G. Hastly Grinn invites you to tale telling of a spine-tingling type at Washington Irving’s Sunnyside in Irvington, NY, the last two weekends of October.
Take a tour of the romantic cottage and grounds of Washington Irving, America’s “Founding Father of Literature.”
Then, unsettle yourself down while Master G. Hastly Grinn (and friend) weaves haunted Hudson Valley lore with a wink and a wicked Grinn.
Show Dates: Saturday 10/22, Sunday 10/23, Sunday 10/30
“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
THE GRACES
(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
“Every second is of infinite value.” ~ ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
(ZV)
Nomad(s) of Infinitum.
Transient(s) of the spatial dimensions
They absorb the Tenth Dimension.
A single point.
All possibilities.
Branches of every potential universe.
(ZV) savors Apeiron
Yet the thought along the line:
Definite or Incomplete?
TRANSITION
Z will enter/has entered/never be in the Float Pod
Valentina refused/refuses/never enters the Lab
Z will take/is taking/remembers IVs of Modifal-70 from 200 mg to the final dosing of 1000 mg.
Five sessions in a row.
Z will undergo/undergoes/will have gone through rounds of gene and body modifications.
Valentina would/will/has regret(s) supervising the procedure(s).
Things lost control.
Things were never in control.
TRANSITION
volcanic eruptions stardust shattered dreams rising falling waves of despair love hatred denial no know known believe belief rituals symbolic pedestal entombed buried airless space time khronos forget forgot lost unclear foggy rain downpour floods levees dams bursting opening hallway echo repeat again again again
TRANSITION
The Lab
Float Pod Conn
Dr. Karen Capri has upper management up her ass. She has been bombarded with questions, demands, threats, quasi-pleading, and distaste. The lab’s repair costs. The dead technician. The disappearance of Subject Z and Dr. Marin. The “Why don’t you have an answer for us, Dr. Capri?” in its non-stop versions.
The last two nights Karen had fallen back on old ways through medical schooling. Adderall to Methamphetamine to blow. Non-stop stimulants, pushing herself to find the answers-any answer-that would relieve the attacks on her competency. There was no way she would allow them to take the yoke of blame on all of this, to become their scapegoat, their sacrificial lamb, the one to crucify.
Three days, high on uppers.
Something had to break.
The console screamed.
Karen raced to shut off the speakers, cursing the entire way from her office.
“Time is a companion that goes with us on a journey. It reminds us to cherish each moment, because it will never come again. What we leave behind is not as important as how we have lived.” ~ ~ Captain Jean-Luc Picard
Zero hour. Day. Era. Epoch. Eon. Aeon.
Z subdivides along a non-unilinear line. Stopping milliseconds to absorb, dispel, bask.
Those are the fragments where a thought filters through.
Z assembles the pieces. Z experiences every emotional spectrum idea, searching for
Love.
Z does not believe in love. Love, to Z, equates to Pain.
Pain is a constant. Love=Pain never has/is/will be love ≠pain. It is exact. For Z, it is exact.
There are no approximates.
Any/every instance Love touches Z is followed by an infinite drop.
Z is lost.
Inside, Z is lost in gathering specifics. The pure, unwavering distillation of Z’s perception ofLove.
The amassing is complete.
Z stretches the limits of time to compact and keep.
The next second arrives.
Without the pain association. Z is blocking out the aftermath, the thrown away aspect, the being left, unnoticed, unwanted.
Another point arrives. The whole splinters.
Z
TRANSISTION
NEW!!!!TALE SPINNING is also a Podcast!
I plan to start recording MY reading of my posts. Maybe by 5/12/2021. Knowing me, maybe 2022. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the narration.
Z experienced everything at this/that moment without color.
Z tasted in shadows.
From the shadows came terror.
Z was a variant of a virulent tinnitus strain. Z was at a fixed point of -50 dB.
Z is the shriek that passes through the outer, middle, and inner structures, vibrating into an E Tube.
Traveling is a poor word of choice for Z in this state of being. Peripatetic is more to the point. Z travels from place to place, being to being, dimension by gradation of planes of existence
Z connects.
There are multitudes of levels of every emotional path that any can experience . Z knows.
There are a multitude of levels of pain. Hundreds of millions of points of view involving hundreds of millions of junctures, phases, factors, accents, factors. Z connects to All. All. All.
Z is at zero hour.
TRANSISTION
THE LAB
FLOAT POD con
“Stop fussing. Stop. I’m fine.”
Pushes hand away.
I said stop!”
Cursing, the medic walks out.
“Karen, there is nothing I can add to my statement.”
Debris is being removed. New equipment is being installed.
“Look, Val. Standard BS to make them happy. I know you. I know. Knew, Tyson. Just tell me what you edited out.”
Glare met stare.
“I do not have all day, Dr. Fill in the fucking blanks.”
Takes glass. Sips water. Another sip.
“VAL!”
“Tyson didn’t screw up. I did not screw up. He was being an ass, as usual.”
Pause.
“Fine. You heard the Banshee call. You heard the escalation. Then the cessation. The console sparked. I woke up on the steps, behind the railing.” Sips. “No, again, I have no idea how I wound up there. The pain in my back, my battered face? Stairs. Boom.”
Stare.
“Why did you break Tyson’s fingers?”
Pause.
“I…”
“Why did you break Tyson’s fingers?”
Pause.
Head turns. Sees FP. Nothing. Still in one piece.
Head still turned away.
“Jackass was reaching to mute. The data coming in and Tyson thought he was going to the mute button. He reached too far. He was going to incinerate the inside of the pod.”
“And?”
“He couldn’t hear me, damnit. He couldn’t hear me call out. I went for his wrist. My eyes were vibrating. Wrist. Hand. Fingers. I needed to stop him. So, I did.””
“And?”
Staring at the Float Pod. Shrugs shoulders.
Heartbeats pass.
“OK.”
Nod of head.
A chukka boot approaches.
Hand taps her shoulder.
“Dr. Marin? I need you to come with me, ma’am. Her head turns to the other woman.
“Go with him, Valentina. Go. I’ll be with you again. Soon.”
Dr. Valentina Marin leaves what’s left of the lab.
In case you did not notice, I am taking a huge leap/risk in style, content, and formatting with LIQUID TIME. So, who am I writing for? Just for myself? Just for the audience? 50/50?
Most times it is for myself, to see how far I can stretch, hone my skills. How, on later rereads, does it hold up way past the due date of the emotions that pummeled me while writing. I take risks. Not every one of them pans out. Some lead me to different approaches, different research, different observations of life.
On the readers hand(s), I do do my crafting for the reader(s) as well. I look for commentary, what pleases, what doesn’t, the whys behind either stance one takes. Suggestions are taken in the (hopefully) intention’s delivery, as a “have you thought about…?” or “Would you consider…”; a way that I construe as just that: a suggestion from another’s POV.
Suggestions, for me to think about, to possibly add to, delete, or turn things around. They are given to support, encourage, and give the author a different POV lens to consider.
I do not take demands into consideration. Nor the comments that essentially read “If I was the author…” or “You should not…” Well, you aren’t the author, that’s in my hands. As to the “should not…?” Really? Really?
“No” hasn’t a place here in Tale Spinning. My cranky two cents, plus inflation.
Children’s Tales. Recipes. Photographs. Sayings/Quotes. DIY & How To. Reviews.
Recommendations. Paintings/Fine Arts. Sketches. etc.
The list goes on.Â
If you Blog, this is a great way to discover new blogs & bloggers. You will make connections.
Best of all, you will prove to yourself that you can master the challenge and post nearly every
day.
As to Tale Spinning, my theme this year is
LIQUID TIME
What is “Liquid Time?”
“Liquid Modernity is sociologist Zygmunt Bauman’s term for the present condition of the world as contrasted with the “solid” modernity that preceded it. According to Bauman, the passage from “solid” to “liquid” modernity created a new and unprecedented setting for individual life pursuits, confronting individuals with a series of challenges never before encountered. Social forms and institutions no longer have enough time to solidify and cannot serve as frames of reference for human actions and long-term life plans, so individuals have to find other ways to organize their lives.”
Alphonse, the PengCat, stood on the hot sand. The waves beckoned him to join his brethren in watery freedom. Alphonse, the PengCat, leaned toward the water and groaned. Gaze fixed, turning vacant as the waves rolled in and out. Alphonse began to move towards the sea.
His eyes cleared just four seashells away from the incoming tide. Halting, Alphonse, the PengCat, trembled at the thoughts of the unknown. While looking at the vast ocean, the never-ending ocean, he pictured its fathomless depths, the unseen oppressors, voracious predators of the briny deeps.
Alphonse, the PengCat, flippered himself on his leathery nose, bringing him back to purpose. This brought him back to his reality. Alphonse geared up.
Once everything was in place, his checklist commenced:
Swimsuit? Check.
Goggles? Check.
Triple-Layered Swim Cap? Check.
Flotation Devices on and Secure? Check.
Underwater Defense Gun Mark 1 Mod 0, loaded? Check and Check.
Alphonse, the PengCat, meowed in an undulating force as he waddle-leaped through the wall of waves.
This is what has kept me very busy over the last couple of weeks. Michael Grant, Artie Ohanian, and I have put together a Virtual Writer’s Group. RevitalWriters is for writers of any style or genre (poetry; fiction; non-fiction; memoir/biography; etc.) who want/need support for their WIP (Work(s) In Progress). All this leading to achieving a finished manuscript to send off to agents and/or publishers.
The sessions will run every Friday night, from 7:00 pm to 9:00 pm, EST. If you are in any other time zone, if you’d like to become part of the cohort, let us know.
Our Goal: To offer support, encouragement, and constructive critique in a safe space.
We are not a prompt/generative writing group that you join when the planets align. Our intention is that writers serious about their craft get what they need to to finish and submit.
For full details of how each session will be run, visit RevitalWriters. You’ll find our guidelines, About page, contact information, and upcoming Resource For Writers and Blog pages.
I hope you can join us in our first group meeting at RevitalWriters Session. Friday, July 10, 2020, from 7:00 pm to 9:00 pm, EST.
PLEASE DO NOT HESITATE TO CONTACT US FOR MORE INFORMATION:
Tale Spinning 