Lunanity Love Life Cult Love Letter for Luna Book 26

By Steve Howard

381 in the next book. As tradition demands, and we do pay attention a little at the odd time to tradition, we start with a general introduction to explain what the purpose of the love letter is.

“My ass.”

And other parts, obviously.

382 is not for believers who are easily offended. Most are protective of their belief. Especially those who know the least. They will wear a cross, make motions to show they praise god. But will they take time to learn what they claim they believe. No. Almost no one has a clue. And yes. They make me angry. Pompous morons. Alas. If you are a religious idiot caught in a rigid paradigm you will be offended. At least you should be. If you, on the other fin, have some education, you may find it all rather funny. Be the latter.

Is it day 383. We will see. Much speculation and fantasy about a girl. All a little tragic with so many women out there in the real world. But a hermit monk doth abandon reality to create a fable that has the magic to mold the future.

Maybe that was 384. But so is this. Just that was 26th and this 384 is the 27th of May. And now it is next year. And soon the year after that. And eventually the big religions will be put in the myth category at the forgotten libraries and this will be your New Age Religion. It will still be a cult. But so are all other religions. Here, however, we will remind the reader, oh let us pray there are some, is reminded, we said that. Don’t forget not to believe. It is a necessary part of taking in the world. And oh, my friend, that is changing mighty fast.

Anyhow. The next day we escape from the weight of tedium locked in a home holding pattern to visit Eden. There we are at the town of Barbaralba’s birth. She and Artemis each kill a little shark. My Love.

385 was a day of revelations. As are most days. And something almost happened. Some oral sex just as a little fun for Namor. Help him concentrate at the game.

386 includes a fun little story in a Chinese restaurant where you can eat owl. Don’t do that. Stick to chicken and grouse. And we will get to lab grown meat. No brain, no digestive system. Just meat in a vat. Does it have nerves. Like a tomato. And I would like to have a sound barrier between me and my neighbours above and below. The one below is a video addict. And the games usually have a short loop. Over and over. Can you fuck off. It’s nice and sunny.

387 is likened unto sailing a luxury boat with a fair wind in the sails and a top cook in the kitchen, lover by your side, other lover having a little rest and you are in no hurry but have a good direction. Likely a Namor rant for the novel. Anyone interested in ideas about gravity. And some other multi directional ranting what is how the goddess guides the humble narrator. My Love.

388 is another day where we had a few things to say. Everything but our stories. Physics, philosophy and inspired wisdom from heaven. Can I make that claim. Sure can. Everything is heaven. Just some other word for universe.

389 I forget. Oh. Namor noticed Janja was teasing him but that’s something young women do. See if the men will look. And speculate. Happens at the fitness center. I’ve seen it in bars and clubs. In the streets. At shopping malls. In the sweltering heat of a desert beach. So to celebrate this ancient custom, I will have a nap and lament.

390 is a short ramble down where are we going lane. Next to the what is happening boulevard. Jesus and Esau save us from this mad lack of interaction.

Well, My Love, 391 is a lot of fun. We get some story telling in the mix. And maybe a laugh or two if you are relaxed and let the words take you on a trip. And that is the idea of a book. Even the holy books. The stories are a ride. When you put down the book, you put your belief aside. Them be the rules.

392 takes us on a little wander through somewhere. And there is some confession of love. How tiresome. Poor fellow.

393 is

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steve Howard
• Release date: Dec 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005488901

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 26

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 381 23.05.2021

day 382 24.05.2021

day 383 25.05.2021

day 384 26.06.2021

day 384 27.05.2021

day 385 28.05.2021

day 386 29.05.2021

day 387 30.05.2021

day 388 31.05.2021

day 389 01.06.2021

day 390 02.06.2021

day 391 03.06.2021

day 392 04.06.2021

day 393 05.06.2021

day 394 06.06.2021

day 395 07.06.2021

book 26

day_381_23.05.2021

Dear Luna: I am writing you a love letter while I wait for you to be old enough to read it. You are old enough now but it is not yet written and you, in theory, have no idea that I am writing a love letter that includes graphic language in reference to your body parts, specifically but not exclusively, your ass. This will not come as a surprise to you for you have made it known to me that you are aware that I am aware of it.

An extensive love letter cannot focus on your ass. It would make it inappropriate for school children. As it stands, this far, it would likely be recommended for children 12 and over in the country where it is being written. In my home country and the conservative folk still flying the we love Jesus flag to the south, we might have to say 16. But not me. I do not like censorship. It bends our perception. Random words are put on black lists for the youth. Believers will fuck but not use the word.

So thank fuck we are in Germany. Where language is not a topic. It is. People often talk about it for there are so many different languages in this town. We have a university and a music school. And some other things, such as computer programming companies that attract foreign talent. So as anyone would know who has read any of Luna’s Love Letter, we will not likely stay on topic long enough to get to the bottom of any large holes.

What is our mission, other than proclaiming dirty love for a young goddess. Da fuck if I know.

That ain’t true. I know a little. The edge of things. It is part of our mission to expose some light on those things. As a reminder, we started with instinct. When your fucking humble narrator was six. What the fuck. How come we are led to believe and told not to perceive. Well, slavery is why. Obey laws and ignore your evolution goddess given instinct.

We will not accept that. We will that you will know your will and don’t kill your will with a pill. Know your way and learn to play. That and gravity is conscious. Fucking freaky cool.

Another thing to take note of, in case you only have to write an essay on one book of this letter and thought this was a good one. You know something I don’t. I think 19 will be a favourite; it has the big action and discoveries. The note is that this is authorized by the goddess. That sounds like a fairy tale. It is. We live in a fairy tale. The fairy tale dictates all that we do. Don’t believe me. Read a thousand fairy tales and the holy books and the myths and legends. You will see. Or read this. I tell you.

After an emergency TEW dance. This is a Rush song. The Enemy Within. And if it ain’t too early or too late, I like to turn it up right loud. And dance with little regard for style. And if the window cover is down, stay naked. Luna. It is all your fault. You made me look for you and when I found you, you were six months old. No way I can keep my mind. So I proceed without it.

Yes, dear reader. She was my grandmother. She was my child and my memory of other lives is not good, but I know we go back a long way. And this will not be the first time that we are lovers.

What we were about to say before being pleasantly interrupted by rock philosophy, the sound of angelic music, was the relevance of this book. It is rough; it is Esau’s fault. He, that’s me, is a dirt bag old beast of the wild. That was in one of your fairy tales. Old fables in the holy book.

The Goddess, we as scientists call it gravity, she is the universe. A young universe. And she needs a story. So she chose me. A long time ago. And I have the job of telling a true enough story that she can use to make the future. So we can talk about sex and vile language and even smash a few things, like when Barbaralba has a fight. But it is all peacetime from here on.

It is a real thing. It is science and you can verify it. We are in the Space Age. Plus Sum Gain. We love and help one another and all become so fucking rich we don’t need money. Fucking nutty. And it is true. Many will be partly free soon. Like in Germany. Here is the start of real civilization. For the Germans got smarts and gonna get more with the end of war. So that is how come, at least enough to get you started, and I am her god. Jesus Moses Esau God Almighty. In love with Christina Lord Almighty.

On a fucking boring Sunday night.

___toc___

day_382_24.05.2021

May two four was what the boys called it. A two four is a classic box of beer. No one in their right mind drank Blue. Either 50 or Export. I was not in the club of 24 beer drinking. The boys that were part of my circle of friends from church, they were proud that they could drink that much. Fuck. Pen dying. Just like my three friends who thought they were men because they could drink large quantities of beer. And Peter was an excellent whisky drinker. Not with me. For he know I was not a fighter. He liked to get drunk and fight. Like the Indians. Go into town on a weekend and get into a fight. With anyone. There was always a willing participant. No not all Indians. And getting drunk and fighting was not the only thing my friend did. He also stopped fighting while still young. Went to wine.

Anyhowinger. It is Queen Victoria’s birthday that the Canadians got drunk on. It is likely something else here. Don’t think most German residence, other than those from the commonwealth, as I am, think much about Queen Victoria. I don’t much. For I have a dislike, a mild one, for fucking empires. King George, if I got it straight, was after Vikki. After George came the one they got now. Can’t think of her name. Ah. Lizzi. Elizabeth. She is still on it. Has been my life long. I’ve never met her. Those type don’t go in for my type. Holy thieving cunts won’t get me an invitation.

Would you like a cup of tea and have a chat about how England fucked most of the world. As in rape, pillage and slavery. Or what was it called. Colonization.

But whatever. That was the old standard fairy tale. Kings and Queens were the coolest things to be. Now only morons find that fun.

Drave King, eat my ass, we have to go soon.

Namor laughed and closed his history book and got to business.

What were we going to do, Luna, My Goddess, shall we throw some pearls at pigs. Or shave our heads to make wigs. We could go to the store for today it is closed. We could make some toast and pick our nose.

I will not last long here today. I got up late and that after crashing early. It was so blooming quiet here this morning. What is Whit. I saw it in the web. Today is Whit. Stay home. Better than covid stay home. And so as we see. There is nothing happening here with me. So I will stop this scribbling and let it be.

Fuck me behind a wooden bus stop in the rain just after the sun goes down, Tom came took me out of town. We drove up north, back roads most of the time. Found a couple places to have a little walk. Looked at hills and the things hills have on them. Trees, houses, wind turbines.

And curfew is over, in other news. But you know that. So next time I come over for fish we don’t gotta watch the clock. Hardly matters for I usually leave by 22:00. Nothing happening after that. Everyone back to slumber mode. So time for me to hit the road. Tomorrow I have many things I could do. And this Thursday might be warm with no rain. Would you like to go for a canoe ride. Take a tent. Do over night by the lake. Catch some fish.

Anyhow, My Goddess. I may have a not write much day. I am hungry and have nothing to say. Could have more toast or a can of fish I could roast. Oh. I have an egg. I know what I do. You fuck me and I fuck you. Oh, first I should write a fairy tale about the bunny and the ambitious snail.

I am faster than you, Little Bunny. All you do is lay in your hole trying to be funny. I challenge you.

Little Bunny was a friend of the happy Snail. He was in charge of the local mail. So the challenge was expected and the course determined. Mr. Owl would start the race, for he was the smartest in the forest and most correct. He would keep watch over the course.

Are you ready to go, you who are built to be quick and you who are built to be slow.

We are ready. My good friend.

On your marks. Get set. Go.

Well off went Bunny, thinking he was quite funny, he ran around the corner and hid behind a tree. Somewhere the Snail would not see. He read a book and had a cup of tea. He had a turd and a pee. Then he had a nap and filed his nails.

Mr. Wolf came to visit, for he knew of Bunny’s plan. All the forest animals had bet on Little Bunny. But Little Bunny put two carrots and a side of lettuce on the snail. Mr. Wolf bit off one of Little Bunny’s ears.

"He