Tracy

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  • in reply to: Join me for a gourd of langoat milk…… #1428
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      Ahahaha!! I just noticed that when I linked it to Sanso’s cave…….Oh Ahaha! Is THAT what you meant by congratulating me this morning? :yahoo_oh_go_on:

      I’m delighted that the 1111th comment was in connection with all this marvellous (rats can’t remember the damn name) you know, this Russian stuff…..:yahoo_big_grin:

      in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #709
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        Zhana was so happy that she started to sing .

        That’s beautiful! exclaimed Sanso, Sing another one!

        So Zhana sang some more.

        Whoa! said Sanso. Weirdo singing!

        Oh! Zhana looked crestfallen. Don’t you like it?

        Hahaha, Oh yes, I love it! Please, sing some more.

        Well…….oh, alright. And Zhana sang for Sanso…..and sang some more……

        Where did you learn to sing like that? asked Sanso politely.

        Oh, haha, Zhana laughed and blushed. Granny used to sing like that. Zhana sighed wistfully, remembering her grandmother. If only they hadn’t had to kill her when she got too old to be useful.

        Sanso closed his eyes, feeling a song coming to his own lips from somewhere deep inside him.

        Sanso suddenly felt sleepy after all the strange singing, and lay down on the mushroom speckled forrest floor and drifted into a strange dream of mice and birds and a topsy turvy world.

        Zhana wasn’t really tired, after all, she had only just woken from her sleep when she met Sanso, but she lay down beside him and after awhile she drifted off. She had some strange dreams too.

        in reply to: Snooteries #2109
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          Dear Anonymouse,

          I had a sudden intuition (if you’ll excuse me butting in here, Snoot) about the sudden stomach pains and diarrhoea, Flove. I also had a spell of that Macropsia or whatever it was recently, and I suspect imaginary mushroom poisoning.

          You’ll be happy to know that the imaginary cure worked

          T.L.M.B.

          in reply to: Snooteries #2108
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            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: Rafaela’s Random Ramblings #1896
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              And another snippet about crystal skulls…..
              :cluebox:
              “….if you wish to project
              your mentality and blend your consciousness with the idea of the
              consciousness of the civilization that has created it, so that you may
              in a sense, follow them, you will have to form a blending with all of
              yourself. That is, let us say, the safeguard, the lock and the key. In
              that an individual who cannot come to terms with the blending of all
              portions of their personality will not be able to enter the door.”

              in reply to: Rafaela’s Random Ramblings #1895
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                I had no idea that Russian mushrooms would prove to be such an interesting subject…..

                Vladimir Soloukhin:

                While you are sorting out the mushrooms you recall each one, where you found it, how you first saw it, how it was growing beneath this bush or that tree. Once again you experience the pleasure of each discovery, particularly if they were rare and fortunate discoveries. Once again all the images of the mushroom forest drift through your mind, all the secluded wooded spots, where you are no longer, but where the dark firs still lour and the crimson-touched aspens speak their language in low breath.

                in reply to: Snooteries #2105
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  Dear Snoot,

                  Something else just happened on the same dog bed: Henry was sick on it. Is it because I haven’t been allowing my cleaning aspect enough?

                  And not only that, Snoot, it’s a Sick Sync: I woke up this morning with stomach pains and diarrhoea! Is it a release of the grey energy blockage?

                  Weak and Bafffled in West Barfland :yahoo_sick:

                  in reply to: Snooteries #2104
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    Mouse sync, Snoot! There was a dead mouse on the dog bed yesterday morning. What does it mean? :yahoo_idk:

                    in reply to: Snooteries #2102
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      Cute Snoot! :yahoo_kiss:

                      in reply to: Rafaela’s Random Ramblings #1894
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant
                        in reply to: Rafaela’s Random Ramblings #1893
                        TracyTracy
                        Participant

                          Remember when I woke up one morning saying ‘The Midden Man”? No? Well, I’m just making a note of it here in case I want to peruse this later.

                          in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #707

                          Phew, thank Flove for that, I’m not dead. Illi had just surprised herself rather unsettlingly, but no sooner had her hand fluttered to her chest in a dramatic little gesture, she remembered hearing somewhere that’s how you could tell if you were dead or alive: no surprises when you’re dead. She waved her hand airily, and laughed. At least I’m alive. :yahoo_whew:

                          in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #706
                          TracyTracy
                          Participant

                            Becky wondered anxiously where this new twist in the reality play was going. :yahoo_idk: Frozen meat! I don’t like the sound of this at all…. :yahoo_nailbiting:

                            in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #705
                            TracyTracy
                            Participant

                              What did you do over there, Elvira? asked Fleur, passing the photos on to Catherine.

                              Well, uh, we exported frozen reindeer meat, Elvira replied slowly.

                              Lovely, said Fleur sarcastically, promptly losing interest in the depressing old crone. Frozen meat, how exciting.

                              in reply to: Rafaela’s Random Ramblings #1892
                              TracyTracy
                              Participant

                                Amanita muscaria intoxication typically produces macropsia, which means that the sense of scale is lost, and small objects can look many times their actual size….

                                Coincidentally, my photo blog is a bit macropsiac lately……

                                The above link provides clues to the ‘frozen reindeer meat’ surprise entry.

                                in reply to: Rafaela’s Random Ramblings #1891
                                TracyTracy
                                Participant

                                  Interesting development in the SM research: those who can’t afford the actual mushrooms can drink the urine of those who can and have done; SM’s have the unusual property of remaining unmetabolized by the body….or something…..

                                  in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #704
                                  TracyTracy
                                  Participant

                                    Well, now there’s an idea, Elvira said, closing the book she’d been reading. Hhmmm….

                                    Boris, how about a trip back home to see the folks?

                                    Boris looked up in astonishment. Home? see the folks? What for? Elvira had said right from the start, Don’t ever expect me to go to Siberia! And Boris had never pushed the matter; after all, he was in no hurry to return there either. In the 3 years they’d been together, the subject had never come up.

                                    Listen to this, Boris. Elvira picked up the book and started reading.

                                    “….in May, Kerouac had written to Timothy Leary requesting some ‘SM’ or Siberian mushrooms, after Ginsberg told him that they would enable Jack to complete a chapter each day…”

                                    Boris, we can make a fortune! We can stay with your folks. Mushroom season starts soon, we’ll stay for the season, dry them or whatever you have to do, pack them into dolls or something, and have them shipped back here.

                                    Well I don’t know, Elvira….I like it here.

                                    Oh pooh, Boris, we’ve been in London for almost a year, and I’m bored. It’ll only be for a few months, and then think of all that money! How many of our friends have writers block? All of them! The market is there, Boris! We’ll have writers beating a path to our door for SM’s…..

                                    in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #702

                                    There was a tantalizing scent of wildflowers and meadowgrass in the still cool air of the cave, and as Sanso rounded a bend in tunnel a gentle breeze ruffled the folds of his robes. He quickened his pace, gladdened by the welcome promise of an adventure outside of the endless labyrinth. The air felt cool and warm at the same time, and deliciously fresh and clean as it wafted towards him, and with a feeling of immense joy, he heard a snatch of birdsong.

                                    It seemed like many long years that he’d been trudging around in the gloom and the stale air of the caves, although he suspected it wasn’t as long as that. Time played tricks on him, he knew that, while he was wandering around in the darkness. He’d missed Arona, and that strange baby, when he’d first set off alone again, but not for long. He knew when it was time to move on, and so he’d left them. From time to time he wondered if he’d encounter them again, and knew he would.

                                    A shaft of sunlight spilled into the tunnel and Sanso stepped out into the light. The breeze was fluttering the birch leaves high above him, as he squinted up at the pale blue sky. Grinning happily, Sanso took his time adjusting to the light. He sat cross legged on the soft green grass, feeling it springy beneath his hands. Hundreds and thousands of red and yellow spotted toadstools stretched out as far as he could see, carpeting the forrest floor with polkadots of colour.

                                    Sanso looked down at his hands. The creases of his skin and under his nails were engrained with reddish dust, and he wanted water more than anything, gurgling bubbling fresh clean water. He stood up, and shook his robes a bit, and set off into the woods.

                                    Intuition told him which way to go to find water. He marvelled at tiny flowers, and scampering insects along the way, squashing fungi beneath his bare feet which oozed up through his toes with little squeaky noises.

                                    A rabbit ran accross his path and stopped momentarily to stare at him and Sanso laughed out loud.

                                    Oh! Who’s there?

                                    A girl in bright flowered skirts was sitting on the grass in a clearing just ahead, rubbing her eyes.

                                    Whoa, I must be dreaming, she said, and rubbed her eyes again. She peered at the apparition in indigo robes, with skin the colour of tobacco and wild matted hair. Am I dreaming? she asked Sanso.

                                    Perhaps, perhaps not, replied Sanso, who wasn’t really sure. I may be dreaming myself. My name is Sanso, anyway, what’s yours?

                                    Zhana, the girl replied, Well, Uncle Grishenka calls me Zhanochka, but I…but I….I hate him, and I’m not going back! And much to her surprise, she burst into tears.

                                    Sanso was momentarily non-plussed, and wondered what to do next.

                                    Well, dear, if you don’t want to go back, why, then don’t go back! He wasn’t quite sure what the problem was; after all, he’d been wandering for so many years on impulse and whim he hardly knew any other way to go about it.

                                    I don’t know where to go instead though, Zhana said tearfully. The long dark cold will be here again soon, and I must have shelter somewhere…..who will have me, besides Uncle Grishenka?

                                    What long dark cold? asked Sanso. It seemed light enough and warm enough here.

                                    Oh, my! Zhana was astonished. You ask me what long dark cold? Where have you come from? How is it you don’t know of the long dark cold? Oh! Are you from Nishanti’s place?

                                    Zhana stood up in some considerable excitement. Can you take me to Nishanti’s place? Oh please say yes!

                                    Well, I, er, um…..well, I suppose so. Well, yes! Sanso didn’t want to let the girl down, although he wasn’t altogether sure he knew where Nishanti’s place was. But he was game to give it a try, and the company of the girl would be a welcome change.

                                    Tell me about Nishanti, then, Zhana, and what her place is like. Sanso was hoping a few clues might ring a bell, perhaps.

                                    Nishanti has been my friend for as long as I can remember, Zhana said. We dream together mostly, well, Zhana blushed, Uncle Grishenka says it’s all in my head…he say’s it’s nonsense….

                                    Zhana squared her shoulders and carried on. Sanso had a kind look, and nodded encouragingly.

                                    She hardly wears any clothes, and her skin is warm and brown. The sun always shines and the sky is always deep blue in her place and we play outside all year long. There’s always warm ripe fruits to eat, not turnips and noodles, colourful juicy berries and plump pink fishy things, and there are flowers all year long, and the water isn’t frozen, we can play in the water and it doesn’t turn our hands blue…..

                                    Ah, the other side of the world…hhhmmm…..Sanso rubbed his whiskery chin thoughtfully.

                                    Ok, I can’t promise we can find Nishanti, but I think we can find the other side of the world. But first, I’d like to find some water, and perhaps a little fresh food?

                                    Zhana whooped with delight, and flung her arms around Sanso. Yes, yes!

                                    in reply to: Rafaela’s Random Ramblings #1890
                                    TracyTracy
                                    Participant

                                      Good Greif! I thought we were making up all that crystal skulls stuff! Blimey O’Riley!
                                      :yahoo_surprise: :calendar:

                                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                                      “February 9, 2008

                                      We are the crystal skulls and we bring you a message today about the 13th gate and the 13th skull.

                                      First we would like to tell you that those looking for the 13th skull will be disappointed. It is not time for the 13th skull to be found yet. But even though the 13th skull is on hiding right now, it will start working with your planet and the people upon it.

                                      The 13th gate will be opened on a special day for our channel.

                                      February 20, 2008.

                                      The initiation into the 13th gate will start soon after this.

                                      What does this mean for you and your planet?”

                                      in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #695
                                      TracyTracy
                                      Participant

                                        Zhanochka ran until she could run no more, and then she collapsed into a heap on the ground. Birch trees shimmered against the watery blue sky abover her head and before long her eyes had fluttered and closed.

                                        Moments later she smiled. Nishanti, she whispered. You’re here.

                                        Zhanochka slept soundly where she had slipped to the ground, sprawled on the tussocky grass beneath the trees, her sleeves still pushed up over her elbows and a smile on her lips.

                                      Viewing 20 replies - 1,741 through 1,760 (of 2,124 total)