il semble que nous soyons toujours télépathes!
30 May 2022
e.d. Noir (jmmusechron….?)
And when I do report to Stina, I leave the grounds and take a long walk to the next road out that leads to a pasture and then the bee farm
she asks me without further ado when I make our weekly call,
“so have you anything to report?”
“I do actually….” I tell her but wait as I watch a nearby car drive away, “I was doing some cleaning up in the attic area and—“
“—yes?”
“I came across some interesting things ….some boxes which —well, among some valuable pieces from Africa and Iran—“
“Iran?”
“I found some old files of….documents and ….transcripts….”
“Go on.”
“Apparently he was an interrogator during his time with the FBI—“
“We are well aware of his agent background,” she sounds impatient now
“—from the Cold War,” I continue as if I did not hear her tone
“What sort of files did you find?”
“It looked like —files of things like roughly drawn maps or….I don’t know, like those football strategy plans —I hardly can decipher their meanings, but—“
“He’s after Retnuh Nivek, you do realize—and he may be setting us up because he thinks we know his whereabouts,” she coolly says
“Do you!?!”
“He has an old score with him and ….”
“So that’s why….” I shake my head
“You’re his bait. He’s a hunter, remember? He can’t resist. His finding you on that road was no accident ….or that convenient old school chum stalker of yours who he set up ….”
“Shit….” I stand in the middle of the dirt road pacing its width frantically
“Calm down—we have not left you there on your own, haven’t you noticed the drones around?” But my mind is swimming and I have no time to process her words before she switches approach to ask, “have you seen any new people around then?”
The qualms I felt in divulging his life details seem to fly out of my thoughts now and I answer her,
“Well….” I take a long breath to calm myself
“You have…. you know, Jörn is concerned for you….” she says in such a way as to shake my wits even more into ….putting my faith once again in ….what I’d come to feel a lost cause
“How would you know?”
“He thinks you are being watched—and it could be possible that Sunny is just an innocent bystander,” she seems to coax me
“You don’t believe that though, actually, do you?”
“Who is it then?” she asks
“It’s a man ….he came by with the boys—“
“The boys?”
“Oh…. the Amish boys.”
“What….Amish—?” she pauses as it seems she think “oh…. they are known as Pennsylvania Dutch, are they not?”
I laugh,
“well…. did you have to Google that? They live among themselves. It’s a separate culture ….they did not approve of such things as electricity back around the turn of the last century….”
“And what’s it to do with Sunny….?”
“He’s quite —connected among their community, particularly the Prince family, I guess they are the family he never got to have as an agent….There’s a driver who—you know they don’t drive cars—so—“
“You think their hired driver does more than push the pedal to the metal….” with her usual finesse of using American expressions with slightly off Swedish intonation, she finishes my sentence for me
29 May 2022
Thoughts of the Legend; Electra Noir(jmmusechron?continued….)
~That fine line between autobiography & fiction~
I think often of my relatives who are no longer here. There are none left alive, I was the youngest of the lot and well…. what of the siblings ….?
left better unsaid (plural for the ones of the illegitimate connection; only one have I met and he did not know of our connection)
but alas, yes, I am redeemed of my Persephone returned from Hades
But I think of them because I try to understand what the sum of their lives meaning was in order to decide if ….mine has any
it seems more important lately to me
picking up these fragments …. as if staring into tea leaves for clues
when maybe …. there is none
I suppose this is the deep terror I hide from —that there is no meaning at all and everything I believe in all mere delusion ….but then, what of those messages and visions that came to actually be after all?
So I look at their old yellowed photos …. all that is left ….but what would there be of me ….then…. anyway….? My mother always said “you can’t take it with you,” and she meant the material objects we cleave to
but what of archeologists and their treasures?
but then ….what would the aliens care of Earth’s history ….perhaps they’d care? or respect the inhabiters who once rented Earth ….or not
again I search for meaning; puzzle it out like a blind eye staring at a Magic Eye picture —what is there?
I think it is the disappointment I have felt from people I thought I knew; friends who are frauds and their empty words and empty promises, their fake claims of forever
I write of this again and again here because I wonder how it all came about ….but no, I think I know why —I think most never expect to be called out whether or not they are true because ….they perhaps have a larger cache of frauds —I mean ….friends and relatives
it seems it is because I lead a bastard’s life with a bastard’s fortune and it sets you down a solitary path and because the black sheep title forms one’s self image to be somewhat rogue ….feral
I avoid thinking too deeply of the ironies of how my daughter’s father’s family proved themselves to be the shams they are without my needing to, and now she sees what the impact of their manipulations did to her mother and I would rather have not had to be the example and left only with their scars to paper my fortress walls
these walls that hold up my spine like a stiff upper lip
I look at the business card Stina gave me and wonder
DNA memory …. and some dig in Wales…. does it mean anything? ultimately ….? does it matter to those long lost Welsh and Frankish ancestors who had thought to reclaim their royal legacy?
what is the point but for the distraction from —that terror of nothingness….
should I dive once more into that beguiling search ….?
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