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Tuesday, July 12, 2016

Scott Lord unpublished novel in progress, 2016 was updated


Subject: [Scott Lord] Scott Lord unpublished novel in progress, 2016 was updated

Scott Lord updated the page Scott Lord unpublished novel in progress, 2016. View the changes below.

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Untitled Chapter One

      Religion is fantasy, however practical. During the middle of taking her to lunch, at the edge where the financial district becomes the shopping district, he remembered that it was fifth anniversary of their living together. In the center of downtown when taking into account the height of the buildings, a part of the city where there where still adjacent building remaining from before the turn of the twentieth century, there were open stands with bouquets of red roses on their way to the subway.
     "Buddhism is just an easy way to say 'I am not a virgin.'"      "You may not become one again.", his tone was that of iterating something abridged.
      "You may not become one again.", her tone was that of looking for his approval by surprising him with rapport.
       He looked at the present with which he had almost established a tacit understanding, including her, to observe what was only with him, and not him by virtue of its being seen, there having had been being the  frequent sincerity of a familiarity in her response which needed, from her tone, to have been expected and yet varied. The objects, particular, specific and dated with an exactitude while remaining arbitrary as there still being things that transpire, may have been symbols without the requirement that they need be, as they  were also seen by her; she who would later meet his stare, perhaps occasionally a searched for stare, or a stare searched for among several, and she who when even slightly moving, through whom configuration had been brought to any objectification of which they were or were not a part. He would wait to designate meaning, and paradoxically, if it were to be acquired it would already seem to be old meaning, previous meaning.
     "Existence will continue." Within a moment of their rapport, he deemed it unnecessary to explain there and then that there was something quiet to making love, it seemingly being quieter than anything else, and that that was unrelated to emptiness, even to the point of it being an emptying or something more than a solitude of each other and within each other; he had deferred meaning, but how had he depleted it?
      The meaning of heaven was merely a memory.
       To observe seemed to experience, all the while it being participatory. It went beyond meticulously paying attention to abruptly noticed detail, although it undoubtedly included that. What indeed was different in her since his having first known her? "It is to her benefit," he thought. "If not necessarily ours. It is a half hour of her afternoon that I have to take seriously, not she."
      "Isn't the existence of love more plausible due to the existence of God?"
      "Allowing for conjecture." The words beauty, truth and love were suspended there in a dynamic, waiting for him to demand the centrality, the priority of the latter, his adding rather, "The nearest miracle, or the nearest thing."It was his tone of wisdom where he left out explanation in a soft spoken way, as to imply that whatever knowledge he might have gain would only be imparted later if at all, but that it had only come from his knowing her, after his knowing  her.
     "Nothing short of one."
       A series of days within a series of weeks when that he should love her for who she was, or love only the her that he was now with, lessened the severity of factoring in the unpredictable into the the absurd and the consequent need for imaginary constructs of where idealism met actuality, or unused principles of what being would be. Her freedom of self seemed imperative, if only as a form of her pleasure. Perhaps it was the pleasure of experiencing things with her. There was a pleasure in the romantic being at once untenable fantasy and insatiable carnality. In effect, personally, he had long known that he could not object if she crossed herself, to her a devotion to the Mother Mary, there being a certainty that it would be not if but when she would and for what reason. One thing she had remarked upon with ardor was the archeological discovery of a Coptic Egyptian fragment missing from the New Testament quoting Jesus as having said that his wife would become his disciple. if not an acknowledgment of marriage, a marriage prophecy regarding Mary Magdalene, the antiquity read, "Jesus said to them, 'My wife, she will be able to be my disciple.' " It was unexpected that he would later study, if only marginally, under the professor who had helped first publicize the find and he mentioned to her that that by itself would allow him to begin conversations with other professors of Divinity were he to happen to introduce himself, perhaps with an idea such as that if Christ were to marry then there would be the need of an Ascension of his bride.
     "Does that mean that sixty five years after the Dead Sea Scrolls that Jesus was married to Mary Magdalene?". She didn't wait for his answer or allow him time to respond, "I hope he did".
     There was an idealism, among the idealisms that could not be, that was subject to all seriousness, despite any categorical dismissal of its practicality, and from that he appreciated her being in favor of  Christ having had experienced an earthly love, particularly in that carnality overshadowed the transcendent and in that there was a plasticity to being involved in the events and circumstances that would unfold on top of one another- that thought and emotion would give way to physicality and then return when physicality was finished, at the same time there seeming to be no answer in things that were petty, if an answer at all was required within the singular and specific. It also seemed an exclusion that the realm of love could be reconfigured to include angelic being, that sex had the dimension, intellectually, of having spiritual planes.
     "From his Journals, Concluding Unscientific Postscript, which bears the subtitle An Existential Plea, and Sickness Unto Death, we know that it was his concern regarding the age of the historical Jesus, the line between the Messiah and Our Savoir, rather than the exigencies of reconciling with romantic love, that introduced faith as an idea of a personal, or personalized, subjectivity of relationship. By including Works of Love there is a congruity between living poetically and living romanticly that might align belief and romance."
     "Were I  to ask why they never married."
      After he had had time to think about her having asked whether she was correct in saying that Mary Magdalene was the first person to whom Christ had appeared to after the resurrection, after he had had time to register her tone of voice and compare it to tones of voice he has that familiar with already, He softly tried to add, "There is believed to be The Gospel of Mary Magdalene, which includes conversations between her and Peter. It speaks of striving toward humanity and Christ as the perfect human, referring to him as the Savior. In light of it referring to Christ, it would not have been originally considered Apochrypha."
     He thought that he automatically needed to be serious about it and for a moment, as an assessment, he was; it was withdrawal during intercourse at their respective ages, but it had taken a softer tone with each need to speak, and each need to listen, if only due to a physical exhaustion- or due to a mutuality, a coincidence, a co-temporality. The contrast was now marked with other things that would have been met with seriousness, or that may have been for a short while. He had also neglected any concern of simultaneously reaching plateau with her descriptions of an overlap into multiple orgasm. Mostly it had been a different night, a new occasion, and the later it got the more distinct it became from any night that they would have gone to bed earlier.
     Yet on this occasion, another separate occasion not unlike the last, it was still daylight and he had placed the roses in the vase she had bought near the train station while out walking on the way back to the hotel. She had put on a robe and was laying in bed claiming she was tired, maybe too tired to begin making love; it seemed an occasion where waiting until midnight didn't account for their having been together every night for five years. 
     He listened to her more intently, wanting to interject that the Magdalene was typically represented as wearing green during the Renaissance, Mary depicted as wearing blue, and yet it was now after a third  occasion, tenaciously keeping the previous two occasions as present while conversations continued and overlapped,but his being now aware of how they now could be. Now a return to night. Something she softly said that had directed him and an ensuing decision. 

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