters limbo, battening upon seaworms would be the least of their problems.

                    #3920
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      Liz cast her eyes over the fat ones body, weighing up the amount of latex it would take to make a mold. It would cost an arm and a leg to purchase that much latex, and Liz wondered if there was much of a market for Fat Hitherto Supportive Dealer statues.

                      #3911
                      ÉricÉric
                      Keymaster

                        Finnley came back hopefully in time with her five guardian angels to listen to that last comment from Liz.

                        Only two of them had decided to stay after she’d explained her boss wanted to mold them in salt-free concrete for body parts.

                        #3908
                        F LoveF Love
                        Participant

                          “Oh haha I can’t keep up with myself!” laughed Finnley in a most uncharacteristic and slightly manic manner. After offering to explain once more, although nobody could remember what she was explaining, she retreated for a second time.

                          #3907
                          ÉricÉric
                          Keymaster

                            “By the way, concrete for body parts might not be the best material, you little deviant.” Finnley snickered rudely, reappearing for a second between the Japanese paper screens.

                            #3904
                            TracyTracy
                            Participant

                              Godfrey will deal with them, Finnley,” replied Liz. “Please don’t bother me when I’m up to my elbows in latex.”

                              The new range of life sized Shift Leader Personalities was almost ready for the first pour. Sam had constructed an innovative vibrating table for Liz’s project, using household vibrating tools, and old tyre and a wide plank. She was truly grateful for the new apparatus to reduce the detrimental effect of individual bubbles appearing in the finished products. There was a time and place for bubbles, and concrete wasn’t one of them.

                              “They want to see you, though,” said Finnley, returning after a short consultation with the guests.

                              “Well show them in, then,” replied Liz, who had an idea brewing. “Maybe I can cast their body parts into something useful.”

                              #3900

                              Coriander was crying in the middle of hearty guffaws.

                              Clove, stop it!”

                              “I told you, nobody would suspect space pickles !”

                              “Look at Dido! The way she starred at that fridge for hours!”

                              “Ahahaha, stop it!”

                              #3892

                              In reply to: Mandala of Ascensions

                              Domba didn’t know why he’d attract those strange beings of light who tried to cajole him into following their glib tongued advice.
                              Domba was no fool, he’d learnt young that nobody gets interested in Domba unless someone wants to play tricks on him.
                              His life was a prison, that much he knew. The light guys could well be the jailers themselves for all he knew. He didn’t care about that, or any of their business with power. Power of knowledge, for all the good it did, didn’t seem to have guided the human race to better ends. And compassion was for foolisher than himself.

                              For now, he did have fun a little with the one who called herself Dispe, for her spirit seemed benign enough, a fountain of wonderment and joy in contrast with the way he’d learnt to see the world. He couldn’t really understand all about her wild rants, but if anything, he was curious about her views, and how she sustained them, like as a child, he was endlessly amazed at the resilience and resourcefulness of ants.

                              Maybe she was a queen ant, and he was just that stupid worker she was having fun with.

                              The wild nature overgrown in the miles of no-man’s land around his place had so much to teach. Persistance, endurance, and a boundless love of life itself. It was as though nature’s own rhythm was overlaid and hidden by the man-made time and routines. Whereas, if you were to look under, the slow stubborn and everlasting pace of nature’s growth was vibrating underneath, encouraging whoever willing to listen to slow down to its tune, and taste its encompassing love of life.
                              He often wondered how long before men would come and try to pour concrete over the land, and raise scrapers of metal and blown-sand. His only solace was to think that in his madness, man couldn’t completely obliterate nature, that it would always be waiting patiently.

                              He wondered how those light beings failed to see how even them weren’t as apart from it as they thought they were. Or maybe they knew deep up.

                              He’d noticed a bird coming many times too. That bird had an agenda, and too clean feathers to not be either a spy, or some heavenly messenger.

                              #3889
                              ÉricÉric
                              Keymaster

                                “Did anybody see our last guest?” Mater couldn’t help but regularly count her herds (so to speak), and although she wasn’t as authoritative with her guests as she was with her family members, she couldn’t help but notice that her last count was one person short —enough to start worrying her.

                                “Hmm lwwft thws hhmmmng” said Idle, her mouth full with cookies.

                                Mater shrugged. It was still better than when she used to talk with sauerkraut.

                                #3886

                                In reply to: Mandala of Ascensions

                                “…..salt free inquisition born of effete privilege…”

                                Dispersee shook her head and cackled to herself while reading Stinks Mc Fruckler’s (a double agent posing as a descended trickster) report.

                                “These dupes, so arrogant in their idiocy have become an incredibly powerful voice which effects us all, this being why I rail against them, they are the new repulsive face of self righteous sanctimonious evangelism, a salt free inquisition born of effete privilege, modern day ill informed witch-burners intent on removing choice, blocking scientific advances….”

                                Stinks may well get lynched for that one, she thought with a fond smile. Nobody expects to get away with criticizing the salt free inquisition. It was a position only a former salt smuggler would understand, as Dispersee well knew. “Salt of the Earth” was a well known turn of phrase (though not nearly as amusing as “salt free inquisition born of effete privilege” as turns of phrase go), but few took to heart the actual meaning. It was to be a good few years yet before the Return of the Salt to the turbulent planet, and salt, for the meantime, was still public enemy number one in the collective mind.

                                Dispersee closed the report and turned her attention to her own.

                                Despite her demonstration with the pool (complete with illustrations), throwing spoons haphazardly into the murky pool with no regard for the hidden fishes and broken chairs in the depths of the dirty water, despite the resulting swarm of earthquakes, only a handful of individuals understood the point she had been trying to demonstrate with regard to what was known in new age circles as “pooling” ~ not to be confused with team flow, which was something else entirely. (The fact that she had not understood what she was illustrating at the time, merely following a strange impulse, was neither here nor there ~ the point was quite obvious in retrospect, which was all that mattered).

                                Pooling had become almost as popular as the Salter lynchings, and the unfortunate common denominator was “best intentions” ~ best intentions, vaguely pasted hearts, and no real understanding or questioning of the contents of the pool they were all diving into. The Pool Lemmings dived in one after another without washing off their associations, weighed down with their constructs and baggage, splashing the foul slime outside the pool where it seeped into the common water table, tainting the entire neighbourhood. The best intentions sank to the depths, perhaps to be fished out by an especially skilled fisherman of best intentions, but likely not. It was the clingy slippery algae of the associations that really thrived, and they attached themselves and flowed back out of the pool. Really it was a mess. Even her practical demonstrations of non return valves and two way valves had gone over their heads (as had the contaminated water).

                                The second part of her demonstrations had been to illustrate the importance, and indeed the beauty, of bubbles ~ dewdrops suspended along webs ~ connected via gossamer thin but extremely strong networks, perfect reflective bubbles that kept their shape and individual purpose, rather than forming a dank puddle of slime in the overflowing muddy ditch. Admittedly Dispersee has not been aware of what she was demonstrating at the time, she was just following another strange impulse.

                                She decided to finish her report tomorrow, and await todays strange impulse for further information.

                                #3848
                                ÉricÉric
                                Keymaster

                                  Sam was looking at the new breatharator that was just delivered. The big machine from purple, turned suddenly red and whizzed in like mad for a moment.

                                  “Well, I think the energy has become more focused, can’t you feel it?” he said absentmindedly, to nobody in particular.

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