Sunday, October 11, 2009

13. Tings Nov 13

(8:09 am Nov 13, 2005)

I got the low voltage blues
I got the low voltage blues
Yeah, B.E.C. is messin with me
I got the low voltage blues

Those low voltage blues had struck twice already this morning, shutting down the nano efforts for certain periods of time.

It might pay to make this a free form day. Free to be unrelated to anything that has come before or will come since in this book if that is how things work out. And related in non-related ways if that is how they turn out. Ooops, my free form license just showed up via avian ethernet. I am good to go.


Gully. A beautiful word. Now it may bring to mind a deep ditch formed by running water. We have them too, although the water only sporadically runs around here and so what we consider deep when it comes to gullies may not match up with the rest of the world's.

Gully. A short, fond name for a seagull.

Gully, you sit above the water, still on the wind, your eye seeking opportunity, you spot it and cry, you swoop and it dies, down your gullet it flies. Gully.

Gully. You have a mischievous bent. You'll take all the shiny things that they all present. You'll fly them out over harbour and drop.

(8:19 am Nov 13, 2005)

No voltage blues strikes.


Well, my answering machine informs me that the power failed at 8:19 am so see time just above where I inserted it.

(10:18 am Nov 13, 2005)

Ouch, the no voltage blues struck hard after some flirting by the low voltage blues. It did result in a nice visit to a friend's house though.

I got the no voltage blues
I got the no voltage blues
Yeah, B.E.C. is messin with me
I got the no voltage blues

Well, behind for the day and it is going to be tough to catch up. I know how Bruno feels. Trying to get two days in today is going to be tough now. There is a family dinner at 6:30 with out of town friends as well so that is a further complication to the electrickery issues.

Gully, you'll laugh as their shiny new things go plop.

Do you lament what the dumps and landfills of our modern existence have done to the numbers of gulls on our shores? There are not as many at the shore as I remember as a child. Mind you, there are still places on the shore where they congregate in goodly numbers. Places where you can go with your bread and your children and have an enjoyable time, sitting in the bright sun, the wind in your face, the water sparkling before you and the gulls. The gulls whirling overhead. The gulls swooping. The gulls snatching food out of the air. The gulls snatching food from the surface of the sea. The gulls becoming a target to be caught and raided if the chunk of food they take is larger than can be swallowed immediately. The gulls crying. The gulls being raucous. The gulls at the shore.

Bruno was sitting now on the eastern foreshore feeding the gulls and trying to puzzle out what could have happened to Bruno.


Funky town. Funky Nassau. Funky music. White boys. The dreaded fifteen percent. The mythical fifteen percent. (OK, let's not bring politricks into this, it is enough to deal with the electrickery issues, we don't need the issues of politricks added to the mix. Mind you, it is convention season. No, that's not like top and marble and those other seasons. At least he had heard no mention of conclave lately.)

Get down, get funky, get loose. Do I need to tighten up this bass though?

Funky monkey. Swinging.

Bruno threw the last of that stale foreign bread to the waiting gulls and stood up. He walked the foreshore a few times to get his blood flowing and then got back into his car. He felt like driving around the world but settled for driving over to Jelli's house.

It felt strange pulling up to a house with so many cars parked out front and knowing that the person you want to see is not home. It felt strange to walk into an empty house full of people. Yet walking in, the house definitely felt empty to him.

Cinnamon offered him some johnny cake with syrup and some tea which he gladly accepted. She smiled wanly at him as he took the plate and mug from her hands. He smiled back and told her not to fret, told her that he was sure Jelli would be OK.

(10:43 am Nov 13, 2005)

Bruno spent some time visiting with the gathered family and friends and then went out back where Mr. Rolle was picking pigeon plums. Bruno joined him and they picked and ate and talked together. The discussed offering a reward for information concerning Jelli's whereabouts. Mr. Rolle said the family should be able to put together a somewhat attractive amount. Bruno thought he could call in a few favours and do the same. The plums on this tree were especially sweet despite their tartness.


Cang, XXIII, and Ezza had not gone home last night. They had sat quietly in the darkness and listened. They had heard a lot. They were very worried. XXIII was very determined.

A soldier had a right to walk his own road. So, he was a soldier by reason of birth., he had not signed up for anyone else's program. Not joined anyone's army. He didn't have anything against other soldiers. He had always preferred the company of his own kind. Not that he was one to shun those not of his kind. He got along with them quite fine. He was just a bit more comfortable with his own.

Things were different with Cang though. Ever since the day he had locked on to him he had known this. He had locked on in anger and with a vengeance. Cang had not shown the expected reaction though. Although XXIII could tell he was in serious pain, his face lit up with pure joy. He was happy to see XXIII, and even stranger, he was happy to have XXIII clamped like vice grips to his toe.

Something had stirred deeply in XXIII's inner being. Some connection had been made at that moment. It made him angry that other soldiers should think this was a problem. He was angry that any of them should think it any part of their business at all.

It was puzzling why they would think he was somehow a part of the soldier's old tales though. They were probably just a bunch of cooks. The problem was, they sounded like powerful and well funded kooks.


(11:07 am Nov 13, 2005)

(11:17 am Nov 13, 2005)

Slick. He tink he slick.

Slick. Jump slick. He try jump slick around me, he ga find out.

Slick. Slick 50. It was hot around here once, but you didn't hear as much about it lately.

Slick. Slick back. That boy is always trying to slick back his hair, but that cow lick always wins.

Slick. Hey slick, what's going on?

Slick. Man, I was at the boat ramp yesterday with my friend, and that ramp was so slick, I fall down an buss ma hip.


Bruno was beginning to get a sense that there were some people around the place now that thought they were slick. He was beginning to get the feeling that these same self styled slick set were the ones connected with Jelli's continued absence. He was beginning to pick up faint vibrations, vibrations that felt like they were the result of Jelli's resonating.


XXIII smiled. well, they may be well funded, but he doubted that he would be lacking funds any time soon either. Sometimes in life, things just seemed to work out right. He was sure he and Cang were up for a fight. Bring it on soldiers... You aint seen nuttin yet.


Bruno went back inside and sat down in front of Lobo and tried to get in some writing and get out some words. He thought about getting in a word war, but decided against it for today. How about a word party, or a word cooperative? Yes, how about everyone working together to see how many words they could write together? Positive thoughts, good vibrations, resonance. Jelli. The connection felt stronger.

He decided he would try and come up with a word lubricant for next year. Something that you could rub on. Perhaps your neck, or perhaps your forehead. A scented oil perhaps. One that would help the words to flow. That's it, a nano word lubricant, just what the world needed.

He headed over to the nano site for a quick peek. Ouch. Two hundred and seventy seven million, eight hundred and thirty four thousand, six hundred and forty words and counting. It was amazing what a hugh number of words could be produced in so short a time. He had to try a bit more to keep up his end of the bargain.

Next year though, with his word lubricant, he would not only produce his share of words, he would help countless others with sticky word problems to produce their daily quotas.

If he still lived. And the beat goes on.

(11:41 am Nov 13, 2005)


Flow. Water flows uphill. Well, not normally, normally, water flows downhill. But in these roadside attractions in America where water can flow uphill and where other amazing things happen. Usually though, water seeks its own level.

Flow. Get in the flow. Jump in the flow.

Water flows.

Words flow.

Well, unless they are blocked up or sticky.

Bruno just knew that his word lubricant idea would be a big hit. Perhaps he should take his idea to those slick 50 boys. Nah, he was more likely to develop a successful word lubricant in conjunction with a massage therapist.

Electrickery flows too. At least when B.E.C. s not messin with you.

Will that be A.C. or D.C. sir?

(11:51 am Nov 13, 2005)

(12:02 pm Nov 13, 2005)

Descartes replies, "I think not." And then he vanishes! (Cue laughter.)


Melody and Mizmocha were having brunch at a native place out near Gambier. They had both had a great time and Mocha had enjoyed meeting Bruno. He seemed like a good match for Melody and she told her so. She had run into, well no, that's not right, she had spied someone across the room who had later seen her and tried to bust a move. Melody had winked at her and whispered something to Bruno and so Mocha had accepted the drink and taken the dance. It had turned into an interesting evening.

They had slept late and were both still a little groggy when they showed up for brunch. Mocha didn't really like that word, but she guessed that that's where they were really here for. Well, perhaps she would skip the breakfast part and go straight to lunch. That suited her mood more anyway.


Cang knew that he and XXIII would have to stay out of sight until they managed to work these issues out. They could not take a chance on being seen by the searching soldiers. It was much too dangerous. He motioned to XXIII and Ezza and they crept back down the tunnel quietly. In darkness.

When they were safely away from the door, he turned on his flashlight and they picked up the pace. After about a mile and a few corners, he selected a side passage and motioned the others to follow.

"OK, did you all get that? This is big trouble. Ezza, we are gonna have to stay underground for a while. We are gonna need you to bring us what we need and we are gonna need you to be our topside agent. Can you handle it?"

"I think I can. Man, I don't know which is more exciting, the treasure or this."

"Ezza, stay serious for me. This is not a game we have going on here. They are after us. They have already made two attempts and now, they have been hunting us for days."

"OK, OK, I am serious, but it is still exciting, you can't tell me it isn't. I can get some supplies down here, but you are going to have to rough it for a while. There is no way I can move in large amounts without the danger of being seen."

(12:21 pm Nov 13, 2005)

(2:05 pm Nov 13, 2005)

And so, on to the extra words.


Surging. The surging tide. Hope surging within her heart. Surging waves.

No, no, no. You sewers should know better than that. Stop trying to confuse the innocent. You know it is spelled differently. I mean, who ever heard of a surging machine? Yeah, yeah, you're right.

Electrickery can surge and when it does, there tend to be lots of surging machines around the place. All over the place in fact.

Bruno felt the connection to Jelli grow stronger. He pushed it to the back of his mind and continued on with the writing of his nano novel. If he didn't watch out, it may end up being a nano novel indeed. A novel so nano it could not even take the name novelette.

I will show you an excerpt:

The prisoners were hungry. There had been no food served to them last night or this morning. No one had come to take them out for exercise so far today either.

The first prisoner started to get restless and loud. He was large. He was hairy. He was strong. There was something Grendelesque about him. He was chained up much more securely than the other prisoners.

The others remained silent for the time being, content to let number one suffer any punishment that was handed out for doing what they each wanted to do.

They were in a cavern below the ground, at least that is what it appeared to each of them as they had been led in un-hooded when first brought to this place. There was water covering half of the floor area. It smelled salty.

(2:20 pm Nov 13, 2005)

(2:52 pm Nov 13, 2005)

Bruno came back from a daydream and continued:

Each new prisoner had seen all of the previous prisoners chained to the wall as they were brought in for the first time. All except the first prisoner. The captors were always careful to ensure that number one was out for his daily exercise when bringing in new captives.

The last prisoner had seen the most. Three other captives chained to the wall. Two female and one male. That made a total of three males and two females assuming number one was really a male, which he claimed and sounded to be.

So, number five bided his time and listened. He focused and worked mental puzzles to keep his mind sharp.

(3:00 pm Nov 13, 2005)

Bruno had not planned or plotted for this thread in his novel. It had just kind of inserted itself a few days back and he had decided to run with it. So far though, it seemed disconnected with the rest of his plot.

(3:03 pm Nov 13, 2005)

(3:08 pm Nov 13, 2005)

First a daydream, then a phone call. It looked like a nano nano was a definite possibility.

So, it seemed disconnected from the rest of the book. He hoped that he would be able to tie it in at some point in the future, otherwise it would sit like some unrelated monolithic massif in the filed of his prose.

His thoughts surged and he felt his connection to Jelli surge as well.


Daring. Go ahead I dare you. A somewhat childish that had caused no end of trouble over the span of time.

Daring. Dashing and daring.

Daring. A daring daylight raid.

Daring. Prisoner number five was making daring plans for escape. Plans that would come to naught. All despite the fact that he had never even been to the land of Naught. All despite the fact that he believed the land of Naught to be a fictional place.

Daring. His eyes daring her to object, he stole a kiss. It was the first moment of bliss they shared together. It was not to be the last.

NaNoWriMo love.

It was a cliche but two hearts beat as one. As yet, neither actually suspected the profundity of this. Now, the two hearts that beat as one were not the two hearts belonging to the thief and the victim in the matter of the stolen kiss mentioned just above. No they were the hearts in Bruno and in Melody. They had been beating as one since they had first met up that first night on the dance floor and he had dipped her. Something about that dipping motion had synced their hearts and they had continued in sync since.

Although they each recognized strong feelings for the other, and although they had both felt their hearts beating together on a few occasions, neither knew that this had been a continuous fact since their meeting.

(3:25 pm Nov 13, 2005)

(3:45 pm Nov 13, 2005)

I am sure you see the problem for yourself, gentle reader.

Sorry to make you work so hard on keeping your disbelief suspended, but you know what they say:

No pain, no gain.

Oh. Well right. I never really bought into that concept one hundred per cent either.

The effects of the low and no voltage blues had not worn off yet.


Bulla was in pain. That shark last night had schooled the lot of them. Then he had died. Bulla smiled. Now that was living on the edge. Looking at the jaws of a monster coming at you out of the gloom with only a dive knife in hand for a weapon. Perhaps the fact that he did not look like trouble did not work on the shark last night. Perhaps a dive knife was not weapon enough to make the game at least winnable if you were good enough. Not lucky enough mind you. Good enough. To make these games worth playing, at least in Bulla's mind, the best of the best should win regularly. I mean, it was no good if the best of the best dies regularly. If Bulla wanted that kind of an edge, he would have suggested sky diving without parachutes. I mean, sure it was rumoured that people occasionally survived falls from aeroplanes but those odds were too long. That was not the sort of edge he was looking for.

Well, last night he had found an edge alright. But perhaps that edge was a little too sharp.

Bulla was in pain. He was sporting bruises all over. He was abraded over much of his surface area. He was a poster boy for the seamstress club.

Next time perhaps a wet suit instead of a speedo. And perhaps a billy as well as a knife.

At least for him there would be a next time. For one of the other guys out on last nights adventure, there was likely to be no next time. The doctors assured them that he would live, but it was not likely he would ever again be in any shape to hunt dogs much less sharks.


Wealth. You want it? You got it. It may not really be that easy, and if you are not careful with your definition, you may not end up anting what you wanted and what you got. Life can be tricky that way.

Wealth. Money. Riches. Abundance. Assets. Assets minus liabilities. Material goods. Property.

Wealth. Health. Wisdom.

Early to bed and early to rise.
Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.

Early to bed and early to rise.
You'll never have red in the whites of your eyes.

Wealth. Some of the stuff you learn in childhood can lead to it.

Wealth. Do you have any in your wallet? Show me then!

Wealth. Wealth untold. Gold, silver, jewels. Pirates Treasure. Treasure trove.

Cang and XXIII were certainly finding wealth untold. Wealth untold. in more ways that one. I mean, it seemed fairly obvious that no one had been told about this treasure or what was it still doing here? Unguarded at that. And Cang doubted that this amount of wealth had been told in that other fashion either. That fashion that we are most familiar with when we think of getting served after standing for too long in a bank line.

They would have to tell some of it though if they were to carry the fight as XXIII wanted to do. Cang was beginning to be won over to his point of view the more they discussed things.

The problem was going to be finding wealth that they could take out and convert to other forms without arousing interest or suspicion. Wealth could be dangerous to your health. As they talked, they were able to imagine more and more ways in which this could be so. It was sobering.

They were gaining a lot of sobering knowledge lately. Cang wondered if he would ever be able to go back to his largely carefree life anytime in the foreseeable future.

If the future was foreseeable in any way that is.

(4:22 pm Nov 13, 2005)


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(4:35 pm Nov 13, 2005)

(5:04 pm Nov 13, 2005)

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Get your custom, high quality, fict today. Be a leader. Wealth.

Ezza had not had much time to mourn The Knight. Too much had been going on since he found the map and Cang and XXIII had showed up. He was mourning him now though. Sitting home alone, alone in the dark. The curtains drawn. Missing The Knight.

He had taken some basic supplies back to the tunnels and was now home for the night. Home for the night missing The Knight. Tomorrow would be soon enough to begin getting the rest of the needed supplies for the underground sojourn of his friends. Tomorrow he would make a quiet call to some people he knew in Spanish Wells to consult on some rumours. Or more precisely, on the relations to the old stories of the soldiers that they had heard being discussed and to some rumours that he and Cang had heard around. Cang in his travels through space and time. He in his treasure research.

(5:13 pm Nov 13, 2005)

Bruno and Melody had been invited out to a family gathering by Mizmocha and Bruno was looking forward to it. The writing had finally gone a little better this afternoon and he was feeling better and better about the chances of Jelli being found. He was beginning to feel vibrations in the air tonight.

He was no where near actually catching up yet, but at least he had not fallen further behind today. No, for once he had actually managed to do a day's quota and more today. If the family gathering did no go too late, which it shouldn't, he might be able to come home and get some more good hours of writing in before turning in for the night.

For now though, he had to save his work and get ready to go pick up Melody.

(5:18 pm Nov 13, 2005)

(9:38 pm Nov 13, 2005)

Bruno was back home early and ready to write. Perhaps another two to five hundred words before turning in for an early night. Tomorrow would most likely start early.


Cang and XXIII had explored for a few hours and then found a place to sleep. Luckily, Ezza had found some small nylon net hammocks that they were able to string up in a dry cavern to sleep in. I must just say they it was green nylon and that the net was woven from something more like string than thread. Cang had no distressing flashbacks.

He and XXIII were each in a hammock now, just a small red led light over against a wall. They were talking over their plans as they drifted off to sleep.


Prisoner number one seethed.

Prisoner number five listened carefully for any sounds that might give him hints to help in his plan of escape.


Red had heard a new tune today and was planning on practicing it into the wee hours of the morning.


Leggs was out hunting under the porch.


Baldy was also on the prowl. He was hungry.


Melody and Mocha were listening to some oddball music on irate radio and playing a game of tonk.


Bulla was still in major pain.


Heath was in town. Well, just offshore downtown. Once again cruising below the cruise ships making sure everything was in order for the night.

He heard a small splash towards the bow of the ship he was currently under and turned to investigate. As he came to the area where he though the splash had occurred, there was another splash just above him. A champagne glass drifted down from the surface. Cruisers out on the deck partying and getting a bit out of hand. Throwing cruise ship profits overboard was not his bailiwick and so he moved on.


Big Gruff and Mid Gruff were down in Long Island on the family farm. Out in the fields, under the stars, eating sweet grass and catching the cooling breeze. A glorious night.

They expected to stay here for a few years at least before even thinking of taking another trip to the capital.


Melody and Mocha switched from Tonk to Pluck, well after getting Mocha's sister to come and join the table.


Potcake was down in the water of the rainwater tank, making noise and carrying on. Such is life in the tropics.


Frizzell was putting on some knight moves for Felina out on the dance floor. He had learned some dance steps from these guys at a jousting tournament a few days back.


Vikta D. had once again shouted "Death by Chocolate!" and was watching the new peggars conduct their battles.

(10:09 pm Nov 13, 2005)

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