The Apex of Time
()
About this ebook
Related to The Apex of Time
Related ebooks
Sentimental Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings'Dan Cooper' Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Street Wars: The Legend of Cody Blue Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsAll of Us Together in the End Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsWhistled: A Memoir of Achievement, Betrayal, and the Search for Self-Worth Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsKing of the Mild Frontier: An Ill-Advised Autobiography Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Pay Dirt Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsConnections Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings'Tis Herself: A Memoir Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Jericho Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings50X30: Misadventures in Every State Before I Turned Post-Young Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsFeathered Canyons: Finding Treasures in the Golden State Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsTarmac Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsImagined Truths: Myths from a Draft-Dodging Poet Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsFor the Want of a Shoe, the Horse Was Lost Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsBEFORE TRUTH SET ME FREE: A Fool's Journey from Behind the Music to Behind Bars Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsSurf, Sex, and Psychedelics Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsBelonging: A Daughter's Search for Identity Through Loss and Love Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Meeting Place: Qing Dragon Discovery Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsAlive, or Just Breathing Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsChalk, Baked Beans, and Bog Rolls Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsFalling For The Seal Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsMaybe I’Ll Be Cleverer Tomorrow: A Reflection on a Complex and Often Prickly Father/Daughter Relationship Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Profit of Her Fellowship Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Croquet Player Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Madison Ghosts and Legends Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Victoria's Secret Catalog Never Stops Coming: And Other Lessons I Learned From Breast Cancer Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Adventures of William F. Drannan: The Life in the Far West: 31 Years on the Plains and in the Mountains & Chief of Scouts Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
Science Fiction For You
The Institute: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Silo Series Collection: Wool, Shift, Dust, and Silo Stories Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Wool: Book One of the Silo Series Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5This Is How You Lose the Time War Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Flowers for Algernon Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I Am Legend Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Shift: Book Two of the Silo Series Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Stories of Ray Bradbury Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Camp Zero: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Kindred: A Graphic Novel Adaptation Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Ocean at the End of the Lane: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5How High We Go in the Dark: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Dust: Book Three of the Silo Series Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Troop Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Frugal Wizard’s Handbook for Surviving Medieval England: Secret Projects, #2 Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Cryptonomicon Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I Who Have Never Known Men Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Alchemist: A Graphic Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Annihilation: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Sarah J. Maas: Series Reading Order - with Summaries & Checklist Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Frankenstein: Original 1818 Uncensored Version Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Warrior of the Light: A Manual Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5A Psalm for the Wild-Built Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Roadside Picnic Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Bradbury Stories: 100 of His Most Celebrated Tales Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Deep Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Deep Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Paper Menagerie and Other Stories Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Perelandra: (Space Trilogy, Book Two) Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5
Reviews for The Apex of Time
0 ratings0 reviews
Book preview
The Apex of Time - Richard Clough
PART ONE
THE SPEED OF LIGHT
44528.pngI t’s horrible that people die, but it’s reconciled as one of God’s facts of life. I haven’t died in the last sixty years, but I came close numerous times. What protects me, I guess, is more than God’s message but the scientific insight that created me for answering the purpose that the higher powers declared as the apex of time from 1955 to 2016. The apex of time was important in determining the fate of the human race, and the fact that it passed along with my five books that detailed my Speed of Light existence says a lot of the secret government’s ability to dupe them from knowing it happened.
Now I want to delve into some of my accoutrements. When I saw Johnny Weissmuller’s Tarzan wrestling with a man on TV, I proceeded to do likewise with my pillow. My dry ejaculation at age five started me on the path of hiding impulsivity plus beating opponents steeped in hate. This was necessary because in the galactic scheme of things, there were predatory dark stars that fed on a man’s righteous strength, which I prophetically called, in a surly way, escape from the fat people. It was due to these stars that my lives were left with a sparse field to cultivate, thus forcing me to be the way I was—an asshole to some but, to my mind, a juggernaut by my perceptions of the unfolding apex that saw people degenerating.
The pillow fucking imbued me with strength and intelligence, but I had to hide it for fear of the dark stars.
Because of this secret agenda, I had my grandparents waiting for me on Maryland’s eastern rustic shore. They enabled me to grow while building insights into how my grandfather might have once been president but was destroyed by the powers of this black hole I was postulating through my good schooling. My schooling was in the higher degree to which I labeled my fellows as highbrow. My milieu in Santa Monica was also so diverse that I doubted any other part of the world could duplicate it.
My course in life wasn’t to be recognized in sports or thought, but I intended, through my sojourn, to unravel truths from my birthplace in Price Bethany Church. This was by the divine providence that demanded this above greatness.
I discovered that God was both lesser and greater, because one God, the lesser, was all-powerful while the greater God was the free will overriding the lesser God. I proved it a lot in my life.
Life was like the rising of the sun. It was bright in the early stages then dull in the later stages. When I thought I was fucking girls early in life, it started to dawn on me that it was a great frustration for me while in Vegas or running the whole length of the beach in the sand without a girl. It wasn’t until at the apex that it dawned on me that the great Russian gymnast Olga Korbut of the 1976 Olympics, the year I eluded the lagoon full of predators, was my girlfriend attracted to my fanatic lineage. So I was now satiated by this resolution. It just left it for me to develop some more of what the apex had deposited from its penetration.
My first childhood sweetheart was Norma Smith. During bongo drumming class, her splayed legs intimidated and inspired me. She was in the high school marching band marching beside the gymnasium when I was running five miles before class and during lunch. My activity was so strenuous that when I got nervous in class, I sweated profusely. Or it could have been my brain damage from junior high.
My high school and the trip to the observatory and beau were just like Rebel without a Cause.
I showed my early aptitude for running when my mother’s car broke down in the garage and I ran all the way to school.
I was no longer a boy from a rich family who distained the kind of sinewy activity displayed at present by Schwarzenegger. Like him, I returned to my prowess, but in a kind of retarded way that balked at exerting myself to its fullest capabilities. Nevertheless, I was like a boy possessed playing basketball or whatever, never knowing that it was going to end. I was like the Beach Boys, who represented the endless summer.
Because of my retardation, I think my mother hired a hit man named Karl, who visited us on Marine Street overlooking the Venice basin. He was just waiting for his opportunity, but I kept throwing him off until he challenged me to fight him at the beach in Venice just before I went into the air force in ’76. It so happened that after I entered, he might have been killed. It was a mysterious issue for Karl because he told me how an old lady on Marine Street threatened my mother. That kind of ameliorated my suspicions.
I had a friend named David Weisbart, who was the son of a famed 1950s movie producer, and it seemed my life was like those movies before David was replaced by Peter.
Glory began in Sparta, and the Parthenon began to shine again after my sweaty sexual alliance with Sheila. It was noted by seeing a vision in the clouds that reflected the glassy ancient Aegean.
Unlike UCLA, eastern colleges would have educated me. This I found out while playing tennis during the summer at Cornell with Aunt Doris and buying from its bookstore books that, unlike UCLA’s, I understood.
Aunt Doris, my mother’s sister, was dubbed Miss Sunshine at the 4-H club in Maryland as a teenager; and she was a keen competitor with my mother, who earned a business scholarship at Beacon by politics, as my grandma said. Anyway, her parents belittled her health, which drove her to Phoenix, Arizona, where she met my father, who was already teetering on the abyss of crime that showed in his frown while holding me above the rim of the world as a baby. It was a place down below where I’d be for the rest of my life while writing the story. The behemoth of the hills was beckoning.
My erudite Uncle Glenn once taught me gymnastics in Maryland, which might have explained my connection with Olga. He didn’t teach me this time, although he did headstands and cartwheels that intimidated me. Uncle Glenn was my world, and when he said he was going to take me to the store at the beginning of town, I ended up hitting my cousin Donnie over the head with a baseball bat for saying that they already went and asking if I wanted some candy like he was going to screw me. He always got boners in the basement shower. It was where I should have been having sex with Lynette and my other cousin after high school graduation.
My grandmother had me feeling like a celebrity as all these countryfolks—including the reputedly smelly taxidermist William, who later dated my grandma as a world traveler—would see me sitting in that rustic post office with its eerie wanted pictures.
I was staring at a black cloud over LA, wondering why life seemed to be absolute when it’s known or thought to be finite. The answer was that it’s always been this way.
I had my grandpa’s genes. Grandpa was one of those legends of the corn-and-bean fields of the thirties where he could have played as Cas with the Philadelphia Athletics but was supposedly too homesick to do so. My grandpa never talked of his feats, although he won the state trap shoot. I took it like everything in stride until, thirty years later, I called myself Mr. Clough, alias Lou Gehrig, for killing a boy with a fastball. Whether Grandpa knew, I’ll never know, except for that last Delaware fishing trip where I thought he wanted to throw me overboard. No one really talked about it, but that was when the temptations came up with cloud nine.
There were a lot of songs that I related to, like Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon or Mötley Crüe’s Public Enemy # 1,
to name some that weren’t mentioned herein.
I was a hidden star of those corn-and-bean fields as I labored next to the blacks at the cannery the summer after my graduation of ’73. That was where I fell in love with Dale, who worked there.
I added a mystique to my persona by attending Ohio State’s undefeated team’s loss to UCLA at the Rose Bowl around 1975. It was ironic because if it wasn’t for my baseball mishap, I might have been their quarterback. Then again, they might have all died from my murderer’s curse.
When I thought my cousin got laid by the horse-riding Mary, I felt he inherited my grandfather’s power and set me on some infernal course, as mentioned by Grandma on the phone: Ricky’s not a real Clough.
Of course, I think I’m real, so I set my course to help the black hole president as I cried at age thirteen at his funeral.
Then there was the black hole agent I created by breaking the laws governing the black hole president by surviving and then screwing the fold-up bed in the old Southern house. It would take thirty years, but she would both inspire and make me feel unrequited desire. The scenario was more believable than the movie The Mummy. Instead of a priest, the Egyptian princess was being escorted by a long-haired, muscular Roman gladiator.
I was locked up for so long that I conceived of there being assassins who responded to the slights done to the light by the sordid justice system.
I even wrote a poem about Hitler, who’d be told of the traitorous Japanese and dead German soldiers fighting against some of those yellow-skinned men in Vietnam.
What I conceived as Philosophers and Murderers was Natalie’s greatest movie because it was real with her disguised as Ezravita.
Now we conclude with a sonnet:
Over time the legions of God
Jousted with the Grand Inquisitor’s law
That which was lesser
Than what the greater foresaw
So I intuitively wrote
Of flowers heralding the valley of death’s maw
That was really the arising soldiers
Of the once-vanquished armies of God
This is how freedom grows
From the author who travels at 186,000 miles per second
In winning their release from this predicament
The same as I did in the rocket
To survive the dreaded prospect
Beyond yonder ridge lightning flew
Never-never land’s red hills
Where dwelled the behemoth
Overshadowing Pompeii’s mammoth
Tragedy this writer described honestly
Like the last battle of Rome
Where in the sky appeared a flaming sword
That marked the advent of Christianity
Whose religion taught we’d be reborn
The way I’d always be a fighter
If one doubted the present pyre
This was an expansion of the initial poetic and prophetic line ending with poetic dearness.
The nature of the world is Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, so I’d become Dr. No and Mr. Gold Bond, who could both be made to be considered good the way it might be for Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
I had a series of therapists in the last survivor’s facility called Foothill whenever I wasn’t in never-never land, and they all led me after around twenty years to the twin towers’ jail both before and after 9/11, which proved that it was founded on an inherent faultiness.
The apex of time is repeated over and over again, and the results can sometimes be different, like the Cathedral of God at the end of this book, condensing the original Speed of Light and the Maryland Prize.
After I escaped Foothill in 1989 just months before the Berlin Wall fell, I was repeatedly overdosed and was given more time for nearly thirty years until I surpassed the apex.
Isn’t it nice to see the men working?
was a remark behind a window in Price. If I heard it, it would make me feel strange.
True justice is the known that is unknown.
Metallica’s lyrics Off to never-never land
aligned itself with both the beast in my head as a boy and the area so named. The clouds appeared strange outside my window in SM, and the scroll I received at a special school made me tear it up in rage for reminding me of my unending perdition, which would have my visions make me a pauper.
My minimum wage saga began right after high school where I worked in Westwood with a pretty lady who might have been my first undercover FBI agent. I then worked at Rivera Golf Club during the tournament selling hot dogs that gave me a taste of richness reminiscent of my mother’s glitzy company Christmas parties where I was uncomfortable around the boss’s ravishing daughter, Janet Thomas.
I was visibly shaken in the west LA eatery after my graduation because Carrie, who used to be with me, wasn’t there by order of the higher powers that knew her dead half opposed me, which sent me to Maryland to recreate her.
I had a pretty teacher who lived next to me in SM that hinted at the classic story of romance and tragedy.
I also had a French girlfriend on Berkeley named Pat who got me off to my magical start. She left me by myself at the SM promenade one night, and my mother had to pick me up.
Good-looking women possessed an illusory power that often made them obstinate until they physically deteriorated. It was this fact I both loved and abhorred.
What follows are more complex depictions of events or impressions, either in prose or poetry, surrounding Clough at the apex of time.
THE WOODS
44528.pngSturdily they stand sentinel
Guardians of the sentimental
Including even venal acts that weren’t incidental
Their stoic postures are like a prism
Refracting light in different quantities
Making them appear light or darkly
Depending on one’s