What now? What now indeed, dear cyber tribe!!
Having had that rarest o’ glimpses o… the shy eternal river goddess incarnate!
Do you think I had the sangfroid… to ask in parting?
Do you think I had the sangfroid… to ask in parting?
For a bloody phone number at least?!
No. No, I did not. I surely hope that Lord Nelson… Or, is it Lord Byron these days? Aaaah.
Who ever thinks of poor George Gordon, the sixth Baron Byron of Rochdale, these days? Grandson of Vice-Admiral “Foulweather Jack”. Son of Captain “Mad Jack”. Nephew of the “wicked” Lord Byron, fifth Baron Byron of Rochdale. Born 22 January 1788. Who ever recalls his epic poems, Don Juan, or, Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage? Poor “LGBT” George. Accused of sleeping with his half-sister. Rather like Chronos and Rhea… all the Greek gods and surely half the English aristocracy. Poor, unlucky fellow. Likely died of sepsis as a result of extensive, un-hygienic blood-letting— the 19c. western medical cure for everything from cancer to the common cold. In Missolonghi. No. Not Mississippi. Nor Missouri. Some godforsaken dark corner of Greece. On his way to fight for Greek independence from the Ottoman Empire. Just imagine!
The Greeks do. April 19 is celebrated as Lord Byron Day in modern Greece.
How bloody romantic.
Aaahh… jolly old Byron… Shelley and Keats…
Percy Bysshe Shelley… drowned in a frivolous boating accident. Some will insist. An intentional mishap. A planned suicide.
On 8 July 1822, less than a month before his thirtieth birthday, Shelley drowned in a sudden storm on the Gulf of Spezia while returning from Leghorn (Livorno) to Lerici in his sailing boat, the Don Juan. Wikipedia
On 8 July 1822, less than a month before his thirtieth birthday, Shelley drowned in a sudden storm on the Gulf of Spezia while returning from Leghorn (Livorno) to Lerici in his sailing boat, the Don Juan. Wikipedia
Poor “blythe spirit”—
Poor poor, sad Percy
Bysshe
So unlike the lark
Or the Larkin
Neither could the poet fly
Nor like a fish...
Sport gills o good gin?
Bysshe
So unlike the lark
Or the Larkin
Neither could the poet fly
Nor like a fish...
Sport gills o good gin?
Oh dear. Don’t let me get gloaming on the Romantic Poets! You’ll have me quoting Edgar Allen Poe— The Raven— before breakfast!!
CAW! CAW! CAW!
Please. No. Stop.
There there. Have a nice warm cup of dragonwell tea, sir.
Yes. Thank you. I think I will.
Too much tragedy before breakfast is never a good thing.
AAaaah. So warm. So fragrant—
I can almost smell
The moldering sweet fern and
Hints o’ dried daisies
Round the gravestone
In yonder Protestant Cemetery, Rome
“Here lies One”
Dear swell
“Whose Name was writ in Water”
24 February 1821
The moldering sweet fern and
Hints o’ dried daisies
Round the gravestone
In yonder Protestant Cemetery, Rome
“Here lies One”
Dear swell
“Whose Name was writ in Water”
24 February 1821
AAaaah. Very nice.
Those old, young… ?
Tu-whit Tu-whoos
Those ever youthful
Romantic Poets.
They sure knew how to muddy up a limpid rill.
Tu-whit Tu-whoos
Those ever youthful
Romantic Poets.
They sure knew how to muddy up a limpid rill.
So. No. I did not get a look at the rare bird’s…
Traditional GPS/radio telemetry collar.
Mind you. This was back in ’08. Back in the dark ages…
Before iPhones!! Became common. They were actually invented by Steve Jobs in…?
You guessed it!! That truly depressing year, 2007.
God help us. Back in the primitive, three-dimensional world that existed before we all entered into our current state of cyberspace reality.
Nevertheless. “It is written in the stars”… Shalom.
The first person I met. After the encounter with the elusive river sprite—
I told my good friend, Brian. (See: Smell the Kush, in Confessions above). I just met this really cool lady down on the banks of the Mad River! Her name is Lorna. Apparently she works in Mckinleyville
And Brian said. Lorna! That’s my chiropractor! She’s really cool! She’s been helping me with my mountain bike riding rotator cuff injury.
Uh huh.
And I told the second person I met, my yoga teacher, Mel. I just met this really cool lady down on the banks of the Mad River! Her name is Lorna
Lorna!! Mel cried. She’s my chiropractor. She’s totally cool. She’s been helping me with my automobile accident lower back injury.
AHA!!
Beep beep beep beep…
Seeker to ground control… we’re closing in on the mystery subject.
Roger, Raven 1… this is ground control… we copy and—
It didn’t take too long. Less than a week. To procure the phone number of an unusually talented, well-liked woman chiropractor in Mckinleyville, CA, named…
Drum rooooooooooll. The envelope, please.
Lorna?
Not 17c. “Lorna Doone” of the… "Badgworthy Water region of Exmoor in Devon and Somerset, England”!?
Eh wha?
Not… The Infamous Lorna… “who turns out to be not only (apparently) the granddaughter of Sir Ensor Doone (lord of the Doones), but destined to marry (against her will) the impetuous, menacing, and now jealous heir of the Doone Valley, Carver Doone”!?
So you say.
Not. Could it be? Lorna of the notorious stolen necklace… “the necklace (which) belonged to a Lady Dugal, who was robbed and murdered by a band of outlaws. Only her daughter survived the attack. It becomes apparent that Lorna, being evidently the long-lost girl in question, is in fact heiress to one of the largest fortunes in the country, and not a Doone after all (although the Doones are remotely related, being descended from a collateral branch of the Dugal family)”!?
Not Lorna Dugal, a.k.a. Doone!?
Aye, no. Not that half baked, blond cookie.
Lady Lorna of Mckinleyville. Dunes on Mad. A local Humboldt County chiropractor of note. In the year 2008. Actually. An immigrant of some twenty-plus years. From Ireland. And England. And… Singapore?
Well. I wasted no time in ringing—my very own goddess incarnate— her up. On ye olde fashioned. Touch tone dial phone.
Hello. Is this “The Lorna” I met on the banks of the Mad River last week?
Uh. Yes. I guess that would be me? Who is this?
The white knight upon his fine white steed with the…
Ah. That’s right. I thought so. How are you, Alan?
Great. Thank you. And you?
Fine, thank you.
I was wondering…
Yes?
I was wondering if you would like to return to the Mad River with me. For a proper paddling expedition? Some time. Soon. When you’re not busy with work and all.
Uh. Right. I mean. Sure. Why not?!
There’s a sport!!
And so it was settled.
In no time, then. We were back. Together. Paddling leisurely, and. Push poling vigorously in the open air. Upon the jolly Mad! Headed for the Promised Land. The Great Undiscovered Country. In and around the wild, uninhabited… pure mostly… river mouth. Where it meets the glorious Pacific Ocean!
I was ecstatic! My plan was to take her on. “A Magical Mystery Tour”!
Picture yourself in a boat on a river
With tangerine trees and marmalade skies
Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly
A girl with kaleidoscope eyes
With tangerine trees and marmalade skies
Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly
A girl with kaleidoscope eyes
To my secret transcendental clubhouse. Upon my own private island. Of newly-arisen. Magical mystical real estate. The ephemeral sand bar near the mouth. Where I imagined—
Where I imagined that all things are possible
Where real fairy princes and princesses
Do exist!
They just look like smarmy harbor seals
Lounging on a river silt divan
Airing out their private bits
Sure.
And tall wary heron sentinels
Finely attired in blue
And white livery
I guess.
To the uninitiated!
Where real fairy princes and princesses
Do exist!
They just look like smarmy harbor seals
Lounging on a river silt divan
Airing out their private bits
Sure.
And tall wary heron sentinels
Finely attired in blue
And white livery
I guess.
To the uninitiated!
Whatever, dude.
Yeah. Ok. So. Peter Pan and Wendy does come to mind. But. We’re not talking the Island of the Lost Boys here. No bloody Captain Hook. No craven crocodiles. No ticking alarm clocks. Not a single blood thirsty gnat to bother us. And a perfectly reasonable day unfolding. Like a bird of paradise
Yeah. Ok. So. Peter Pan and Wendy does come to mind. But. We’re not talking the Island of the Lost Boys here. No bloody Captain Hook. No craven crocodiles. No ticking alarm clocks. Not a single blood thirsty gnat to bother us. And a perfectly reasonable day unfolding. Like a bird of paradise
Hungry pregnant… desperate mother… great white sharks?
Check.
Bold, lusty… confrontational teenager… sea lions?
Roger.
Vicious, raging hormonal ocean… child snatching… sneaker waves?
Ok Ok… I get your point. One can never be too careful out in the open elements. But. You see. I had brought two brand new personal floatation devices. Two solid paddles. One wooden. And one a collapsible modern composite of aluminum and carbon fiber? Or plastic? We had comfortable all weather gear. Waterproof storage sacks for our valuables. Bottles of water…
Check check check check….
We went fully prepared for a brief afternoon in the elements.
That’s what they all say.
Who said that?
“Said the spider to the fly”.…?
Nope. Sorry, Iggy. No “Spiders from Mars”!
I get your point, gringo—
Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale,
A tale of a fateful trip
That started from this tropic port
Aboard this tiny ship.
The mate was a mighty sailing man,
The skipper brave and sure.
The skipper brave and sure.
source: https://www.lyricsondemand.com/tvthemes/gilligansislandlyrics.html
You just had to do that. Didn’t you.
Couldn’t resist. Just love “The Minnow Song”… “the Minnow would be lost… the Minnow would be lost”…
Enough already. What happens next?!
O. Well. We paddled awhile. Then. We docked. That is. We decided to beach the canoe. Pull it up on the sandy river bank. And walk the rest of the way to the mouth—
Across the wavering sand
And through the tumbling dunes
To grandmother’s invisible house
We go…
And through the tumbling dunes
To grandmother’s invisible house
We go…
We walked awhile.
We ambled out onto a flat
Wide open expanse
A wind n wave combed
Almost bare drift bar of sand
That gathers near the mouth.
A relatively solid even
Gently undulating
Mesmerizing
Mindless bright emptiness
Like a kind of mini Mojave desert!
That stretches out beyond the turbulent dunes
Where the dune grass hasn’t quite
Caught up yet.
We ambled out onto a flat
Wide open expanse
A wind n wave combed
Almost bare drift bar of sand
That gathers near the mouth.
A relatively solid even
Gently undulating
Mesmerizing
Mindless bright emptiness
Like a kind of mini Mojave desert!
That stretches out beyond the turbulent dunes
Where the dune grass hasn’t quite
Caught up yet.
Eventually we tired.
We settled upon a weathered redwood snag
In a cozy warm sand crevice
Protected from occasional afternoon gusts.
It wasn’t too hot.
Nor was it chilly.
The westering sun was shrouded.
A pale pink eye glaring
From a silvery blue steelhead.
Ever slowly yet surely
We fell deeply into the “deeper land” of
“A long and winding”…
Jolly good conversation.
We settled upon a weathered redwood snag
In a cozy warm sand crevice
Protected from occasional afternoon gusts.
It wasn’t too hot.
Nor was it chilly.
The westering sun was shrouded.
A pale pink eye glaring
From a silvery blue steelhead.
Ever slowly yet surely
We fell deeply into the “deeper land” of
“A long and winding”…
Jolly good conversation.
I knew we were “knock knock knocking…
On heaven’s door”
The secret vortex
To the realm of eternal light
That is the mouth of the Mad.
It had been my plan all along
To bring Lorna to the brink
On heaven’s door”
The secret vortex
To the realm of eternal light
That is the mouth of the Mad.
It had been my plan all along
To bring Lorna to the brink
Yeah yeah, Romeo. What did thee converse so deeply about exactly?
Oh. Right. I told her about my recent heartbreak. About my belated goddess prayers. And asked if she was available for. Well. A romantic relationship.
Alright. Finally. Now you’re talking turkey vulture!! Got er in your sights.
Moving in for the kill!
Moving in for the kill!
You asked her to go to the junior senior prom at Arcata High! Am I right?!
No. I asked her if we could continue dating. Since this was our first official date. I asked her if she wanted to continue to see me with the intention of having a potentially serious, adult relationship.
Oh. Sounds boring.
No no. I wanted true love with all the trimmings. Not a sordid fling with a young thing half my age. And she was a mature adult woman. Close to my age. I wanted to begin again. I wanted to reimagine a full life with a kind, noble… spiritous woman.
Like your local Mckinleyville chiropractor, Lorna?
Sure. Why not? She was… interesting to me. And. Well. Coming as soon as she did
Coming!? WTF!? Who said anything…
So soon after the thirteen-page prayer/summons. So soon after my heart opening ritual of carefully stated intention.
Ah. Right. Let’s not forget the stupendous power of The LA Secret!!
Visualize. Write. Pray. Breathe. Imagine. Feel into it. Iterate!!
“Ask and ye shall receive”.
Wallah!!
Right on. More or less.
Well. What did she say? You’re killing me.
She said. Yes.
Eureka!! Blessed be the faithful!!
She said. Yes. But.
Yes, but what?
Yes. You seem a nice man. Yes. She said. And continued thoughtfully—
A rather virile, fearless nice man. I could be interested in a relationship with you. It’s just that. Well. I don’t have a whole lot of energy these days. That day when you met me on the banks of the river. That day when I was meditating by myself. I do that a lot these days. I do that a lot these days to rest. I. Do it to try to gather my energy. You see.
A rather virile, fearless nice man. I could be interested in a relationship with you. It’s just that. Well. I don’t have a whole lot of energy these days. That day when you met me on the banks of the river. That day when I was meditating by myself. I do that a lot these days. I do that a lot these days to rest. I. Do it to try to gather my energy. You see.
Now. What you are asking for is a full bodied relationship. A romantic, emotional relationship. I understand. But. I don’t think I have the kind of energy that you are asking for. I don’t think I could meet you where you stand.
My problem is.
My problem is that I was recently re-diagnosed with breast cancer. Five years ago I was first diagnosed with breast cancer. I did radiation treatments and chemotherapy five years ago for the original cancer.
I was considered “cured” just a few weeks ago. For after five years without signs of tumors. They call us cured.
Now. Five years later almost to the day. The cancer has returned. Only this time. Well. The prognosis is not good. The original cancer was a slow moving form. The newly returned cancer is a very fast moving, aggressive form of cancer. Probably a mutated. Radiation and chemo-induced form of highly aggressive… untreatable cancer. You see.
And so. I may not have that long to live. And. Well. I certainly don’t have the energy for. The kind of relationship. Which. If I hear you correctly. I think that you are asking me for.
Ah. That terrible word. Cancer.
Really. I knew very little about cancer in early 2008. And so I said.
That’s not a problem.
Well. She said. We’ll see. With that wonderful smile. And the conspiratorial glint she always had in her eyes—
But. Don’t you think it’s about time for us to go find the canoe and head home?
Yes. I agreed.
