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  • #761

    So then, said Franiel sitting down beside a small mound of earth, what now?

    The top of the mound of earth was smoothed flat, and with a twig Franiel began to form small spiral patterns abstractedly in the earth. He felt no desire to go back to the monastery and face Aum Geog with the news of the loss.

    He held the twig high, and then released it to fall to the ground. It fell without sound, landed unharmed on the mound of earth. He closed his eyes and in the dark at the back of his mind, he heard the voice of his grandmother whisper; Spirals make more sense than crosses Franiel my boy, joys more than sorrows.

    Spirals make more sense than crosses….

    None of it made much sense to Franiel. The feeling of freedom he felt momentarily slipped away. He was left looking at the space where it had been, feeling empty. The task given him by Aum Geog had given him a feeling of purpose, for a short time had allowed him to forget how lost he felt. Yet now the task had been taken from him, and he was in no hurry to retrieve it, he saw it for the illusion it had been.

    What would it feel like to want to go somewhere? Or to want to be something, to want to be a monk, to want to be a teacher, to want to be the father of a family? To be able to arrange oneself neatly in a box and say I belong here?

    Spirals make more sense than crosses …. day becomes night becomes day, lives come into being, and go out of being … there is always new life coming into being …… around and around

    He began to walk along the path, away from where he had already been …. towards something new? He caught sight of a dead blackbird lying in the long grass to the side of the track and knelt down to look at it.

    It is quiet and still.

    He dug a hole, scraping in the dirt with his fingers and then using a stone to lever the lifeless body into the hole. The bird’s brown eyes are still open. Franiel covered it with dirt, looking deep into it’s eyes, until there is no sign of it, just a mound of earth.

    He traced a spiral in the dirt.

    Joys more than sorrows…

    He sat back on his heels, and keeping his mind empty, he sang to the dead bird.

    #1905
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      “The FBI believed that many New Left leaders had a weakness for spiritualist mumbo-jumbo, so a 1968 memo suggested mailing them anonymous cartoons such as the one pictured here (scroll down)

      Subsequent mailings (from increasingly closer locations) could say “The Siberian Beetle is Black” or “The Siberian Beetle Can Talk.” Other proposed characters included “The Chinese Scorpion” and “The Egyptian Cobra”–anything with a sinister meaning open to mystical interpretation. According to FBI documents, the messages were intended to cause concern, mental anguish, suspicion, and distrust among their recipients.” –Brian Boling

      “…..on another occasion, an agent noted the counterculture’s ‘‘yen for magic’‘ and proposed that the F.B.I. send carefully chosen targets a series of drawings with ‘‘mystical’‘ or ‘‘sinister’‘ overtones. His suggestions included a drawing of a beetle, which would be made all the more ‘‘sinister’‘ by its caption, ‘‘The Siberian Beetle Can Talk.’‘ In theory, the perplexed recipients’ efforts to interpret ‘‘the significance of the . . . message’‘ would paralyze them with ‘‘mental anguish.’‘ In fact, such missives proved more laughable than harmful.”

      Beetle sync (with last nights Indian takeaway )……and a sync with my most recent comment about Elvira’s days as an investigator….

      #1517
      F LoveF Love
      Participant

        The Ooh Dimension:

        It would be outside the constraints of this discussion, and the motivation of this writer, to list all the words within the Ooh Dimension so the writer will attempt to briefly summarise.

        The language of the Ooh Dimension is distinguished by its spelling, vocubarly and pronunciation.

        While those from the Ooh dimension have a verbal and written communication very similar to the language written and spoken in the Earth Dimension, the main distinguishing characteristic is the recurrent use of the sound “ooh”. This use of the “ooh” tends to be arbitrary and random, at the discretion and whim of the one doing the communicating. The randomness of the use of the “ooh” is one of the more delightful qualities of this language.

        Grammatically the language of the Ooh Dimension is very similar to that of the Earth Dimension. This could change, of coose.

        #2009

        In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

        TracyTracy
        Participant

          IT’S BEEN A great looking week, MY mind HAS BEEN FILLED, MEETING flove IN THE MAGIC room TO DANCE AND SING. IT’S alright Yann TO give WITH A smile REINDEER STEW WITH addED mushrooms AND walk clear; BECAUSE nobody NEEDS TO nurse syncs, THEY NEVER GET lost ONCE opened. BE aware THAT nothing IS UNconnected.

          #758

          “Old Leonard teafed Franiel’s chalice
          Though t’was done without any malice
          It was nowt but a clue,
          Not a chore he must do
          And the same thing applied to the phallus”

          While Becky shivered in the rain sodden bush waiting for Elvira, the connection to the Kuzhebarian laughing monk was getting stronger, and she amused herself recalling the latest developments in the Reality Play in Limerick form.

          #1718

          In reply to: Synchronicity

          TracyTracy
          Participant

            A sort of Foriegnors in Scotland Sync, although in reverse, as it were…..more like ‘Scots Abroad’…

            My (Scottish) friend in Madrid invited me up for the weekend next month. Janet speaks Spancottish, a sort of Iberian-Celtic patois….(not to be confused with Spancrottishce, which is, of course, something completely different)

            Is this a half sync, a reverse sync, or a reverse drop twisted three quarter sync?

            #2133

            In reply to: Snooteries

            TracyTracy
            Participant

              The ancients of Kuzhebar knew
              How to travel through time, it’s true
              But that’s nothing new
              Limited to a few
              It’s something that all of us do

              #757

              After all what did he care about the chalice? he eventually asked himself. It was will of others he had been following, and now the cup had been taken from him Franiel noticed a feeling of freedom within himself.

              #756

              Franiel awoke, it took him a few moments to get his bearings. He stretched, and slowly adjusted to his waking state. He wondered how long he had slept, it was quiet and dark. Although he couldn’t see much, he could feel that dawn was not far away. The ghost hour.

              He must have slept for hours.

              Remembering Leonard he looked around and softly called out. There was no reply, and unless Leonard was sleeping, Franiel was alone. “Aye” he sighed, and finding the blanket from his pack, fashioned it into a tent over his head and took shelter in it. It was nearly day, another day.

              Thinking of his encounter with Leonard, the strange dancing and especially the sweet taste of the nectar, Franiel reached into his pack again to retrieve the chalice.

              It is no longer there

              Franiel was not quite sure if he heard a voice utter these words, or if it was just a strange sense of knowing. He still felt around, taking out each item carefully and methodically, emptying the pack, not really wanting to believe the chalice has gone, nor to consider what the implications of this loss might be.

              Perhaps he did not put the chalice back in the pack after all? He crawled around his surrounds, squinting into the half light of the morning, feeling the dew damp ground. Deciding to trust what he knew in his heart already he sat back and quietly watched as the sky eventually flushed brilliant crimson.

              Red sky in the morning. A warning ….it is only weather words but ….

              Reluctant to consider his options, he instead considered some dandelions, how luminous they looked in the morning light.

              #1716

              In reply to: Synchronicity

              Jib
              Participant

                Ok, I don’t know how I fell upon this one, but all I can remember is that the name made me think of the gibbons syncs of the last few days…

                Cedric Gibbons

                Apparently he was an American art director, and “he is credited as the designer of the Oscar statuette in 1928.”
                Well that also syncs with Tracy’s comment about the parrot Oscar.. though I don’t remember where I saw it… maybe on her multiply thingy… and also after Eric’s great cubical comment, I remember seeing one of her messages to him and she said that he won an Oscar for it… :-?

                The other sync with him is that these last few days I had the impression of connecting to “ancient actors or actresses” those of the “golden age”… so to speak. Well I have not much to say about it except that it is a sync :p I still don’t know where it will lead me.

                (added later)

                Well apparently other syncs… the actress Deborah Kerr was one of the actresses in the movies he made in 1953 Young Bess and yesterday at work one of my colleagues, who is so interested in breeding cats, showed me a web site about Norwegian cats from the Lailoken site

                The kitten he was particularly interested in was called Deborah Kerr
                I don’t know if this page will stay long as they are for sale, though they are really cute.

                #755

                — “Sha! I think I’ve had one of them bloody brainwaves of mine!”

                — “You are the smart one Glor … ‘ang on, I’ll just light my fag then I can listen proper.”

                — “Well you know how Vessie has been so good to us and I still feel a bit awful about breaking that bloody door down.”

                — “We meant well though Glor. Our hearts were in the right places.”

                — “They were Sha … but then her bloke being there and all …. well that dress she was wearing Sha, it barely covered her privates.”

                — “She’s a native girl though Glor,” Sharon giggled, “She’d have grown up wearing them little grass skirts and not much else I reckon …. mind she’s ever so nice though ain’t she.”

                — “Oh she is …. and there’s nowhere to buy clothes on this bloody island neither, she must have to make do, bless ‘er little ‘eart.”

                — “It could do with a mall I reckon Glor,” said Sharon reflectively, “this place would really take off if there was a small mall.”

                — “I think you’re onto something there Sha, oh that would be bloody marvellous I reckon, a small mall.”

                — “Anyway what’s your brainwave then Sha? I’m all agog with curiousness.”

                — “Well I reckon with all the eating and lying around we’ve been doing I’ve gained a bit…. what do you reckon Sha?”

                — “You might have done a bit Glor,” said Sharon eyeing her friend thoughtfully, “you can carry a bit extra though, and it goes to all the right places on you, you look right sexy, I reckon our Harry would think so anyway”

                — “Oh give over Sha! “ Gloria blushed and giggled. “Anyway back to my brainwave … well that Vessie is quite slim … “

                — “A bit on the skinny side really, Glor, needs a bit of meat on them bones of ‘ers to be what you would call proper sexy like us, and very tall with it ain’t she.”

                — “Yes athletical, most of them island girls are I reckon. Anyway, listen up Sha, a few of my things ain’t been fitting so well and …and ‘ere’s my master plan Sha …Da da ….” she paused dramatically, “I thought I could hunt out something nice for Vessie!”

                — “Oh that’s bloody genius Glor! you’ve got a real kind heart you ‘ave! You’re a bloody saint even … did you ‘ave something special in mind?”

                — “Did I what Sha!” Gloria’s eyes were shining with delight at her own generosity. “You remember that pink frock, the one I wore when you and Harry got ‘itched, with the wee roses on it. Well I bought it with me! I thought you daft fool! when I packed it, what you taking that bloody thing for? … I reckon it was my psychic abilities I got ‘anded down from my Aunty Philly, God rest her soul, made me bring it.”

                — “Oh you’ve still got that frock! That were bloody gorgeous …. well bless your bloody heart Glor!”

                — “Well its got sentimentical value of course,” said Glor looking serious. Her voice lowered, “ Between you and me though Sha, I do feel for that poor girl. I mean she’s pretty enough .. but she’s got no bloody idea how to make the best of what she’s got. It’d be a bit on the short side mind …. but I don’t think she’d mind that, not if that last dress is anything to go by, and I’m right handy with the needle and thread if it needs any fixing” she paused for a moment thinking, “Sha! I think I’ve ‘ad another bloody brainwave! We could give her a full beauty makeover, the bloody works, with all our beauty know-how … that lippy she was wearing ..” her voice trailed off and she shook her head sadly.

                — “Wrong shade of red weren’t it,” Sharon nodded understandingly. “She’s going to have to make a bit more effort if she’s to keep that bloke of hers.”

                — “Well I’ll ‘ave him any day,” giggled Gloria

                — “Oh you’re bloody wicked, you are Glor! If your Joe could ‘ear you now! …. ‘ere you’ll ‘ave to fight me for ‘im though! … ere,” she said looking around and lowering her voice conspiratorily, “maybe we could have one of them threesomes!”

                — “Oh stop Sha, you’re too bloody much you are!” spluttered Gloria, barely able to control her mirth. “Serious now though Sha, that Vessie might be a bit overcome and shy like, with all our generousness and kindheartedness, we have to make sure she knows we ain’t taking NO for a bloody answer!”

                #754
                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  In the sparsely furnished room that V’ass had allocated him on the small building next to the clinic, Gabriele Ferrari, local Eastern Arch-Agent for the Confregation, was lying bare-chest on his bed. Despite the heat outside, the dark hair on his chest, and the lack of air-conditioning in the room, he was not sweating —the result of a total control on his chakras, a training the completion of which constituted the first requirement in accessing to the upper echelon of Arch-Agent.

                  That Agent V was promising, he could tell. She was still a bit wayward and impulsive in her decisions, but spontaneity was an asset in their job. Mmm, better not get distracted now. Plan B was at stake.

                  :fleuron: :fleuron: :fleuron:

                  A few years before, Roma, Italy, at The Confregation Headquarters

                  — I’m afraid this Dr B. isn’t very reliable. We got reports from the investigations you commissioned on his past, and upon further study of his Internet connections that we…
                  — Spare me the details, Agent W.
                  — Yes Principate, sorry Principate.
                  — Thing is he has shown some mental instabilities, and early signs of schizophrenia.
                  — Mmm… We both know schizophrenia is just a pathological sign of accessing other aspects of self… Nothing that can’t be dealt with with appropriate measures.
                  — Yes Principate
                  — Agent W, you know what is as stake, right?
                  — Err…
                  — Let me explain to you very clearly and simply Agent W. The artifact that we arranged for Dr B. to find and access the information sealed into it, this artifact, Agent W, is of utmost importance. That artifact is of course well encapsulated into the computer machinery we have provided the Doctor unbeknown to him… It is thus very important that you ensure the good progression of these works. But, despite his… de-ranged mind, as you may say… Dr B. is a brilliant scientist, and his works must proceed at all cost. If need be, send him a local agent to make sure of that.
                  — Yes Principate.

                  :fleuron2:

                  Principate Haniel was quite concerned.
                  It was a mere handful of years that thanks to the progress of computers they had managed to decipher parts of the encoded informations. The crystal skull that the Confregation had retrieved centuries ago from the greed and ignorance of Crusaders had waited long before they could start to be privy of its secrets. Centuries of patience would not be thwarted by mere negligence.
                  Strangely the information they had deciphered were related to genetic encodings. The genome decryption of most of Earth species had not yet matched the pattern that was found inside the chunk of information until very recently, in an unexpected breed of spiders…

                  Hoperfully Agent W would take the appropriate measures, Principate Haniel smiled ethereally. She would see to that.

                  :fleuron2:

                  Auckland, New Zealand, a week later

                  — Agent V.
                  — Agent W. Arch-Agent G.
                  — We’ve be summoning you for some urgent matter that requires a local assistance. Arch-Agent G. here has advised that your service would be the most appropriate for this delicate matter. Are you aware of the dossier Operation Spider ?
                  — Yes Agent W. Arch-Agent G has most kindly forwarded to me the details.
                  — You’ll be leaving for the island at the end of the week, after you’ve been briefed on the most sensitive details.
                  — Details Agent W? I thought everything was in the dossier?
                  — There is a backup plan that has been devised from our best advised consultagents. Let’s call it Plan B for the moment. B as Bee-hive.
                  — Very well Agent W.

                  #1713

                  In reply to: Synchronicity

                  ÉricÉric
                  Keymaster

                    :mouse: A rat/mouse sync with Tracy’s last comment
                    Got an email from my mum this morning calling me “the Rat” (an affectionate term coming from “library rat” as I was devouring books after books when I was a kid). Of course, it’s the Chinese rat year too :D
                    Another thing I found this morning on a random website was the name Smintheus (Σμίνθειος) an epithet of Apollo, sun god of the Greeks, possibly derived from the Smintha, a city near Troy, or from sminthos; the mouse (- exterminator/protector). :weather-clear:

                    ( ref ) [Footnote 7: An epithet derived from σμίνθος, the Phrygian name
                    for a mouse: either because Apollo had put an end to a plague
                    of mice among that people, or because a mouse was thought
                    emblematic of augury…]

                    #752
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      India Louise , standing in the draughty upstairs hallway outside Bill the artist’s bedroom, jumped out of her skin as Nanny Gibbon rushed down from her room on the third floor shouting, OCH AYE THE NOO! There’s a moose loose aboot the hoose!

                      Nanny Gibbon stopped abruptly when she saw India Louise.

                      Och, lassie, and what are you doing here in the wee hours of the night?

                      Er…..India had to think quickly. She couldn’t tell Nanny that she was hoping to tell Bill about the mummy that she and Eugenia had found in the unlocked ‘Locked Room’, so she said: There was a moose in my room! It went that way! she said, pointing up the stairs from which Nanny Gibbon had just descended.

                      OCH! The hoose is infested with moose! What’ll we doooo?

                      India Louise looked up at Nanny Gibbon quizzically. What was with all the ‘Och Aye’s’? Nanny was from Brittany, not Glasgow, what was the matter with her? Then India recalled the Scottish Dialect classes that Nanny had been attending…..obviously with a good deal of success.

                      The truth was that Nanny Gibbon was terrified of mice (which is how non-Scots pronounce moose); she suspected a reincarnational drama involving moose, er, mice, was the root of it all.

                      India was trying to think of something helpful to say (and congratulating herself on her quick thinking, although she regretted adding to Nanny’s alarm) when a shriek came from the direction of Cuthbert’s bedroom.

                      Nanny and India Louise raced along the corridor and banged on Cuthbert’s door.

                      OCH AYE, what NOO? Are ye alright, ma wee bairn? Open the dooor, Cuthbert! Nanny cried.

                      A pale trembling Cuthbert opened the door. I had an awful nightmare! I was reading our book, you know, the funny one with the blank pages, and I turned into a wolf

                      Och, there, there, ma wee laddie, there’s nay a wolf in the hoose, it’s a moose!

                      Cuthbert looked up at Nanny and said, rather rudely, Are you alright? Why are you talking like that?

                      #751

                      Why you supercilious little prout! said the Mummy

                      Steady on Sasha, I don’t think I deserve that. I am a great believer in personal choice. You chose to be part of my experiments didn’t you? Did anyone force you to come here? His voice started to raise petulently. Are you a victim Sasha? Just because one small thing went wrong, an accident, no more and no less.

                      If it wasn’t for these damn bandages I would laugh.

                      Dr Bronkelhampton threw his hands in the air in vexation. Try and see the big picture Sasha dear. How many times have I told you now? My God we have been through this over and over again. Are you listening Sasha? All you can think about is yourself and your own petty little life. You are dead, you need to accept this and move on.

                      Silence.

                      Sasha? … Talk to me Sasha dear one.

                      Dr Bronkelhampton? Nurse Bellamy tapped lightly on the office door, and entered cautiously. She could hear Chris talking to himself, again. It was nothing new, he spent hours closeted in his office lately. Though today she started in shocked surprise when she saw him, the yellow wig from the early days of the clinic was perched precariously on top of his bald head, garish make-up roughly applied, yet not hiding the dark blue circles under his blood-shot eyes.

                      He glared at her. Can you not see I am with a client, Nurse Bellamy?

                      She cast her eyes reflexively around the small office, although she did not need to look. It was bare save for a pot plant and that dreadful mummy propped up in the corner of the room.

                      I am worried about you, Chris.

                      He slammed his fist on the desk and turned away from her, staring moodily out the window.

                      Nurse Bellamy’s face reddened with emotion, she struggled to hold back her tears as all the anxiety of the last week threatened to overwhelm her. She reminded herself of the words of her dear nursing tutor Edwardo Lemenox. Always remember your calling as a nurse. When the road seems difficult, take a deep breath and remind yourself you are perfect.

                      She took a deep breath.

                      I am sorry, I mean Dr Bronkelhampton … I need to inform you that three new clients are expected tomorrow …. and we have two here waiting for their treatment to start … and I can’t entertain them for much longer, they are getting restless. Veranassessee is up to no good, and, Nurse Bellamy pursed her lips for a moment in annoyance .. and now she has a gentleman friend here.

                      Dr Bronkelhampton turned towards her quickly, the wig falling off in the process, She has a gentleman friend? Here on the island? Who?

                      Nurse Bellamy’s face reddened even more as she remembered her encounter with the drop-dead gorgeous stranger, the way he had looked into her eyes as he asked where he might find Veranassessee, goodness, she had nearly dropped her coconuts.

                      #750
                      F LoveF Love
                      Participant

                        I take it from that you don’t know where the wedding dress is currently. Well if you do come across it would you mind letting Felicity know. said Tina haughtily, switching the phone off abruptly.

                        Al’s words running through her head she started walking quickly nowhere in particular.

                        Tina, what’s the point of these experiments we have been doing with Becky and Sam if you are going to keep relying on the phone all the time? And why are you trying to sort out the dress for Felicity, it isn’t your problem.

                        It wasn’t the so much the words which had stung, after all he was right, it was the annoyance she thought she had heard in his voice.

                        She felt him making contact, quickly blocked, feeling too hurt to be open.

                        She knew he was tired, god knows he had put so much into the wedding preparations, as he did with all his projects. He was fast building a reputation for his ground breaking experiments with body processes. Tina loved Al whatever he looked like, which was just as well really considering some of the rather bizarre effects he managed to produce.

                        Becky had been a bit irritated with her as well, Tina you are so last decade, nay century even! she would say, rolling her large eyes dramatically. Becky too was racing confidently and exuberantly ahead. Her intriguing contributions to the reality play never failed to amaze Tina. Her own contributions felt stolid, words trapped in a big gluggy ball of last century energy, she had to work hard to extricate each one.

                        It was nearly dark, raining harder now, wind-driven rain. Tina liked it, the rain complemented her mood and disguised the self-pitying tears streaming down her face. There were very few people in the street. Just the long line of shop windows, glass faces warmly lit, overhangs offering some shelter from the rain, though it wasn’t shelter Tina was looking for.

                        Her long hair whipped around her face, wet blue satin clung to her slim frame.

                        Sam had taken off unexpectedly and suddenly to Australia. He had been gone only a few days and she missed him. Dear Sam, his wicked and irrepressible sense of humour could make her laugh even in the blackest of moods. He too was playing with new potentials, forging new and exciting paths.

                        The others are probably all communicating with their advanced telepathic skills right now, laughing at dumb old last century Tina, she thought morosely. In fact even last century I would have been so last century, judging by my spectacular lack of success at anything I have undertaken recently. A vision of her recent humiliation in the ballet dancing class sprang to mind. She winced and quickly blocked the distressing image of the dance teacher drawing her aside after class and gently suggesting she might try the Ancient Kuzhebar Motional Practices beginner’s class, to get some basic rhythm, before attempting the ballet. ….

                        An elderly woman who had disembarked at the nearby gondola stop splashed by her, and, illuminated momentarily by the street lamp, Tina felt a flash of recognition. The woman turned suddenly towards her, smiled, gesticulated with her free hand, the other was clutching a large bag, towards some distant bushes. She mouthed some words at Tina, but these were lost in the wind. Tina waved and managed a reciprocal smile.

                        She noticed a Positivity Robot parked in front of Samantha Lingerie, and found herself drawn towards it, 3D images of models wearing the latest in underwear fashions rotated in the shop’s window, their faces beaming irritatingly at her. These Positivity Robots had been all the rage in the early 2020’s, you did not see as many of them now. On impulse she stood in front of the robot, touched the screen, allowing it to read her energy. “negative 21” its glass face discreetly informed her. The words “I AM PERFECT flashed up on the screen as a suggested thought pattern to implement. Tina grimaced. I wonder how low I can make this damn thing go. The idea made her giggle and to her alarm shot the meter up to a positive 12. Bugger, a bad start!

                        What am I going to do with myself, Mr PR, if you are so positively smart?

                        I AM PERFECT…. I AM PERFECT …. I AM PERFECT ….

                        perfectly grumpy, perfectly insecure, perfectly last decade, perfectly soaked to the skin, Tina watched as the meter climbed all the way up to 55.

                        She glanced at the shop window, just as a smiling model wearing a minuscule open net dress and nun’s habit rotated by. She felt an inexplicable burst of amusement as the meter climbed to 57.

                        #749

                        Malika and her dog Leo stood at the entrance of the cave and was so excited to see the little draggies, she screamed with joy… and sent such loving, tender energy into the cave that all the little draggies came out to play with her and Leo, and familiarize themselves with each other. There was a mother dragon that resided inside the cave and as Malvina put her head inside the entrance, she was met with a smile, from the mother of whom was sitting atop a purplish egg.

                        The Mother Dragon introduced herself as Glordieoun…and said, softly, that this cave was a portal to her world, and a birthing chamber for all mother dragons, that were to be stationed there. It was a pregnancy chamber, a hatching chamber and a childcare chamber, that served the little draggies until they were able to fly themselves, and all the other attributes were in place, for them to be independent.

                        Glordieoun, said, that she was a bit tired and required some rest, but that she was glad that Malika finally found her way to the house, as her and all her people, knew they were now in safe and caring hands.

                        #747

                        What a francitic woman thought Elizabeth, a bit less distressed now she had secured her last insights into her clooh-box.
                        Hopefully, she could happily forget about those, and go for a walk to have some welcomed cooffee.

                        Wishing she would not bounce into some unwelcome apparition, she trod her way to the outside world.
                        How long it had been? With all that pressure from her publisher, she had almost forgotten how exquisite it all was outside.
                        So simple, and yet so brilliant.

                        It didn’t have the complexity of the Worlds of which she intuited things, nor the same amount of excitement it aroused in her, but nonetheless it was appeasing, and that was perhaps all she needed for the moment.
                        Perhaps a walk to Garden Centrool would do her great.

                        :fleuron:

                        Sitting on a bench near the dribbling foontain where cuckoos were drinking at the sound of woodpeckers’ holes drilling, she became entranced by the sound of water, and almost felt like dancing at the cuckoos and woodpecker’s cooing and drumming beats…
                        All this Lemone quotes were now far away… She’d had enough of them, and wanted simpler truths. Lively ones.

                        She could feel inspiration flow back into herself, as she envisioned her favorite depiction of inspiration, the mangeloose Pigoosus. Elizabeth was reeling in its wonderful aura, seeing the squinting eyes of the creature, the magnificence of its sprawled wings, its awe-inspiring moose antlers, and the slick body of a foxy mongoose with a protuberant snoot.

                        It all was symbolic of herself of course, the best depiction of all her awesome features. The snoot for curiosity (and nose in general), the wings for imagination, the antlers for connection, and the mongoose for the fearlessness and sex-appeal.

                        Pigoosus, or Pigooh, as she called him, was telling him tales, tales that were spun between the gapping holes of her clooh-box items, and that were weaving them together in beautiful macramooh patterns.

                        The Shift in Earth-dimension awareness is coming and it is revealing long-lost hidden things, that is the reason of these other-dimensional bleed-through on the islands. Where those having hoped to bury some artifacts away of consciousness, in that dimension where all was so separated that even Pigooh would have had trouble getting throoh. The skulls gates one by one open now.

                        Pen! She needed a pen!

                        #1709

                        In reply to: Synchronicity

                        ÉricÉric
                        Keymaster

                          A small sync that hits me now I re-read it…
                          In Francie’s comment about Elizabeth of the Ooh-dimension a reference is made of the “clooh-box”.

                          Funny thing was that yesterday, we were talking with Tracy of one of the tiles which she felt linked to Francie, with the sense of natural magic it conveys. It reminded me that Jib told me it made him think of a magical girl scepter.
                          During spring in New-Zealand, so that must have been around October, we discussed cherry blossom (or さくら sakura in Japanese) with Francie, and had some syncs with Sakura, who is a “magical girl” with a winged scepter.

                          And, as I explained a bit the concept to Tracy, I told her about the Clow cards (here’s my entry for a sync :yahoo_eyelashes: :yahoo_tongue: ).

                          Tracy found Dash interesting (its form is a blue, fox-like creature with long rabbit ears) —even more as it appears in episode 53 :yahoo_big_grin:

                          #746

                          My God, what the fuck is that?

                          Veranassessee sighed, seeing the two plump lady on top of one another, lying sprawled all fours on the ground, with the door blown out in shards.

                          Untie me Gabriele, so that I can ask for the nurse’s help. she said reluctantly to her partner, seeing with a bit of dolefulness, the effect of their strange erotic games already waning off.

                          — Are you alright ladies?
                          — Oh, I guess so, Vessie, sorry to have interrupted, we thought…
                          — Yes, yes… Veranassessee was feeling oddly detached from the women’s babbled and muddled excuses, and even more detached from her own sloppy appearance.
                          All she could think at the moment was that she seemed fated to marry Mahiliki, and get loads of children on Fukitupi, a doom that hovered on her head like a rapacious magpie over a precious gemstone…
                          Good thing she was so gorgeous she would look great even wearing a potatoes sack. Sure Gabriele had noticed that already…

                          Arch-Agent Gabriele came back, telling her he had called nurse Bellamy on the intercom, and she would be here in a minute.
                          I’ll go to my room dear, we’ll talk later about Barbella. he said casually, a convenient code for “plan B” between them two.
                          Professional as he was, he had also, V’ass noticed, as the women were untangling themselves, made the box and the silky rope very stealthily disappear.

                          Sure, they would have more time in the evening. But now, she noticed she’d been a bit too lax on the security around the new guests. Fine that Dr Bronkelhampton’s recommendations were to have the patients free for the first months of their treatments (after all, the more drastic transformations never occurred before the thirteenth week), but she had to be more careful about them.
                          She could not have them compromise “plan B”.

                          B as Barbella… or rather…
                          B as Bee-hive.

                          :fleuron:

                          — Did you hear like me, Glo?
                          — I think so, Sha…
                          — What’s that Barbiella, Glo?
                          — Barbella, Sha, barbella, like barbell… Could be a woman’s name…
                          — Poor Vessie seemed so annoyed by the incident…
                          — Yes Sha, we have to help her somewhat, if we want her to forgive us
                          — Sure, we’ll find something to do, Glo.
                          — Yes… I don’t like that Barbella. Perhaps it’s the man’s…
                          — Gabriele
                          — Yes, Sha, Gabriele —does sound Italian, doesn’t it?
                          — I was about to tell you Glo…
                          — Perhaps that’s Gabriele’s wife…
                          — Or some kinky sadomasochistic practice we never heard of…
                          — Rhooo, Sha, chuckled Gloria, who was thinking of Veranassessee’s dress and wrists tying games…

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