week of subtle consequence. We approach the fateful moment when the grand coronation of Sir All Omnipotent Darkness is to be held, and his first proclamation is the banishment of all that is light, as the destiny fanfare of his new reign heralds the age of darkness.
But the best laid plans can, and do go awry. At this very heart of this black apex, lie the resurrection of light, and therefore the seeds of destruction of darkness. This week's countdown to the winter solstice brings the dawn of the age of mammals, modestly existing in the margins of the last days of the Terrible Lizards who spoil the earth.
This I witnessed: In a self created artificial atmosphere of Sturm und Drang, Tyrannosaurus Rex Junior continued to stomp and skulk about the landscape, destined to never possess the one intangible that his heart most longs for in this world. But all this has already faded away to inconsequence. The age of dinosaurs vanishes in the rear view mirror of history, and the age of mammals is already begun.
"I've got new eyes,
everything looks far away"
We had two terrible storms here on the northern pacific coast of the American continent. Trees upended, wires down, decks blow off, windows blown in, fences blown down, trees uprooted. My own home suffered minor to moderate roof damage. And in this storm, not one, but two voices from the past arrived, unexpectedly rentering the story line.
Young Eric. A friend from the past. Friendship ruptured by me. Good reasons? Yes...and no. Worth the cost? In retrospect, I think not worth it, but I cannot really say. He appeared in a vivid dream last Sunday night. In this dream, Young Eric asked me why I had never called him.
"The shadow in the mist could have been anyone."
I had tried to email him, last summer, but I used an old inactive address and my words went off into techno void. I had not realized that I had his phone number until the next night following the dream, when I searched and found that I did indeed posses an old number.
So I called and am glad that I did.
But I said that there were two voices. There were. Charles sent a Christmas card. No return address, of course . Hum...
All of this makes it's way into this weeks soup. You can get your bowl of Saturday Night Soup for the Soul by clicking the jukebox.