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Not gnostic.


 A note from Albert...
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Hello, Dear Friends!

You shall, I hope, all be pleased to learn of my impending promotion in the transportation business. Or so the suggestion has been made. More news, I sincerely hope, in the next missive.

A most delightful visit was had with Miss Sadie and her friend Roscoe this weekend past. I was but barely acquainted with Miss S., but my reputation seems to have preceeded her visit, as she was quite informed of my various business ventures over the years. Roscoe and I, it seems, also have some mutual acquaintances, so the conversation seldom lagged for want of topics.

Their precise mission in our little neck of the woods was something of a mystery, though I gained the impression that the proximity of the Canadian border may have played into their plans. There was talk of some explorer whose acquaintance they craved, north of the border, and some indecipherable mentions of sherry and moonstones and whatnot that I simply did not follow. I thought it quite curious that they should be reportedly in or anticipating a visit to Tijuana one day, according to usually reliable Miss Fairweather, yet they precipitously arrive in Buffalo very shortly thereafter, as these locales are hardly contingent, and the timeline of their travels wanted of consistency.

Rod, or Roscoe, as he seems to be called of late, seemed rather curious about some of the locales mentioned in the missive his sibling, young Leon, posted just a few days since. D.T., of course, has had a decades-long association with railroads and rail travel, though I don’t know that Rod ever participated in those ventures. But then again, I know so very little about Rod, so perhaps it is merely a bit of curious interest in his Uncle Ty’s many travels. But then again, idle curiousity is not among the traits of that family.

Sadie seemed quite keen to begin a venture associated with her skills as a psychic, one that would additionally support her love of travel and by which she could regularly meet with her many adoring acolytes. I offered my wholehearted support to this venture but, alas, due to the current terms of my legal situation, I cannot participate in any direct involvement in startup ventures, and most particularly those associated with the internets. However, if any farsighted souls with an interest in expanding theirs – indeed, the worlds! -- spiritual horizons were to make available some small funds in the interest of this venture, I would certainly lend my every legally permissible energy to the advancement of her mission.

I remain, your humble servant,

Albert Banfill
Posted by gnostix at 8:22 PM - 4 Comments   Add a Comment  
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Comments:

Albert -- I don't know that we've ever met, but I knew Durwood Tybalt quite well in another life. For old times' sake, I'll be sending a contribution by separate mail. If you should hear any more talk from Miss Sadie about "moonstones" and such, tell her to take a stiff drink of Tab cola, have some orange marmalade, and give me a holler. And you might want to warn her that I offered Aunt Ornery the opportunity to borrow the Witch King's resources in her quest to find them. So if a short-statured, short-tempered stranger dressed like the Queen of Hearts offers you a glowing bowling ball, don't just go gazing willy-nilly into it, okay? You never know what you might see. Could be heaven, could be ... not. Stay fresh and don't let the firebugs bite. Nice to meet you, Albert.

 
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by Moonstone (PM , CC ) on Tuesday May 20, 2008 @ 8:59 PM




Gnostix::::
You, sir, are up to something, very cool. I am just home and only dabbling, but I will keep up and eventually get the full sway of your swagger. These are gentle breezes and the summers coming on, but the many mentions of faculties and reluctance, certainly come before the dawn. The solar consequences of a dove in flight_becomes the milk of the thistle's thorn...errand of the magic wand.

Be swift and flurry...er, you will not contend. If...Your transport is afforded and conveys. I, but, be, along for the ride...for as long as it lasts...and when in time the blasts have purchased my mind...I will in my dimension...with the keeping of time...know the engine sublime.

As in all nature_(time and matter)for now...Is still. Artful_ In the way_ a worker comes to know...Life.

It Is Music_ as In, We sing our song. What wills us_ 'at last' to Be. And, to this contender: I must return soon and determine if my schedule can complete my attention. As to passing the human body through a sheet of paper, I have not figured_
to 'throw that down'... yet. Coming soon.

As yet, I am merely across the bay_ from a 'certain window' which seeks knowledge of classified imformation. Our site is reactive to the plethora of above average conduct. My eyes have seen the glory.
Oh! the humanity of it all. I am crazy to know, why I should even explain this unusual reaction.

And...I have wondered ...as to how this portends. As to your methods....and methods they be...an actor... who is conveyed to correspond. I would... that my bloom were more a semblance, and not rounded for the squared dimension. I am here...a note of blue.

Say you! If I am, but down for the count, This is not_ Not working out. If in_ my assembled pretensions hope, I am the fool, I claim dissimiliar rules. We can work it out.

Then...It is understood. I have nostrils to breathe. And mouth to eat, and eyes to see, and too much time to trill these notes of commencement. I am but cyber-syllables wanting to be herded and hounded.

I remain interested in the path and the purchase of nonsense and this is not my soul contribution...It is the outlet of a true believer in the word and the language of hope...L-O-V-E. TR

*********
I dig what you and moonstone and fairweather are doing. I detect a parlay of characters, and actors on the stage. An engaging enchantment.
Maybe I can work into a minor part. This is my exercise_excised.

Most unusually...as to why I am here...and not standing outside the window collecting storm data from past years. 'A wrinkle in time'_the
M. L'Engle 'chandeliers'. A hub-bub of rubba-dub-dub...
Schuck's donkey... Mr.Ears...Whence he came... a hurricane of love... and Not...in a Witless End.

I am a sell-out to the belief that finding oneself is most determindly a pattern of understanding and a work of art. This can be/and is fun. If in...Making up absolute nonsense, one is engaged, then you are the present master of that. I am enjoying the sonnetizer, and also the reparte' of your friends.TR-out
 
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by trust the rust (PM , CC ) on Tuesday May 20, 2008 @ 11:11 PM




Thanks very much for stopping by, moon, but Oh, Dear.. Please don't send Albert any money. And please don't send it to me.. I'll do something sensible like pay the bills.

I don't think Albert realized you're a person. Would you like the issue clarified for him? (Fair warning: he can charm the chrome off a bumper. Your Witch King will be lucky to escape with one of his bowling shoes.)

Rod/Roscoe is quite another matter. I believe an acquaintance of yours, Anna Molly, drew the attention of Rod's brother, Redd, some time back. Again, all I can say is, oh dear. Do NOT accept an invitation to go bowling with either.

g
 
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by gnostix (PM , CC ) on Tuesday May 20, 2008 @ 11:46 PM




Thank you for your visit, Mr Rust... But a question, if I may: If "oneself" is part of the great universal One, who is there to sell out to? There is only One... any sense of otherness is surely an illusion.

As for the "nonsense" several of us are engaged in, you are certainly welcome to join so far as I'm concerned. Indeed, you already have! so let it continue. But,,,I'm hardly the one to speak to about nonsense while the Witch King lurks -- to continue the theatrical metaphor -- οβ ςκενε.

Г
 
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by gnostix (PM , CC ) on Wednesday May 21, 2008 @ 12:01 AM


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   
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