On 6 October 2012 00:44, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com>
wrote:
><>< "How!"
"A good question", said Rainbowmaker in reply.
"The answer is, - Indian." And went on to explain.
.............. So,
'Hair 1' as it stands is complete flow. Was before i resumed punctuation and capitals so as to make perfect sense for the necessity of those who need to do so. Will write another on 'hair' on a different tack.
Ruaddhri - there are five spellings of the name Ruairi in these isles. That one is the most pronounceable by aliens.
"A good question", said Rainbowmaker in reply.
"The answer is, - Indian." And went on to explain.
.............. So,
'Hair 1' as it stands is complete flow. Was before i resumed punctuation and capitals so as to make perfect sense for the necessity of those who need to do so. Will write another on 'hair' on a different tack.
Ruaddhri - there are five spellings of the name Ruairi in these isles. That one is the most pronounceable by aliens.
On 11 December 2011 00:02, Martin Law martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com
wrote:
"the truth about long hair and indian scouts".
...muse news while medicine soup stews
three shots at an email link popped in my box was from whispering steph and couldn't open any of em so googled and got it; the truth about long hair and indian scouts...so i turned down the soup for concentration.
and combing thru the article about hair and indian reverence for tonsorial fibre optic nerve endings and the experiments done with pairs of scouts one with his aerials cut off and one not, testing their telepathy and precognitive far sensing and the results, as they say, were conclusive. without wishing to imply an end, split or otherwise but impulsed to email reply steph and did.
a random ramble while the fire flutters. and before i could foreclose the missive the door knocked and there stood somebody looking like charlie before i was about to type the letter "u", i recognized he knew i knew he was slightly shapeshifting and welcomed him in whoever he was and surfing the slide of synchronoid unfolding and a spark propelled a humorously enlightening rap dialogue.
straight out and converting a catalyst into a context with wings and charlie putting flame under a kettle while i round off an email sound off rotundly.
first thing out of charlie's mouth; "i've just come from a conversation with my son Ruaddhri" and we were talking about indians and long hair and telepathy and earthsense attunement and we both marvelled consciously and played perceptual ping pong without a glitch, fluently circumnavigating the spectrum the likes of which would make yet another "best video on youtube".
so, sustaining the flow of surf and so forth before returning to the muse without blues while the medicine spellcheck brews the surfing being the thing when on a high level roll like synapses twittering viral and still stay literal.
and kicking out the predators of grammar as you go and taking down the legislators of armageddon lurking in syntax that fine you for not joining the dots and threatening to occupy the garden and decolonize consciousness became the reply and the footprints followed.
such was the tale of longhair and the indian scouts and we stood a while scanning the terrain in kaleidoscopic light and vowed to visit tuosist which he knows whenever sister moon is @ wherever she's @
and i said "maybe i've been relating to you all this time as carlos hiawatha and just calling you charlie" and he just paused and poked his rolled 'hawthorn' and 'autumn light' prints in my diaphragm as if to say exactly what words were needless....
so i better check the soup and return to the muse.
was about to steam some cauli and carrots and then instead, chopped them fine into a stainless kali cauldron to utilise the water and with onions garlic powder miso seaweed and potato into the hubble bubble telescope and the musical spiral....
the tao that can be taoed is not the true tao just as a potato that can be tatooed is not a true potato, and now it's midnight. i seem to have a sixth sense about twelve.~~~ into the continuum. m.rbm~~~~~~~~
art : Weenyon Wahkon. (Holy Woman), martin law, december 2008
three shots at an email link popped in my box was from whispering steph and couldn't open any of em so googled and got it; the truth about long hair and indian scouts...so i turned down the soup for concentration.
and combing thru the article about hair and indian reverence for tonsorial fibre optic nerve endings and the experiments done with pairs of scouts one with his aerials cut off and one not, testing their telepathy and precognitive far sensing and the results, as they say, were conclusive. without wishing to imply an end, split or otherwise but impulsed to email reply steph and did.
a random ramble while the fire flutters. and before i could foreclose the missive the door knocked and there stood somebody looking like charlie before i was about to type the letter "u", i recognized he knew i knew he was slightly shapeshifting and welcomed him in whoever he was and surfing the slide of synchronoid unfolding and a spark propelled a humorously enlightening rap dialogue.
straight out and converting a catalyst into a context with wings and charlie putting flame under a kettle while i round off an email sound off rotundly.
first thing out of charlie's mouth; "i've just come from a conversation with my son Ruaddhri" and we were talking about indians and long hair and telepathy and earthsense attunement and we both marvelled consciously and played perceptual ping pong without a glitch, fluently circumnavigating the spectrum the likes of which would make yet another "best video on youtube".
so, sustaining the flow of surf and so forth before returning to the muse without blues while the medicine spellcheck brews the surfing being the thing when on a high level roll like synapses twittering viral and still stay literal.
and kicking out the predators of grammar as you go and taking down the legislators of armageddon lurking in syntax that fine you for not joining the dots and threatening to occupy the garden and decolonize consciousness became the reply and the footprints followed.
such was the tale of longhair and the indian scouts and we stood a while scanning the terrain in kaleidoscopic light and vowed to visit tuosist which he knows whenever sister moon is @ wherever she's @
and i said "maybe i've been relating to you all this time as carlos hiawatha and just calling you charlie" and he just paused and poked his rolled 'hawthorn' and 'autumn light' prints in my diaphragm as if to say exactly what words were needless....
so i better check the soup and return to the muse.
was about to steam some cauli and carrots and then instead, chopped them fine into a stainless kali cauldron to utilise the water and with onions garlic powder miso seaweed and potato into the hubble bubble telescope and the musical spiral....
the tao that can be taoed is not the true tao just as a potato that can be tatooed is not a true potato, and now it's midnight. i seem to have a sixth sense about twelve.~~~ into the continuum. m.rbm~~~~~~~~
art : Weenyon Wahkon. (Holy Woman), martin law, december 2008
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