Author: Alex V. Weir

Hello. Welcome to my blog. I am here to write on a variety of topics. The title of the site 'Fractal Journal' reflects the way I see the world and wish to explore it. I believe that everything is interconnected and the best way to understand it is through studying perspective. I suppose some may find it pompous but I view what I do as, 'Perspective Journalism.' There will be recurring themes throughout. For instance there may be long spells in which I will write about a single topic from many angles. One such topic will be water, the natural resource about which I am currently writing a book. If you find that you enjoy what I do, please subscribe.

The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 4.7 – Sunshine

On June 7, 2018 By Alex V. WeirIn Sketch of Sam Monroe, UncategorizedLeave a comment

Hoyt had been the first of us to see it. He’d gotten preferential treatment from Captain and crew alike. Yet he remained morose. In fact, the melancholy that had gripped him during that episode at Luckadoo’s had only deepened.

And there was something else now. He was stern both in manner and speech.

I wasn’t at all surprised when his face betrayed nothing upon surfacing. That same implacapable resolutness held firm. Sam’s prodding had been predictably fruitless.

I smiled as Sam and Chuck slipped gently beneath the current. As the last vestige of the comical goldfish colored pill that was our recent ferry disappeared I glanced at Schmidt.

He alternated between shaking his head and rubbing his temples.

“So what the hell do you suppose that was…?”

“I dunno…I was hoping he’d tell us…his ‘mystery’ schtick is beginning to annoy me.”

I shared that sentiment but then realized that it was equally likely that the captain chose theater in lieu of knowledge.

“I bet he doesn’t know either. I bet this is a pretty recent discovery.”

“Yea well he could at least be forthcoming enough to give us his guess.”

“Forthcoming isn’t his style.” Said a voice from behind.

I turned round. It was Lauren. She was sitting with her long bare legs tucked behind rummaging through some kit.

“Watcha lookin’ at.” Came a tone of mock challenge.

“You’re doin’ that on purpose.”

“Doin what…” The young matriarch said scrunching up a deeply tanned face that clashed with light blonde hair.

I approached and leaned on the opposite side of the white metal chest trying as hard as I could to twist my inflexible boozestiffened bones into the same sinuous pose that she was in.

I met her eyes and batted my own. “That.”

She smirked. “I dunno what you’re getting at…”

“Nobody sits like that.”

“Yeah well I do…” she said yawning as she stretched sensuously making sure that every curve was accentuated and her bra tested the limits of her LSU tank top.

“Stop flirting,” I said.

“Don’t compliment yourself.” She was on the ball.

“Alright dorks…” Schmidt joined us.

We were both annoyed that our little banter battle had ended.

A sentiment that I knew was shared cause Lauren now began teasing Schmidt.

“Hey, you can’t fault your friend for having good taste.” She said as she rose and walked to sit behind me with her arms draped over my shoulders.

She really was like a cat. It reminded me of when Chubs would try to make Sarah jealous by ignoring her ‘kitty kitties’ and sitting in my lap. Chubs knew who approved of his diet.

Likewise, I knew that she was now making eye contact with Schmidt. I could see that he was looking at her as she leaned in and gave me a quick friendly peck on the cheek.

Lucas made a mock retching sound. Though I knew that he was jealous. Our work rendered coed interactions few and far between. Female attention is supremely coveted by the sequestered man.

I think that aside from her inherent femininity she somehow picked up on our state. And seemed to find it supremely entertaining to exploit it.

“Alright kids…come on…focus….”

“On what?” Lauren asked really rubbing it in now by tracing her hands gently across my chest. Just like how Chubs would nuzzle up…though this was much nicer. It felt nice.

“On the fact that there’s an ancient LAX under the fuckin’ Pacific.”

“O that…” She said as she stood. I didn’t like that. It was like having your brother steal your cookie. I felt robbed when our bodies no longer made contact.

She twirled and raised her arms melodramatically in the air.

“The sun ain’t just for tanning.”

1.1 (Intro) The Sketch of Sam Monroe

1.2 The Cajun Prayer

1.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter One: The Cambridge Gable Scene (‘Gator is Waitin’)

1.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.4 – The Cambridge Gable Scene – (Horticulture)

1.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.5: ‘To Luckadoo Cove’

1.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.6 – ‘Is there anybody out there…’

1.7 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.7: ‘Jesse’

1.8 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.8: ‘Lungful of Bees’

1.9 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.9 – ‘Precedent’

2.0 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.0 -Calvinist Neuroses

2.1 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.1 – Mirage

2.2 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.2 – Estate Planning

2.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.3 – High Tech Summons

2.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.4 – Amazon Stonehenge

2.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.5 – Jung

2.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.6 – Dee

2.7 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.7 – Meeting 211

2.8 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.8 – Itinerary

2.9 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.9 – Fact and Fiction

2.10 Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.10 -Kaffeeklatsch

2.11 Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.11 – Catnap

2.12 Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.12 – ‘One Pair’

2.13 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.13 – Reentry

2.14 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.14 – Phoenix

2.15 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.15 – Apollo and Dionysus

3.0 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.0 – Inherit the Wind

3.1 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.1 – Stardust

3.2 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.2 – Loyola

3.3 Chapter 3.3 – High and Dry

3.4 Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.4 – One Dream

3.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.5 – Pensive

3.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.6 – Feijoada

3.7 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.7 – ‘Good food and good work…’

3.8 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.8 – A Good Egg

3.9 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.9 – Oregon Hill

3.10 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.10 – ‘Thick Bushes’

4.0 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 4.0 – No room at the Inn

4.1 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 4.1 – The Union Jack

4.2 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 4.2 – The Genevive

4.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 4.3 – Ecclesiastes 1:18

4.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 4.4 – Bleached

4.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 4.5 – Marty

4.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 4.6 – Highland Deep

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The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 4.6 – Highland Deep

On June 5, 2018June 5, 2018 By Alex V. WeirIn Sketch of Sam Monroe, UncategorizedLeave a comment

“Believe it.” Reed said cooly.

I didn’t. This was a gag. A great looking gag but a gag nonetheless.

I’d hoped to reacquaint myself with saturation diving but alas the wreck was a touch too deep.

Though supremely more claustrophobic, the trip down in the submersible was as exciting as an elevator ride.

The thing lay at the unimpressive depth of 2,734 feet. It was on a sort of submerged island that jutted from the surrounding average of 14,040 feet.

Given the character of the ship and crew I’d gotten the notion that we’d go much deeper. I wanted to test limits whether I dove or tin canned my way down.

Lost bragging rights aside…this was spectacular…significant in that it stuck out like a sore thumb.

It’s hard to recollect all these years later but it was something like an island’s highlands that had been submerged.

Atop which…sat the most unbelievable thing…and by unbelievable I mean that I really didn’t believe it.

There illuminated by the eerily wavering yellow glow of our searchlight sat a pill-shaped thing with little triangular wings.

It sat with its nose angled up towards the surface atop a crumbling runway.

“This is a prop Captain.”

“Believe it.” He reiterated in the same cool tone.

The submersible only held three men. The captain was more like two men, so it was with some difficulty that my eyes found their way past that cretaceous skull, and through the dim light of the interior to inspect Schmidt’s features.

That smirk meant that he was just as incredulous as I. Though he refrained from vocalizing his skepticism.

The thing was too perfect. Too unmarred by salt and sea.

Although…everything else was spot on. In terms of decay. All around the briny deep lay crumbled ruins of stone.

My guess was that this really was fascinating, in that it represented a heretofore unknown civilization in the south pacific.

The goofy bit was that someone, likely the captain himself… had sunk a prop, a mock spaceship, to make the impious worship again. Very Scooby Doo this. I chuckled.

“Believe it.” The captain repeated yet again with that same even cadence.

I couldn’t. Not because it contravened all established knowledge. But because it was too perfect. It gleamed in the light.

The captain panned that light around the ruins. The wide acrylic bubble provided us with nearly 360 degrees of visibility…. that is if one could peek round that massive blockhead.

There among the stones and glyphs, I glimpsed the thing that rendered me a convert.

The thing, or rather the things that made the hair stand straight up on the back of my neck weren’t the hundreds of skeletons, not even the hundreds of other gleaming little props… that not even this wealthy loon’s fortune could have sunk, no…

There like spectral fingers were thousands upon thousands of exposed rusting metal beams and struts.

1.1 (Intro) The Sketch of Sam Monroe

1.2 The Cajun Prayer

1.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter One: The Cambridge Gable Scene (‘Gator is Waitin’)

1.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.4 – The Cambridge Gable Scene – (Horticulture)

1.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.5: ‘To Luckadoo Cove’

1.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.6 – ‘Is there anybody out there…’

1.7 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.7: ‘Jesse’

1.8 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.8: ‘Lungful of Bees’

1.9 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.9 – ‘Precedent’

2.0 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.0 -Calvinist Neuroses

2.1 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.1 – Mirage

2.2 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.2 – Estate Planning

2.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.3 – High Tech Summons

2.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.4 – Amazon Stonehenge

2.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.5 – Jung

2.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.6 – Dee

2.7 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.7 – Meeting 211

2.8 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.8 – Itinerary

2.9 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.9 – Fact and Fiction

2.10 Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.10 -Kaffeeklatsch

2.11 Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.11 – Catnap

2.12 Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.12 – ‘One Pair’

2.13 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.13 – Reentry

2.14 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.14 – Phoenix

2.15 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.15 – Apollo and Dionysus

3.0 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.0 – Inherit the Wind

3.1 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.1 – Stardust

3.2 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.2 – Loyola

3.3 Chapter 3.3 – High and Dry

3.4 Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.4 – One Dream

3.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.5 – Pensive

3.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.6 – Feijoada

3.7 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.7 – ‘Good food and good work…’

3.8 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.8 – A Good Egg

3.9 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.9 – Oregon Hill

3.10 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.10 – ‘Thick Bushes’

4.0 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 4.0 – No room at the Inn

4.1 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 4.1 – The Union Jack

4.2 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 4.2 – The Genevive

4.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 4.3 – Ecclesiastes 1:18

4.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 4.4 – Bleached

4.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 4.5 – Marty

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‘Murica Month| Speechcraft + 1776 (Vlog)

On June 4, 2018June 4, 2018 By Alex V. WeirIn Philosophy, Psychology, Technology, UncategorizedLeave a comment

A brief vlog discussing the importance of skilled oratory for every citizen of a democratic republic. June is ‘Murica month on Mellow Mission Productions. I’ll be reading up on all things Locke, Washington, 1776, and Murica. Videos and essays are forthcoming.

|Reading List |

Washington, Webster, and Lincoln (Lake English Classics ~ Denney)

1776 ~ DavidMcCullough

The Constitution Two Treatises of Government ~ John Locke

Common Sense ~ Thomas Paine

Social Media – http://www.minds.com/Weirmellow

Patreon – http://www.patreon.com/TheFractalJournal

The Prosaic Wall (Full Story Link)

On June 2, 2018 By Alex V. WeirIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Due to my schedule I have to write things in sections to keep a steady output. I know that some people prefer reading a story in full on one page. So I’ve made that possible.

Click on my patrydork link to read my recent short story in full.

It’s free.

https://www.patreon.com/posts/19200475

I chose to use a link instead of just making a new post because I have aesthetic hangups of posting the same story to my blog twice.

That and shameless self promotion.

Cheers.

The Prosaic Wall – Part Three – Finale

On June 2, 2018 By Alex V. WeirIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Part One | Part Two

‘Not good.’

What was I going to do?

These folks were bold. They’d hopped the wall. An action which in light of their recent conversation lent a truly sinister impression.

The good thing was they weren’t walking up the length of the wall. If they had…there was no way I could escape unnoticed.

But, my blunder with the phone served as a fortuitous distraction.

Still. ‘Not good.’

I did not want these men to find my phone. I hoped and hoped hard that the battery would just die. I didn’t want them to know who I was, who my contacts were. My habits…everything was there for these creeps to peruse at their leisure.

Beep.

‘Shit.’

They’d crossed the gravel road and were fast approaching the source of that unfortunate noise.

Then I heard the most beautiful sound. The wheels of a car had transitioned from tarmac to gravel.

‘Damn it…’ What if it was the woman, or worse…

I remained prone.

The car was making its way at a leisurely pace. Neither too slow or too fast.

It drove past us. I recognized it as the property of the redneck that lived just over the creek that intersected the gravel at its halfway point.

For a moment I thought of hailing his attention. But, decided against it. Who knew what these people were capable of. They were that terrifying combination of furtive and bold. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were armed and would find live targets mighty appealing.
The car drove on. I was at a wits end as the masking effect of the truck receded and I heard that damned beep.

‘Shit…there’s just no way outta this.’

Then my mind latched on to a boyhood memory from the old country. Sure ‘the pioneers’ had disbanded but the antecedents of the old paramilitary spirit of a more cocksure Soviet Union still held sway.

I’d been evaluated. Psychologically. At the tender age of five.

My profile: actor.

I don’t know how accurate it was but…at this moment it gave me an idea.

I stripped down. I mean really stripped down. Till I was naked.

I took a sharp stone that lay nearby and cut into the flesh of my face.

I caked myself with dirt.

Then I stood up and winced as my bare feet began the journey across the gravel.

It was a bright night. The moon was full. I was plainly visible. I hadn’t shaved in days. I’d also just been napping outdoors. My full thick curls were bushy with moisture and leaves. Dirty, bloody, naked, unkempt…approaching in the dead of night illumined by ghastly lunar radiance…

I may as well have been wearing body armor. At least that’s what I told myself. Nervousness would betray me. ‘This is my armor and they are afraid.’

“Holy shit…what the fuck…eh….HEEEEY!” It was the Yankee.

I kept approaching with bold strides. Making sure that I appeared to not feel the pain of the sharp stones, sticks, and thorns that dug their way into my feet. The pain helped me. I used it to make my eyes as wild as I could. I wanted them to look downright dilated.

“Hey…you fuck…hey…one more step and I’ll fuckin waste ya…”

They were armed.

“Awww…shit….!” I yelped in yokel indignation. “fucking damn it…tawt eww pigs whir gon.”

I was standing in the clay now. Among underbrush. Looking directly at the Yankee with the gun and an Asian man. Both were clean cut and dressed in business casual. A feature which filled me with hope. These foreigners were more liable to buy my ruse.

“What the fuck…” The Asian man said. “What do we do Pete? There’s too much noise…if they find this dead freak…we don’t have the time to move him…”

I almost pissed myself. Something that would definitely be visible….

“Wai..” I said, slurring. “Are ya’ll cops…ya’ll don look like it…now dat I got a beed on ya”

To my great relief, the Yankee started laughing.

“This is just like fucking COPS man…” he said.

“…yea…this dudes been hitting the pipe for sure…”

“Ya’ll scart the shit outta me…I threw muh daym phone…”
It was still beeping.

Pete the Yankee lowered his weapon.

“Were you the one mumbling outside that wall..?”

“Uh..I wuz talkin…prolly…i do it summa da time..I suppose yall weren’t Jake?”

“Who the hell is Jake?”

“Ugh cusstumer.”

The Yankee was really laughing now. “Finished the supply before you could deliver…”

“Pete, fuck it…we should go…half the fuckin neighborhood is probably awake by now…this guy is not a threat..”

I scowled.

“Ya callin me a puhssy!?”

The two men began convulsing with laughter.

“Ey fughk you!” I yelled. “ain’t…no one laughs at Mitch witout cummuppence.”

The pair was leaving. “Well you know buddy…” The Yankee said. “That’s a great name you got there. I’m sure your cellmates are gonna find a good rhyme to match your new occupation…Mitch the bitch!”
I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing myself. I grunted and cursed to keep the swell of mirth from betraying my ruse.

There was a gap in the wall with a metal gate. The gate afforded handholds, the pair paused, checking for any sign of other nighttime strollers, climbed it and disappeared back into the neighborhood.

I strolled back into the woods singing. Though it probably wasn’t necessary I wanted to continue my act till I was a good enough distance away. I still needed my clothes.

After a ten minute trek, I sat down in the thick little wood.

I felt ecstatic. I’d gotten my adventure after all. Sitting nude on bare earth in the cool night air post adrenaline rush felt positively primeval.

A sense that emboldened me to hunt the hunters.

Moving as noiselessly as possible I retraced my steps back to the wall. Pausing before I crossed the road. The coast was clear. I donned my clothes. Wiped away the blood and dirt using some puddle water. Then I combed my mane as much as it let me.

My clothes were sporty. A pair of sweats, sneakers, and a t-shirt. I left my flannel in the dirt as I made my way to the gate.

I checked around the corner even more cautiously than the pair of creeps.

My phone was still beeping but that was immaterial now.

I clambered over and began to jog.

I knew that dawn wasn’t far. My athletic garb, the hour, and the rushing blur of my motion was a ruse almost as good as the Meth addict.

I jogged in the direction that I knew the house that had hosted the bizarre conversation lay.

As I passed it I noted a large black pickup in the driveway.

I rounded the corner and ran behind the house that stood across the street.

It was risky but the adrenaline rush of nude forest near-death experience brought out the stalking caveman in me.

Who were these freaks in my stomping grounds…

I climbed over a chainlink fence and hid behind an AC unit…watching.

I knew that they were probably going to get the hell out of dodge soon.

Everything about their conversation and our encounter suggested that.

I wasn’t wrong. Because soon all three emerged pausing on the stoop to set something down.

What I saw them carrying still haunts me to this day.

It wasn’t gore…it was implication that terrified me…as I watched them dump three large black trash bags into the back of the pickup.

Then Pete and his friend grabbed a big cooler that sloshed with untold pounds of ice and hoisted it into the bed just ahead of the protruding trashbags.

Hurriedly the gruesome threesome piled in and drove away.

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The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 4.5 – Marty

On June 1, 2018 By Alex V. WeirIn Sketch of Sam Monroe, UncategorizedLeave a comment

The rain delayed our descent. We’d arrived. We’d arrived rather sooner than I expected. Not in terms of days but in the speed with which they seemed to pass.

It rained hard. Though sitting snug with a cup of tea in my cabin was cozy. The thought of that much water hitting that much more water was disconcerting.

Fortunately, there wasn’t much turbulence. I was grateful that the worst thing we’d likely have to fare was heavy rain.

I wasn’t happy about the setback. Leo, Captain, and crew were all flawlessly reticent on the nature of what now lay beneath the deck.

The closest thing to a revelation came from Marty Blumenthal. Marty was a microbiologist. I’d cornered him in the wet lab where he set peering intently through a microscope.

He was the most pensive man I’d ever met. A perfect bundle of nerves. Kind but frightfully neurotic. Which was strange because he was nearly as tall as the Captain. Odder still was the contrast between his massive frame and the cautious jerky precision of his motions. He had the body of an Olympian but the mannerisms of a high school nerd.

Maybe bodybuilding was his way of reigning in his nerves. But that seemed too convenient an explanation. Despite being kind. Marty was probably the scariest guy aboard. There was something uncanny about the fierce smoldering of his large dark eyes. They seemed to read everything about everything. It was as if they were burning away layer after layer of some great cosmic onion that pervaded everything.

I was really keen on knowing what we were getting ourselves into. Why was this geek flotilla so secretive? Trappists were probably chattier.

Fortunately, I had a weapon. I’d found Marty’s weakness.

“Say, Marty…”

It took a while for those massive shoulders to unhunch.

“Yea…is it important…I’m kinda busy here…”

“O…not terribly…”

“Well then…I’m sure there’s better company aboard…”

“You do yourself a disservice…you’re probably the hardest working boffin here..and I think you deserve a reward…”

“That’s very flattering but not only do I not swing that way but I’m married.”

“Don’t be silly,” I said affecting a lisp. “I just thought you know…you’d be interested in the last bit of cheesecake till port…”

The stool swiveled.

“As a matter of fact…that’s the most interesting thing I’ve heard all day.”

“Yea, well you know..I’m a capitalist. And capitalism is the best means of exchange…”

“O?”

“Yea, you have something I want, and I have something you want.”

“Yea…?”

“What’s going on Marty? What’s down there. What’s up with all the freemasonry? Is this some kinda cult?”

Marty chuckled.

“The captain has a weakness for melodrama. You know his philosophy. He wants to teach the world to dream again. There’s really nothing much more to the ‘freemasonry’ than that. We like old Reed and don’t want to spoil his fun.”

“Hmm…I’m getting hungry…” I said wielding a fork threateningly over the coveted sweet.

“I’m telling you the truth Alan…as far as the reason for keeping you in the dark…but it really is for the better. There is something down there. I’ve never gone down myself but I’ve seen pictures, videos, pieces, I’ve heard the talk, it’s…well…it’s insane…telling you would never do it justice. Expectation would poison your comprehension.”

“Hmmm…,” I said slicing a bit of New York style with the fork.

Marty moved fast. He traversed the nearly eight-foot span between him and the prize in what seemed like less than a second.

“You might be a capitalist but I’m a commie…” I was so surprised by the sudden explosion of motion that my hold on the plate weakened.

Grabbing the desert from my hand he said. “And I must seize the means of confection.”

I laughed.

The cheesecake did work, sort of, because after a few bites Marty said, “We’re floating above an ancient prayer.”

1.1 (Intro) The Sketch of Sam Monroe

1.2 The Cajun Prayer

1.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter One: The Cambridge Gable Scene (‘Gator is Waitin’)

1.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.4 – The Cambridge Gable Scene – (Horticulture)

1.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.5: ‘To Luckadoo Cove’

1.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.6 – ‘Is there anybody out there…’

1.7 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.7: ‘Jesse’

1.8 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.8: ‘Lungful of Bees’

1.9 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.9 – ‘Precedent’

2.0 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.0 -Calvinist Neuroses

2.1 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.1 – Mirage

2.2 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.2 – Estate Planning

2.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.3 – High Tech Summons

2.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.4 – Amazon Stonehenge

2.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.5 – Jung

2.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.6 – Dee

2.7 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.7 – Meeting 211

2.8 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.8 – Itinerary

2.9 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.9 – Fact and Fiction

2.10 Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.10 -Kaffeeklatsch

2.11 Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.11 – Catnap

2.12 Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.12 – ‘One Pair’

2.13 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.13 – Reentry

2.14 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.14 – Phoenix

2.15 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.15 – Apollo and Dionysus

3.0 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.0 – Inherit the Wind

3.1 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.1 – Stardust

3.2 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.2 – Loyola

3.3 Chapter 3.3 – High and Dry

3.4 Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.4 – One Dream

3.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.5 – Pensive

3.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.6 – Feijoada

3.7 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.7 – ‘Good food and good work…’

3.8 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.8 – A Good Egg

3.9 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.9 – Oregon Hill

3.10 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 3.10 – ‘Thick Bushes’

4.0 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 4.0 – No room at the Inn

4.1 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 4.1 – The Union Jack

4.2 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 4.2 – The Genevive

4.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 4.3 – Ecclesiastes 1:18

4.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 4.4 – Bleached

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Trump is the Future (Vlog)

On May 31, 2018 By Alex V. WeirIn Philosophy, Psychology, Technology, UncategorizedLeave a comment

…of discourse.

Since today’s issues are really nuanced and we now have a technology that allows for instant international communication… Maybe its time to start getting policymakers to explain ideas and gain insight from constituents in real time.

Maybe Trump is right.

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The Prosaic Wall – Part Two (Short Story)

On May 31, 2018May 31, 2018 By Alex V. WeirIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

“Isn’t a bit early for that…” I grumbled aloud at the strong cigarette odor that had roused me from the haze of sleep.

It was then that I realized the bed I occupied wasn’t a fold-out couch in a grungy little house. I was damp with dew.

And rather unnervingly the voice did not belong to Gwen.

I was now wide awake.

“Did you just hear something?” A deep Yankee brogue carried clearly through the wall that had served as my pillow.

“You’re just nervous…” Another voice this time completely foreign. The clipped brassy accent reminding me of my Taiwanese room-mate.

“You betcha…”

“Oh, come on Peter…this…I thought you’d be used to it by now…” This time it was a woman. The first native sounding voice I’d heard.

I’m not exactly sure why I found this conversation disturbing. Despite the impossibility of being seen I shielded the screen of my flip phone as I checked the time.

It was 3:22 AM. I hated these neat little numbers. I always…always happened to look at a watch or odometer and see 3:33, 9:11, 808. A sort of luck and distaste that would eventually find me in a psych ward. But that and Crowley’s little book is a tale for another time.

True terror is not supernatural.

I did not want to be here. I was cold and damp and really hated the little international meeting just a walls length behind my back.

“I don’t like the new supply…”

A chill ran up my spine.

“Hold up Lee…are you sure about Dietrich…?”

“As sure as I can be.”

“You’re nervous tonight Pete…” Came the woman’s voice. “What’s up…? Having second thoughts…you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to…just don’t you know…kiss and tell…”

“No, no nothing like that…”

“Then what..?”

“The same damn SUV…dark blue…I kept seeing it for a good hundred miles on I77.”

“Probably just a family goin back home or visiting relatives…”

There was a pause.

“I first saw the damned thing just outside Columbus.”

“Hmm…so you think that we’ve been followed?”

Pete…the Yankee voice…sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Well, where did you last see it?”

“Not sure exactly but…it was past Charlotte.”

“Shit…” The woman hissed. “Well…I thin…”

A sharp electric beep cut through the predawn dark.

It was so loud. What the hell could that be…

The conversation had ceased.

I heard the beep again and this time I realized its source.

It was the low battery alert.

“Secure the goods Rachel…” the voice of ‘Lee’ dictated in a loud whisper. Before I heard the shuffling of feet.

At this point…adrenaline set in and my presence of mind reached absolute zero.

Instead of just pulling the battery out and hightailing it back home through the woods I threw it.

I watched the dark blur arc its way over the gravel road and land soundlessly among underbrush in the clay clearing at the edge of the wood.

The adrenaline made me move. Which was good. Because just as I had made my way up the length of the wall and thrown myself down into a prone position I heard first one then two pairs of feet land directly on the spot that I’d just evacuated.

I heard whispers and then off in the distance by the edge of the wood I heard a distinct electronic beep.

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The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 4.4 – Bleached

On May 30, 2018 By Alex V. WeirIn Sketch of Sam Monroe, UncategorizedLeave a comment

“What people forget, you see, is that it’s a world.” Said Captain Reed between mouthfuls of strawberry shortcake.

Everyone was silent. I sipped my coffee and wondered what he was getting at.

“Everybody…thinks…they ‘know’…so they get sad…because they ‘know’…and so they’re bored…” The captain’s massive brow furrowed.

It would have been frightening had he not started laughing.

“What the hell is there to know? How is there anything to know…that’s a much better question I think yeah?”

Us newcomers sat bewildered as the crew nodded assent. Making me wonder if it was agreement or appeasement…or both.

A massive fist smacked the table making the china jump. I winced as scalding coffee landed right on that little space between the thumb and index finger.

“A perfect little sphere…just spinning…round a nuclear reaction…how why…a thought that rarely enters the mind of man these days…”

No one dared to interrupt the monologue.

“It’s a wuuuuuh eeeerrrrrrrrr eld!” The grey eyes bulged. “A world …whirl…whirling and tumbling between twisted stars in a pitch darker than any ocean depth.”

I wasn’t really sure how the conversation started. What was the origin of this tirade? I really had trouble remembering. I was so sleepy. I’d lost my sea legs nearly half a decade ago and the swaying of the craft produced a slightly nauseating soporific sensation.

“I tell you! If I were to grab that kneck of yours and sueeeeeze. I mean not even very hard….that’s it…! That would be all for you. No shortcake…no Genevive…no childhood to color the years that would have come with wisdom…just flesh with fresh shit in the britches. Isn’t it amazing…isn’t it downright uncanny?”

This would have been offputting had we not by now grown accustomed to the Captain’s moody homilies.

“And yet…you wear britches! Why! Because Adam was embarrassed all those years ago… Most likely not. But….even so…how much the better! Because…you can wonder at it…the folly of such literalism…isn’t it mad…isn’t it whirling..?”

I now recalled why Reed had erupted. Chuck had casually blurted one of his usual sarcasms. Leo had been chattering excitedly about the revolutionary nature of recent discoveries in the Amazon. Chuck loved to exercise his capacity for acerbic skepticism regarding all things redolent of woo. Especially revolutionary woo.

The Captain smirked.

“Looking a bit pale there Charles…”

Chuck remained silent.

“I’m telling you..I’m telling you the truth…I’m infinitely tamer than what lies beneath the salty sway…if these simple truths I’ve spoken have drained you…I tell ya…you’re about to be downright bleached…

1.1 (Intro) The Sketch of Sam Monroe

1.2 The Cajun Prayer

1.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter One: The Cambridge Gable Scene (‘Gator is Waitin’)

1.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.4 – The Cambridge Gable Scene – (Horticulture)

1.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.5: ‘To Luckadoo Cove’

1.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.6 – ‘Is there anybody out there…’

1.7 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.7: ‘Jesse’

1.8 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.8: ‘Lungful of Bees’

1.9 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.9 – ‘Precedent’

2.0 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.0 -Calvinist Neuroses

2.1 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.1 – Mirage

2.2 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.2 – Estate Planning