Lunanity Love Life Cult Love Letter for Luna Book 03

By Steve Howard

Day 36 is the beginning of the book. But not much in the way of revelations or story.

Next day includes some space speculation and astronomical history and probabilities. It sounds all quite clever.

Sunday’s banter is mostly down to Earth, as they say. A mix of social and philosophic insights. We do explain how Eden got started. Not much detail.

Day 39 is a Monday. We spend a few moments in Namor’s head and we comment on current events.

Day 40 highlight was the moon as seen from my balcony. And a few things between it and me.

Next day we get a pretty, a little nutty, rant.

Day 42 was mostly working on photos so we go to day 43. More words are put into play on that Saturday. A bit of world reporting and making clear things one normally does not wonder about.

Sunday is for a short visit with the Erapa team with their neural lace implants. Used to be fiction in Iain M. Banks novels. Now they are being tested. Marry the humans to the machines. Is it a dangerous thing to do. Or. Is it more dangerous to not marry the machine and end up being at odds with it. This line of questioning gets looked at later, so wonder about it and keep reading. Some brilliant ideas will blossom in your mind as you ride the roller coaster of prose and philosophy.
Some reporting on the present and the past. And in our story, one of the missions of this lengthy love letter, Zauqir comes to meet the returning heroes and the Priest that has befriended Namor. There are many fish in the canal now that the water flows better.
Short visit to book two that is in suspended imagination. Zara has someone to interrogate. She kicks him in the face on this day for she wants to go to the jungle dome to hang with Artemis. She is up a tree feeding a baby toucan.
And for the present day record, it is the 13th of April. My home virus test was negative. See what it is at the not at home test tomorrow. If it is negative, I go for a walk, get some food. Maybe an ice cream.

May 13 was a bit of explaining why and what a love letter. The short of it is, if I imagine I am writing to my muse or love or both in one, it makes everything easy. Like writing to a real love. Hey sweetie. You are so fucking cool. I miss seeing you but on the other hand, who are you for real. And in this case. Tomorrow in real. But not a big deal. At least it is the way I am supposed to feel. But she knows. I see her glow. For she is truly a goddess. Now I am writing to you who is not Luna.
Anyhow. Soon, in the past, I am 60. Two more days. It only gets later as the days go by.

The 14th is quite a philosophical, in a space age way, enlightenment. And I mention I would say one way where we gonna meet aliens in this galaxy and I never did in all the book. Don’t think. Can you guess. Picture long into the future, humans evolving as they choose, for we have that knowledge and technology. Well, that’s it. We spread around the galaxy; the outer space is where the best real estates is. So we meet other descendants of LUCA evolved in some other direction. Aliens. Yet cousins. That will happen. And math may be our only way to communicate. Not for long. The hyper intelligent machines, what we also are, will deal.
The future is crazier than any mortal of 2022 can imagine. As long as we survive.

May 15 and I am 60. In 2020. And a prophet and a few other things. Science speculations and history.

I was away for 11 days up to the East Sea. So I am pissed off at nothing and will adjust tomorrow. Won’t talk about it. This is not a new book. It is just a long description of the love letter. Day 50 is a little rant on what in the world.

Day 51, which as we might have said could be out a day or two either way, is a wonderful improvised solo likened unto a Frank Zappa many minute wandering. It is somewhat apologetic yet scientific and nonsense. And it is proof. If well analyzed.

Next day is a wash out.

So on to day 53. An

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steve Howard
• Release date: Dec 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005429959

Steve Howard

Born in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada 1960. Moved to London, Ontario, Canada in 1967. Started playing hockey and piano. Went to Sir Wilfred Laurier High School and played the trumpet.Studied Architectural Technology at Fanshawe College of Applied Arts and Sciences. Started playing guitar and writing a little. On a trip to the mountains in 1982 with a friend I decided, or was awakened to the knowledge that I was going to pursue writing. Graduated 1984 and moved to Toronto.Moved to Saarbrücken, Germany in 1993.Have traveled many places in North, Middle and South America and Europe.Besides reading and writing also work on photography and music.

Book preview

Lunanity

Love Life Cult

Love Letter for Luna

Book 03

Steve Howard 773U5

PUBLISHED BY:

Steve Howard 773U5 on Smashwords

Second Genesis

Copyright © 2022 by Steve Howard 773U5

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission by the copyright owner and the publisher of this book except in the case of quotations embodied in critical articles, essays and reviews.

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Table Of Content

day 036 02.05.2020

day 037 03.05.2020

day 038 04.05.2020

day 039 05.05.2020

day 040 06.05.2020

day 041 07.05.2020

day 042 08.05.2020

day 043 09.05.2020

day 044 10.05.2020

day 045 11.05.2020

day 046 12.05.2020

day 047 13.05.2020

day 048 14.05.2020

day 049 15.05.2020

day 050 16.05.2020

day 051 17.05.2020

day 052 18.05.2020

day 053 19.05.2020

day 054 20.05.2020

day 055 21.05.2020

day 056 22.05.2020

book 03

day_036_02.05.2020

Hey Luna. Wow, this is crazy paper. Now I am confused. But never mind, I went through book 2. Some pointless platitudes. Just gonna report that it’s May 2nd. It was, or is now, a Saturday and when Friday is a holiday it sucks to need food. Especially if you say fuck it and go back to bed after getting up to piss. I almost never do. Not sure if I like this paper. It’s like writing on paper towel. I see I wrote with a pencil the other direction. I wanted to try not using a fucking ballpoint pen. But they are most efficient when it comes to calculating amount of pressure required. A pencil needs a little more time for each word. Also fine, but I prefer to glide over the paper with as little effort as possible on account it adds up after several hours. I don’t always write several hours at a time or even in a week. But sometimes I do and my fingers get sore and tired. Like if you played a musical instrument. Best find the smoothest approach so you can do if for hours at a time. Some days you will need it. For the sheer mad joy of it.

Your rivers are backwards.

Namor turned to look at the old priest. He nodded. He hadn’t thought about it. On Barbancor many small streams flowed into one big river. On Castle City Island all the water, fresh and salt, came from the middle of the island. The water was obviously pumped from the ocean. How was still unknown but the volume said so. From the machine, the salt water ended up somehow in the salt lakes and that water flowed in canals to the sea, making ship transport possible and easy. The coral reef suggested that it wasn’t the original purpose. A way had to be cut through coral. Don’t tell the environmentalists. The fresh water had been mostly used up in the Castle. As the castle came down, there was more fresh water to allow for building branches that travelled inland over what had been desert for a thousand years or so. After much work, the island was becoming green again. There was still more desert than green but the road along Canal 36 was fairly populated and very green.

___toc___

day_037_03.05.2020

3rd of May and in two days it is 5th of May on a Tuesday. A Ween song. Maybe you heard it. It’s silly and classic both. And it is about 09:09. I turned the hot water up to its limit. 55°. That ain’t so hot really. I like my morning face wash to be really hot. Melt everything and clear up my eyes. But so what. What about my stove. I have a gas heater in the basement. No gas can. Might have a hose I could use but I can’t get into my basement storage space. There was a path through the middle but that got filled up with what Stan called a couple papers. Mostly pointless shit. But it plugged up the space like a black head plugs up a pour. I went through black head and puffy zit terror. My grade 12 school photo was a fake before computers. Not clear how they did it. What were we on about, Luna.

I haven’t a fucking clue.

It’s just about 11:11. It is on my old one function battery powered analogue, wait, two functions. It also has a very annoying alarm. A real bell. I don’t know if the wife bought it or had it. Maybe I bought it for when I worked at gabb. Or I might even have if from gabb. Most of my furniture comes from gabb. Most of that, I made, some renovated. But never mind about furniture, time was the point of the rant. It’s moving, or we are running through it, far too fast. This is a consciousness phenomenon. Each day is relatively smaller in my life thus lived. One year is only a 60th of my life. It feels less significant then being 17 about to have a birthday in 12 days and therefore, in ’78, legally acquire booze. I was never a big fan of the stuff but like most teens at the time, I drank beer. And sometimes vodka. We are taught by the media that this is how to have fun. So we do. The friend I did much of my drinking with is dead now from drinking too much. Kills more people, causes more injury, broken homes with battered wives, fucks your health and motivation. It is one of the worst drugs. Lucky for me, I got on all right with grass. I was just remembering buying a quarter pound of Mexican home grown from a friend at school. I mostly knew him from table tennis. We had a couple tables in a fairly useless hallway near the auditorium and music rooms. I loved getting up to go to morning band practice. I’ve got three or four threads here and am bound to lose one or all very soon if I don’t get to it. I was getting up an hour earlier than I needed for work so I could do some typing every morning. Not sure what book but maybe the Barbaralba story. Or Aaron. We could talk of Aaron. I liked him. But we won’t. We perceive what we call the passing of time. I always feel I have to do something most days just so I have the feeling the day didn’t blow by with none of it being used.