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Topic: The Best of Lemone’s Quotes
Best known in Oorth (Dimension of Ooh) for his best selloor Words of Comfort for the Descending, a groot philosoopher and wool of wisdoom, Erwin P Lemone has made a few delightful and abysmally profoond aphorisms that needed a proper anthology.
Be it the place for such an endeavoor.
A few quotes
“Sometimes it takes a single sniggly thorny path to go through to reach Elysian avenues much more efficiently” — ID850
“rainy wedding, merry marriage” — ID1183
“Better speak nonsense than be dead or sorry” — ID1644
“It’s not the writer’s job to piece the stuff life is made of together, it’s the job of the reader.” — ID1661
“A new-born book is like a little baby, except it smells only of ink, and doesn’t make spurious sounds” (said at an interview with journalist Finckle Frettle on Oo-TV)
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
“I thought Tobi told not to open any door this month” Becky Tooh said to Tina, who was waiting patiently on the doorsteps.
“JUST open the BLOODY door!” an exerted Tina finally managed to blurt out, remembering Mehmot Lung’s teachingsTina had decided against all common sense to go to Becky Tooh (or BeckyT) and Sean’s house, not so much to happily gargle ga-bla-blu-blooes with the little crying and smelling babies, but to see if the clone’s health was really a concerning matter.
Al’s lack of attention on the subject had not very comforting. To say the truth, he’d been horrible as usual, and hadn’t told her he was going with Sam on a trip in the Floridisles.Since New York’s flooding, and after a series of calamitous tropical cyclones, all was left of Florida was a thread of big islands, not as densely populated as it once was. However, a few of their friends were still living here, managing a dolphin ranch, and organizing on occasion some excursions with the dolphins in the lagoons.
Of course, she had remote-viewed it all, but it was horrible enough from Al to have assumed she would figure on her own.But back to the subject, she couldn’t really decide if Beckitee’s state was alarming or not. Her lack of attention was surely running down the genes pool, she wasn’t expert enough to tell, but as far as her body was concerned, Beckitee looked absolutely perfect —though she still got hints of that little balding problem left, and so little (but noticeable, still) wrinkles on her arms, she thought.
Surely Beckitee was beautiful… Not sure she was as funny as Beckipoo though.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
When a distraught Becky had finished outpouring her verbose account, Tina drew a long much needed breathe —two in fact: one for herself, and another for Becky Pooh.
“You see Becky dear,” Tina raising softly her voice, with her usual sweetness and poise, “Your dear Dr Gayesh should definitely read the Cosemotology Monthly Report …”
“What are you talking about?” Becky couldn’t help but butt in.
“Well, no sooner than yesterday they had this in-depth article on the curative properties of nettles, especially on the effects of silicate which can help rejuvenate cells… This apparently has been used to improve some cloning processes on animals. I would expect someone with advanced talents like your Dr to know that, don’t you think?”
“Nettles? Are you sure you’re not on some better herbs than I would ever dream of tasting? This sounds like a lot of rubbish to me… And no need to roll your eyes, I can remote view you” Becky was infuriated. How could something so simple have escaped Gayesh?“Unless of course he doesn’t want you to leave…” Tina said again so very softly it was almost inaudible.
“Oh, bugger with telepathy” Becky said, closing the connection to sink deeper into the ostrich feathers stuffed cushions.In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
7:33:59 AM 8-19-08 ∞1da Geolocation Time.
days of sleeping slip by. the light on the peaks soft, golden in the cool dawn. a shiver. the water would be cold but thirst is a motivating factor. movement would mean warmth. birds flitting from branch to branch…
stones to perch on. river jade at my finger tips. the babble of a quickly flowing stream. scooping with one hand to drink from a clear pool, the musky scent of cedar and low water.
across the wide stream, a river. actually. no. the amount of water between a stream and a river. a young buck, head bent low also drinking. antlers. how are years marked again? two prongs on each side. is that two years after reaching mating age? or four. no matter. eyes latch across rapidly flowing water. we watch each other. both still, both quiet. both recognizing in each other another survival being of dreams.
dream memory extending into long ago. no. longer than that. the rules to colonizing a planet. simple universal rules. one band of survival beings with a limited number of nuclear families from any survival being group that wishes to expand into livable planets. set down in one place – with nothing. no food. no implements. not even clothes. if they survive they colonize. if not. well. the universe is full of tried and failed experimentation. The pulse of all that is drawn into a black hole. drawn in and back out through tunnels of light that are trapped within the black hole…
the fact that more than one form of survival being can attempt to colonize one planet at any given time is both an advantage and a disadvantage. they become resource for each other as well as competition – resource and competition, as is all that is within and upon the planet.
still that cave, that First Cave. on the tip of the continent in the southern hemisphere… blue ocean view… a beginning that is long ago. how long ago? 160,000 planet years? 200,000 thousand planet years? late arrivals as we are, this is where our colonization is now. Digging to find those memories and what is left of that initial arrival…
walking up this valley on the other side of a continent, an ocean away from First Cave… funny how time advances forward and backward in both directions – in all directions – and remains the same. This now is the same now as that now and remains the same in both directions as it passes around each of us.
the sun trickling across the tips of trees lower and lower into the valley. another half an hour and it will be in my face.
might as well eat breakfast while I walk. thimble berries, currents, oh! yarrow. i could make tea. – if I made fire. If I had fire… or i could make yarrow tea because i have sun. . .
at peace within because i know i am returning to the High Portal Cave on the mountain, near the timberline. the central entrance, near the ancient pine. The safe harbor of the High Portal Cave, the entrance to a multitude of passageways, interconnecting chambers and stunning connecting points that open beyond this time and beyond this continent – before and after this continent. probably, through the right passage way opening beyond this planet. I don’t know that, it makes sense that it does. I believe I will find out in my memory or in my future. i remember some of these things and places. not all of them. i remember entering, finding the stone trough of water with the wooden drinking bowl on the damp ledge. i remember passageways that lead to incredible places and times. why return now? without knowing i know. this is the way it is because this is the way it will become.
warm sun on my chest. warm from walking. birds, quiet as i approach, resume their constant foraging as i pass. along the shore the constant sound of the river stream like the white noise of the universe, beautiful and ever present so that if i am not mindful i no longer hear it.
a walking stick. ok, a broken branch caught between boulders. still green enough to be strong, almost as thick as my forearm with little taper and altho it is not straight, it is a head taller than i am – perfect. a walking stick. a walking staff. i work it loose from the rocks. strange markings… the hand of an intelligent being – a gift then.
do images become visible on these pages or only the thoughts and sights from within my mind, i wonder. i try to remember not to believe all that i think… if i wonder… then do i attempt to find out? yes, often enough, yes. and why is short hair exciting, new, a sign of adventuring? changes. oh. perhaps. or perhaps it’s a way of changing breath. I smile. I walk on.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Finnley looked appraisingly at her reflection in the mirroor of the staff toiloots. She turned her head, surveying herself from different angles. Sure, her hair was cut very short, but she had always thought it looked quite fetching and stylish, and so easy to care for.
She turned over the empty cleaning bucket so she could stand on it to get a better view of her body in the mirroor. Perhaps the baggy blue cleaning dungaroos she wore were not the most flattering on her slim figure, yet incredibly practical nonetheless, with 6 large pockets. She had bought several pairs on special, so she could alternate them.
That Elizabeth Tattler was clearly just one of the mindblown ones. Mad as Almad.
And getting worse by the day!
Perhaps it was just THAT time of the moonth, but for some reason Elizabeth’s insistence on referring to her as a male had really hurt Finnley today. Ever since she had attempted to help Elizabeth with the Island story by modifying the love scene , just slightly, Elizabeth had been intent on undermining Finnley’s sexooality. Not only that, she appeared to be fabricating Finnley’s involvement with the noovel she was writing. Just yesterday she had overheard Elizabeth telling her publisher, Bronkel, that Finnley was telepoothically implanting evil suggestions in her head.
Finnley shook her head again, this time in bewilderment. For Foocks sake, someone should do something about that woman, before it is too late!
Studying herself in the mirroor again she undid the top 3 buttons of the shirt she was wearing under her dungaroos and made a mental note to buy a poosh-up bra after work today. She mussed her hair up in what she hoped was a sexy look and made her way to clean the computer gooks office.
In reply to: Synchronicity
Just a bit more on JIb’s previous comment regarding the natural vision improvement synch …
My optometrist left the area a few years ago and I have not had my eyes checked since then. A little while ago I decided I would like to find an optometrist who did not subscribe to the traditionally held views on the inevitable progression of eyesight, and would work with me to help me improve my vision naturally. I had no idea if there was anyone like that, have never heard of anyone in our area, however on impulse when I was in town one day wandered into an optometrist clinic and tentatively asked the receptionist. She straight away said they had an optometrist working there who was a “behavioural optometrist.”
Well, you will love this Jib – his name is Mr Eagle.
I have just had my appointment with him and he is delightfully wonderful. He has put me on to Jacob Lieberman to read up about as a first step.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
When Sam explained gently to Becky about the essences waiting for an entry point into this dimension, the ones that had chosen her, Becky, she was at a loss as to know what to think.
Well I don’t want to let them down, Sam, she said mournfully.
Sam laughed and said, You won’t be letting them down, silly. They’ll find another entry point. There’s no shortage of pregnant women in this dimension, you know.
But I feel like they’re mine already, Sam, I feel responsible for them now.
Laughing loudly, Sam reminded her that resposibility was her own core truth, and not an absolute one. Other essences are not your responsibility, you daft goose!
I know that, but I feel somehow connected to them now. I’ll always wonder about them, worry that they made a bad choice and chose a horrid entry point…her voice trailed off, and then she giggled. I’m talking absolute rubbish aren’t I?
Frankly, yes, dear, winked Sam. Anyway, aren’t you confusing two separate issues here, Becky? In the future probability that you viewed, Sean was a drunkard, and you had many children. They are not necessarily connected, you know. Sam winked again, and Becky blushed and whacked him over the head with the cushion she’d been clutching.
Oh stop! I haven’t even been on my honeymoon yet!
In reply to: Synchronicity
Some interesting syncs:
Discussing the comment on Franiel and Vincentius with Francie, some things of interest:
F: hahaha i laughed at the egg bit
E: bit silly I reckon
but somehow it synch’ed with two movies we’ve been watching yesterday
F: yes, good to have a bit of silly in our otherwise serious story
E: In one, there is that
ghost girl who stalks her husband new love affair, and ends up speaking through a parrot
And the other, there is this shaman old woman who remote-views her people went on a quest, and ends up dying in stead of a girl, so that the young one lives…F: oh that is like your plants in the courtyard dream too —just had a recollection of you saying one gave up its pot for the other one
E: Oh yes, true… Perhaps it’s just like a layering, like you do for strawberries, you use parts of the roots to do new plants…
“Layering is more complicated than taking cuttings, but has the advantage that the propagated portion can continue to receive water and nutrients from the parent plant while it is forming roots.”E: “In air layering (or marcotting), the target region is wounded and then surrounded in a moisture-retaining wrapper such as sphagnum moss “
“Peat moss is also a critical element for growing mushrooms” that’ll make Tracy happy
“In New Zealand, care is taken during the harvesting of sphagnum moss”
F: “it can also be used as a substrate for tarantulas as it is easy to burrow into”
E: “Such Sphagnum bogs can also preserve human hair and clothing, one of the most noteworthy examples being Egtved Girl , Denmark”. Egg and B.C. sync
F: cool name, Egtved. Oh thats interesting about the Egtved girl: due to be public this month
E: oh, well spotted!
F: shall we all pop over and check it out
E: Ahahaha sure
…In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
What really was Salitre’s mound? For most people around this valley, who had forgotten about the old times, it was nothing more than a rocky and steep piece of earth, barely good enough for Barbary sheep and piglets.
In fact, when you were coming from the new macadamized roads encircling the mountains, it could almost slip unnoticed. But when, like Granny Mosca, you knew the paths for having worn countless shoes walking on them, you could no longer ignore the towering presence of this place.
For her, it was a magical realm, a doorstep truly.Granny Mosca was the official owner of this place, though she preferred to think of it as being the gatekeeper.
She kept a few animals up there, and went everyday here to feed them, pacing up and down the treacherous paths despite her old age.Something you couldn’t really realize until you first reached the top of the mound was that the mound was at the center of the valley, giving an impressive view miles and miles around. In that land of mountains, it could be just another peak among others, but when you were here, you knew it wasn’t.
Granny Mosca had felt it many times, this surge of energy, almost as if there were streams flowing down the surrounding slopes, up to the top of Salitre’s mound. At special times of the year, it was like you could feel the dwellers of the past moving around… At this very spot were almond trees were now growing.Those tourists who came a few days ago where funny. Especially the blond woman, with the high-pitched laugh who had come a few times here already.
For sure Granny Mosca didn’t fear that they discover anything, as the place had knew how to shroud itself without her for ages, even before she was born. In fact, it was the contrary. She was willing to share some of the secrets to people daring enough and open-minded enough to crack some of these nuts of wisdom.
The land would tell them…That is… unless they left the bag of almonds to the dogs…
In reply to: Synchronicity
This afternoon we stopped at a little winery which is only open a few months of the year. I was staring at the red tops of the wine bottles to the point even of reaching out and touching one of them and saying “that’s nice”
which made people look at me in wonder. When I got home I saw Tracy’s remote view object, so well .. my point is really … do you think I won?In reply to: Synchronicity
SOME OF TODAY’S SYNCHS:
EGGLETON
reading a magazine in cafe, kept seeing the name Elise Eggleton … a journalist, seems to report mainly on appearance medicine type stuff .. (wonder if she knows about Dr B?)
PINK PIXIES/PIXELS AND EASY
Jib mentioned this morning pink pixies .. pixels? Today a woman emailed with a request for an accommodation gift voucher. I have not done gift vouchers before as the whole thing felt a bit complicated to organise … however decided it would be EASY so said YES we do gift vouchers. I looked at the clock on the computer and it was 1:23 just to confirm this easiness. She emailed straight back and said she wanted to go ahead and could i send her one in electronic format? Well I felt a bit stressed by this and not very creative and under time pressure
so looked up gift voucher templates. There were quite a few, one was called PINK PIXELS. After trying all of them out I decided to use this one, and with some modifications it actually looks really good. 
thank you Jib for your help. (not so easy to post gifts 
)PINK AND POOH AND PANDA SYNCHS:
This afternoon i went to visit my friend Katie. This might not seem momentous but the thing is she is one of my closest friends but i have not seen her for about 2 years. She only lives 10minutes drive away. We did not have a falling out or anything, but I just stopped making contact with people and have been quite introverted. Anyway there was no sense of not having seen each other for ages or anything … just the strange thing for me was that her children seemed to have grown so much. The two youngest ones, Emily and William, both were playing with bright pink balloons
and even though it was a hot day Emily had bright pink tights on. William wanted to show me his book. There were two pictures he loved and pointed out for me .. one was of a Panda which he said was the “cutest picture in the book”. The other one he loved he said was “POOH” and he was quite delighted with this. Well yes it was a picture of pooh believe it or not. It was a design of a castle and showed a big “long drop” and a man shovelling pooh at the bottom of it.RAT SYNCHS
A short while ago I googled rats as pets, not because I wanted one, just out of interest. I found it fascinating all the anecdotes about what good pets they are and how intelligent etc etc.
I found it interesting as they are an animal which is commonly hated by many people. Anyway Katie told me that her other daughter, Ella, came rushing home from Kindy School the other day saying she really REALLY wanted a rat as a pet and is quite determined to get one. Katie was not happy about this. I was able to share all my positive rat information with her and now I think Ella will get her rat. 
NUMBER PLATES
On the way home I thought how wonderful all the synchs were, and as I thought this I saw YES 57. For a short while on the way home i followed ERIC 1. I also saw BEEZ. Also HONEY8, which is another variation of the HONEYB one I saw. I do find it interesting all these bee related number plates within such a small area. Related to this, Sir Ed was on the news tonight as the Queen had a memorial service for him today at St Georges Chapel in Windsor Castle. (sir Ed was the original HONEYB synch on the day he died at the age of 88, he was a HONEY BEE keeper as well as mountain climber – this explanation is for Tracy who finds it hard to remember things)555’S
still seeing lots of these, the last two evenings have logged on at 5:55pmMISC:
Mr X bought me some cookies with hunks of ginger in them. Also I bought myself some passionfruit yoghurt. But I don’t think that was a synch really. I think I bought it because I had been talking about them.oh that’s right, the girl buying the pink pixels gift voucher was also named Emily
F
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Elvira eventually reached the 25th bush on the left at Nutley Park with a bag of assorted garments for the near naked Becky, but there was no sign of her. Elvira investigated the rain drenched foliage, and deduced correctly that the bush had recently been used as some kind of camoflage cover by a taller than average person, mixed race and probably naked.
Elvira chortled with delight; she had loved her days as a private investigator, all those years ago. Well, she said to herself, With a combination of forensic and physical clues, and telepathic and remote viewing skills, I’ll have Becky into some dry – and decent! – clothes in no time at all. Elvira stood quite still (in the torrential rain, which drew a few puzzled glances from the people rushing past), with her eyes closed and a happy contented smile hovering about her lips.
Elvira was connecting to Becky, but she was picking up diverse and nonsensical impressions. A moose running up a flight of stairs, a monk sitting in the road talking about a cup……
Pffft, said Elvira, no point in pushing it. Let’s have a look at the physical clues.
There was an obvious trail of flattened wet grass footprints which meandered, at an incongrously liesurely pace, Elvira noted, in a random higgledy-piggledly fashion between the bushes, and occasionally in circles.
Elvira set off along the trail with a spring in her sprightly old step and an aura of pleasant anticipation. She loved following a trail of clues! My, my, she said to herself, this is what I’ve been missing. Hhhmmm…..
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Just as Becky was retorting crossly to Al to please knock before remote viewing her, a clap of thunder made her jump (causing her dress to ride up alarmingly) and the heavens opened. Lashing rain soaked her to the skin, making the few threads of her dress become completely transparent.
Becky moaned in disbelief. Well, she giggled, suddenly seeing the funny side. (She was connecting to the Kuzhebarian Laughing Monks). This is one Wet Tarty Nun that couldn’t get much wetter. I hope Elvira brings a towel.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Becky put the butter back in the fridge and noticed a large casserole dish covered with a cloth. She peered into the dish, wondering what it was.
Oof! said Becky, wrinking her nose in distaste. It was leftovers of that ghastly reindeer stew that Elvira and Boris had contributed to the wedding feast, made with Al’s gruesome green bacon.
It’s a miracle we didn’t all die of food poisoning, thought Becky. That batty old crone Elvira was too old to be trusted in a kitchen, anyway. 121 years old, and showing no signs of kicking the bucket yet. Bring back euthanasia, she thought wickedly.
Oh I don’t mean it really, she said to herself (out loud, in case Tina was remotely viewing her again). I love Elvira really.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Becky was far too happy to mind the snide undercurrents she could sense from poor jealous Tina. Dear Tina, she’d had eyes for Sean all along, Becky had known right from the start.
Becky smiled kindly as she said to Tina: You’re such a sweetie pooh, Tina. I’m so glad you’re going to be such a big part of our special day.
And then Becky threw her arms around her in a great telepathic energy bear hug and said ‘I love you, Tina’.
Tina visibly quailed, Becky accurately remotely viewed, and her complexion turned an alarming shade of blotchy green. Tina spun round to the toilet, retching, thanking her lucky stars that she was already in the bathroom and close to the lavatory.
In reply to: Story Timeline and Map
[For legacy] A more complete view of the current set of data here
I will reintegrate into the main layout(done), and complete the dataset, but I post it here so that you can play a bit with the various filters and maps…
In the meantime, should you have any suggestion on the events to add, or locations to adjust, feel free to tell me…In reply to: Snooteries
May I suggest, Ms Balls (if you’ll pardon me butting in again, Snoot) Siberian Blue mud. I find it to be a far superior quality, not to mention a nicer colour. It will be a perfect match to the Blue Diamond.
There’s always a chance there may be some squashed musrooms in it, too.
T.L.M.B.
In reply to: Snooteries
Dear Snoot,
I think Elias has the answer to the dead mouse incident:
“If you are experiencing joyfulness, happiness, a gift, you are receiving of this, you are experiencing this, and you allow this to fly away. You do not hold to it. Therefore, you view happiness or joyfulness as fleeting, for you merely view it for what it is – an experience – and you allow this experience to fly away. You do not hold to this experience. But if you are creating of what you believe to be a negative experience – a painful, a fearful, a hurtful experience – you hold to this. You play your game of your cat and mouse; and even as the mouse is dead, you continue to bat with the mouse and play and examine and toss about this dead mouse, for it fascinates you!
Within your logic, express to me: is it not logical that you would CHOOSE to be exploring elements that ARE unfamiliar to you, that you would choose to bat the dead mouse for it is unfamiliar?”
Regards,
The Logical Mouse Batter
In reply to: Synchronicity
it sounds quite synchy to me Jib
the evening of my initial egg synch a few days ago, I had another egg synch :yahoo_tongue:. There was a news item about a forestry worker who had found 2 eggs in a nest, and recognised them as morepork eggs. A Morepork is NZ’s only remaining native Owl, and I think endangered, this one was the first in 20 years thought to have been reared and hatched in captivity. The Morepork, named Whisper, was on the news item, it was so cute, it had huge yellow eyes like saucers which reminded me of Tina’s comment in the story, and was sitting on top of the reporters head preening his hair throughout most of the interview.
I dreamed of 2 owls that night too.
In reply to: Synchronicity
this is a small synch with our gang of eight magpies, and also just quite interesting I thought. Scientists have found that starlings keeps in contact with seven others … starlings
