"That's very good to hear," said Maurice at the other end of the line-his cell phone really as lines of the telephone type no longer existed except in the abstract sense (as real lines do). Which goes to show you that history repeats itself, though not always in the way one imagines.
"That's the only explanation," said Polly. "Cerberus saw your shoes and his cerebral circuits said foreign shoes = alien. What are you wearing?"
"New Balance. They're made in Connecticut. That can't be true. Connecticut is practically part of the U.S. and just because we sold it to Canada...why did we sell it to Canada?"
"To make ends meet was the way I understood it, according to the official MediaCon line.
22 June 2011
20 June 2011
Erosion
"Satan has in fact a plan against the saints of the Most High which is to wear them out. What is meant by this phrase, "wear out"? It has in it the idea of reducing a little this minute, then reducing a little further the next minute. Reduce a little today, reduce a little tomorrow. Thus the wearing out is almost imperceptible; nevertheless, it is a reducing. The wearing down is scarcely an activity of which one is conscious, yet the end result is that there is nothing left. He will take away your prayer life little by little, and cause you to trust God less and less and yourself more and more, a little at a time. He will make you feel somewhat cleverer than before. Step by step, you are misled to rely more on your own gift, and step by step your heart is enticed away from the Lord. Now, were Satan to strike the children of God with great force at one time, they would know exactly how to resist the enemy since they would immediately recognize his work. He uses the method of gradualism to wear down the people of God."
--Watchman Nee and found online at http://dailychristianquote.com/dcqnee.html
--Watchman Nee and found online at http://dailychristianquote.com/dcqnee.html
14 June 2011
Page 24
“Um…I see. Say, Polly. Do you feel good right now”
“Me? Yep- I feel physically fine. Mentally competent. Somewhat bloated from the egg nog and Mexican tossed salad, but otherwise great. I need a hair-cut and this bothers me a little…not a lot as I don’t have a boyfriend, or soul-mate, or any other kind of primate to impress right now. Emotionally…I feel stable-a little shaky at times, but that’s due to dietary influences and rising/lowering hormonal levels. I feel witty…on a scale of 1 to 10…about oh’…pi…plus or minus a percentage point. I feel smug. A little sarcastic…just enough to irritate people an hour or two from a full-blown tension headache-no more, no less. That’s pretty much how I feel right now.
Lately, I’ve been talking to myself using short declarative sentences…using the intended ‘I’ to save time. I also answer myself using the ‘you’ understood. Most often though the conversations consist of sentence fragments with lots of adjectives. I don’t think this makes for good writing though. Nor does using the word ‘though’ a lot. I read yesterday that good writers use verbs-the action ones-and leave the passive ones to the novices to keep them poor and practicing. I tell myself it’s like reading a John Steinbeck novel...someday I hope to believe it. I tell this to my friends-all of who are invisible by the way. Most of my invisible amigos speak Spanglish which I appreciate since I love Mexican food and can now read the labels in the Hispanic section of Food Lion. Once, one of my friends-from New Zealand-asked me to fetch a trolley before we entered the deli section. I stood there in complete silence for an entire minute trying to translate this into English. A kindly cashier girl- whom I was not trying to impress due to my unique hair situation-asked if I needed any help. I said, “No thank you, I’m just a little confused right now.” She nodded and gave me a shopping cart to lessen my dilemma.
I thought about dating the other night. The Aztecs were good at it and constructed elaborate carved stones showing how to do it right. “The stones are still there,” Raquel told me. “Unfortunately the Aztecs are extinct and the stones untranslatable as nobody alive now speaks Aztec.” The Aztecs caused many problems going extinct, for now, nobody knows how to date properly. Although…the Mayans say we need not worry as the world will end at precisely midnight three years and nine days from now. I wish I were attracted to Mayan men.”
“Me? Yep- I feel physically fine. Mentally competent. Somewhat bloated from the egg nog and Mexican tossed salad, but otherwise great. I need a hair-cut and this bothers me a little…not a lot as I don’t have a boyfriend, or soul-mate, or any other kind of primate to impress right now. Emotionally…I feel stable-a little shaky at times, but that’s due to dietary influences and rising/lowering hormonal levels. I feel witty…on a scale of 1 to 10…about oh’…pi…plus or minus a percentage point. I feel smug. A little sarcastic…just enough to irritate people an hour or two from a full-blown tension headache-no more, no less. That’s pretty much how I feel right now.
Lately, I’ve been talking to myself using short declarative sentences…using the intended ‘I’ to save time. I also answer myself using the ‘you’ understood. Most often though the conversations consist of sentence fragments with lots of adjectives. I don’t think this makes for good writing though. Nor does using the word ‘though’ a lot. I read yesterday that good writers use verbs-the action ones-and leave the passive ones to the novices to keep them poor and practicing. I tell myself it’s like reading a John Steinbeck novel...someday I hope to believe it. I tell this to my friends-all of who are invisible by the way. Most of my invisible amigos speak Spanglish which I appreciate since I love Mexican food and can now read the labels in the Hispanic section of Food Lion. Once, one of my friends-from New Zealand-asked me to fetch a trolley before we entered the deli section. I stood there in complete silence for an entire minute trying to translate this into English. A kindly cashier girl- whom I was not trying to impress due to my unique hair situation-asked if I needed any help. I said, “No thank you, I’m just a little confused right now.” She nodded and gave me a shopping cart to lessen my dilemma.
I thought about dating the other night. The Aztecs were good at it and constructed elaborate carved stones showing how to do it right. “The stones are still there,” Raquel told me. “Unfortunately the Aztecs are extinct and the stones untranslatable as nobody alive now speaks Aztec.” The Aztecs caused many problems going extinct, for now, nobody knows how to date properly. Although…the Mayans say we need not worry as the world will end at precisely midnight three years and nine days from now. I wish I were attracted to Mayan men.”
Page 23 (OK, so it's been awhile)
“Polly. It’s me. I’ve been shot, tracked, and drone-handled. Are you busy?”
“I’m reviewing a new eatery in Canaan called ‘Just Desserts.’ It’s run by the local prison. I’ve heard it’s more profitable than making license plates. Is everything OK?”
“Except for the drone-handling by Cerberus I…yes.”
“Oh dear,” said Polly. “Are you sure you aren’t an alien?”
“Never have been, nor ever will be. All I can figure is the drone mistook me for somebody else…the Can man…ever here of him?”
“A dear old chap. Yes, I remember him. Malachi and I nearly ran over him once or twice…certainly no more than three times…and definitely not more than four.”
“Well Cerberus just shocked the Can man into the next world. The drone must have assumed he was a looter when he was found walking about the Plaza. You do know there was a Call for all Goshenites to drop everything and go to the Hives this morning?”
Polly assumed a pensive look that most people make before ordering something in French with hopes it is not a member of the mollusk family or has or use to have tentacles. It was a beast of a time, it was two at the time, and she said nothing but stare at her soles.
A wave of intuition hit Polly.
“Cerberus likes your shoes. All dogs do…even mechanical flying hounds programmed with algorithms by evil men and the Differentia.”
* (ed. Note) The Differentia was a class of scientists in the city-state of Goshen formerly known as Nerds
“I’m reviewing a new eatery in Canaan called ‘Just Desserts.’ It’s run by the local prison. I’ve heard it’s more profitable than making license plates. Is everything OK?”
“Except for the drone-handling by Cerberus I…yes.”
“Oh dear,” said Polly. “Are you sure you aren’t an alien?”
“Never have been, nor ever will be. All I can figure is the drone mistook me for somebody else…the Can man…ever here of him?”
“A dear old chap. Yes, I remember him. Malachi and I nearly ran over him once or twice…certainly no more than three times…and definitely not more than four.”
“Well Cerberus just shocked the Can man into the next world. The drone must have assumed he was a looter when he was found walking about the Plaza. You do know there was a Call for all Goshenites to drop everything and go to the Hives this morning?”
Polly assumed a pensive look that most people make before ordering something in French with hopes it is not a member of the mollusk family or has or use to have tentacles. It was a beast of a time, it was two at the time, and she said nothing but stare at her soles.
A wave of intuition hit Polly.
“Cerberus likes your shoes. All dogs do…even mechanical flying hounds programmed with algorithms by evil men and the Differentia.”
* (ed. Note) The Differentia was a class of scientists in the city-state of Goshen formerly known as Nerds
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