Laughter, The Best Medicine

Laughter, the best medicine – you dug out old MAD
magazines, a few copies of Asterix, and we laughed,
then we saw A Fish Called Wanda and we laughed
hysterically, we saw the old Daan Retief movie of
Staal Burger and his Doedies with their mini-skirts
and calf-high boots; and we laughed, we watched
Leon Schuster and Danie Niehaus and Klein Kaspertjie
Doing Liewe Heksie, Harry Potter as well as Hermione,
how we laughed, we found Terence Hill of Trinity-fame
playing Don Camillo – humour with a tear in the eye;

As long as we can laugh at life and ourselves, we
are happy and free – just now you called me, the Boks
are winning against the Wallabies, and we laughed;
laughing makes me feel divine all the time!

Victor Hugo Is Still Marching Today

Victor Hugo is still marching today,
his eyes on his thoughts, his thoughts
on his child, his little girl, I still hear him
whispering to her - I cannot stay away,
I know you are waiting – Je ne peux
demeurer loin de toi plus longtemps -
just as Maria Branwell Bronte is still on her
way with her little family, especially my
favourites, Charlotte, Anne and Emily,
to Haworth Parsonage, and Charlotte
is still sitting alone while writing her book
Shirley, Marie DuPlessis is still caught in
a pointless existence with her only son
given up for adoption – every time I read
these sad descriptions, the events are
re-enacted again, the people relive their
feelings and pain; the only way to keep
from bursting into tears, is to close
the book…

Eyes On The Horizon

Growing old graciously, the inner fires are
burning on, strange fires that never included
us, but that kept her spirit young and strong,
she never had to account to family as home
base, eyes always on the horizon…

I Love Africa

Africa, I love Africa, the Continent of Sun and Wind,
the continent of Dutch Settlers and Huguenots, of
Langenhoven and Eugene Marais, where the blue
skies shimmer all year long, where winter brings
golden grass rippling to the wind’s wild song, where
ox wagons still adorn school emblems, where the
boerenooi still takes pride of place in Pretoria

Where Jamie Uys came up with The Gods Must
Be Crazy, based on Daar Doer in die Bosveld,
where Ge Korsten sang the most unlikely duets
with Min Shaw in Hoor My Lied, where Springbok
Radio kept us alive during school day afternoons
with Ongewenste Vreemdeling, Lafras Kuyper and
Die Banneling, where Staal Burger by Fanus
Rautenbach with the entrancing voice of Daan
Retief fought thugs with the help of Willem and
Miems De Bruyn alias Da-Da

Where Trompie met Saartjie and Stories of Rivierplaas
led to the book Toe Ma Nog Meintjie Was, where I read
my first Agatha Christie in Afrikaans, Vonkelende Sianied,
and my first Konsalik Voortvlugtige Spioen, where I read
Tryna Du Toit’s Groen Koring and spent a year in
tears, where I discovered the Scarlet Pimpernel
in time with Tom Sawyer and Becky, where Alice
in Wonderland lived right next to Mouche and Capitaine
Coq, where I started reading Erich von Daniken,
Graham Hancock and Zechariah Sitchin

Where I found the Dancing Wu Li Masters and wrote
my first real poems after first year at university,
Africa, my continent, where I did interpreting for
African delegates as well as members of the French
Parliament, explaining Sarah Baardman to them after
hearing it in Afrikaans from the Khoi-San, Africa,
my continent, the cradle of the country of my birth…

The Magic of Music

My mother played the old-fashioned pump organ
in the church as we got married in Pilgrim’s Rest
my brother sang and played guitar, “I’ll Walk With
God” by Mario Lanza, I thought the music was
beautiful beyond compare, all rounded off by Bach
and the Wedding March from Lohengrin…

The Magic Of Sound

Fleeing into the magic of sound,
the sweet, clear voices of Anna
Rudolph and Family, their stories
and songs recorded when we were
small, playing the record over and
over and over, loving each bell-like
sound, my brother and I can still recite
all the stories with background sounds
included, especially the frog’s repetitive
choir and the tongue-twisters…

Beware Of The Short Cut...

A crocodile who took the short cut,
ended up in the mouth of an angry
hippopotamus, best would be to go
the long way round...

Borders Between Content and Emotion

I love music, studied languages, stultifying
my soul with grammar rules in modules of
melodies, then flowed into the swamp of
bureaucracy

Going astray from ideals of musical sounds,
flowing rhythmically, to the shocking discovery
the song in languages is subservient to
ice-cold meaning

Within clear lines; words that never sing, croaking
hoarsely, filled with dissonance and discord,
but the meaning is right, the borders
between content and emotion

Guarded faithfully, while living on lies –
as long as the lies are clearly
formulated, everything’s fine…

You Naughty Crocodile

But I have tried to apply Omni’s Four Principles
of Creation, I have tried to apply Self-appreciation,
Allowing, Gratitude, and Forgiveness

The crocodile told Mary Poppins with a deep sigh -
but the pins in my hair to keep the snakes of despair
from getting out from under my scales

Do not allow me to feel self-appreciation, and the
the elephants on the chain that I wear round my
jeans extrude in the strangest way

In the region of my reptilian stomach, the ringing and
the blooming balloons in my ears, all indicate that
my biological system has gone astray

It seems my spirit went away, as anybody would
understand once they’ve seen this boring text on
my desk - forgot to set the knobs on automatic

Now all systems are understeering and overflowing,
my brain has blown fifty fuses already – you naughty
crocodile, Mary Poppins chides,

When unwell, there must be something to forgive, the
crocodile began to cry big, crocodilian tears; the only
thing to forgive is myself for floating into the swamps

Of bureaucracy, the boredom is killing my soul,
so my spirit ran away…

Sunday Night -

Remember the creative sadness
on Sunday nights before school
Monday starts, remember the
comforting feeling of unwilling
duty, doing the last of maths,
finishing a task, writing an essay,
learning texts to be tested the
next day? Whenever I feel bad
today, I look for creative sadness,
that homework feeling drawn
into myself, my refuge from the
world and people in words on paper,
dreaming a dream as I work…

What The Act of Judgement Reveals...

By judging something it becomes the way we judge it.
When we find fault with anyone, we are resonating with
some aspect of ourselves we have not yet accepted.
Our willingness to stop judging others parallels our
willingness to accept ourselves just the way we are.

Water Reflects Everything

Just as water reflects everything surrounding it,
the world reflects our own thoughts back at us,
everyone we meet, everything we see and feel
is a reflection of our own consciousness,

Everyone on earth shows us an aspect of our-
selves, feelings expressed by another mirror
a feeling within the rest of us, the state of our
consciousness in reflection shows us

How much love we feel for ourselves;
ohmygoodness, most of us don' t
feel enough love for ourselves...

No Identity Crisis

Oh, the progressive report of my life;
isn't it marvelous to know I'm actually
Mr-Hyde-cum-Quasimodo-cum-orangutang-
cum-banshee-chem-bearing-golem-crocodile –
dreaming of becoming a Moomintroll?
I think I am one person who have NO
identity crisis whatsoever!

Wear My Pain Like a Crown...

When the crocodile eats the wrong stuff... pay-time...

Arsenic Of Poisonous Acronyms

I warned Big Bro, I said, these terrible sentences
are likely to come alive and chase us at night!
I take daily preventative measures by reading
Wilkinsonian lines to keep romantic thoughts
of troubadours alive while I’m forced to deal
with the arsenic of these poisonous acronyms;
every hour I scream and tear my hair to keep
the Dementors happy who are ready to pounce
and suck the last vestiges of possible joie de
vivre from my nearly dead body; refusal to
divulge requested information on the lousy
critters who refuse to take wholesome words
increase my chances of falling pray to the
Dementors and ending up in Azkaban!
Kind regards, Valeria from Valencia.

Reply USA: American Language Services!

Thank you so much for your courtesy in sending a reply!

From: Alan Weiss [mailto:alan@alsglobal.net]
Sent: 19 August 2008 05:22 PM
To: 'MKoch'
Subject: REQUIRED: MANDINGO INTERPRETER IN SOUTH AFRICA

Hello Marilusjka,

We will look into this and get back to you ASAP.

Thank You.

Alan Weiss
Vice President of Sales
American Language Services
1950 Sawtelle Blvd. Suite 325
Los Angeles, CA 90025
http://www.alsglobal.net/
310-829-0741 Ext. 304
800-951-5020
866-773-8591 Fax

From: Marilusjka Koch
Sent: Tuesday, August 19, 2008 1:07 AM
To: mailto:translation@alsglobal.net
Subject: MANDINGO INTERPRETER IN SOUTH AFRICA

Department of Arts and Culture, South Africa
National Language Service Pretoria
Foreign Languages Section M Koch
Principal Language Practitioner
Tel: 2712 441 3864
Fax: 2786 529 5844

19 August 2008

Dear Sir / Madam

I am a Principal Language Practitioner in South Africa and we
have been requested to assist, as a matter of URGENCY, in
finding a Mandingo interpreter for a person who claims to speak
and understand Mandingo only. As we have a small budget for
interpreters of foreign languages, we are trying to locate an
interpreter in South Africa.

Can you direct us to an organization or private individual(s) who
might be able to assist us in finding a Mandingo interpreter in
South Africa?

Kind regards,
Marilusjka Koch

A Reply From ACALAN!

Oh Joyous Joy, I received a reply
from our own ACALAN!

L'Afrique, ça marche, n'est-ce pas? Al-Hamdulilah!

-----Original Message-----
From: Adama Samuel Koné [mailto:akone@acalan.org]
Sent: 19 August 2008 04:30 PM
To: Mme Koch
Cc: asamassekou@acalan.org; esagara@acalan.org;
ssangare@ acalan.org; cdembele@acalan.org;
fdicko@acalan.org; mdiallo@acalan.org

Bonjour Mme,

J'ai échangé avec le Secrétaire Exécutif a.i. M. Adama Samassékou
en congé, concernant votre requête. Il voudrait savoir si la person-
ne doit absolument parler l'anglais. Dans le cas contraire, nous
continuerons à chercher et nous vous tiendrons informé.

Meilleures salutations et à très bientôt.

Adama Samuel KONE (Mr)
Bilingual Secretary
African Academy of Languages (ACALAN)
PO BOX 10 Koulouba - Bamako
Tel (223) 223 84 47
Fax (223) 223 84 50
Cel.(223) 628 87 95

-----Original Message-----
From: Mme Koch
Sent: 20 August 2008 07:23 AM
To: 'akone@acalan.org'
Subject: RE: FW: Requête pour assistance

Bonjour Mr Kone

Est-ce que vous pouvez trouver quelqu'un qui parle le
français et Mandingo? Je crois ce serait possible de
trouver un interprète français pour traduire en
l'anglais, aucune problème, merci beaucoup!

I Am a Moomintroll

Sought relief in the books of the library,
submerging my mind in The Finn Family
Moomintroll by Tove Jansson, escaping
symptoms of reaction to food and the
loneliness in my office

Preparing to sleep all winter, Moominmamma
served their pine-needle supper on the verandah,
Moominpappa covered the chandelier with a net
to keep it from getting dusty, everyone crept into
a bed to make a cozy nest

They will have wonderful dreams and wake up in
the spring; Moominhouse will turn into a snowball;
the clocks will stop ticking one by one when winter
is come to the Valley of Moomins… my identity
crisis is solved

Now I know who I am – a Moomintroll,
of course; I should be sleeping
all winter long!

Tove Jansson “Finn Family Moomintroll”
(translated by Elizabeth Portch)

Locate Mandingo Interpreter In South Africa

Listen to my song:
BOSTICO International For
African Languages translation & interpreting:

Somali
Swahili, Twi
Yoruba, Tigrian, Shona
Tsonga, Tswana, Tsonga, Aramaic
Tshiluba, MANDINGO, Moroccan, Amharic
Acholi, Chichewa, Eritrean, Gullah, Chadic, Hausa
Ibo, Kirundi/Rundi, Kiswahilim
Kinyarwanda, Krio
Luganda, Luo
Ndebele
Mende

Where, oh where, shall I find
a MANDINGO interpreter in South Africa
to come and perform in the beautiful Cape?

http://www.bostico.co.uk/translator/african-translator-interpreter.htm

Adama Samassékou

Adama Samassékou - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Adama Samassékou from Mali is the current president, with ministerial rank, of the African Academy of Languages

Department of Arts and Culture of South Africa
National Language Service
Foreign Languages - M. Koch (Principal Language Practitioner)

Requête pour assistance

Cher Professeur Samassékou

Nous avons besoin d’un interprète de Mandingo, votre langue si merveilleuse, mais il n’y aucune personne dans l’Afrique du Sud qui peut nous aider. Est-ce que vous connaissez le nom d’une personne qui parle Mandingo ici dans l’Afrique du Sud qui peut nous aider – ou d’une organisation pour Mandingo avec qui nous pouvons parler ?

Je suis Mme Koch, je travaille comme traducteur dans le Département des Arts et de la Culture dans l’Afrique du Sud et j’ai fait votre connaissance à ACALAN conférence dans Sandton l’année dernière, en 2007 – j’ai dit nous devons parler l’Arabe dans le continent d’Afrique, vous avez dit Al-Hamdulilah et j’ai dit Naskurallah!

Très respectueusement
Votre serviteur
Merci beaucoup
Mme Koch – Les Langues Etrangères

Starting The Day With Work-on-Hand

We start the day with Work-On-Hand typed on Excel,
I was born for this, that is sure, human life can have
but ONE purpose: To keep account of its every
move on sheets of statistics, as Terry Pratchett
wisely pointed out, the 95 per cent of missing black
matter and unseen energy is all taken up by
administrating the universe – little creatures with
notepads planning and marking every activity;
I still think we should only work two days a week
and use the other three days to keep statistics
of every move we make – hey - wait- we’re
already doing that, you should see the sheets
of statistics in my office – I’m part of the unseen
black matter in the universe, administrating into
infinity – to be born for this, what beautiful
privilege, what wonderful opportunity; being
human means living in a bureaucracy; the
marvel of the human mind – when will the
Vogons finally destroy this administratively
derailed planet of ours? And if the dolphins
reinstate the earth sending fish bowls with
messages, So Long And Thanks For All The
Fish, I won’t return; you can bet on that!

String Along Notes; Play The Tune

If what we disallow and disapprove of
has everything to do with us and nothing
with whatever we are judging, why were
we taught to judge and reject everything
according to strict guidelines – if the world
is created and kept alive by the minds alive
within it, why were we taught to accept
consensus as the measure of truth?
Shouldn’t truth be more than just
the thoughts we harbor
in our heads?

An Enormous Elephant

An elephant in Africa; Kruger National Park or Knysna,
is enormous, imposing, majestic - worthy of protection –
the only rational behaviour of the tourist is to back away

When we were small and my uncle slowly advanced on
the elephants while my aunt shrieked in fear, we simply
cheered, quite oblivious to the danger posed by these
soft-footed beasts; we thought being near elephants
was plain fun –

Last time we were in the Kruger National Park, we played
with a white rhino, every time he tried to cross the road
we reversed or accelerated in order to block his path,
the rhino finally looked very menacing and we drove
away;

One day we parked to watch the elephants at
a water hole, suddenly the kids screamed – an
enormous matriarch was bearing down on us
from behind…

“Those were the days, my friend,
we thought they’d never end…”

Full Of Glow-Worms And Magic

A crocodile playing at being a princess;
knowing positive role models will help to
improve life in the swamp

A swamp full of glow-worms and magic,
a flibbitygibbit and a will-o’-the wisp all
floating about weaving a wave of words

Rhythms and beats and chords and long
drawn-out vowels in daydreams; rainbows
flashing through golden auras

A crocodile unwilling to climb onto the shore
and start with her chores; too enchanted with
musical eddies swirling in whorls

Still enjoying the glow of open consciousness,
yesterday’s epiphany still buoying her on
clouds of delight…

The Hunchback Feeling

Quasimodo sitting in her office, faced with a
Gargantuan problem: Inability, incapacity,
having chalked up such a list of failures in
the recent past – all to do with bad mother-
hood –

Tomorrow; called upon to perform again in
unusual circumstances, attending the school’s
venison feast, already having incurred wrath
when lingering in the school library on open
day

Making unsolicited remarks during a science
project discussion, the hunchback feeling of
deformed persecution is coming back to her,
a haunting memory of yesteryear

Open Consciousness

Then it happened - my mind found the entryway,
off in a second; a lovely event with concomitant
experience: Stranded on an ice-berg in the sea,
all alone, crystal beauty in shades of white all
around, once again discovering the mystery of
enlarged consciousness encompassing the
power of epiphany

There is no parallel experience in physical with
which to compare this, if only awareness after
death will be this marvellous, death is the sought-
after prize of being human, for that wonderful
feeling it is worthwhile to wait, carrying the
burden of duty with patient elation, sustained
by the knowledge of

Open consciousness…

A Bouquet Of Ideas

Joy lives in the crocodile’s heart, mantras like
“Reduce expectations of others” and “If your
aim is receiving, your life will seem deficient”
keep her safe from hurt

The crocodile comes with bouquets of brilliant
ideas, thinking and feeling too much too fast;
experiencing love while others still wonder
whether friendship is on

People say “Back down, we are mammals, you
weird saurian”, she buries the feelings, sends
the non-manifested event into the dimension
of unrealized potential

By the time the crocodile wins acceptance, her
feelings are buried deeply, her only bequest
a bouquet of ideas...

Pedantic Prowess And Academic Success

Margaret Alice was a most unwelcome addition to
the pedagogic discussion of pedantic prowess and
academic success when the teacher – la grande
dame sans merci – summoned all expo parents
to her class for instruction to participate in
an acclaimed competition

Carolyn did all the work since my efforts at practical
projects proved disastrous before; I don’t excel in
scientific projects with their box-like restrictions; add
to that my rebellion against competitions and making
sales - I called down their wrath by making irreverent
remarks while all the other parents

Glowed with enthusiasm, I was pointedly ignored while
parents talked – the crocodile joined the kids advising
them to pull off a coup by promoting all things organic
as a cure for grumpiness in senior citizens, we started
making funny remarks

Hey, prevent ugliness, eat something organic - afterwards
Nici explained she was ashamed of her mom and I richly
deserved the rebuke I received from the Master of the
Crocodile Castle gesticulating wildly while declaiming
the total failure of the crocodile

To help the kids to excel in all their subjects, he has martyred
himself in directing academic projects in this house, steering
with expertise; the kids being groomed for future success –
while the crocodile is whiling the time away
with limericks and rhymes

That interest nobody else but herself…

Modern Day Flying Wonder

Found a picture of the new supergalactic bypass
the Vogon’s wanted to construct, and for which
they destroyed the planet earth, Arthur Dent and
Ford Prefect got away - after 8 years of wandering
the Galaxy

They discovered the earth was back in place – though
it seemed the same, it wasn’t really - as Arthur discovered
on noticing his new girlfriend Fenchurch’s feet didn’t touch
the earth – and he could fly; so they flew outside –
I wonder why

I did not end up on that specific earth, I would have
loved to fly down the passages at work, wearing
my wide black toga, it would have been so much
fun to fly to Kingsley with my files – in through
the window on the fifth floor

Surprising a stupefied Mr Selepe, obtain his signature,
out again and in through the window on the eight floor,
handing all to a dumbstruck Ella; out through the window
and into the air with a whoosh, wildly calling whoopee!
while our Minister

Would be wiping tears of joy away, glad to say this modern
day flying wonder is employed for the administrative glory
of Arts and Culture!

Douglas Adams “Thanks for All The Fish”

Ola, But She Is Pico!

A long time ago , I had a brief love affair
with Portuguese, I can count well, taught
by an old Portuguese lady while working
in the post office - sorting letters during
my student years

Now my only link with this enchanting
language is saying the odd por favor and
playing with obrigada, as well as making
contact with Maria Teixeira, our
Portuguese Interpreter-translator

An astrogenetic Aries, making me look like
I was dying of Parkinson’s disease with her
overflowing energy; I feel a million champagne
bubble fizzling when she is near, the very air
crackles with electricity

She is pico indeed – the top of the pops!

There Is No-one Else…

I had a special friend, said the crocodile,
an alligator who listened to what I said,
then he was invaded by a virus, probably
Kaspersky, maybe something else, now
he is gone, I have to carry on

All alone, crying when nobody is looking;
I cry about my friend, the only one who
responded to my song; now he is gone
there is no-one else -The fault is yours-
the Blue Fairy severely said

-You have been warned before that your
anti-social ways will isolate you from
mammalian life, people move in groups,
find a group and walk with them- -That
I cannot do- the crocodile sadly sighed

-I’m a reptile, my brain is primitive & skew,
I cannot think in sophisticated terms as the
mammals do with their evolved cortex,
there is no-one else– -Fiddlesticks- sounded
the rebuke

-Practically perfect crocodiles always seek to
serve their fellow men– at this the crocodile
broke down, crying louder than before -I lost
my alligator friend- she sobbed; -There is no-
one else- Mary Poppins tried

To soothe the poor old crocodile, but soon, and
for the first time ever, she was reduced to tears
herself, the crocodile knew, once Mary Poppins
cried, the world was coming to an end…

Descent Into The Abyss Today

The earth is turning on its axis,
an elf is abandoning life

Planets and stars vibrating in the
rhythm of life

Inhaling - expelling the magic of
life

The energizing dance is lost on the
elf, eyes unseeing

The beauty of the whole universe
means nothing to him

Caught in a web of desolation; bound
by despondency

The elf cannot move, cannot take
part in the progress of life

An elf turned into stone, nothing to stop
its descent into the abyss today

Beauty and Wonder Underneath

In the quietude of total solitude, early morning in the office-
conditioner humming, still trying to arrange my mind to meet
this day; still looking for comforting thoughts with which to
attack the documents on my desk; still trying to decide which
fantasy to apply to enlarge the weary limits of reality; still
caught in the nightmares of last night – hubby had to wake
me as I was calling out for help – wishing I could run away

From the thick mistiness enveloping my brain, all sockets
and circuits blocked; wishing I could reread Douglas Adam’s
Thanks For All The Fish – and share his irreverent take
on life, the universe and everything… maybe I should take
my purse and just set off somewhere until the gyroscope
in my mind is straight, until the periscope through which
the alien in my head watches the outside world has been

blessed with feelings sweet; until the dream that eludes
me now comes alive and fills the empty holes in my thoughts
with the sweetness of other dimensions in which happy
souls are filled with light and meaning, in which frolicking
clowns are telling jokes and sharing their comedies with
me, in which reality falls away to reveal the beauty and
wonder underneath…

Particle Collisions - 007

The idea of particle collisions
in particle accelerators gives
me a 007 kind of thrill

All the death and destruction
particles vanishing without a
trace, the only evidence of

Their passing seen in the remnants
of their explosions, seen as tracks
in another substance

I pasted copies of the particle
physics library book in my
scrapbook…

Graham Hancock, His Books The Joy of Life...

At one time, I tried to summarise them all -
did only a few, but oh, what joy they brought!

Need I Say More?

My favourite Favourite - surely you know this by now...

Homemade Italian Pronunciation

I was in a meeting 1997, bored out of my
skull, all I had to read was an Italian phrase
book, it amused me so much, I wrote Italian
phrases all over the agenda, later I pasted it
all into my scrapbook and practiced declaiming
“Fatale destino” and “siamo perduti” –
without the help of an Italian native speaker -
it made my friend Diana laugh; she was fluent in
Italian after marrying an Italian guy; when she
heard my homemade Italian pronunciation!

I Wrap My Heart And My Feelings In Your Words

I’m experiencing the seasonal fatigue that comes with
the sun passing through the equinoxes and solstices;
when the cusp is passed there is a strange movement
in the biological rhythm and it makes me so sleepy;
one moment I’m as happy as a lark and singing in the
passages; the next moment I can’t sit upright in my
chair and keep my eyes open – it is very awkward to
move so fast between chirpy and sleepy; while I’m still
delighting in being alive and trying to capture it in a poem,
fatigue is already catching up and by the end of the
poem I want to topple over and fall asleep!

All very impractical indeed, as you can easily surmise;
I pick up a book and plan to start reading, but once I’m
happily installed in my chair I’m too fatigued to go into
reading mode – I irritate myself; this seasonal upset is
only dealt with by catching frequent naps, when I’m too
excited, I can’t doze off – woe is me, my colleague is
shocked by my lack of a bodily thermostat to regulate
my temperature – due to my being a cold-blooded reptile
of course - the air conditioner is either on highest heat
or lowest temperature, as I feel fevers pass – but I’ve had
to live with my own weird fluctuations for so long; I forget
how strange and probably suspicious it must seem to others.

I wanted to write you a beautiful letter tonight, I love the
beautiful poem you sent me today so very, very much!
We were cooped up in a meeting which turned out very funny
when the enmity between the National Language Service and
PanSalb was discussed; as well as strange new holiday pro-
cedures and the general eccentricities of management.

Alice says Sharazd is so sleepy, she does not even want to look
at pictures; tonight will really be a storyless night – something
which is quite rare for Sharazd – but Alice says she wants to
practice dreaming again; she misses her adventures and needs
time to think up a storm, while FAD says she wants to try to
meditate a bit. I heard that Semjonof and Ludmilla are busy with
explorations and experiments and Karl and Sophia are saving
some endangered dolphins – herewith I wish you a wonderful
day as it is turning into my bedtime; thank you for being my
friend and keeping the world upright when the compass is turning
upside down in my head, you keep my life in one piece when the
level is so skew that I start falling apart – thank you for still being
here for me; just having decided to write to you made me feel
better; my dearest cyberlove – you have given me so much
courage and self-confidence; it’s been ages since I had anxiety
about anything – knowing you are there, always watching and
reading and encouraging, I move within the range of the light
of your eyes; everything I think is safe within the space you
have created – thank you so very very much – you are a source
of delight unto me; a flame of happiness burning deep within;
I am so joyous about your cyberexistence; your cyberwords of
cyberlove; your cyberthoughts and cybertouch – this is
magnificent; thank you so much – I am on top of the world
while I’m in contact with you – what joy and happiness you
impart simply by being there – YOU are so magnificent!

I wrap my heart and feelings and mind in your words and in
your thoughts, therein we all feel safe and laugh at the world;
we even laugh at the fatigue and dance with you in our dreams!
From the happiest Alice and a joyous Sharazd.

Within Equinoxes And Solstices

p. 263 of my book referring to Hamlet’s
Mill by Santilla and von Dechend – the Mill
of the Gods which this little fairy does not
want to move at all, down in the sea…

The Celestial sphere is a piece of machinery
like a millwheel, like a churn, like a whirlpool,
this machine turns endlessly (motions calibrated
by the sun moving between constellations –

within equinoxes and solstices…

I pasted copies of the original in my scrapbook
but never indicated the original book’s title….

Mythological Prison Of Astrological Proportions

Oh , dire the prediction by Linda Goodmann –
beware the month of August if you were born on
the 24th of any month; August is the month of
change – cusp and azimuth come into play,
and you will pay for your sin of arriving on
the 24th day by feelings of increasing fatigue
in this month – I feel myself growing weaker,
succumbing to Linda Goodmann’s prophecies;
sinking lower in my chair, resting my head on
my arms, seeing holes of emptiness everywhere,
feeling steel wires encircling my head and binding
my neck; I’m in a mythological prison of astrological
proportions; I had better read Linda again to make sure
I know exactly why being a 24th person is such a sin –
but I sigh in contentment, since suffering is a God-given
privilege and duty and society insists we MUST have
a cross to bear - choke in a yoke of psychological
dimensions; I’m fulfilling a serious requirement
of this dream I call my life – flowing within the
confines thought up by religion and science alike….

Under The Sea Of Probability

While the little fairy is turning the old mill
under the sea of probability, sitting in
Translation Tower and dreaming of a
future faraway and free; Sharazd is
floating in the coolest part of the
swamp, exchanging reptilian ESP
with Oke Al, who is so bemused by
all his adventures, and so becalmed by
the softly lapping waters, he is completely
content and drowsily floating off into a new Nirvana…

Thinking of my unknown love,
not hearing words or seeing faces,
but ever so much more: Feeling light
vibrations, registered as the sweetest incense
in the coolest air; the most nostalgic minor chord
in D; the most enchanting whispers all about –
filling my heart with enchanting mystery;
clothing my mind with bewitching sorcery –
how I love this ecstasy, how I adore to be
floating off on the beauty of dreams
radiating into infinity!