Search Results for 'replied'

Forums Search Search Results for 'replied'

Viewing 20 results - 301 through 320 (of 373 total)
  • Author
    Search Results
  • #2219

      Decimus! Yoo Hoo! OH MY GOD! how wonderful to see you here. What are YOU doing in Manilva? Is Antonio here too?

      LAVENDER! How great to see you!….. Oh Antonio, Decimus shook his head, his joy at seeing Lavender quickly replaced with sadness at the thought of his Beloved. I have not seen her for many months. Only in my dreams does she visit me, and there she is doing the strangest of things. Things no man can decipher. It is strange times indeed Lavender. Decimus sighed heavily, then rubbed his eyes and scratched his head. God, he really needed to get some help. He wondered if the great Dr Limur might be able to help him get rid of these nervous twitches. Ever since Antonio had been gone he had been rubbing, sighing, scratching! It was driving him mad. And the odour of fermented fish which constantly plagued him! Dear God, what had he done to deserve this.

      Lavender regarded her friend with compassion. Poor fellow, he really was behaving oddly. However, recalling her recent rather embarrassing encounter with Harvey, she decided against trying to rid Decimus of any potential lurking demons. Perhaps it was better to try and emulate the famous Tattler twins, Ann and Sally, and simply listen, rather than trying to jump in and help all the time.

      Anyway my dear Lavender. What brings YOU to this god forsaken place?

      I have an appointment to see Annabel… um, hang on I can’t remember her name .., Lavender rummaged in her purse. Oh that’s right, Annabel Ingram. She is a certified dream navigator. I found her on gloogloo when I was searching for some help with my seven new born … anyway, long story … Aspidistra has them now so that is okay … and then… the strangest thing! I found 57 of her business cards in my mail box. Isn’t that rather odd Decimus?

      Decidedly odd indeed, replied Decimus, with a sigh.


        “I’m noticing alot of threes lately!” remarked Rhodedrendron, Aspidistra’s freind. “I wonder why?”

        “I keep noticing sevens” replied Aspidistra.


          Unfortunately Aspidistra couldn’t remember the dream that she had told Dick. I wish I could remember it, she muttered to herself. I suppose if Dick suggested I sing the joys of life upon awakening that it must have been an unpleasant dream, she mused, and as such it’s perhaps not terribly important that I recall it.

          “What are you mumbling about now, Aspidistra?” groaned Philodendron, her sister. “It’s hard enough to get some sleep as it is with you glowing all the time; if you’re going to keep mumbling as well, well, it’s just not fair!”

          “I wasn’t even speaking aloud, Phil!” retorted Aspidistra, stung at the unfairness of the accusation. “You shouldn’t be listening in to my thoughts in the first place, you nosey parker.”

          Philodendron sighed and rolled over, pulling the blankets over her head in an attempt to block out the glow and the mental chatter bombarding her from every direction. I really need to learn how to block all this, she thought, I can’t seem to get a moments peace anymore.

          “You’re right, you do, Phil” replied her sister.

          AARRGGHH!” Phil shouted. “Don’t keep answering my thoughts, they’re private! Bugger off!”


            Of course Aspidistra’s qualities, although unique, were not particularly useful when it came to gaining paid employment. She lamented this fact at some length to her best friend Dick Tator. Dick did his best to console the distraught Aspidistra, even offering to teach her to speak in a more posh accent, but to no avail. She was inconsolable.

            I am going to hell in a handbasket! she cried. I am completely unemployable! Will I sink to the lowest level of society? To a world without money or moral obligation?

            It seemed decidedly odd to Dick that his friend believed that she created the very heavens, yet could not create a job for herself.

            What is it you would love to do above all else, dear Aspidistra? asked Dick gently. For he was a kind hearted soul, deep down.

            Without hesitation Aspidistra replied, I would like to sing songs! songs of joy! songs that make people dance!


              “Well, I must say, the random daily quote is rather apt GodfreyElizabeth said with a weak smile. “Listen to this:

              ‘When Rudy the myna had come back crashing on the boat, it all became suddenly a huge uncontrollable chaos.
              The hovering menacing clouds that were looming in front of them were coming closer at a dreadful speed, and even more concerning were the rocks that were appearing everywhere now, that they had more and more trouble to avoid in betwixt the turmoils and eddies.

              So they had finally come to the Great Rift, Bådul was thinking. The back of the legendary water dragon that noone was known to have crossed.’

              “What do you think of that, eh?”

              “Oh by golly, it is rather isn’t it. Been quite a day hasn’t it, Elizabeth?” Godfrey smiled gently.

              “I should say so!” she replied. “Oh, listen to this:

              ‘But Bådul knew better.
              He howled orders to get everybody ready at their posts, and felt reassured when he saw that Austor was maneuvering with dexterity and confidence through the rift.’

              “Ahahah…..” Elizabeth was starting to sound marginally hysterical. She continued reading the random daily quote.

              “‘He ignored the crazy laugh of Razkÿ, the madman who was now shouting with a manic laughter…..’”


                “Hey Leo, I had a blinding revelation last night, after Barb left.”

                “Well, do tell, Bea, I’m all ears” said Leonora with an encouraging smile, pouring herself a cup of tea.

                “Well the moment was far clearer than I can explain it but it went something like this” Bea continued. “Bearing in mind that the FOCUS DIRECTS so the question of ‘directing’ essence is another choice of puzzle piece of the individual puzzle game at any moment…”

                “Ye-es” replied Leonora, making an effort to concentrate.

                “To connect to an individual focus is but a baby step towards being able to comprehend the interconnectedness of everything that you create, and that it is all in fact you.” Bea went on, adding “Like a beginner stage as it were, to keep it manageable.”

                “Keeping it manageable sounds like a good idea” interjected Leo, pointedly glancing around at the disorder in the kitchen.

                Unperturbed, Bea continued “You draw to yourself parts or, if you like, focus points or other focuses of All That Is —of the whole that are at that moment useful.”

                “Sounds reasonable, Bea, do continue. Pass the gingerbread men, would you?”

                “All of the characters in the stories I write, for example, are my focuses in a manner of speaking, as are all the characters in anything I bring into my world my focuses if I choose to SEE THEM FOR A MOMENT FROM THEIR FOCUS VIEWPOINT.”

                “Ok, ok, no need to shout!”

                “I’m not shouting, Leo, let me finish and stop interrupting! Adding another focus is an analogy in a way for adding another focus or point of view to mine.
                Dividing the actions of adding focus viewpoints into sections is useful in order to comprehend the scope of possible actions, but only initially, and as more actions are experienced objectively, the sections and labels become limiting and confining.” Bea paused for a sip of coffee and a long draw on her cigarette. “But they do keep it manageable to some degree, it must be said” she added.

                “Yes, keep it manageable, by all means, couldn’t agree more”

                “Everyone’s puzzle game is their own,” Bea was on a roll. “And the same puzzle piece, or other focus in this case, for one, would fit equally well into a completely different puzzle game of someone else’s because all of the surrounding puzzle pieces of each individuals puzzle game are created in each moment and are chosen for their relevance to that moment.”

                “Good point, dear.”

                “Likewise an individuals puzzle game is a new one in each moment and the puzzle pieces are interchangeable within the same puzzle game, depending on their relevance to the moment and the chosen surrounding puzzle pieces.”

                As usual with blazing flashes of illumination, Bea found that they were hard to form into words, and when she did manage to get them into words, they look so screamingly obvious.

                “Does that make sense to you, Leo?” she asked.

                “Er, I think so Bea, I’m getting the gist…”

                Interrupting, Bea continued to describe her revelations to her now glassy eyed friend. “And on the subject of trusting, doubting, confusion and so on”

                “Oh, yes, confusion…”

                “We are here shiftING, not shiftED, this is what we are choosing.
                With the variety of viewpoints we have, the shifted and the unshifted and the semi-shifted, there is always something new to notice from yet another new perspective. Why not get really enthusiastic about the ride itself instead of planning how to float through it with the least fuss ~ it’s more fun on the helter skelter with its many perspectives and view points than on the mill pond for those of us who choose shiftING.”

                “I dunno, Bea, from my perspective floating on a millpond sounds rather pleasant.”

                “Well, at least now we know that what we don’t know is there to know.”

                “Yes, there’s no doubt about that!” relied Leonora, “Have you finished? That was all very interesting but don’t forget we invited everyone over for the Yule Boulder Moving party. We should get a move on with the preparations you know”



                  “Well, what a coincidence!” exclaimed Bea, as her freind Baked Bean Barb described the book she had just started reading. It was all about ancient inscriptions in Antartica, which was what Bea had been reading about online just before Barb arrived.

                  “Some of it’s fact” Barb was saying “But the rest of it’s made up; interesting though!”

                  “Oh, I can’t wait til they find remains of the civilization under the ice there!” Bea said, to which Barb replied “There’s no civilization there. Nope. There’s nothing ever been found, nothing at all scientifically proven about that. The book’s fiction.”

                  “Well, they haven’t found it yet, Barb ~ if the scientists had proof, it would be found already. Until things are found they don’t exist?”

                  “There’s nothing there, there’s no proof!” Barb said firmly, shaking her head.

                  “What about all the new things we keep finding out about, before we knew about them, they didn’t exist, is that what you mean?” Bea persisted, trying to get her point accross. Then she wondered why she was trying to get her point accross in the first place. She knew what her point was.

                  Well, at least I think I do, she said to herself.

                  “Fancy a cuppa, Barb? Leo bought some nice nettle teabags, how’s that sound?”

                  Ooh yes please! Got anymore of those gingerbread men?”

                  Sometimes the actual point wasn’t at all the same thing as the point you thought you were making. Bea gave herself points for noticing this, although she wasn’t at all sure what the point of the whole thing was, objectively anyway. Distraction tactics always worked, but once summoned, the distractions were indiscriminate and chaotic. On the way to the kitchen to put the kettle on, Bea glanced out of the window and noticed a shaft of light illuminating the rocks and casting deep shadows into the crevices, the resulting effect looking for all the world like mysterious ancient inscriptions. She reached out for her camera, which was always conveniently handy, as she strode out of the door, single minded in pursuit of the capture of a moment of light as if drawn by a magnet, or reeled in like a fish.

                  Barb eventually found her, some 57 minutes later, pruning the oleander down by the stream.


                    “Don’t bother me with that now, Godfrey! Can’t you see I’m swamped with ideas? I’ve got so many things to write I simply don’t know where to start. Which is why I’m starting right here and now, with the issue of the writer being overloaded with potential story lines.”

                    Elizabeth ran her hands through her hair distractedly, and impatiently pushed the miniature giraffe off her lap.

                    “Relax, Liz”. Singularly unruffled, Godfrey picked up the giraffe and stroked his neck. “Tranquilo, Lizzie, tranquilo!”

                    “What? Oh, well done Godfrey, that’s taken care of one thing off my list then! One of my theme words had to be a foreign word.” Elizabeth started to relax. “And what finer word is there than tranquilo, eh, what a marvellous word.”

                    “Indeed” replied Godfey “But is that the correct usage of the creative writing theme words? I mean, really, you could just write ‘Liz had a list of theme words and they were a foreign word, dual~duel, marmalade sunrise, appreciate and adore, summer rain, beyond the horizon’ and leave it at that, couldn’t you?”

                    Godfrey, you are clever!” Elizabeth congratulated herself. “But what about all the other ideas?”

                    “Well, why not start by making a list? Jot down a few clues. Or just start writing, and see what happens. I’ll put the kettle on while you make a start, fancy a cuppa?”

                    “Oooh yes please! Finnley bought some new teabags this week, quite spicy they are as well.”

                    Godfrey sniggered as he disappeared into the kitchen, calling over his shoulder “Have you got any of those gingerbread men left?”


                      “We need something new, Felicity, something completely different.” Annabel Ingman had invited Felicity Albright, the star of DDT, into her office. “We’ve got 56 channelers on our books now, and they are all saying the same thing! It’s ridiculous!”

                      “Well I just say what pops into my head, Annabel, that is my job description…” Felicity was feeling defensive.

                      “What I’m saying, dear” replied Annabel, “Is that we don’t need another 55 all saying the same thing as you. If you are all saying the same thing, then where is the drama? Where is the conflict? For heavens sake, girl, where are the sales?”

                      “Well I tell you what Annabel, I’m going to the F.U.N. picnic in the Elsespace Arrangement later, I’ll ask around, ok?”


                        Elizabeth!” Godfrey strode into the room, and slapped the Reality Times down on her desk. “How dreadfully embarrassing! Your economy is considered to be a basket case, it’s in the news for heavens sake!”

                        “I never economize, Godfrey, what on Ooh are you talking aboot?” replied Elizabeth tartly.

                        THE economy, Liz, not your housekeeping affairs!”

                        “What housekeeping affairs, dear? Do calm down, Finnley takes care of all that”

                        Godfrey flung himself into an overstuffed armchair, running the back of his hand across his brow. “Perhaps it’s because your currency is the Illusion, Liz. People are afraid to buy things with illusions you know.”

                        “Well, there’s not alot of point in hoarding illusions is there? I had no idea the general poopulace was hoarding illusions, honestly, you just can’t get the poopulace these days, not like the oold days when everyone was spend spend spend….well, what do you suggest?”


                          “‘ere, what’s that bloody dog got? I fought it was a bone, but it don’t look like a bone from ‘ere, Sha” said Gloria lifting up her sunglasses to get a better look. “It looks like some kind of artifact, where’d ‘e get that then?”

                          “‘E ‘ad that since before we left, d’int yoo notice? ‘e was diggin’ in the snow for days, ‘e was” replied Sharon, “I ‘int touching it, it’s covered in ghost dog ether-dribble, if yoo wants a closer look, Glor, then you ‘ave a look, I ‘int touching it.”


                            Godfrey, don’t say I didn’t warn you! Have you seen today’s random quote?” Elizabeth said with increasing alarm. “Finnley! Put another log on that fire! And please put that bloody magpie outside!”

                            Finnley mumbled something about job description as she shuffled over to the log basket, and then Elizabeth could have sworn she heard her mutter something about basket cases, but she wasn’t quite sure.

                            “It’s a funny thing, you know FinnleyElizabeth said “But yesterday Dan asked Dory if she remembered the ‘Fuck Wits’, those lads that came to visit them years ago, and not only that, yesterday I was thinking about the storm crew and I couldn’t for the life of me remember their names.”

                            “The Not-So-Random Daily Quote they should call it, eh, Liz” replied the good natured Finnley. “Oh by the way, I’d like shorter hours and more pay.”

                            “Of course dear, take whatever you like,” replied Elizabeth generously, “But be sure and take that magpie with you.”


                              “Is there a probable Becky still at the Serendib Facility ~ in-the-rural-mountainous-central-region-of Sri-Lanka-in-the-2030’s ~ Godfrey?” Elizabeth hurriedly included some background information in her question to appease her publisher, the erudite and enigmatic Godfrey Pig-Littleton.

                              Elizabeth was amused to note that erudite was almost an opposite to rude, but as Elizabeth could vouch for, neither was mutually exclusive, as Godfrey was clearly equally at ease exhibiting both ends of the rude spectrum. But I digress, she said to herself, turning her attention to Godfrey.

                              Elizabeth,” he said with a frown, “At your request I have had installed all manner of information retrieval systems, both objective and subjective, and yet you will insist on asking me questions instead of accessing the information yourself.” Godfrey shivered, attempting to wrap his velvet smoking jacket closer round his spare frame. The rich claret colour suited him perfectly, but it was clearly inadequate against the bitter cold. “Put another log on the fire, Liz, it’s colder than a witches tit in here today!”

                              “Don’t be rude, Godfrey” replied Elizabeth with a sniff. “I’m too cold to move, you do it. I’ve been absolutely frozen ever since Al sent us all to the South Pole. As a matter of fact, there’s been a cold snap all over the globe, which is why” she continued “I am trying to get us all out of there and back to Sri Lanka! We don’t want to start another Ice Age, Godfrey, this has to stop.”

                              “Ah, those were the days” smiled Pig Littleton. “I remember it well. It all started when Aunt Jeanne du Bappe was writing her book and wanted more ice for her G&T. Somehow it all escalated out of control, and before you could say Boo to a Goose, the whole place was covered in glaciers. A few million years later, when she’d slept off the effects of the gin, it was just beginning to thaw…”

                              “Dear old Jeanne, where is she now? I haven’t heard from her for…er, aeons.”

                              “Oh, she’s in fine fettle, got a job in The City you know. They say she’s quite something in The City these days, got quite a name for herself in Design & Communications.”

                              “Has she now! She’s done well for herself then, last I heard she was tiling kitchens in New Venice.”

                              Pig Littleton snorted. “Aunt Jeanne du Bappe, tiling in New Venice? Don’t be ridiculous, Liz, you’re getting your timelines in a twist. I expect that was one of her protegée’s, Aunt Jeanne’s been in The City for —well…”

                              Godfrey was uncharacteristically stumped.

                              Elizabeth wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to tease her old friend. “For how long?”

                              “For a very long Now”

                              “Well, I must say, that’s a fine thing isn’t it, to start an ice age and then bugger off to The City while everyone else freezes their tits off” said Elizabeth, blowing on her hands to warm them.

                              “You do realize, Liz dear, that every time you mention the word Cold, or Frozen, or Ice Age, you are increasing the potential of the Ice Age in the Probability Pool?”

                              Godfrey, the Probability Pool has frozen over. We’ll be skating right over the top of it instead of dipping into it, if we don’t start a thaw soon!”


                                “What?” Yurick asked Dory who had left an email for them, as they had just come back with Yann from a trip to the far-off spaces of their dimension —also known as French countryside.

                                “There’s snow on Salitre ! Can you believe it?”

                                Sure, had not Dory showed the pictures, he would not have believed it. The beautiful mound otherwise green-looking during the most part of the year now looked just like a pretty picture of the Pyrénées mountains!

                                “Guess what”, he replied immediately “we saw ‘snoow’ outside of Paris too! It looked like Russian tundra…”

                                “Wow… I wonder what kind of stuff we are creating now. I should be careful what I investigate!” Dory mused…


                                  Of course, there were probable versions of Snettie and Snooter that remained in Spreal, as well as probable versions that left Spreal much earlier. There was a probable reality in which Snooter and Snettie, and their freinds Spagwan and Illiofilly (sometimes spelled Iliophile) journeyed north a decade previously, as indeed there are probable realities in which Snooter and Snettie journeyed north, but Spagwan and Iliophile stayed behind.

                                  “This could go on ad infinitum Godfrey, I better rein myself in” remarked Elizabeth, more to herself than to her friend Pig Littleton, who appeared to be engrossed in scrutinizing peanuts one at a time before popping then into his mouth and chewing them thoughtfully.

                                  “Where were you planning to go with it, anyway?” asked Godfrey, inspecting another peanut.

                                  “Well, I didn’t have a plan actually. I just started writing, really. And kept on writing until I reined myself in, and then….”

                                  “And then what happened?” asked Godfrey, a trifle mischievously.

                                  “And then the writing stopped.” Elizabeth laughed.

                                  “How very singular, Liz dear” Replied Godfrey wryly. “You’re not making very good progress on Volume Two, I must say.”

                                  “Anyway, Godfrey, I’ve got a bone to pick with you!” Elizabeth pushed her keyboard away and turned to face her publisher. “You’ve been tampering with my vowels again! It’s jolly well not cricket you know, old bean.”

                                  Godfrey Pig Littleton focused on Elizabeth’s keyboard, a single peanut held alot as he concentrated, and the keys started to type on their own. Elizabeth swung round and read:

                                  “…Oonyway Goodfrey, Oo’ve goot a boon to pook wooth yoo! Yoo’ve boon toompering wooth moo vooells agoon! Oot’s jooly wool noot crookit yoo knoo, oold boon….”

                                  GODFREY!!” shouted Elizabeth. “Stop it! Nobody’s going to understand that Nonsense!”


                                    Becky sipped her coffee nervously, chain-smoking as she waited for Al and Sam to return from the crystal shopping excursion. She wasn’t sure if Al would approve of yet more characters in the Reality Play with so many loose threads already, all getting tangled up and dusty like so many balls of wool under the bed. Like dust bunnies, Becky thought with a chuckle. It was funny how the play had so many different moods, almost as if it had a life of its own. Well, I suppose the play itself is a sort of focus of attention in its own right, a conglomeration of the energies of a variety of essences, creating its own reality from its own perspective. But wait a minute, thought Becky, lighting up another cigarette, how is that different from me, for that matter? I am a conglomeration of the energies of fragmented essences creating my own reality from my own perspective too. Does that make me nothing more than a Reality Play —or, does that make the play a Focus of Essences?

                                    The line of thought was giving Becky a bit of a headache so she flicked through Al’s latest entries. Clever old Al had been tapping into his Spreal focus when he came up with those silly names, funny how it often worked out like that. A nonsense word here, a bit of gibberish there, none of it meaningless, and none of it meaning anything absolute, either. The secret of life, Becky decided, was in Not being Afraid Of Nonsense. People were so afraid of Nonsense, as if to be caught speaking Nonsense was a heinous crime, or at best a severe handicap, possibly resulting in some form of custody or social alienation. All you had to do was find other people who resonated with your own version of Nonsense, which happened automatically anyway vibrationally. There are thousands variations of Nonsense, and none of them make any more sense than any other, thanks to the Equality In Nonsense underground movement a few decades ago. Equality In Nonsense was started by a group of online friends a few years after the Ministry Of Common Sense had disbanded through lack of interest. It caught on quickly, making a mockery of common sense, which went underground, a few die-hards hanging on with grim faced tedium to the old tenets. Over the years, as the Acceptance Of Nonsense Rights was established, the Equality In Nonsense brigade disbanded to get down to the business of creating new variations of Nonsense, just for fun —which was of course, The Point. Nevertheless, or should I say, notwithstanding, Becky smiled, there still remained a degree of common sense in the general populace, which possibly wasn’t altogether a bad thing.

                                    It all got a in a bit of a muddle for awhile, until some enterprising folks published the handy guide books ‘Cooperation Within Nonsense ~ How To Communicate In Your Chosen Nonsense’, and ‘Accepting Total Nonsense ~ How To Deal With The Nonsense Of Others’.


                                    “Roots” exclaimed Elizabeth “I forgot the theme word!”
                                    “No doubt you’ll come up with an ingenioos way to slide it in, Liz” replied Godfrey with a smirk. “Pass the poonuts.”

                                    A disgruntled Elizabeth rewrote:

                                    “Rats!” I forgot the theme word!”

                                    Unfortunately, Pig Littleton insisted on using the OOh dimension vernacular, and Elizabeth tutted and hit send.


                                      “Oh no! Last night’s frost has killed all the blibilong plants!” exclaimed Snettie, shivering in the unnatural cold. “Honestly, this global freezing is spoiling everything. If blibilong plants can’t stand this cold, then nothing will grow here anymore, and I am sick to death of eating leopard seal with no greens.”

                                      “Ugh, don’t remind me. What I wouldn’t give for a nice fresh sun warmed bobbit fruit. All the smikkerts have migrated north as well, I haven’t seen one for months” replied Snooter. “I don’t know if I can stick around here for much longer myself.”

                                      “But this is our home, Snooter!” Snettie started to cry, her tears freezing on her cheeks. We’re Sprealians, we’ve always lived here. Where will we go?”

                                      Snooter hugged Snettie. “I suppose we’ll have to go north, like the rest of them.”

                                      Snooter and Snettie gazed around at the deserted city. Alabash had been built around the shores of Lake Flom, in the mild and temperate regions of central Spreal (later, much later, Spreal was referred to as Gondwana, but Snooter and Snettie didn’t know that. And they certainly didn’t know that the remains of their civilization was to disappear under masses of ice for so long that all memory of them was long forgotten, and that anyone mad enough to suggest that they once existed would be considered a bit of a nutter).

                                      Snettie, I think the time has come” Snooter said solemnly. “I think we have to go north. There’s only old Spagwan left here now besides us, and his daughter Illiofilly. We’ll never survive here with just four of us, even if it didn’t get any colder, and it is getting colder, every day. Why, the first four floors of all our buildings are iced up now for heaven’s sake. What happens when the ice reaches the top floors? Then what?”

                                      “We’ll all be dead by then, Snooter” Snettie sighed “By rights we should probably be dead now. When we run out of furniture to burn to keep warm, then what? All the trees are dead and buried in ice.”

                                      “We’ll come back though, when it warms up again. This can’t last forever, and when it’s over, we’ll come back.” Snooter said optimistically.

                                      “How long do you think it’ll be?” Snettie asked her husband.

                                      “Oh, not long, a few years at most. Don’t worry, you’ll be back home before you know it, but for now, let’s go and find some warmth and some decent food, eh?”

                                      “Ok, but first I want to leave something, some message or clue or something, in case anyone comes back here before we do, so they know we’re coming back”


                                      In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud


                                        Lots replied whispered story… :yahoo_praying:
                                        Journal nothing. :yahoo_raised_eyebrow: :yahoo_confused: :yahoo_shame_on_you:
                                        Wanted great surely.:yahoo_thinking:
                                        Week told high, easily real :agreed:
                                        Wrick sake :cocktail:
                                        :crystal-skull: Comment skull notice change hill


                                          “Well, Sanso” said Zhaana a trifle breathlessly, her flushed with wonder. “ The Elsepace Arrangement was certainly an eye opener, if eye opener is the right word. So what next?”

                                          Sanso laughed uproariously. “What next? What next, AHAAAHAA HA HA! What next indeed!”

                                          “What’s so funny?” asked the little girl, her face starting to crumple.

                                          “Oh don’t do the old crumple face, Zhaana, I’m laughing at myself as much as anything” Sanso replied, giving her a quick hug. He couldn’t bear the sight of crumple faced children.

                                          “Well, I still don’t understand why you’re laughing” she replied with a pout.

                                          “It’s actually a very good question, and one I sometimes find I ask myself. Well, I used to ask myself “what next” all the time, as if it was somehow important to know where I was going next, to have a destination or a plan.”

                                          “But if you don’t have a destination, how do you know where to go next?” Zhaana was confused.

                                          Sanso smiled. “It doesn’t matter where you go next, little one, because you’re always at the centre of everything. You can go in any direction you want and you’ll always be at the centre of everything.”

                                          “Well if that’s the case, why not just stay right where I am, then?”

                                          “Do you want to do that? Stay right where you are?”

                                          “No! I …er….no! of course not!”

                                          “Why not?” Sanso asked with a gentle smile.

                                          “Well, if I stay right here, and don’t go in any direction, everything will always be the same” she replied, frowning.

                                          “And what would be wrong with that?”

                                          Zhaana had to think about this. “Well, it wouldn’t be wrong I guess, but it would be boring. There wouldn’t be any surprises…..”

                                          “Ah so you like surprises, then!” Sanso was grinning.

                                          “Yes, I love surprises!”

                                          “Well then why do you want to plan where you’re going next?”

                                          Zhaana opened and closed her mouth like a goldfish. Sanso was confusing her, and she didn’t know what to say.

                                          “OK then, Sanso, you are always wandering around, how do you decide where to go next?” asked Zhaana, rather cleverly responding to the difficult question with a question of her own.

                                          “I get an impulse, or I see a sign, and I follow it.”

                                          “What do you mean, a sign?” Zhaana understood about impulses: after all, she had followed her impulse to leave horrid old Uncle Grishenka and follow Sanso into the cave. She wasn’t sure about signs, though.

                                          “I’m not sure I can describe a sign, really. They just appear, and so I notice them.”

                                          “Well, after you notice them, then what?”

                                          “Well” said Sanso “Then you interpret the sign however you want to, and then you act on it.”

                                          “You can interpret the sign however you want?” asked Zhaana with a hint of disbelief in her voice.

                                          “Yup” replied Sanso. “That’s about the size of it, Sweetpea.”


                                          “Oh Godfrey, I’ve been trying to get the theme word into this entry and I’m just not getting any closer.” Elizabeth sighed, and pushed her keyboard away. Quickly she pulled the keyboard back so that she could write what Godfrey replied.

                                          “Have some more peanuts, Liz” he replied with a laugh.

                                          Elizabeth pushed the keyboard away again and passed Godfrey the peanuts .

                                          A few moments later Elizabeth pulled the keyboard back and wrote:


                                          Sanso, a word just popped into my head, do you think it might be a sign?” Zhaana asked excitedly. “It just popped in from nowhere!”

                                          “Sure it’ll be a clue, and what was the word?” he replied, trying unsuccessfully to suppress a chuckle. He had heard the word too, and knew exactly where it was coming from, but he wasn’t going to spoil the moment for his little friend.

                                          “Moonbeams!” she announced proudly. “I heard the word moonbeams !”


                                            “This is a long process, Godfrey , a very long process” Elizabeth said with a wry chuckle. She had left her characters to their own devices for so long she didn’t know where to jump in again with her directing.

                                            “The process is the point, dear” Pig Littleton replied dryly. “Pass the peanuts, would you?”

                                            “There are hundreds of probable possibilities, in fact there are so many of them that I hardly seem able to find a place to start.”

                                            “Start anywhere Liz, and then stop when you’re finished.” Godfrey said with his mouth full of peanuts. “Ideas are like peanuts, you can savour them one at a time…”

                                            “Or shove a whole handful in your mouth at once, eh Piggy” retorted Elizabeth, frowning as Godfrey tried to munch, swallow and speak all at the same time. “If I shove too many in my mouth at once, I can’t remember each individual peanut, it all becomes a glob of sticky….”

                                            “Peanut butter spread? And what’s wrong with that?” Pig Littleton smiled.

                                            “Well for one thing Godfrey, all those bits of peanuts stuck in your teeth is rather off putting you know.”

                                            “Why?” asked Godfrey.

                                            “Why?” Elizabeth repeated, perplexed.

                                            “Yes, why? Why do you perceive the physical evidence of my enjoyment of peanuts captured for a moment between my teeth as off putting?”

                                            “When you put it like that, dear Piggy, I confess I don’t have an answer” Elizabeth replied with a snort. “As a matter of fact, I have no idea where this conversation is leading at all!”

                                            “Aha, and there you have it!”

                                            “Have what, Godfrey? What on earth do you mean?”

                                            “Well, why should it be leading anywhere in particular? The process is the point, Liz, not the destination!”

                                            “Hang on a minute, are you trying to tell me that this conversation about peanuts is a meaningful process with a point?”

                                            Godfrey Pig Litteton laughed, spraying bits of peanut everywhere and nearly choking. “Who said anything about meaningful?”

                                            “Well what’s the point of it if it isn’t meaningful?”

                                            “If it’s meaning you want, you can read all sorts of things into it. On the other hand, if it’s fun you want, why worry about meaning?”

                                            Elizabeth shook her head, perplexed. “Is it fun that I want?”

                                            “Don’t you know?!” asked Godfrey, in mock surprise.

                                            “Well of course I want fun! Everyone does, surely!”

                                            “Then why” Godfrey said with exaggerated patience “worry about meaning?”

                                            “I’m not worried about meaning, Piggy, you’re twisting my words, you tricky rascal!”

                                            “My dear Elizabeth, I quote you: ‘What’s the point of it if it isn’t meaningful’”

                                            “Pfft” she replied. “I might delete that comment. Trouble is, if I do, the rest of it won’t make sense.”

                                            “Worried about making sense now, are we, dear?” said Godfrey with a sly grin.

                                            Godfrey, you’re making me sound so old fashioned, worrying about sense and meaning! Pass the peanuts.”

                                          Viewing 20 results - 301 through 320 (of 373 total)