Wrote you a love letter Then tore it up to bits Took the shredded pieces Threw them in a pit Setting it on fire Watched the passion glow Each piece flared from another The flames of nevermore Wrote you a love letter Knew I would not send Wrote you a love letter Sealed it with my blood Stood there with the ashes As they crumbled away The wind sent some flying Forever out of reach The seasons took the rest Let it slip away Walked away in silence Left behind a stain Wrote you a love letter Knew I would not send Wrote you a love letter Words etched in my head Wrote you love, and Sealed it with my blood
Stop me if you’ve heard this one before
Woman meets Woman. Women split. Misdeeds and transmogrifications happen. Women become one. ℵ2+. Time is a douche. Love rules. The end.
What was this all about, Stu?
In the end, Love. You may argue this, but for me it was about Love. There are many interpretations of Love the emotion and Love the word. Then there is a sliding scale for every iteration. Love astray. Love together. Love.
Add Love with: Existentialism + Nihilism + Greek Mythology + Block Universe Theory + Quote: “Time is liquid. One moment is no more important than any other and all moments quickly run away.” by Kurt Vonnegut + Quote: “Time is an illusion” by Albert Einstein + Time Conceptualization & its relation to what we’ve been experiencing in the last year plus + the quotes I used, all picked out before I began the challenge + Philosophy + Physics + Math + Assorted Doodads =Liquid Time.
No animals were harmed during the writing of Liquid Times. No drugs were a part in its evolution.
My experience(s) with Liquid Time
I put in a shit-load of research, playing around with (and still hating) the formatting of the “new” WordPress Block Editor. And, of course, writing the darn thing. I gave myself many stress headache moments, simply because I am a Pantster and write my A to Z post ON THE DAY as the letters roll by. I usually have Story Beats/Story Spine floating somewhere in my mind, but as the characters & plotting develops, I may end up in a whole different direction. 2019s A Car In the Woods (Science Fiction/Horror/Thriller, 27 posts) is a prime example of that. I originally planned 26 separate flash fiction pieces on the theme. By D, I dropped that idea as it became a larger whole story.
So it goes.
Liquid Time was unlike any other of my A to Z’s in that I had NO CLUE what to do with it. Time has been on my mind for a long while. That was the starting point, and my meandering tangent mind went where it went. I also knew that this needed a very different approach in how I tackled the subject(s). Plus, I needed to really challenge myself in writing style(s); I started to feel I was getting in a semi-rut. As I was discovering the story along the way, I pushed myself even harder.
Tales of Tale Spinning will bring you to a listing of my previous A to Z worlds. You’ll get what I mean.
As to the overall mechanics of Liquid Time:
The color blocking (or with specific words/concepts) are all related to the normally accepted meanings of those colors. Slight variations occurred as needed: Red could be anger or danger. The context around it drove the interpretation. The colors themselves will most likely need to be excised if this is to be taken further. I am thinking on what to change and how.
I choose to work with the line verifications (left-middle-right) with a variety of thoughts: POV change, dialogue without the “she said/he said” designations of who was speaking, change in the style (prose vs pinprick, almost bullet-like, actions/thoughts), free-form poetics, and one or three other things. You might realize that I do not like conjunctive words and did my best to minimize their use.
The formatting on this drove me crazy. The Block Editor of WordPress (great horror story title) that I hate with a passion. The inability to highlight one word or idea without the entire block changing really threw me for a frustrated loop. Same with adding color to one word/name. Couldn’t do it as a whole.
A lot of my “choppy” lines were forced on me due to this not being really user friendly. Probably the only positive out of this whole formatting mishigas.
As to the rest: I know that Liquid Time was challenging to read. I did my best to reincorporate things I threw down. The big one I never came back to was the Snow/Ice demoness from the first of Janaculum. If I DO return to LT, she will definitely play a bit of a larger role, in a way. Does the letter K connect anything for you?
Also, If you’ve read my previous work, you should know I’m not a big fan of spelling everything out. I enjoy books where I have to dig to get it or let my interpretation be and move on. Cloud Atlas, Ulysses, and other books anyone?
I saw by stats that I had a decent readership with a larger reach than last year. Yet, I had a HUGE drop in comments after the first five posts. I know I blew it on my blog hopping and I plan to rectify it. Liquid Time was too much, at Times. Pun intended. So, pretty disappointing, but as Lou Reed sang at the end of Perfect Day: “You’re going to reap just what you sow.”
Bottom Line: will I be back for next year’s A to Z? I plan to, but who the heck knows what the frig I will be up to in 2022. So, most likely yes. Maybe. Probably. We’ll see.
Time will tell.
What’s A to Z April Blogging Challenge Got To Do With This?
Created in 2009 by Arlee Bird, the A to Z Blogging Challenge has united hundreds (thousands?) of Bloggers throughout the Blogaverse. If you blog, you can join & post 26 times during the month of April, beginning on April 1st and ending on April 30th. Sundays “off” for good behavior. I’ve been involved with the challenge since 2011, not participating a few times. I’ve been introduced to many bloggers whom I may never have come across without the A to Z; many I can now call friends. There are too many to link to at the moment. Look at the commenters from April 1st forward on Tale Spinning. That’ll be a good start.
Arlee has had a semi-rotating team of amazing talent surrounding the event(s) and the site(s). They all need a big hand of applause. This year, his co-host team has been: J Lenni Dorner, Zalka Csenge Virág , John Holton, Jayden R Vincente , and Jeremy Hawkins . Please click on their names to visit their blogs. To find the other bloggers who participated:
What was hiding in the background?
- Greek Mythology:
- Book Influences
- Musical Artist Influences
By the Way:
I am most likely moving Tale Spinning to Blogger by the end of May. I’m in the setting up phase, doing my best so it looks and acts like I’d like it to. Tale Spinning Redux. I’ll announce when the time is right to end my time with WordPress and go back to Blogger. Gotta figure how to link up all of my work here to a new hosting site. Not today. Headache arose just writing that.
Please remember that Comments Are Always Welcome.
Thank you, EVERYONE.
INSANE BLOGGER COMPLETES BLOGGING MARATHON +2; FOUND SINGING EVERY “ANIMANIACS” 97 THEME SONG VARIATIONS
BLOGGER LAST SEEN WEARING A BLACK TEE SHIRT WITH THE SAYING “i have the time.”
A cryptic series of notes were left on the bloggers triple-axel backwards encrypted PC:
–The weed of Time bears bitter fruit.
-The time is right, right now
–Time is on my side
–The Time is high but I’m holding on
–Time takes a licking but keeps on ticking
-It is Time for you to stop all of your sobbing
–It is time for you to laugh instead of crying
At this point, a link appeared. When clicked, the following video played. And played. And.
Liquid Time: Beginning to End
REFLECTIONS (will be posted on May 4th, 2021)
“It may be that our cosmic curiosity is a genetically-encoded force that we illuminate when we look up and wonder.” Neil deGrasse Tyson
(ZV) is connected with life, love, renewal, death
(ZV) is connected with flow, expanse, beginnings, endings
Zehara and Valentina are connected
The confluence they went through began with pain
Their unity is love, necessity, sequential, non-linear
(ZV) rests with thought of
(ZV) stretches across the realities, fulfilling their role(s) in the supreme balance. Aware, there is a continuous exploration of all they’ve become, the endless wonders, the ethereal-astral connection that is now their existence. They float in the balance between the goddess and the god. (ZV) has evolved into Order, meeting Chaos on an even scale.
Janiculum is their place of rest. Every iteration of the city, the land, the peoples, the fauna and flora, is (ZV)’s place of rest and love.
This observance takes place in a Janiculum at the height of it’s health, beauty, and fortitude. Here, the Gates of Prógramma Spoudón are appointed with a vast array of gems. The light, of Sun, Moon, or Fire, pass through the facets and spread beams of color over the city. Golden silk streamers wave along the thoroughfares, a greeting and a farewell in any direction spent. The winds are always gentle, the waterways run pure, and the harvests are always rich.
(ZV) entered Janiculum as their goddess Alcyeyx. The winds tickled her unbound hair, tossing the multi colored tresses into patterns that matched the hues of light sent from the Gate. Her laughter thundered as she came to the parade grounds. She would never miss this celebration of the bounties of the land yet to come. The goddess sang and the people voices were harmonious. She danced with freedom, decorated the harvest poles, and collected all the love that swirled around her.
At the fall of night, (ZV) left the city through the Gates, still glittering in the moonlight. On the other side, admiring the heavens, Valentina and Zehara walked over the grassy fields, to finally lay at the base of the Oracle’s Peak. As fertility stroked the minds of the city, Valentina made love to Zehara, which was equally returned. They no longer needed to sleep, but the closed their eyes in memory, bodies entwined. They consumed the other with eyes shut.
Both knew that this would be repeated forever in its placement of time. Valentina smiled at the thought as she raised her upper half and rested on forearm. Her purple/black hair fell over the shoulder, her breast, and pooled onto Zehara’s chest. Zehara’s reddish brown strands spread around her. She began to twist and play with Valentina’s hair.
Valentina leaned over, gentle breaths mixing as they kissed. Their lips did not part easily.
“I love you,” said one.
“I love you as well,” the other replied.
Together, they did not have to say aloud:
“Always, and forever.”
They were gone with the rising of the sun.
“The main thing is to be moved, to love, to hope, to tremble, to live.” ~ ~ Auguste Rodin
My “Reflections In Liquid Time” will be posted on Tuesday, May 4, 2021
COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED
“Both in thought and in feeling, even though time be real, to realize the unimportance of time is the gate of wisdom.” ~ ~ Bertrand Russell
“The Lotus opens. Movement from earth, through water, from fire to air. Out and in beyond life and death now, beyond inner and outer, sense and non-sense, meaning and futility, male and female, being and non-being, Light and darkness, void and full. Beyond all duality, or non-duality, beyond and beyond. Disincarnation. I breathe again.” ~ ~ R. D. LAING
Paris, 16th arrondissement, le restaurant de l’Hôtel sur le toit vide
In every form of communication: “This is a beautiful view. So many beautiful views.”
♁ Ananke is a whisper without sound. She is. (ZV) acknowledges this forever knowledge. They revert to two, standing on a rooftop over Paris, lighting on other vantage points across the universes. They are among the cosmos. Limitless. No boundaries.
There is nothing outside of the box if there is no box to begin with.
Zehara and Valentina are tangible here, as they are elsewhere. Their essences remain connected, corporeal or not. Wrapping arms around the other, foreheads touching, breaths mingling, all lasts infinitely in the fraction of that second. They know the “why here?” before the question forms between them.
“This is where we first met,” they absorb the words in unison. Ananke, Necessitas, Ge, the Mother, allows the countless stars to lighten the darkness.
“As it was meant” fills any void.
The rooftop unfolds as it was: café tables, the mosaic tops iridescent waves of hues of blues and golds balanced on wrought iron Art Deco curlicues, red leather chair seating at the tables and for the chaise lounge settees. Gold thread embroidery traversed the fabric. Fine crystal flutes at the ready filled with sparkling champagne of prime vintage. Vegetarian Aperitifs strategically placed, the colors complimenting one dish to another.
Valentina was the guest of honor at this soiree, lauded for her breakthroughs in Biogenetic Engineering. Every government wanted her. She forced a laugh at every bon mot, listened to and fobbed off the enticements, both scientific and sexual, and was thoroughly bored. Funding was a core ingredient to continue her work. Valentina was tired of being brought out as a gift to be bid on. Exquisite as the champagne was, she only sipped the first hour of the evening away, looking for an opportunity to leave. A spilled drink near her, the endless apologies, cleaning of the stain on her dress that was invented, was her chance. Her chance.
She came late, her entrance marked by the flurry of paparazzi yelling her name, the model of the moment. Zehara was weary of this game, being seen to be seen. She accepted the invitation only with the caveat that this would truly be a closed affair. Champagne in had, Zehara ditched the executive she arrived with, wandering the roof, taking in the panoramic view of Paris. She allowed herself to slink into the shadows, loving the absence of demands. Another was the center of attention. Zehara relished that, for once. But not for long. She grew deathly bored.
Zehara, full glass in hand, was making her way to exit the engagement. In her path was the honoree, surrounded by a pack waiting to eat their way in. She hadn’t paid Valentina much attention, but now. Everything changed for her. The attraction was magnified beyond anything Zehara had experienced before. One step, and Zehara faltered. Valentina took notice. She was in the process of taking in the wonder of Zehara, a rush of empty lust washing away her normal reticent ways, when the champagne made a splash.
They ignored the chaos, walking as far away from the clashing as they could. As they made their way to the roof’s railings, their hands found the others’. A now empty settee caught their eyes. Zehara broke hands, sped to the seating, and turned it so that Paris was fully before them. Hunkering down on the settee, doing their best not to be seen and interrupted, Valentina and Zehara began.
“This is an appreciation, a thank you,” a vibrato from Ananke, primordial personification of compulsion.
(ZV) held themselves tightly. Turning to the manifestation of The Mother
Time continues to scream
Time continues its fragmented shrinkage
♁ Ananke Is
A wavering, touch like, and Time is stilled
(ZV) is in attendance
Another entity as well
Time holds them all
Life is sustaining
A mewl of confusion weighs heavy
Something new, for the constant Time
we were ONE Khronos. Ananke. progenitors at creation that had existed, is existing, will exist we emerged self-born formed the ordered universe(s) set in our tasks of Time of Life of being the cosmos Yet a divergence an expenditure of Chaos a swelling of Entropy an order corrupted the continuum of Time became a corruption of Time destruction amplified erosion amplified deaths deaths deaths fell before their time this was Ragnarok which never was to be gained the final destruction was upon ALL my worlds my creatures my planes of existence I separate entities Khronos applied Death at a rate I could not change we were in balance were suppose to be balanced existed for balance I was not enough
“We were created. Z in the Pod. V at control”
“You mixed with the extreme radiation. A fusion of Life”
“From our meeting?”
“From the first seeds of unbalance”
“To disrupt Time”
“To weaken Time. To permeate Time. To bring Life into Time’s equation.”
“And to bring and emotional sequence that Time never held”
“Truth: were we ever really in love?”
Quiet is sustained.
The other is still there but not noticed.
“What of you, Gaia? Are you unbalanced? Have you undergone a parallel disrupture?”
“If we are a counter point for Khronos…we are, yes?”
“What is yours?”
Into the void, the other makes themselves noticed.
Silent Khronos extends to (ZV)
“They are my balance beyond Khronos. You are Time’s balance beyond Ananke.”
(ZV) sees the other.
“Ἀστερία. Karen. Good. Chaos.”
“They are in pain. They are in contradiction.”
“As you fused. Yes.”
♁ Ananke IS
Finds their way
EPILOGUE ON SATURDAY, MAY 1ST, 2021
COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED
“Time is what we want most, but what we use worst.” ~ ~ William Penn
(ZV) adjusted the continuum of time by integrating spatial dimensions with the astral and ethereal planes. The system, in entirety, becomes changeless through the dramatic metamorphic change. There is no progression of time. Everything is Timeless. Khronos is frozen in Time. (ZV) is stuck, not frozen.
This is not a chance happening, an accident, kismet. (ZV) has gained: this has been a plan. The thought of it being of divine design is not sufficient. It had earthly intention meaning that is meaningless for them. They gave it credit as a thought experiment, dismissed it, letting it fade away. Stuck, they demanded accountability.
Their thinking of convergence began when Zehara, in her mind, liberated Valentina; Valentina held onto the concept of abduction. It had not begun at that point. In this static dimension of all reality, the realization of their connection(s) expanded. Without limits, for they now understood that Limit was another bespoke label. It was a coping strategy employed by all sentiments at whatever level of being the concept of Limit was conceived.
The Infinite. A label, yet one that was the existence. (ZV)’s paradigm of being changes.
If Time is unchanging, if it just Is, then what becomes of Time? Z crows that Time is dead. V reputes that; even if the progression of time stops here, now, it still remains in what came before. The push/pull of their separate hypothesis is contained; thought transcends, but they don’t question it.
Until they do. Why/how is there a movement in the thought process as they are incorporeal? How is Khronos? Z thinks of circles. V envisions infinity. Symbols are meaningless.
Time is meaningless?
V supposes that Time is illogical if it does not fit the restricted theorem. If there is no end, no beginning, Time is then infinite, and with Infinity there is no need for time. K’s circle is a closed unit. It, too, deletes the thought of beginnings and ends. If the circle is pure, uniform, unbroken, it can stop or start. Anywhere. It doesn’t need time to consume itself.
The fragments of Time do not fit. Time has not been linear nor circular. Khronos imposed junctures and splits, uncircular paths, a transmogrification of the superlunary powers fundamental to Time’s being time.
The fragments of Khronos shrink.
(KV) takes notice.
(☿++☾+ ♁ +♃+♄+♅+♆+♇+☼)+∞³⋝ω
COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS WELCOME
“Time is a feature of creation, and the creator remains apart from it, transcendent over it.” ~ ~ James Gleick
Is witness to all beginnings; to all ends.
The End of All Things rips apart the progenitor with every erasure.
Erasures are Endless.
There is nothing to measure.
It is or it is not.
Khronos is a part of the process, as is
♁ ⋝ t (⨍⨳⊎∞) =⨿
Khronos upset the balance
The Screams Must Stop
(ZV) feels the sacred knife from their temple slice into the ethereal-corporal sync they have manifested. They feel a rift, a change, yet pain is of the past, not the present. What comes can not be seen from here. They have been severed from an aspect of themselves that has left the feeling of <.
Only for that time of piercing
A great severing occurred.
They experience the force within them ascend to a higher intensity
What was a standstill finds Khronos waver
Khronos meets level meeting level
Khronos identifies the truth
(ZV) shares the truth
Awareness that the blade Ἀστερία bore sliced through the other
Ἀστερία‘s discorporation fused with her screams
A union of screams merged with Ἀστερία‘s
(ZV) + Khronos took notice
- VALENTINA AND ZEHARA
- Were profoundly in love
- Each were admired
- One for high status in the scientific world
- One for great physical beauty
- It went to their egos
- It split them apart
- The hurt went both ways
- Valentina found backing for her project
- Science + Transcendentalism
- Taking the mind to next levels
- Valentina threw herself all in
- Zehara suffered and drifted
- Hurt, alone, falling into the darkest shadows
- Tried to commit suicide on Government land
- Valentina’s lab was housed there
- Recovering, an offer came
- She took it
- Jealousy ruled her ego
- She easily acquiesced to Government intrusion
- Valentina did not know
- Z did not know
- Another intruded with a thought of a touch
- The Float Pod
- Z vanished
- V vanished
- The Lab, the Float Pod, the Screams
- K was noticed
COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS WELCOME
“Realize that now, in this moment of time, you are creating. You are creating your next moment. That is what’s real.” ~ ~ Sara Paddison
The Oracle of the Peak leaps from the outcrop
The sacred knife is raised
Blood smeared from tip to hilt
The Oracle’s descends at the rate of 10-21 seconds, a trillionth of a billionth of a second.
She becomes her own variables, phasing through every who she is/was/might be
Her scream is infinite
At a standstill, the god and the goddess
Clash for control over the other
Seek non-existence for the other
Fight for what is theirs
He was right; they were wrong
They were right; he was wrong
Time hangs in a balance
The scale does not tip
Still, The Oracle of the Peak falls
As she prophesized in dreams
In her dealings with the dead
Seeing the future
Living all of her linear pasts
Breathing through all of her linear moments
Seeing nothing nothing nothing
Of what’s to come of her
She falls, with the sacred knife now in both hands
She screams, with the sacred knife now thrust forward
The Oracle of the Peak’s name
Ἀστερία falls, and as she does
The sacred knife plunges into
Prebiotic organic synthesis ooze
Ἀστερία’s screeches fades…
THIS IS NOT
A touch of a thought Breaks the seal of the trap The shrieks, set free, Coalesce The particles bond A form arises Changes pitch and tone A Goddess, intervenes They have somewhen to be
COMMENTS & FEEDBACK ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED
“Time is a construction of our consciousness.” ~ ~ Maria Popova
FLOAT POD CONNEC
O, the delicate keening Behind the trap of lined lead Disintegrates unscheduled times Goddess driven Pain of particles peeled Flung To reform A new scream A new scream A Goddess Intervenes
khronos crumbles destroys corrodes kills shatters gnaws consumes disintegrates bites cracks kills scours spoils rots eats decays abrades erodes collapses implodes denies enslaves kills kills kills
(zv) runs hides strikes falters dies repels repulses defeats rejects dies allows checks subjugates overthrows disintegrates rises liberates dies fights dies overcomes dies resists dies resists dies resists resists resists resists
Collision at Janiculum lasts a triennium at a stretch, only to repeat. The god of Time confronts the Time Thief-Violator. Named for elimination, named to never exist. Janiculum, newly reformed, crumbles into broken stone and dust. (ZV) retaliates dividing Time’s ceaseless attacks into fractional fragments, searching for the moments the power is hers for the taking. Nothing lasts while everything continues.
Their confrontation falls into synchronicity across all that falls under Time’s sway. Galaxies perish. Time lines are erased. Different paths begin.
The three plunge to the “end” of Time. To the “beginning” of Time.
There aren’t any boundaries
Space exists. Time is. Necessity is.
The measurement of Time is a construct
Janiculum, a recurrence
The god and the goddess
At a standstill
The Oracle of the Peak has lived and died upon the rocky outcrop
Immobilized, bearing witness
‘now’ compels her mind
The Oracle’s body responds
She draws out the sacred knife from the Temple of Alcyeyx
A prick, a drop of blood smeared from tip to hilt
A silent prayer
The sacred knife is raised
The Oracle of the Peak leaps from the outcrop
THIS IS NOT THE DAY
Comments & Feedback Are Always Welcome
SIDEREAL PRIMORDIAL SHIFT
“An hour, once it lodges in the queer element of the human spirit, may be stretched to fifty or a hundred times its clock length.” Virginia Woolf
The Oracle of the Peak lay prone on the rocky outcrop. Her eyes feasted on the return of the Goddess, Alcyeyx. She noticed the division of the one, eyebrows raised but quickly pulled back, an involuntary shrug eased almost made her chuckle. To her, the contexts of the different body’s alignments, posturing, tones, placements, drew one correlation. This was an entity in complete and utter thrall to itself, no matter the form(s) it took.
Prophecy brought her to the ruins of Janiculum. This Oracle, the great-great granddaughter of she who fled The Ice Leveling, gathered the herbs she’d need, the homemade tools of her wooden pestle and bowl, and “borrowed” the sacred knife from the Temple of Alcyeyx. It was a trek that took its toll on her twenty-six ans. Hunger was continuously nibbling away at her resolve. Fasting before she left was not ideal. The Priestess had pleaded with her to stay. The Oracle would not heed any deterring words.
The quarreling below limped to an end as night began its saturation of the sky and land. She prayed herself to sleep, hearing sounds far different than the bellowing of the day. It was a lull as the Goddess lay calm in her mind. The Oracle slept through the remaking of Janiculum. Alcyeyx turned back the ruins piece by stone, tile by oiled skins, foundations secure, thick and sturdy Oak. The Gates of Prógramma Spoudón stood golden and tall. The dawn light showered the gates, which spread its diffused luster over the reborn city.
Janiculum was as it was, as it always should be. Z and V left the vaulted walls of the city hand in hand. Breathing in the air they did not need, they nestled down on to of the freshly misted grass. Their love making woke The Oracle, who had been paralyzed atop the mountain hand. Her mind had been screaming over and again to find true waking, but she was caught on the tines of fear.
The Oracle of the Peak needed the liquid tincture of ashwagandha. Her shaking subsided as her teeth stopped its grinding. She spat out diluted blood from the lacerations of the night terror. It took a short while for The Oracle’s breathing to relax and her head to stop twirling. Rising, Her eyes first went to the Goddess, but a strong reflected sun beam drew all of her attention. Dropping to her knees, scrapping flesh on the harsh rock surface, The Oracle was transfixed by the reality of Janiculum restored.
A roiling blast of primal anger fell. The Oracle almost tumbled off the outcrop. She wished she had. Yet, she knew it was not her fate in the balance. She screamed for the Goddess, she screamed for the city, she screamed as the Peak shed tears of rocks.
The prophecy. The Oracle held back, but
Khronos walked the land.