YOUR DAILY JOURNAL (page 94)

ESTEE

Geez, this thread keeps getting resurrected.

It's raining in Vancouver today.

ESTEE

Sad emo

Start my new job tomorrow

It's doing scientific work which is what I'm trained in - going back to my roots in a way!

My feet, arms, wrists and lungs certainly won't miss the job I've left behind!! I think I'll miss a couple of my Polish colleagues though.

Hope4Others

The Sun wants to peak through this most dismal day, I look forward to it with eagerness. Here I sit curled up on a chair with a book...

its will take some bit to read..."The Gentile times Reconsidered' 607 what used to be at one time a breeze for me to answer has somehow

flown out the window.

Coco I really am enjoying your writing it is very inspiring that you have continued on with this.

Cheers!

hope4others

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ESTEE:

Please send us some rain; fire danger here in California is extreme.

Emo:

Excellent - congrats! And much better for the health ...

Hope:

Thanks so much for your encouragement. Watch for THE BLACKWOOD REPORT (continuation of the above, regarding the Schwartzwald Legacy).

Good luck with GENTILE TIMES - a difficult but worthwhile read.

Gratefully,

CoCo

The Adamsons were at one time a cheerful and giving couple. I say were because the recruiters who knocked on their door about five years ago changed all that. I don't mean that those two strangers alone turned Gary and Melinda's life upside-down. They merely introduced the couple to a life-altering religious experience.

Ordinarily, one would think of religious zealots as truly sincere (though misguided), wishing to aid the listener in the here-and-now in preparation for the life-to-come. The brand of zealots of which I speak, however, were connected with The International Church Conclave, the elitist oligarchy mentioned earlier. Rather than simply preach the Word from the Good Book, these recruiters seemed only interested in getting new bodies into the little meeting hall. To persuade potential converts not only to listen in the first place but also to attend the "Bible" class, the missionaries, of necessity, were compelled to make extraordinary claims about their faith. Extraordinary claims demand extraordinary evidence. Evidence, or lack thereof, however, is not presently the point at issue.

Back to our polite and receptive married couple: they invited the two young men into their home and listened intently. After some fifteen minutes hearing an enthusiastic recitation about a better future, Gary and Melinda looked at each other. Each knew what the other was thinking; you know how it is when you're tuned into another human being ... your soul-mate.

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THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA (to which students and their family accompanied me; the ticket was a gift) was an aural and visual wonder. I will never forget that day ...

CoCo Cheers

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I have been given the moniker Danny Boy, though when signatory in frequent matters of a somewhat official nature, I flourish a splendidly looped Daniel Boyd-Blatherstone. Citizens of the colonies - typically awed even by ersatz royalty - are loath to exhibit outwardly their enchantment with the Crown and feign to deny it. I admit, however, to being a cheeky bloke of no especial renown, unless you count an arm unmatched for roll tossing among my peers. On many a painful occasion of ribald hilarity, I have lobbed a stale petit pain at a cheerfully accommodating chum, only to have an hysterical nanny take me by the ear and toss me unceremoniously to the kerb. All is fair, I suppose, in lob and war.

My society became less in demand, particularly due to these scrappy luncheon escapades, when it was only the domestics and we. Sympathetic, and in no-wise innocent-bystander friends were summarily overruled by parents given to put implicit trust in the lies of their help. My compatriots-in-crime chafed, their pleas and pleases trodden upon by unyielding familial tyrants, they who had apparently forgotten their own youthful designs in mischief and mayhem.

Time has passed since those wobbly days of infancy - days of carefree abandon. Needless to say (but I shall say it, nevertheless), I am now a strapping youth of no mean aspect, a paragon of grown-up-ed-ness, displaying more than a trifling modicum of emotional maturity, which is an arguably singular personal trait for one who remains rather youngish in the matter of chronological age. I am the oldest person of my age with whom I have the pleasure of being acquainted.

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Polly had wasted too much time being beautiful. In soliloquy she ruefully yet sincerely admitted as much. The salivating wolves about town managed to pucker up sufficiently and whistle, but it wasn't Polly's brains that the guys were whistling at. Polly's pulchritude made her a target for mere, curious stares of disbelief amongst bashful boys; however, for Canis Lupus, the hapless maiden was true quarry.

This young and genuinely sweet lass despaired of ever finding a companion who looked inside the person in order to view and appreciate that one's heart and soul. Soon, however, kindred spirits would serendipitously cross paths, and restoration of faith in one's fellowman would occur.

A kindly Mr. Kitchen and a luminous Josie would bring succor to a soul famished for simple but joyous friendship.

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