h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

'Tis true, paul, about the intense heat.

That makes me think about the evil Doctor Lizardo in "Buckaroo Banzai," played by a young John Lithgow.

I honour and admire those who know how to craft a ceramic item, or a table, or a chair, build a house, plant a garden, create a vaccine, end world hunger, end injustice and cruelty.

I'd love to know how to do several billion things per minute.

And then there's my Mysterious Muse of Not Knowing, that other sort of knowing, which is now following me about. Perhaps I should buy chocolates for it.

Hey Mysterious Muse, please don't eat the strawberry cremes. Even though I am questioning my beliefs and illusions, and walking much lighter into the terrain of Mystery and Moment, I intend to take the strawberry cremes with me. hahah.

Mysterious Muse. The main Mysterious Muse for me has always been, if there's no mystery, no nothing, no spiritual realms, how come I have a natural response to all the time honoured wisdoms or sayings, like, love they neighbour as thyself, an inherent urge to work through hatred and division, true forgiveness makes me cry. etc etc.

Some might say that's not spiritual realms, that's just being human. Hey, that's good also! Probably the same thing. Yay!

(heads out munching strawberry cremes)

Doctor Lizardo? Buckaroo Banzai? Must check. How could I have not heard of them. I haven't lived.

I have, however, just been immersed in another parallel universe, the world of Hieronymus Gladhand, posh dog kennels, Elvira, the ten cousins, the special phone.

Ah, so now I have been considering the plans for the deluxe pet resort.

Hullo Mrs Mumble and Freckles!




Crepuscular Meadows News!!! I shall reside here, when in this parallel universe, sipping the finest coffee, checking out the vinyls, checking out the snacks. Who needs Starbucks? Eh? I don't.

I just wrote and posted chapter 31 today.

More will undoubtedly follow.

I suppose that future chapters could have things like whistling frogs, a very loud and very deaf soprano in the church choir, and other delights. (For what it's worth, the deaf soprano was equally matched by a deaf organist/choir director.

You can't make up stuff like this .

There was also the matter of exiling Napoleon to the small town of Nobility, next door to Crepuscular Meadows. Small-town people sometimes have grand dreams. If they don't come to pass, so what?

heheh. Chapter 31 eh?? And this was two weeks ago. You're doing well, paul! Splendid!!

I'm intending to check in from time to time, even though I'm right now as far behind as an express train that just realised it was a slow train and wrote a song about itself.

Slow train. Reminds me of Blue Train. Great song. I remember hearing Nancy Griffith singing it.

I'm riding the blue train
Over the miles yet to cover
A ghost in a hurry to fade
Afraid you might be there
To find me inside this blue train

Quote : Blue Train

Great lyrics. I wish I'd written them. But I didn't. A ghost in a hurry to fade. Nice. Except I'm not feeling Blue, I'm feeling Slow, I'm aglow in my slow.



We have a heatwave. Swelter swelter in our shelter. In a creative phase, lots of synthy bass lines, and lyrics trying to draw maps with ringroads and signposts to places where tunes come from ..

Take your time, Cactuscafe.

Since chapter 31, we've had a hurricane, a camping trip, and a Founder's Day Parade. All at the same time (two chapters per day this past week, to follow two storylines).

Thank you for reading this at all. The only other person who has enjoyed it s my sister. She remembers some of the landmarks and streets and bodies of water that are mentioned.

Its interesting to have a sibling who recognises some of the places which you mention. She has been on her own journey through the contexts, but also a shared journey with you, the first time around in your youth, but now the second time around, a revisit on the page.

Sort of thing.

It is rather fascinating to see what writers do with places, because, to me, a park or a fountain, or the Drawbridge Diner, or a street, or a house, etc are also characters.

I've just had a splendid dip into the Meadows.

So the writer inserting himself into a story? Nice idea. Is this you, or a story within a story? I love the thought of you and your father at the Drawbridge, and Dannee's. I wonder if this is really your father, and did he live to near 100?



All very interesting.

My father died about ten months shy of his 100th birthday.

I miss him, but I never really figured him out. He was pretty shy, and an expert at keeping things in.

Today was Spotlight number 56, dedicated to outdoor concerts in bandstands. The local philanthropist figured out how to put them on without violating the Coronavirus distancing rules.

Fortunately, the bandstand in the park is centrally located, and the park itself is small enough that people who live on the adjoining roads can sit on their porches and hear the music just fine. A semicircle of markers six feet apart is there to designate where people can stand or sitto hear the music.



I am not sure if I understand the actual; rules well enough if these measures would be allowed in he real world. But this is a fantasy world, not a real one, and these things seem plausible. So if you think I'm off-course on this.

The concerts in the bandstand of the courtyard at Clematis Station can be heard by residents who stay in their rooms and open their windows.

I liked the sound of Clematis Station and came up with this

THE SLOW TRAIN

It's enough to be the slow train,
that stops at every station
while the express rushes past
on its important journey.
I can stop and contemplate
flower beds and hoardings,
paths through rocky valleys.
It doesn't matter if I stop
at stations with only a cottage
as long as there are passengers
to scramble on and off.

Watch the anhinga chick eat regurgitated fish...Yum!

The meaning of life is not 42. These birds are a brilliant self-replicating design with an incredible back history of lucky functional improvements.

http://youtu.be/m06t88enIy4

Very eery when seen swimming underwater, from which the sobriquette, 'snake bird'.

I'd be interested to know how many of those chicks make it to fledging!

All parents take a gamble. Some gambles are more obvious than others.

Afternoon all! Greetings from a hot hot hot UK! Thunderstorms tonight though. Eeeek. I will hide under the duvet like a pipkin pup.

Ten months shy of his hundredth birthday!

Here we get a message from Her Majesty if you reach the 100 year mark.

I wonder how the 100 year-mark is noted in other countries?

The father/son relationship. Can be quite intense, I think, like mother/daughter.

Loaded with poetic novelistic potential though. heheh.

Of course mother/son can be intense also, and father/daughter.

So this has become an abstract consideration on my part, because no generalisation ever sticks to the rules. hmm.

I put a lot of time and effort into my relationship with both my parents, tried to ride the ups and downs, and I was there to the end, and glad of it. I still have very vivid dreams about them, even though they've been gone about eight years.

Spotlight no 56! Heavens, sir, splendid! You are on a creative roll here! I need a nocturnal reading session, if the thunderstorm season doesn't knock out our electricity.

I love the thought of the residents of Clematis Station listening to the music from the bandstand from their rooms.

I think your work seems very plausible! Its a fantasy world, but somehow seems real, with its own sort of real. Huh? . Well, you know what I mean... you do?? Kind of like magic realism.

Hullo mvp! Bit hot, eh? I hope you have lots of shade in your garden. We have shade on the balcony in the afternoon onwards .. I've been walking under an umbrella, ah yes, umbrella turned parasol! Very fine plan. A few people seem to be doing it .. I feel almost like a sophisticated lady, but more like a Brit expecting rain, even under a cloudless sky, in 32C

I love your Slow Train poem!!!! Inspired by Clematis Station.

I love this way of being. The slow train. Ah yes. Checking the small details of the stations along the way. I remember on Lewes station watching some ladies tending the flower beds there, those few momemnts became my entire world, then the train pulled onward, towards other station-worlds, Glynde, Berwick..

Hullo Askadod!!

Its Askadod!!

Hey, Askadod, I had a daydream the other day about a place where two streets meet, in a kind of magical area called the Karmichael Intersection.

(Dreamlike streets and parks and things are the theme right now ... heheh) (all paul's fault)(I love it)

That's Karmichael with a K ... I wonder what this means? I had a chat with Ralph there, beside an imaginary postcard stand. There was some scruffy grass in the centre of a roundabout, and a guy walked by carrying a small red plastic rocking horse under his arm.

Actually that final bit, about the guy and the rocking horse is true ..

Oh, you have news from Anhinga land ..this might help me ground myself in reality.

What??? Regurgitated fish?? The meaning of life takes a turn. I must emigrate to the Karmichael Intersection ..

Off to check this..

ohmigod, feeding time in Anhinga land .. well, the Pink Floyd sountrack helps , if I close mine eyes and think of other galaxies far from here.

Erm, I guess if you're an Anhinga chick though, this is Mama's favourite breakfast, brought (back) just for you.

Great video. Very clear picture, good close up focus, nice one Askadod.

Our friend who runs the local wholefood shop has been recommending his favourite movies to us. I think he loves Grace Kelly.

High Noon (C just watched this, and loved it)

Rear Window (I just watched this. I love this film!!! Jimmy Stewart and Grace Kelly. Hitchcock tension, but different to his other films. Amazing apartment block set, entire film takes place in one room.

I love Jimmy Stewart because of Harvey ...