The best antiques are old friends and great books. Only a few find the way, some don't recognize it when they do, some don't ever want to.
A visit to a bookstore
Author Clinton R. Siegle
Ender Talon is walking down a street when he notices a new bookstore. The sign hanging over the door “Enter the Magical Bookstore of Mirror Realities”. Thinking this would be of interest, he went on in. To his surprise, an Owl perched behind the sales counter. Not thinking much about it, he went looking around. Searching for this is that book that might interest him.
He found “Mirror realities and their gateways” by Sir Richard Francis Burton. He knew the name. He just could not place it at that moment. Thinking something that a noble wrote about might be fun, he previewed the first page.
What you are about to read will change your life. Are you sure you want to continue? Well, that’s an opening hook for a book, thought Ender.
He added it to his side and continued to read through the shelves until he came upon the most odd book. It was one of a kind because opening he saw it handwritten and filled with news clippings and what looked to be references to hyperlinks to stories references by the writer Clinton R Siegle. The title page “The wondering mind through the multiverse”. It was a catchy title, so he added it to his side along with the other book.
Then he found himself in a shelving area where there were maps. Now this was exciting. The maps according to titles listed some most interesting places and seemed rather detailed from Ender’s memories of reading stories about the land of Oz and Wonderland. He found one with a collection of different themed stories that he loved as a child. The author Claw the pirate made him laugh. Wondering how on earth a person could legally use that? Then again, he supposed that they could use pen names in any manner of fashion.
With these three books, he went back to the entrance. He set the books down and looked for someone to ring him up. The owl hopped down from his perch and was about to touch the books. Ender said, “Ah?”
The owl replied, “That will be seven gold pieces, please.” Now this was earth and talking owls were something new to Ender. His shock must have registered something on the owl’s face.
The owl said,” First time here I see?” To which Ender was a bit taken back. For this was his first time hearing an animal outside of parrot talk. Ender replied, “Um, yes, and who are you?” The owl sort of fluffed his feathers and said, “Mr. Whoo, at your service. I own the place.”
Ender was wondering what seven gold pieces were valued in dollars? He pulled out his Mastercard. Ender said, “I was wondering if you take Mastercard?” Mr. Whoo looked at the card and at Ender.
Mr. Whoo said “So, you are not a normal person are you?” Now this was something to think about for Ender. Because as far as he knew, he was as normal as could be. If some might be wrong with him, a bit abnormal or below normal for most people. Ender’s expression must have registered something with Mr. Whoo. who then went to a book, opened it up and looked through several pages.
“Well, according to time and space, light currency money exchange would normally be 2100 dollars. However, that is with inflation for the time you were living in to that time of it being written. Which does not seem fair? So, according to time travel placement of the books and you seemly un-normal way of just entering my store Willie nellie the first book original sold for 8 pounds English which is in today’s dollars 24, the second sold original for free to a person who picked up a personal diary of one of the few Mandela Effected people to survive the movement of souls to the eighth realm of reality however I paid two books worth 10 dollars and need a profit so I will sell it to you for 12 dollars, and the maps book?” Mr. Whoo looked it over. He appeared to be thinking for a moment. Then said, “I will sell it for a storybook of yours once you get back from some of these places or for 16 dollars?”
Now Ender was thinking. He was off to go to cooking school, and traveling to anywhere was not in his plans at that present moment in time. So, spending 42 dollars on what he had expected to spend 24 to 18 was a bit more than he had planned on at that moment in time. However, this being a mystery that he did not remember having special powers to speak to animals nor wanting to miss out on the stories he thought must be in the books he pulled out his cash. He paid the money and said, “Mr. Whoo, may I ask where am I? I thought I was walking the streets of Bozeman, Montana and evidently I am no longer anywhere near there?”
Mr. Whoo chuckled with a reply “Sir, you are where you think you are however, who or what or how you got to this shop is a mysterious to me as your shocked face was to me when you heard me speak.”
Ender wondered for a moment. And thought before leaving. “May I look around once more, because if this is not a dream there were books here I wanted but just felt like not touching at that moment because they looked too expensive and I am curious on what I might miss out on?”
Mr. Whoo replied, “Why certainly, sir.” And with that went back to his perch, leaving Ender to wander the shelves once more. He went back to where he had seen the book titled “The true ending of two of the daughters of the House of Romanov”.
Ender picked up five more books of various interests and went back. Mr. Whoo was excited and added everything up to 83.50 this time, and Ender asked for a card or street directions back. To which Mr. Whoo chuckled with the reply, “When you least expect it you will find me again, sir.”
And with that Ender left the bookstore and found himself close to Baucus, his favorite of all you can eat soup and bread cafe in downtown Bozeman.
Ender had just gotten into the Baucus. He worried that all you could eat bread would be out. He asked if there is any left. The cute waitress replied, “There’s plenty left.”
He opened the first book he got from the bookstore Enter the Magical Bookstore of Mirror Realities, the title “Mirror realities and their gateways” by Sir Richard Francis Burton. After reading the first chapter about how a column in a mosque in Egypt had a way for it to hear the entire world and if asked brightly, you could listen into anyone or their thoughts, Ender exclaimed out loud, “It’s not real.”
The next bread and soup arrived by this time an old man came by. Ender knew him. Malcolm Storm. His great-great-grandfather used to own all of Bozeman and their old mansion now a frat house was on an enormous block with much of it looking like a park walked by. Malcolm said, “So you have just seen the other bookstore?” Ender replied, “How did you know that?”
Malcolm laughed and sat down. He then went into a story about one of the many stories about him purchasing books from Mr. Whoo. It was quite a story.
Ender asked, “How does one get back there?” And Malcolm with a wink says do not look, just do what you were doing when you found the bookstore for the first time. To which Ender thought for a while. He had just been wandering the streets of Bozeman, like Robert M. Pirsig had done thinking how much time and money he was wasting on non-practical ideas being thrown out to him and when questioned? The professors always seemed to take offense to their ideas being asked to be explained. That was why he was thinking of quitting the whole thing.
He then noticed his book on maps. Claw the pirate, a piece of paper or map was hanging out. He reached for it and pulled it out the realm of the Baucus sort of swirled away. Somehow he was sitting on a bench in a forest near water and he could hear the most beautiful voices ever. He looked around and his pack with the eight books was there and three loaves of bread and his wine glass was there but to be anywhere in Bozeman? He had no clue where he was at?
Putting on his pack adding the loaves of bread and drinking the wine storing the glass in his pack the best he could he checked his shoes, socks, and found that he still had the service cloth napkin which he was thanking God for because he was out of Kleenex. After this preparation he left towards the singing. To make sure he could find his way back? He walked in a straight line using stones, and twigs picking up other items every few feet so he could look back and see where he came from.
What he thought was a river turned out to be a beach for a rather large lake or an inland sea for the water was not salty. The music or singing he finally found was a party. Now, the singing was in some language Ender had never heard before and was wonderful. There were women playing in the sea, and to see the other creatures dancing around Ender thought he had gotten stuck in some Mad Hatter story. For there was either the best custom party Ender had ever been or there was a real life goat boy, a girl who modesty made Ender think maybe he was in some sort of Mardi gra for she was dancing wildly with either nothing or very little on. And the ladies in swimming? Ender wondered about the wine for surely they had fins tails and no legs. Maybe Disney’s new theme park?
But, how? When a man walked by with a pitcher of? Well, Ender had no idea but somehow the glass that he for sure had in his pack was in his hand and now full of what was white wine. Seeing others drinking it, Ender went with the flow.
After the first sip? Ender was sure he stood and watched a cloud for maybe two weeks. The clouds were there and the party went around him. However, time itself? He was sure he was just watching and not doing anything. And then? A person showed up he recognized. At Baucus the cafe the painting of the drinking deity was there and this? Well, this was almost an exact replica. Or Ender had ended up in the picture maybe? Who knows. All Ender knew was Baucus was there and the Mermaids were somehow now transforming into some of the most beautiful women Ender had ever seen.
Ender had known some beautiful women. How? Being abnormal he was one of the few people that would make a person feel connected if they ever were given a chance to talk with him. And? He had listened to some of the wildest women and men in the world. His world at least. How? He wandered into places that people often were lonely. Why? He was usually looking for food. When he would sit down they would come up and tell him their stories. From Seals, to wild women, to murders, to drug users. He had survived two reservations and other places realities that many of his friends or people around him had not lived.
So when Ender looked and realized the most beautiful women were there and the music was lovely and they were dancing he asked to join in. Now how? First he used his hands to indicate could or would they mind? At first there was a bit of a lag. Meaning Ender dancing moves was like syrup considered to the women and other creatures dancing around.
Then a hush came over everyone. A lady and gentleman showed up. A whisper and this time Ender could understand the words. Whatever the wine was allowing him to hear. It was high ole German. The word rae or king and queen finally reached Ender’s ears as people were bowing to the two.
Just looking at the two Ender realized who they were. He had seen them in pictures of a book describing some Scottish pastor being kidnapped a long time ago. Ender bowed even though he felt no need. Ender was after all a citizen of the United States after all was he not?
The king looked at Ender. And spoke. Now it was not really speaking, it was a dream or thought. Wildly. Ender felt the future and saw the king of fae and Ender drinking under a mountain watching a cloud for two weeks. And the complete story. Then?
The Mermaids started to pair off with faes and other creatures until there was a cute one dancing alone with Ender. They danced until? Who knows it might have been one day or months. For Ender the whole experience was like a dream. Her smile was pushing the boundaries of scary for Ender. For watching the rest he could see the shameful acts going around him and wondering where all this would end up.
Finally, Baucus came by with the King of fae again and a third man or Merman for his beauty was truthfully like those of ladies. The Merman then said something and magically the Claw the pirate map book was in his hand. The three sort of stared and looked at Ender for a moment and then laughter which was so wild that if Ender was not normal he was sure madness would have occurred.
Then the conversation happened and the next thing Ender recalled that everyone and everything was under the sea. Seems like a glass fish bowl wherever the sea was at.
Ender looking down found looking down that he had fins now and was moving with the lady who had been dancing still and her smile was that of something else. Something that showed such pleasure he was a bit worried about what had happened. She came up and said only one word “Rico”.
With that word Ender found himself back on the bench where he had first entered this reality. His pack was still there checking all the books still there. The wine glass now had changed into a goblet of some metal. Wondering what to do he checked for the cloth for a napkin because a Kleenx is one of the most important things on any adventure. Sure it was there along with something else a new map. Was it from the Clae the pirate book? Ender was not sure. However, looking at it he found that the bench was the entry point to what looked like a path to a sea and a city under the sea.
A Sonnet by Clinton Siege
My common Mind, you inspire me to write.
How I love the way you stay and wander,
Invading my mind day and through the night,
Always dreaming about the salamander.
Let me compare you to be ordinary?
You are more shifting and more unstable.
Snow chills the berries of January,
And wintertime has written this fable.
How do I love you? Let me count the ways.
I love your beauty, reality and real.
Wanting your reality fills my days.
My love for you is the wavering steel.
Now I must away with a stable heart,
Remember my eared words whilst we’re apart.
Ode to the Mandela Effect
A Sonnet by Clinton Siegle
My Mandela Effect, to you I write.
How I love the way you interchange,
Invading my mind day and through the night,
Always dreaming about the action range.
Let me compare you to a library?
You are more shifting, plastic and drastic.
Ice bites the debris of February,
And wintertime has the memories tragic.
How do I love you? Let me count the ways.
I love your great Change, Illusion and change.
Thinking of your Illusion fills my days.
My love for you is the wary test range.
Now I must away with a forceful heart,
Remember my green words whilst we’re apart.
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The trick is not to let people know how really weird you are until it is too late for them to back out. I am just one step away from being rich, all I need now is money. I am not hard to buy for. Go to a bookstore. Buy a book. Share this if you admit that you are weird and do not care. If you cannot stand my humor, then do not add me. I stay a bit overweight because it would not be fair to all the skinny people if I were this attractive intelligent, funny and thin. It is a public service really.... Human beings cling to material things that are cold as snow, whereas I seek the flame of love... For I have discovered that material things kill painlessly, but love revives us through the torments. Often people who criticize your life are the same people that do not know the price you paid to get to where you are today. Relax, we are all crazy, it is not a competition. I am the kind of crazy you were not warned about because no one knew this level existed. The greatest prison people live in, is the fear of what other people think. Had you ever listened to someone for a while and wonder who ties their shoes for them? I too. Been there, done that. Then been there several more times. Because apparently I never learn. IF you wish to understand the universe, think of energy frequency and vibration.
Humans should not meddle in the in the affairs of dragons... Humans after all taste good with ketchup... A book is a magic portal to another dimension- taken a book is better than any drug to be high on for to read brings about imagination and dreams. The secret is not to tell those that could reach this stage, but to hold onto this reality a bit by bit to make it yours. It is the first responsibility of dreamers to question the authority of those seeking to enter. Secrets after all, are only true when one and only one knows them.
To reach these secrets visiting a person that happens to see the world a little differently, such as a poet, writer, or those just a bit off and talking with them happens to open their minds to ideas. Think before thinking becomes illegal. Read before they burn or destroy the books again... Imagine before the end...
Do not wish, not to know. Because you prefer to remain unenlightened, to better be a cow slaughtered in the dark. The end was here and a poor poet I am. A hero to no one who remembers. However, within my imagination, I am someone as important as the next person an influence of good with a little naughty on the side. Someone you are pleased to know of but do not really know for sure. For how can one know a poet's heart when his words on paper, stray from politics to famous people to a cartoon drawn just recently by noon? To say I am recognizable is a short statement to those that read tiny articles or notes pinned here and there. Alternatively, poor poetry sent to people that had half a mind not read it for what is a poet, but a small person within himself caught by today's light and in the night as unbalanced as a mad hatter at a tea party with Alice in Wonderland So few actually remembers days as a poet nor see through his eyes how the world was changing due to people lack of kindness or rareness. Shame is but sadness today. Forgotten is the way to be true and heart-felt best friends to a mad hatter.
I am currently unsupervised I know. It freaks me out too. However, the possibilities are endless. Blessed are the weird people— poets, misfits, writers, mystics, painters, troubadours— for they teach us to see the world through different eyes. So you are okay with the government having the weaponry to annihilate all life on earth... But you are upset with someone who owns a rifle that holds 30 rounds? When someone tells me, I live in a fantasy world, I take that as a compliment. Never be afraid to sit awhile and think. The most precious jewels you will ever have around your neck are the arms of your children. Can you handle all this awesomeness? We are each given a limitless capacity to love and attain wisdom. To the extent we use these gifts is our choice. One cannot be spiritually fulfilled until another animal has touched one's soul. "YOU FALL IN LOVE WITH PEOPLE'S MINDS" writer's block when your imaginary friends stop talking to you. Clint the world is an odd place nowadays. Is it life of ease precisely losing its ease? Conversely, is it life accurately being what it is.
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https://www.minds.com/Talon123/blog/lost-sure-i-get-lost-a-lot-these-days-1115735885487083520 Lost? Sure I have been lost. Just going down the street turning around and poof. I have a completely new reality in front of me. They call it Mandela effect. I call it closed time curved loop time travel backwards in time. Locals call me nuts at times. Telling me the mountain did not move. For them sure. For me? Nope, it sure has moved. Same with South America, Seattle, Washington, Japan, New Zealand. Lost? I use to be able to walk a city and go to a specific place after seeing it once. So? You are a small town boy. Who lived in Sunnyvale then Goleta, California. Columbus, Ohio, Bismarck North Dakota, Austin Texas, Denver, Colorado, Orlando, Florida, Salt Lake City and many more. That is just to name a few places I could easily find a good cafe or bookstore at. I knew places and people and locations. Now? Now. I rise the public transportation with a mind of adventure. I mean traveling time one never knows when a cafe will be opened closed or disappear from one reality to the next. I think that was the funny part about talking to Louis before he passed away. He scared me. Old English teacher here in La Paz, Bolivia. He was traveling too. And what he told was funny. I mean to me it is. To you? Nothing new. I mean you are stuck here and I? Tomorrow will be lost someplace else. Do I care? Awe. Carrying. I think the most awkward part of time travel. It is not a single person I know in my household can tell me a specific story we had together. That if you would have lived with me on my world you would have known. That and cheese. I think who ever freezes your cheese at night might not know what cheese tasted like. Maybe it is the Matrix effect everything tastes like chicken. Lost? I will tell you one of the better lost stories. Sept 2016 Wild. I am not sure if I am going crazy or if the time has changed. Or seasons. I remember winter in Bolivia and this.. This is not the weather I remember. Being blind for a year and half, maybe I am just more crazy than I think I am. Some things have changed so dramatically. I wonder a lot these days. I think I should not have read that book. To realize this now is a bit too late. Everything seems the same in yet. I can not put my finger on what has changed. The people? Yes, their personalities in yet. I get to go outside tomorrow can’t wait. In the early morning walking outside for the first time since my eyes went blood red. And I saw galaxies swirling in my eyes all in blood for sometime. Leaving the doorway, I almost faint. My mountain is gone. I am not sure what to do? How can I misplace an entire mountain in my memory? I ask a simple question where is it? The reply rather floors me. My pronoun-cation of the mountain and their reply to the word is totally different. What has happened? The mystery deepens when I realize a whole side of the mountain I live on has slated down by an additional degree or so. And either someone in one year has decided to paint every single house in the neighborhood or I am no longer where I was at. I ask about a friend. I try to explain what I am seeing. He laughs, and that is that nothing. I insist. Some months and several realities later, I finally force the issue and have him drive me to my mountain. The google says 3 hours 15 minutes. Wild. We are driving on paved roads. How can this be? I knew the road was dirt. When did they pave it I ask? I don’t recall the answer. Four hours into the drive I think my friend is getting nervous. Why? The mountain has moved. And google maps either is crazy or has no concept of how fast a crazy driver of Bolivia can drive. He sped up when I mention that I thought the mountain was on the left side of the road when we crossed the bridge and now it is on the right side? Right? He concurs and starts more quizzing me on a story I had about something else. Five hours into the trip and either 80 kilometers on a paved road has no concept of distance and speed or we are lost. Can not be lost the navigator screen keeps on showing a path. In yet? We were going rather fast. He was or is a policeman so he can skip the speed limit and I am sure we should have been there in an hour. We finally reach a small town at the supposedly base of the mountain. Only now it is on the other side of a mountain. Makes no sense. According to the store owner where I purchase some snacks we passed it and the mountain is just down the road a few kilometers. Since when did Bolivia use Kilometers? This is South America and under the guidance of the United States used miles. Freaking out my driver and I go back the way we come. Some how missing the road to the mountain. I ask to stop. We both get out and look back. There is the mountain. Wild. Where was it when we went up the road? Well, I guess I won’t get to stand on the mountain. And the next day there is a party and I try to discuss our trip to the mountain. My friend is weird ed out dramatically. Seems I have taken his soul to another world. Meaning? He is a bit peeved because a certain location within La Paz has changed. I did not tell him everyone he knew also had different stories and a different reality. Why freak him out more than what was happening to him? I think the key to the event was the realization. I shall not be able to get on the right path to the mountain. Or riding a bus looking at a very lovely lady. Then almost having a heart attack because when you look back she has aged to like being 60 or 70 year of age. Or Challenges? Yes. I have had them. Like? I was preparing to take a math class spring of 1989 my junior year. I wanted to get 9 credits to start off college. I had already made plans. When suddenly I found my mother deciding for me to go on Close Up trip to Washington D.C,. I was not really happy with this idea. The group going were the upper class of juniors. I personally wanted to do something else. I did not get involved with most of the auctions to raise money. Why? I was not invited. Time to go I owed more money than what I thought the trip was worth. I asked to not go. No. I must go. It was to be an experience. I gave up on my college classes at Dull Knife and went the spring of 1989 to Washington. There the Chinese ambassador and I got into an argument over a question. Let me be blunt. I said China would invade Taiwan if the US was not supporting Taiwan. You might wonder why this was important? If you are Mandela effected some of you will remember that tank guy got ran over in your realities. While in my reality tank guy lived and served 10 years in some form of prison camp. I did not hear much about him after his arrest or if he lived after the arrest. What am I trying to say? Time traveler exist for a purpose to remind humanity to change their ways and be kind. Is that all the story? I could talk about arguments with Ron Marlone the US congressman on insurance and sports. Or a dream? Or the time I slipped away from the guided tour of the White House went to the side panel staircase. It was by Lincoln bedroom. The door clicks inward. Taking the star case down four floors to the cafeteria ran almost all by African Americans. I got a free lunch there. Why? I forget to be honest. Anyways I went out from there tand saw Ted Kennedy get off one of those little train like vehicles. He was with another senator I do not recall his name and a few other people. Then I found someone. Who? Let me be honest this is that haziness of a dream state kicks in. He looked almost like me. I sort of followed him down the left tunnel. Why? I was a junior in high school. I did not party, I was not anybody and well I just wanted to see where a person so similar to me could end up in Washington D.C. He was greeted and joined another group of people most in military uniforms. And they ended up at a steel spiraling staircase. The staircase could only take one person at a time and they meaning five of them went up each over there time. Now this is why I say this is a dream. Because if it was not the whole story does not make sense to me anymore. I saw them go up and well if I saw them. They could see me. The underground there is dark but the lighting was not that bad. Having gone this far I figured why not. I climbed up the stairs and entered into a closed area in front of a door. I pushed and the door opened. There were the five and a whole lot more people sitting around in a circle. There I could see through glass that some how I was now in a room in the Library of congress. I had entered no one seemed to care and well I went and sat down. Now, what was said? Let me say it was a story hour. Meaning? I had never heard of Robert Francis Burton until 2017. In yet, if there were ever a group of people like him. This was it. The stories were wild and crazy as far as I could tell. Each person would or seemed to get up and tell a story as long or bigger than the last one. From doing strange things to seeing things. They went around the room. Front sits first than the second row in which I was seated. I felt like I had no problem being here. I mean I knew tall tales too. The man prior to me told an extraordinary tale. About World War I and reality changes he remembered one way versus. Well let me be honest the way I remember history. Now, he stopped and they waited. For a moment I did not know what to do. I mean sort of like party crashing the first time with people you do not know. Then someone that I later met in 2000 at the Columbus, Ohio military parade asked me to tell a story. So since the gentleman told a World War I story. I followed up with story told to me by my great cousin's friend who was a junk-man. At the end I sat down. Thinking I had told it rather well and no one seemed even phased. That some teenager was sitting with military and politicians tell a story. Then the next person began his story. This happened again each person telling a story. What made this so unreal is what I had learned in history class versus the exploits or the narratives were. Each person telling the story seemed rather unreal. There were eleven men in that room and they told stories until after 10 PM. I had left the tour a little before 11 AM. Why this sems like so much of a dream is I do not recall eating or drinking. When my turn came around again I told them a personal story that I remembered as a kid of seven being involved with. Dealing with cloning. I mean if they can say Hitler's eyes were brown not blue or that Bob Crane died in 1977 not 1978 or 79? And they knew who his killer was. What matter if I told the story? However, after telling them this story I was in for a bit of a surprise. Evidently cloning was not a topic for the group. Again a future general I would meet later in life asked who I was and what I was doing there. I admitted I was a lost high school student just listening to some of the funnest stories I had ever heard. This did not go over so well. The guy that looked sort of like me said no problem to the group and promised to take care of things. That was around 10ish. He got me out of there and into the underground subway. Some how he knew my hotel for I had not a clue where Close Up was staying and got me to my stop three blocks away. This was 89 when Washington DC was the murder capital of the world. He asked if I was scared. I kind of laughed. You see. I told him one last story. That I came from the murder capital of the world. Math wise. He laughed and we parted ways. Now a days I wonder about that dream.
As many of you know, I used to live in the library during the daylight hours of the 1980s. I spent my time with Lewis, Token, etc before it became cool or interesting to the masses.
On a trip to Montana and North Dakota, I visited a rather large library on the plains of North Dakota. The library looked like a bank built in the 20s. I got to spend a few hours there by chance due to the family and car troubles. I quickly found an ole favorite the Hobbit in the back of the library of course where the loners usually just enjoy the peace and quiet. I quickly read through the first 200 or so pages, stopping where the dwarfs were imprisoned prior to their release by Bilbo.
Just when the dwarf’s prison doors were to be opened; knowingly, since I had read the book a few times before, a book popped out the shelf and fell open next to me reading the Hobbit. Humor how life happens at times. The book was something I had not read or touched before Harry Flashman. Odd that the book defiantly was not categorized by the author's last name or title of the book for a library category. So I was unsure why it was here. Putting it back an older boring colored hardcover caught my attention. Grabbing at it instead of pulling it from the self, it binged back and made me jump back as a click and the whole shelf swung against me as if a door opening. And to that point the shelf pulled back with my hand.
The librarian was nowhere to be found. I believe she had gone out forgetting me. So with no one to stop me, I pulled the door open. There on the floor was a pill of envelopes, and from the light from a window over the chair I was using I could see a light with a pull string light. Bending over reading the address, I was the majority addressed to a Mr. Babsy. Humor someone’s Hemingway hideout? Who knows anyway. Pulling the chain lighted a small room. A table, what looked like a still? The pill of envelopes and a small looking medical gas was what I could see. Being venturous, I went through the envelopes. Which had wonderful 20s stamps, all addressed to Baby? Trying to figure out why their presence was there, I noticed a mail drop between the back of the door.
Well I guess if someone was to hide a room, a library was as good as place as any. What surprised me most was the lack of dust. Anyway, moving into the room I started to review the books on the table. The first was a ledger accounting it seemed of a business operation of medicine? No, I suppose after seeing a liquor bottle. There in the ledger were small towns that appeared in North Dakota, South Dakota, Montana, Illinois, Minnesota, and other small towns that I recognized from my travels with my mom since the split up of my folks. It seemed this was a major illegal operations built on the plains of North Dakota. Sort of like the Kennedy’s moon shine hold in Havre, Montana. Looking at the next book it seemed like a personal diary. Last date 1929 written about a Mr. Babsy and venture of moon shine. The journal was given by someone Limburg for a birthday gift to a Major Babsy. Reading the dairy about Mr. Babsy seemed to be in love with someone. He had it bad. Seemed obsessive to appoint that I realized I had never fallen head over heals in love before. It seemed to detail that Mr. Babsy was a local who was planning to take and make himself a rich person.
Humor he even gave some detail on back accounts and politicians a few of them; I had heard about from history class. One name I saw I did not expect was my great grand father. Well, I knew the righteous stories on how he made it in flax in the 40’s. Seeing his name there made me wonder a bit but life is a mixture of chance opportunities. Anyway venturing into the boxes one contained several old medicine bottles labels peeling with age and odd color liquor look inside. Another box had a letter on it without an envelope. Opening the letter which was addressed to someone whose name I had heard in the old folk’s home where my great grandfather lived. What a small world we live in. The letter was telling him that if Mr. Babsy might never come back; from reading the content the letter it was sort of a last will and testament from Mr. Babsy. The letter went into how several small communities were being used and their libraries were being used to store medicine etc. Opening the box under the letter there were roughly fifty thousand dollars in ones the year 1920 stamped on them. The box looked half full. Humor what one expected and what one gets are two things. I closed the box. Thinking I needed to talk with my grandfather prior to doing anything. I toke the dairy, 20 dollars in one dollar bills from the box replacing them with a 20 dollar bill my father had given me on his recent visit to me. My parents of course being separated tried to buy my love at times. I also toke the letters unopened. Pulling on the chain the light chain broke while closing the self back. Going back into the library I pushed the shelf back into place. I went to the door. Humor the librarian had locked me in with a note saying she was out for lunch. Well life happens so I went back to my seat and begin again the Tale of there and back again. Later in the evening the librarian awoke me by turning on all the lights and my mom was calling my name.
There is an always a time to remember things. I was not back to that area for sometime. Shelf wise I expected the librarian to find or see the room and something to be written about it in the news. But at age 10 I visited the library again because a cousin had passed away in a kayak accident. That was a spooky time. If I could have recorded my aunt terror cry at the funeral I could have made a mint in horror movies. Her cry was that of a broken heart in pain. Anyway at the library I checked and the room opened again. Nothing had been touched. At this point I was more greedy and the backpack I had been given I filled with the money, ledger, and a few bottles of liquor. I closed the room and checked an old book out author Rice book on planet Mars and was off to listen to my family remember Steve. The howl from my aunt cries still ringing in my ears. Death is something to live with. That had been my 11th funeral in so many years of living. Anyways hiding the money and stuff was hard. My mom was observant lady thus I had to hide it in the camper prior to her seeing me with the backpack. In those days we rode in a Chinook camper a home on wheels.
So I hide the loot in a closet in the camper. The envelopes I hide in the selection of books and the money in a board game that I topped with a shirt. The bottles went into the toy box with the toy soldiers. Being young with a hidden source of money was to affect my life in new ways. What do you do with ole money in a reservation town of Popular Montana? My experiences were often and difficult with a very strict mother, but they were still there. My first attempt for fun was reading the letters. The first letter began with a story about a young farmer kid saving a man off the east coast from a ship wreck. The adventures described made me want to run away and started my reading anew in adventure books. The boy saved the man and the man gave him the world and he could afford to eat out at locations and have physical fun that only a farm boy could dream about. Partying with royalty, sleeping with women of interesting character the first letter was seven pages long detailing so much venting and opportunities that I re-read that life story all about school, religion, and dreams. The hand writing was at first difficult to read and with little time to be alone with them I did not chance their discovery. During this school year I hide them. Sports were something I did not excel at but that was how I was babysat during these days after school. I just dreamed by re-reading the letter and adventure books that were not part of the letters. I made a decision not to open another letter for year wanting to enjoy the stories over time instead of devouring them all at once.
Mr. Babsy was just fourteen years old for his first letter description which was exotic in content and started when he was young. The description of how some of Mr. Babsy women friends were paid for their services caused dreams for the farmer boy these letters pages described his arousal and his worldly experiences in the world. The letter was my first experience finding out at a young age erotic content of the letters more interesting then pictures. The letter dated 1916 the world was a strange exotic world in the letters and brought more dreams then were appropriate for all those who read them. Mr. Babsy had experience that made him a physical man while all that I was still too young to understand everything I read. I was a tall kid still turning 11 learning from letters how the real world worked and why or what to say in the 20s versus 59 years in the future. At my time and age in the 80’s work was hard to come by and experience was something to ask for not be given to a kid at the age of almost 11 versus a life necessity that Mr. Babsy grew up in.
Anyway by this time I had reread the letter enough to understand its neat cursive hand writing I had decide to venture in the world. This time my mom provided the solution by sending me to Ekalaka, Montana bible camp a place that drops off the end of the world and near enough to be the end of the world. There I had my first opportunity to spend some money.
Lairs and religions make the world go around. Girls turning to women are interesting to most if not all boys. There was a girl named Amy. Her voice perfect as an angel sang religious hymns daily at the camp sites meetings. Her smile cute if I had the chance I would have been Romeo. However her being a southern bell made her charmed by a Georgian boy older than me. There in the religionist camp things not spoken about happened between them. What humor to hear about something read about but not experienced and being able to listen but not do anything in the real world? But I had no one to tell or care. What a life to live a religious one.
Religion is funny it demands something belief then lets you down. Babsy in 1916 found a bird skeleton that was a cross between a dinosaur and current bird. He gave the creature to a museum and that sort if gave him an idea that religious timeline was bunk or not real. The letter showed how his belief in something realization that the belief is not worthless is a story all on its own. The letter 1916 describing the years end Babsy was involved in a famous party with rich people. At this party Babsy was introduced to a General Smith. Also Babsy meet a woman there, a countess. They danced and sang and she was delighted with Babsy. Anyways true love and or infatuation caused him to be more of a romantic. The two were in a bedroom scene that was quiet explicit in details. Anyways the countess had a husband not introduced till later in the letter. At which point Babsy and General Smith both fled the countess’ room.
General Smith being old wealthy, famous to some extent gave Babsy some advice after both of them had just been chased from the countess’s room. The humor evidently was great the details a bit more than two pages long and Babsy toke Smith advise to heart. Anyway Christmas was upon me. For Christmas I decided to read another letter. I spent that Christmas night in a box outside a plastic tree in the living room hoping for a good Christmas gift. But the sad tale I waiting hoping to be given more than was given to charity or spent on the dog’s food for that month for that Christmas was nothing good.
In the age of censorship. And illegal firing because of who you voted for. Lets remember. Libraries the only place that is holy these days. Read a book. Remember who you are.. Stop being a puppet on a stick. Did I say stick not string? Yes.. Remember history has changed enough and your memories are pliable enough you can remember your past and say hey when did MacDonalds’ standing for Big Mac change to McDonalds? https://lithub.com/in-2019-more-americans-went-to-the-library-than-to-the-movies-yes-really/?fbclid=IwAR3WCNaV1Mc0-xHXBNAgBO-rPWH-TWkC7j9PpdJYlater,-6b5wagMFmzRfaDKvvk Question your reality. Reality war is wrong. Nothing good comes from killing people. You might be the strongest or richest. However, if you have to use force to enforce your ideology is not worth the statements and evils of your fake news and world building. Shame is great when war is for profit. Why is there 23 trillion missing and no one seems to care? 6.5 trillion dollars later, 500,000 terrorist killed at an average cost of 8 to 32 million depending on the source of what it cost to kill a terrorist. https://english.aawsat.com/home/article/1139006/us-war-terror-76-countries-cost-65-trillion The real question is still a mystery. How did jet fuel melt steel? Why did other buildings not even remotely close to the towers fall down? https://www.popularmechanics.com/technology/design/a3524/4278874/https://www.metabunk.org/threads/debunked-rumsfeld-says-2-3-trillion-missing-from-the-pentagon.165/ What happened to the 2.3 trillion dollars missing? AND that missing 2.3 trillion NOW is http://themillenniumreport.com/2018/02/the-pentagon-black-budget-21-trillion-dollars-gone-missing/ 21 to 23 trillion dollars.
Hi ho, Hi ho It’s off to sea we go, We’re fierce and bold and we’ll take your gold! Hi ho, Hi ho, Hi ho, Hi ho, Hi ho It’s off to fight we go, We’re three foot two and we’re gonna keel you! Hi ho, Hi ho, Hi ho, Hi ho, Hi ho It’s off to drink we go, We’ll have some fun and more fuel rum! Hi ho, Hi ho, Hi ho Hi ho, Hi ho It’s off to wench we go, She’s six-foot ten but she likes short men! Hi ho, hi ho, hi ho, hi ho (whistles) Hi ho, Hi ho Hi ho, Hi ho Hi ho, Hi ho As a pirate to see a world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wild flower.. to hold infinity in the palm of your hand and eternity in an hour.. what is a moment of wild free speech between a mad hatter in life recommendation bits and pieces.. to sail towards darkness is nothing new... but is this that is see a life growing into something less than what it could be.. Awkward thoughts of Ender the pirate back in 2009. To realize this is my last hour of life on some world I will never wake up and this all of this will be a dream. Wild and God has permitted me to see the end of time. I think I would have been much more mucher if I realized that night who I talked with and who I might fight. You see time traveling, mind I am. I have been to other people and seen other times. People laugh and say sure, sure Clint. I smile and wander in my mind. For if the building across the street did not shift to the right or the mountain move some 10 kilometers today, I might have agreed. That I am me and see that I am on a closed time curved loop reality to see an end of time is. Well.. Awkward. I think instead of vengeance, I would have asked for a library card to heaven. There must be some most interesting stories there. For if this is not a dream and I am alive some billion years hence and yet this is a past from yesterday or was it the day before. That would mean all my dreams are real. Oddity, I would have dreamt more and bigger. For to see the end of time in the 2020s instead of 2069 or hence there after makes me question my mind. At which point did I fall down this exact rabbit hole? How many rabbit holes are there? Meaning I have spoken with several travelers and characters. Their stories of panic in the streets to nuking Hawaii to CO2 gas clouds killing everyone on the East Coast and in Europe makes several biblical questions. When I realize the bible changes daily along with the colors of the rainbow, I wonder. Be good, do good, pray for peace is my recommendation for being a dead man watching you pass in your worlds. Be good. Humanity is just a game without instructions if you do not read the Bible. If you read the bible, you got the instructions however, someone has bent the rules a bit. For matter, all that truly matters is light. So the gnome army led by Ender the pirate is off.. To the garden wars.. Where pollen and colors matter more than thorns and prickly things.. We were after the lost garden shovel princesses pea.. The evil and wicked do goobers of the rose queen had taken it. From my point of view they could have easily have mistakenly taken it and we could have just asked for it.. but after all speeches, rants, and silly parties a war was something to see… So the first causalities were a flower ... what a group of pansies. We all cried and held a sad speech about how the flower was such a friend... we stopped the war so that both sides could attend. As a pirate, I was enjoying this war. Both sides tried to outdo the other side with cakes, treats, and a wonderful diner.. The war was fierce. They employing a vaccine to turn their Russian lilies into zombies. While US employed Borg server technology to ensure that not a single soul could repent when the Grand Creator came. https://endertalon.blogspot.com/2020/08/the-planned-destruction-of-system-of.html The death of reality was interesting to watch. As an independent not really wanting to fight a monster of another reality just watched and wrote about the coming wars with China, Russia, US and waited. Wonder all along what the end d results will be? Of course he knew New York City will be gone, and. But to pray for peace. And to see an ending. Repenting all along the adventure because only the evil will be judged, and the monster wondered about the times and dreams. He thought they were dreams, and now the bible will judge on dreams and actions. Making him probably one of the most wanted criminals in the universe. Hi ho, Hi ho It’s off to sea we go, We’re fierce and bold and we’ll take your gold! Hi ho, Hi ho, Hi ho, Hi ho, Hi ho It’s off to fight we go, We’re three foot two and we’re gonna keel you! Hi ho, Hi ho, Hi ho, Hi ho, Hi ho It’s off to drink we go, We’ll have some fun and more fuel rum! Hi ho, Hi ho, Hi ho Hi ho, Hi ho It’s off to wench we go, She’s six-foot ten but she likes short men! Hi ho, hi ho, hi ho, hi ho (whistles) Hi ho, Hi ho Hi ho, Hi ho Hi ho, Hi ho
It fills the room with an illusion. All within the room went to their own separate memories and dreams.
Ender the pirate
There I was, living another life again. My mind a fix to a focus of a book and the life within. The spirit given the chapters made me read faster, and the character became dear. Till the end was near. I was gone again, my mind off and into another book, another life, another place in time. Chemistry is strange that way to live a moment in reality is to step outside a universe that is much bigger on the inside than the outside. Thus a library is the holiest of places. For the universe is contained in there. What I can say? Someone person might read this so I will tell a tale to bring the soul to another place in time. To help those hurt in their mind. My eyes tear up just thinking about life. What a wondrous gift. To be. Or not to be. A Jewish question about existence that they debated several hundred years. The end conclusion was that it would have been better not to exist. But since we exist to make the best or better world around us all the same. Dreaming like that start the clock.. This tale is easy Ender the pirate was sailing the ocean with the breeze to his back. Being on a sailing ship, the Black Skimmer one would hope that .. The crew of a bear, a duck and recently added Chuck Cheese doll brought to life by the blue fae was sitting around the table eating pizza. When in walked a child of six or five, a girl living life on a dime? Her father being a poor pirate. Ender said what are you doing here, girl. She just smiled and walked towards the mouse doll. ... Next chapter later..
They transport Ender the pirate from this story of a memory to Greek fairyland or mirror world. Watching Clinton R. Siegle take up a book. A pirate journal one of many Ender had left over the many years.
Ender watched the shadow boy was behind Clinton R. Siegle and von Siegfried was in the shadows watching.
Then a combined memory was shared.
Some reason I am into film. I end up reading a paper on how without light there is no us. i end up realizing in the twinkle of an eye I am being cut from one motion picture to another motion picture and realize that the characters are all experiencing something different in the same movie. One day the person is lucky that the rain is and the next moment i see a sad person. Makes me wonder what adventure package I signed up for when I got on this cruise? Stealing this quote from someone Ido not know I’ve heard this idea before that the defining difference between film and the rest of the arts is film’s ability to change the pace and order of time.
Do you think that’s the big difference or is it something else?
The significance of this shared memory with the store. A closed time curved loop traveler all this.. Billions of years was actually nothing. That Clinton R. Siegle had seen the wild olive branch be cut and destroyed in 2017. Means an ending of time for some. The significance of all seven along shadow boy and Clinton R. Siegle was the realization that in a closed time curved loop reality only one soul can exist. In that moment when the soul had been split into billions of souls and realities when that soul comes back together again that all those realities and billions of years were as if nanoseconds for the spirit in the spirit realm where all souls are being combined back to their original souls.
A time of tribulation? Ender realized a new verse in the bible and watched if others realized the solution. Ender watching the soul eater. Clinton R. Siegle looking at the journals and absorbing the latest news that the olive branch of the greek was or they burned gentiles off.
If the first part of the dough is holy, so is the whole batch; if the root is holy, so are the branches. 17Now if some branches have been broken off, and you, a wild olive shoot, have been grafted in among the others to share in the nourishment of the olive root, 18do not boast over those branches. If you do, remember this: You do not support the root, but the root supports you.…
Jeremiah 11:16
The LORD once called you a flourishing olive tree, beautiful with well-formed fruit. But with a mighty roar He will set it on fire, and its branches will be consumed.
John 15:1
“I am the true vine, and My Father is the keeper of the vineyard.
John 15:2
He cuts off every branch in Me that bears no fruit, and every branch that does bear fruit, He prunes to make it even more fruitful.
Romans 11:24
For if you were cut from a wild olive tree, and contrary to nature were grafted into one that is cultivated, how much more readily will these, the natural branches, be grafted into their own olive tree!
Ephesians 2:11
Therefore remember that formerly you who are Gentiles in the flesh and called uncircumcised by the so-called circumcision (that done in the body by human hands)--
Psalm 80:11-16
She sent out her boughs unto the sea, and her branches unto the river…
The end cameth and no one seems to care Ender realizes. That is because we are walking in the valley of death. That is the only way people could see the Shadow boy. The Clint who wanted to be Peter Pan. Without the realization that Peter Pan was death. And the deal? Clint had traded something for well to become a vampire or shadow of the Peter Pan. Death or the living dead.. To see him sent shivers up Enders body.
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The greatest destroyer of peace is abortion because if a mother can kill her own child, what is left for me to kill you and you to kill me? There is nothing between.
Mother Teresa
Abortion was the start to kill the babies
No one cared
Hospice started killing the elderly
No one cared
Tea Party members were targeted by the IRS
No one cared
Soon the poets will be next
Who will care?
Fearful of this life
The difference is I have met death a few times
This last time was a wild experience
Making me realize this is just chemistry in time
Living love within laughter is all we have this time
A right to lifer bombing and killing an abortion clinic worker is wrong
What is wrong with this world?
To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Read more
I am a reader
Making me a bit weird in this world
I say that for a few reasons
I am the only guy sometimes in a bookstore
I am the only guy checking out books in the library sometimes
I am the only one trying to roller-skate with my kids sometimes
I am the only one doing my own thing sometimes
Accomplishment wise is wild, this time
Thanks for sharing with me
Recommendation is wild this time
Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.
Confucius
Read more
Failure hello again
You are like an ole friend
I believe we should exchange business cards or emails
That way you could at least send me a note when before we met again
I have failed in business friend
I have failed relationship friend
I have failed family relationships
I have failed courses friend
I have failed financial friend
My health failed yet again friend
I have yet to make it to the rung of my ole life
I failed my kid request of a dog friend
Failure I am not yet a human again
Why don't you call me again
Failure I am going to visit you again
Where are you going to met me again
Ole failure friend
I did try again a few times to
I did succeed a few times to
Thanks for letting me try again ole failure friend
A review a change here or there
Could make this a great prose or poem too
Thanks for reading ole failure friend
We think sometimes that poverty is only being hungry, naked and homeless. The poverty of being unwanted, unloved and uncared for is the greatest poverty. We must start in our own homes to remedy this kind of poverty.
Mother Teresa
Unwanted been there
Unloved am there
Uncared for allot of time there
Poverty of family life wicked
Poverty of being unwanted is wicked
Why have a relationship if not to be wanted
Poverty of being unloved is evil these days
Live a life worth living in laughter for a wealthy family
Uncared for being so sad
Living working in the land of plenty I see the uncared for
So sad how people are uncared for
Be wanted find someone who wants you
How that is the question these days
Be in love find someone who you can love
How to find someone to love these days?
Be caring be kind these days
How to be loving is being kind these days
Clinton Siegle
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The reader at the bookstore was reading his book. You could see the strain in his eyes. His fingers glancing swipe. This was a person who speed reads through the book. Just like a document or one-page note, but was reading an entire book in the same period as that one page.
The book of fiction he was reading he carefully was not bending. Observing this, I could think that he would not purchase the book. But he would have enjoyed the latest fiction and read it at a speed to complete it in a matter of an hour. That no one would care not to purchase the second-hand book at a new bookstore.
As many of you know, I used to live in the library during the daylight hours of the 1980s. I spent my time with Lewis, Tolkien, Jordan, Rice, before it became cool or interesting to the masses.
I spent sometime observing him. Why? I am an interesting person in my own way. To see someone be so careful and watch his movements as you could see him glance at a page and move on?
This was someone I had to meet. Why? Simple. Most of the interesting people I know. Well, they know where a good meal is at. And I was hungry.
I stumbled towards him, thinking what I would say. Meaning I had not read the book. I had read something by the author a long time ago. But like most time travelers discovered that words, meanings and ideologies change. Along with the colors and realities of God’s game design.
To think, once upon a time, I thought I was unique. Only to discover I was one of so many. Meaning I was part of the parallel realities. That I could step into their shoes for a day to write a story and gone the next day to see something else was well weird. Thus like most weirdos. I enjoyed finding and talking with interesting people. Why? Well, because they usually some place along the way had a soul or something unique.
I bumped into him. To see me is to wonder how on earth or who on earth let me out of my room? Yes. I am locked away behind several gates. I used to do things, and now? I look like a rag muffin teddy bear with the personality of a pirate. Of course, I had escaped my room that day to get a donut and to check out a bookstore for. Well, for anything worth reading.
He turned and stared for a moment. In that moment, I recognized where I had seen him before. Now this was something unexpected. Usually I meet one soul one day. The person’s body the next is soulless. Meaning not the same stories nor soul or personality. So meeting a soul here in a bookstore was interesting.
So we put our books away. Meaning I too had been re-reading a classic. We went to eat.
What inspired most about the collection of books my uncle had purchased. Were the binders that seemed to be filled with actual handwritten and typed manuscripts. Specifically, I found one written on what World War I was like by Hemingway, according to marginal notes. It was like living a tale of an ambulance driver in Italy driving soldier to safety against the Austrians. The tale is about an ambulance drive in Italy went into vivid details. Serving in the American Red Cross during 1918. How the driver handed out chocolate and cigarettes to soldiers and children. That the driver wounded by mortar fire ascribed to A I had just experiences an auction of sorts. I had gotten off a train in Paris, France. There was a long line of people peering into a room. So I thought I would see what was in the room as well. They were auctioning off old luggage. Wildly, people were bidding small prices on some of what looked like old suitcases, and items that evidently got lost at the train station. The prices were ridiculously low. Seemed absurd how low the people would bid. Since I was there and had some change. I threw my bid in for a weather-beaten suitcase. Tags read both in German and French via France, some town to Swiss. The tag showed no month either gone or curled up and 15, 1922, Hadle curled up a portion of the last name. My bid of five dollars American did the trick. I got the bid. Paying the five dollars however was just the beginning of the process. Seemed let alone did I have to pay five for the bid? I had to pay a pound weight for the weight of the suitcase. It total it cost me 21.23. King of wild. 23 cents in US currency took forever to exchange. However, evidently the charges of this are this, and that is that in France is uniquely bureaucratic. Upon getting the suitcase to the hostile I was staying at next to a bookstore that allowed writers to sleep on the floor if they were writing, I got to opening the case. When my first attempts did not work. I went next door to see if I could bum a screwdriver from the English-speaking bookstore, Shakespeare and Company. I had taken the tag off the suitcase, replaced it was my own. Getting permission from the bookstore owner to use their screwdriver took sometime. So I just wanted to get to my bed and open the thing right away. I opened it to find notepads filled with writing. A mans suit, and a few personal items from a woman. I read the notepads. All handwritten the cursive was hard for me to sort of translate. The story went along the following lines on the first notepad. It was like living a tale of an ambulance driver in Italy driving soldier to safety against the Austrians. The tale is about an ambulance drive in Italy went into vivid details. Serving in the American Red Cross during 1918. How the driver handed out chocolate and cigarettes to soldiers and children. That the driver wounded by mortar fire ascribed to Austrian’s “then there was a flash, as when a blast-furnace door swung open, and a roar that started white and went red,” is most surreal to read the handwritten account. The driver while wounded carried some wounded soldier to safety and injured again, trying to go back by machine gun fire. The handwritten story describes how the driver received a Medal of Valor from the Italian government. Then the handwriting like a short story went into some detail about how hard war was on a person’s soul. Going into minor details of how gory and inspiring speeches seem to contradict one another in war and that inspiration one should find not in war but in writing or peace or something outside the horrors of war. The handwriting was wet. And after a moment of realization, I could smell whiskey or rumor someone had spilt some sort of liquor on the paper. It had dried now, but the words inspiring by not being a warmonger was something to understand from the short story. What got me as the reader more into the story? Was the detail noting who was in charge of all the American wars of mass murder. Democrats are warmongers seemed to be the end tale written about how President Wilson had lied about rationale for getting into the Great War. ustrian’s “then there was a flash, as when a blast-furnace door is swung open, and a roar that started white and went red,” is most surreal to read the handwritten account. The driver while wounded carried some wounded soldier to safety and injured again, trying to go back by machine gun fire. The handwritten story describes how the driver received a Medal of Valor from the Italian government. Then the handwriting like a short story went into some detail about how hard war was on a person's soul. Going into small details of how gory and inspiring speeches seem to contradict one another in war and that inspiration should be found not in war bt in writing or peace or something outside the horrors of war. The handwriting at times was wet. And after a moment of realization I could smell whiskey or rumor some sort of liquor had been spilt on the paper. It had dried now but the words inspiring by not being a warmonger was something to understand from the short story. What got me as the reader more into it. Was the detail noting who was in charge of all the American wars of mass murder. Democrats are warmongers seemed to be the end tale.
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Go to a bookstore. Buy a book. acrostic
Off with cell phones, iPhones, iPads, and Blackberries.
To the bookstore one must go for imagination these days.
Open your eyes realize time has changed.
A prayer for those that read a book.
Books from Amazon prime can not replace bookstores dying off.
Open your wallets an author can not afford a life of writing.
Open your hearts being thoughtful is not a crime.
Kind of sad when Marxism kills culture
Silly, think what one play or book you want read from communist countries?
Time for Croaching Dragon?
Open your eyes the communist stole that author’s life
Reality realizes culture comes from diversity
Eternity of a burlap sack clothing line is not diversity
Sadness is a culture without style.
Buy a book.
Under the sign of a bookstore.
You, yeah, you go buy a book.
A pretty idea of a book.
Books are all left to imagination
Open your eyes and read a book.
Open your hearts and buy a book.
Kind of sad the lack of imagination without books.
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Scoundrels are what you make out of people with a bit more flare than the common bum. To be worthy of the title scoundrel, what they need is flare. Think magic in the air. When talking with his hands, a trick happens which is scandalous in certain areas. Yet, not all scoundrels are the same.
I had met the person over a diner counter. How? I was hungry and followed my rule. Pick the biggest means looking person and ask him where he dines out. Why? Big people know where the wonderful cooks are in a city. All I can say is do not do this in Buffalo next to the old Boy Scouts headquarters in New York even a pink skin talking to a huge African American freaks me out. But this was another time and place. He was mumbling to himself. I asked if I could read the paper; if he was done reading the dime paper next to him. Because the meal was taking longer than expected. I think this shocked him.
Instead of the paper I had a conversation with a Vietnam vet for 30 minutes, 20 minutes of it while I picked at my chili and fries. His stories were interesting from who he had seen on tour there to ambushes to secrets from the first nuke used to destroy a dam in Vietnam. All hush-hush according to him. Who knows, maybe he was the guy who murdered 35,000 people by blowing up a dam in Northern Vietnam. Surely was not I to argue. My little brother in my frat was from that era, and he told stories that were hush-hush too. From going into other countries tracking people to capturing a Chinese official too well. Other things best not told in this day and age.
I think the question I always wondered was were any of their stories true in all realities or just certain realities? For I told him stories as well. I had known General Douglas MacArthur’s personal bodyguard. I had interviewed Bo Gritz for president in 1992. I had worked with Les Thatcher, both commanders of the special forces in that time frame, and told him a story per story.
This was around the time that McCain had recently said we should have stayed and won the war there. The scoundrel laughed when I mentioned that, telling some story about how McCain got cleared from blowing up planes and other things aboard his own carrier once upon a time because of his father. I had nothing to say I was finishing my meal.
He then gave me a small book. It was interesting. I sat for 10 minutes and read what I could. Because I could see he wanted to talk about what was in it. Have you ever heard about Alice and the looking glass? That book told some distinct realities that had happened and according to the author, which I was assuming was him. He had seen.
From time travelers being invented by the Germans in a distinct reality used by aliens claiming to be the lost civilization of Babylon, from a distinct reality that God let go to see what humanity would become without his help. To a civilization where no Muslims or Mormons existed and the reality where Byzantine Empire ruled the entire world and created spaceflight in the 1500s.
It was great fictional work, however the problem with that was there were photos. This was before photo shop and other magical picture applications, so I was pretty sure I was reading a history that somehow existed somewhere somehow.
I finished as much as I could because I was late to a meeting and asked if I could see him again sometime? He just smiled and said not around here however he gave me a bookstore to look up.
I never got to go to that bookstore. However, in 2016 I can verify from my personal experience that most of what I read was true. That the part where the book talked about Nixon winning in 1976 and 1980 instead of earlier were true. And in that timeline there were super soldiers that developed that I could not believe in his stories, having dealt with people in that field and for being a peaceful soul known to put a few of them on their ass.
The event I am talking about? Took place in 2016. For the world of me, I was on one side of the mirror worlds and the path opened up. You laugh and say how and what do I mean? I was, shall we say, always an interesting person? However, on Wednesday Bayer purchased Monsanto in April 2016. And? A few days later they purchased again for as if the news was the same. That was when I noticed changes.
Like? For me and Hillary Clinton Abe Lincoln on Sagittarius planet earth on that mirror world, https://www.tiny.cc/deadsunfall he was a senator for four years. The population in April 2016 which I got my information from Deagel because it is a collection of all US government information said there were 365 million US citizens. South America was directly below North America and the US voted on the second Tuesday in November means 8 through 14th.
Since then? I have been traveling the valley of the shadow of death. Most people do not believe me when I tell them they are dead and reanimated however I am who I was and I know what I see. Some call this purgatory. Some call this Daniel 12 2. Others call this the Mandela effect.
I think the best I can find is a story I can find that explains my fears? In my world Zachariah talked about nuclear war and the destruction of the army coming towards the holy city. Where? Your bible actually talks about zombies and for those taking Bill Gates’ patented cryptocurrency Borg. People laugh and laugh saying you are nuts.
For me? I figure this is where my soul will finally get back to its original body and learn whether I Was a kind soul or evil soul. I surely hope not a lukewarm soul. I could not handle another seven more evil spirits in me. I have a hard enough time these days repenting for my desires for revenge. What is scary however is I see Psalms and David and Solomon talking about the burning of the evil ones as dead grass? I realize that has already happened to my world.
I know December 12, 2017 Hawaii got nuked in some realities. I know other realities where CO2 gas came from all the oceans and went in land for 500 miles, sort of freezing to death in a matter of minutes the entire life in its path. I realize people say how can this be the dead we are not the past and I say you are the past. You live under a mirror. Prove it?
The real question is there a chance for change? Can humanity repent in this current reanimated state? That is something I still can not figure out. I know how scary this story is. For if JC Penny was on an older world of 6.5 billion years and this earth is supposedly 4.5 billion years is called JC Penney which came first? MacDonald’s for Big Mac or McDonald’s?
Can a closed time curved loop traveler leave a story to change your mind? No war. Be at peace. Pray? Repent? Or is this just a wasted story? That is something I don't know anymore. I do write my journal and post them from time to time. I always wonder if anyone reads them.
I wander in my mind
I am a time traveler in my mind.
Wandering daily from one reality to the next in a parallel reality.
A call of Mandela Effect one might say has taken my reality.
Nowadays , I watch as the clocks on the Internet tell a different time to my mind.
Dreaming, am I?
Eternity is a lot longer than one would expect is all that I know.
Reality, so when did MacDonald's for Big Mac turn to McDonald's?
In my mind, I look at a white sun, not yellow sun.
Now, I wonder in a bookstore seeing authors' names changing daily.
My minds says no way that can not be the way.
You look concerned?
My mind says:
I must stay in my mind.
Now the end of time or days
Dreaming as I wonder where did Curious George's tail go?
There was three of us. We were all shut-ins. A vomiter, whose vomit smelled so rank to cause those near him to gag. A nervous wreck, who peed without control. And me an insane fellow with one eye, one foot, and according to my shrink living a past life which meant I was insane.
The long of the start of the story is isolation bore us. You ever get stuck in a room with nothing to do for a few days? Imagine years. Then imagine your friends vomiting and peeing everywhere and you can imagine why I wanted out of here.
I think we were all tired of the televisions pharmacy ads. Dry eyes? Sure. Upset stomach? Who wouldn’t when your roommate vomit smells like acid? Ulcers? Good question. Blood in a stool? The television as entertainment for those stuck in a room is less appealing with each made up disease.
I think we all went nuts with the corona virus. You see. I like beer. To think I could not drink my favorite beer was rather upsetting.
We hatched the great escape at that moment of despair and wandering what does China have to do with a beer made in Mexico? The Marxist had just burned down the bus station in La Paz, Bolivia where I had hidden because of the lack of funding. You see. The National Health Care insurance was so high that either I would have paid that or for my doctors, medicines, and well food or the health insurance. Thus my escape to Bolivia was dealing with funding. While taking in roommates was for my mental health. In yet?
Why did the Marxist have to burn the bus system to the ground? Our escape plan required public transportation. With that gone. And Marxist killing over in the streets, one wonders what was going on in the real world.
The real world. I wonder about that. My many disabilities is in the form of being from elsewhere. Like I said my shrink says I am experiencing past life memories. Which would mean that I am dead? I talk to my roommates about death. They concur that the topic is interesting but has nothing to do with reality at present.
The escape. My plan was to get my stump to stop bleeding. Which worked. Being footless is not the only problem at times. The end of the stump bleed and now has turned a nice color of dark brown. Sugar diabetic brown. That is just the issue. Where am I getting sugar from? The air? Is not from the food that I can tell you.
So, where was I? The escape. The prosthetic foot is nice. However, lossy goosy and well most likely causes a black and blue spot now or dark brown at the end of the stump. The three of us are still planning our escape.
The suffering of this room is still going on. I think breakfast in bed is nice. And I would recommend it much better than an early shower, however, I wander in my mind and see that the reality has changed yet again.
I mention that the mountain has moved from one area to another. Insane, stop that is the reply I get. But of course. Silence. I wonder if life was to be silence why the humming of the most dreaded wifi5. It hurts my ears now. I think the frequencies are turning people mean or deviant. My friend the pee er agrees, I suppose.
Back to the room. All three of us concur time to make a trip. But, where? Hard to have an adventure or outing with less money than a good meal at Wendy’s in the states.
The park. So off I go with my two friends. Chained together so we don’t run off, I suppose we make the rounds. A Gringo and friends wandering the Park of Engineers. I wonder about that. I had met most of the people here. I do not recall a single engineer. Must have been before my time. Just like the photos of a working train here, a working public transportation rail, and these days a post office.
Our escape made. The three of us drag each other around. My two friends oblivious to me watching reality change before my eyes. Buildings painted one way yesterday are now a different color. The surprise for today? A new four store house where yesterday I am sure there were only two stories. Insane? Yes. Different reality? According to the shrink, I am just dead, so who knows?
My two friends drag me back home, to the room. Best friends forever? I just checked online and according to the Internet time has gone backward for a moment. I wonder. To say “Hey, I remember the.. But my dog friends just wage their tail and no one else cares.
Back in the room. So much for the escape. And beer? Who am I kidding I drink wine. Beer is for those without taste buds.