Lunanity Love Life Cult Love Letter for Luna Book 14

By Steve Howard

In between 13 and 14 was Christmas. The 24th in Germany. And I was at the home of friends. Was I noticeably in love. For some, perhaps. So on to the next day.

219 Traditional Christmas day. I am remembering the goddess and how she shines. And we noticed a couple of our characters.

220 she inspires me. As much as she makes me into an idjit. And this entry has a good flow. Jack has Pete Moss in interrogation. Messing with his head about the bad things he did. Lilly has arranged to meet Esau, or do we still call him Jimmie, and Anna Lucia in Goa. She ain’t there yet and nor be her people. Her bounty hunters.

221 Barbaralba and Namor are taking a canoe trip on the new river. New that it went all the way to the ocean. They plan to take their time.

222 we find a place to camp, that is the Namor and Barbaralba we, and wonder about instinct. And a few other philosophical questions. There is a bit of a mish mash from the now and the future. The narrator is either confused or in love.

223 Namor does some thinking while enjoying some peaceful time with Barbaralba along the river. Plants, especially trees, the wood, is yet sparse. It is also no longer desert. The land was coming back to life. And Namor pondered about the chances of intelligent life that could do such a thing. Against all the odds. While he looked at Barbaralba and knew she was a goddess.

224 Descendants of the beasts and ancestors of the gods. The human story. Another title for a book. Or essay. Or this love letter. Will there be a time when the gods forget they were beasts. There are those who as humans have forgotten. Or they pretend. Are we to be ashamed. The TV says yes. Most religions say yes. And I, the beast, say no. Our inheritance is 4 billion years of life. We are the beast that we fear. Which is blooming silly. For it is the beast that will inherit the stars. Or as Jesus says, reach out and take it.

225 it is New Year’s eve on Earth. Your narrator home alone. Barbaralba and Namor watch and listen to a piano concert and are also guests of Patricia and Ryan. And in Goa, where we have our five characters, Jimmie, who is the lover of Anna Lucia, an all new thing in his life, they have a nice New Year’s Eve party and Lilly gives Jimmie a serious tongue invasion kiss. Nearly floors him. For she is the boss of bosses. No one says no to her for the word makes no sense when she makes her demands.

226 has Barbaralba and Namor walking into North Bridgetown to visit and party with Hanas. They got lucky and saw a Trip concert. We call them The Blakes later. As in William. If the Doors of Perception were cleansed, man would see things as they truly are: infinite. And you can even ask an astrophysicist to help you see that. When this universe is done, even space time and gravity will all be vanquished. And that is the same as how it was 13.8 billion years ago. “Through the circle fast and slow; till forever on it goes.”

Took a short break to read book 34. Good fun. And back here on the next day. This entry is digging for a point in a bucket, a big one, of dark matter. Dark matter isn’t dark. And we talk of gravity as a thing but is it. Does it really exist. Like the Zen master says: yes and no. Do not jump off building. Space time is bent. And that is it for now. 13th of July 2022.

Next day is the shot gun method, the one with a shell full of salt and shot up in the air over a huge pot of potatoes being prepared for the multitude of Lunatarians come to see the live music and see the end of Pete Moss and love for the galaxy. That sort of thing.

229 a peppering of clever and a bit of anger. With some contact with the people of Eden. A little discussion about sports and Zarathustra informs Barbaralba she has a challenger. She is not so excited but I suspect she will be up for it.

230 It’s tomorrow as I write this little note and I saw the real version of the fantasy today. It was natural and easy. Saw som

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steve Howard
• Release date: Dec 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005655488

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 14

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 218 24.12.2020

day 219 25.12.2020

day 220 26.12.2020

day 221 27.12.2020

day 222 28.12.2020

day 223 29.12.2020

day 224 30.12.2020

day 225 31.12.2020

day 226 01.01.2021

day 227 02.01.2021

day 228 03.01.2021

day 229 04.01.2021

day 230 05.01.2021

day 231 06.01.2021

day 232 07.01.2021

day 233 08.01.2021

day 234 09.01.2021

day 235 10.01.2021

book 14

day_218_24.12.2020

We start Book 14 with no breaking just to see how the paper feels under this cheap pen. I might have a piece of pie to keep me stoked until Dinner time.

That was a long night. And I love hanging with your family at Christmas. I ain’t been so long anywhere for, well, since the odd time in the Studio when there is late night DJ in the basement. Also fun. But I really like it when I can interact with you. You used to be so cute. Not no more. Ah.

But you know.

So let’s get back to a story. My love.

Once upon a time, there was a frog what lived by a lake and he was a she but called herself Jake.

Luna. Slow down on the cup size.

What.

I won’t write. Just thought I would say good night and mention that I’m glad lockdown didn’t keep me at home.

___toc___

day_219_25.12.2020

Barbaralba stood in front of a mirror, something Namor could not remember witnessing, but glass production had made a quantum leap and mirrors were now common. And with many more mirrors one tended to look at one’s self more. Barbaralba could see Namor watching her as she attempted to make her breasts fit into the top designed to focus on the virility of the human form. It was not a clothing she was used to. She had not been exposed to dining. Also much different since the castle had been distributed through and beyond the villages all the way to Barbancor.

At last, Barbaralba was pleased with the positioning of her breast, well aware that Namor would be preoccupied with his imagining in his mind every time she looked at him.

Barbaralba turned a 360°, with her equally sheer skirt.

Beautiful.

Thank you.

For my own future reference, and I don’t know if you noticed, and I can’t remember if I wrote it, for now that I think of it, I didn’t bother reading the last book just to see it start. Ask me or read it. To me.

You used my name. Dropped it in, Stevie. Nothing against your most beautiful body, at least not too much at time of writing. You hear your mother call me that. A few do. I like a variety as well. But that went down real smooth.

Pete Moss had spent every Christmas with his mother, up until he was put in a holding cell. There the Christmas treat was a glazed doughnut and an extra portion of coffee. It made him hopping mad. He wanted to kill someone but the 4 other humans within reach were all uninteresting subjects. Two others were in a drunken sleep. The result of trying to kill the pain of loneliness at Christmas. And if they don’t have the luck that your narrator has to have a playful yet attentive angel to keep away the constant dread of isolation in deep dark space. The other two were just too fucking big.

Because it was so written.

Jimmie and Anna Lucia were pleased with their Christmas Eve dinner with the Reapers. They enjoyed one another’s company and the little city. For Christmas day they gave each other slow gentle attention. And best we not bother with the details. So we will catch up with them tomorrow when they are back on the boat.

The truck of Pete Moss was found on Christmas, the other side of the world, so a half a day later. It was loaded on a truck and taken to Jack’s people to have a look for any human DNA that was dead. If not DNA, maybe some other hints that the man with the dog was the guy that killed people. Or as Pete Moss called them, Satan’s little helpers.

I didn’t refrain from telling you I love you. It was in the game. You were right in front of my face trying to get me to guess something, for it was the nature of the game. I think you started it with: I. Then left it open and it was automatic.

When’s the love letter finished. So we can get on with it.

Hoping for 2023. At least for the novels. But that is a couple years away. If this year was an indication, it be 2024 before you can cum twice.

My grandmother was pregnant with my mother when she was your age. I don’t think that is why I asked you. Just random curiosity. Code talk I don’t even understand till later. One might guess, to make a holy fable.

___toc___

day_220_26.12.2020

In me home land, today is boxing day. Not sure if it’s so all the shit you don’t want gets put in boxes so you can return it to the stores for a refund, or if it is the day for brothers and sisters to have it out after the crash that comes after Christmas. And, if you are wondering if it matters. No. I made a fish, trout, soup yesterday. Today it is wonderful. Not like the wonderful that I feel when you interact with me. It would be unfair to the dead fish, or anything else, soya sauce, peas and rice.

Detective Jack.

What. You got something.

Only animal blood. He has his hunting licenses.

And the hand gun had not been used in a crime on any data bank. They wouldn’t keep him long on that. But the fucker ran. He didn’t need to. Jack figured he would get a confession. Recorded. For that he needed to be relaxed. Yelling at Pete Moss would be pointless. He was a Christian soldier. A man proud of his work.

I need a few murders that are wrong.

All of them are.

Not what I mean.

Jack searched the open case files. Christian mother of three. Perfect. It was the right wrong. Too much apple pie no touch territory. He looked for another good case a little older. He found a young nun. Almost too good. He would hold that card back. He looked for one more dating the year before. A teenage social worker. She wore braces and played the flute and sang in the church choir.

Jack waited for the files to be brought to him in paper form. That meant the printing of a few pages and a few photos. It would take longer to get the fucker in the, shit, what’s Verhörraum in English.

Anna Lucia put her nose into Jimmie’s armpit. It was her fault. She laughed and rolled back on her back. They had been naked all day, mostly having sex or something that was really just a lighter form of sex. Something that one might hardly notice. Unless you were one of the two. Then you would notice everything. And everything would be a sexual game. Because that is how wild creatures behave. Jimmie wasn’t permitted shower allowance. He was okay with it. He played the guitar for an hour and Anna Lucia figured she