Lunanity Love Life Cult Love Letter for Luna Book 30

By Steve Howard

447 is all fucked for a start. The blooming garbage truck and the symphony of off beat drumming and hydraulic screaming. So if you enjoy bitching and aren’t Baptist. Good fun.

448 We move Namor and Barbaralba through Havatara and up to Three Rivers. Barbaralba is invited to play with the orchestra. So they need some time to work on that. And Mark has a few IDs.

449 has some action. A concert on Eden and Mark goes to Athens to get shot and robbed. It was not his plan. He was hoping for a little more fun. Hot whores and cold drinks. So here we go with a little action.

450 The good news is, they found Mark. The bad news. He had no diamonds. But Anna Lucia is on it. She hacked into the city cameras, back when I was a kid, there were no such intrusions. Back in the old days. There was other shit to worry about. We had cameras when I grew up.

451 Jack and Tim collected Mark and with the help of a wheelchair got him to a car and then a private jet. Anna Lucia and Esau paid Sven a visit. We called him Luke once. He preferred Luke but he is out of our story already. For we are flying back to the USA.

452 Back in New York City and Lilly is still in Wyoming. So Anna Lucia invited Esau to her place.

453 Some proclamation of fairytale love and longing with a hint of despair and mental degradation. The degradation is not new. Inherited from generations of despondency from living as slaves or peasants putting hope in the potato crop and too much rain rotted them all. Now there is only foul mud. And bunny love.

454. Lilly had a meeting with the 12 sons and the one daughter. And 3 banks. Ms. Kuntz was so pleased with the Tim Reaper Foundation that she gave him, his team, a key, virtual really, to their private island. And Esau and Lilly are going to go.

455 Esau and Lilly have been left at the little island. No other humans. So they need not wear clothes and can do a little spearfishing.

“After sex.”

Yes, My Love. She gets right to it.

456 Maybe something happened. But we missed it. We had a little word dance.

457 It is a little difficult to concentrate, My Love. For before the reading of your letter today, I checked e-mail. And your mother wrote. And she seldom does if not to ask if I wanna be her driver. I know it ain’t time yet for your ass on my face, that’s part of the fairytale. I might look at it once. And other things. Barbaralba and Namor are riding east. Esau is with Lilly on the island.

458 Was mostly about mental instability. Barbaralba and Namor are now in Barbaralba Town. We did not report on the many days they had on the ocean side trail.

459 It is a hopeless situation for the narrator. He gets Esau and Lilly going at it like teenagers in grown up heads. What could come to pass if we find cures for aging. Stupid condition. Then again. Some people might be better off dead. Thinking of political folk. But mostly thinking of the goddess.

460 The Blakes have come to visit Barbaralba Town. So there is a shark feast. A gentle night on the beach. Other minor local news. Nothing much. Some speculations why a universe over nothing. The nothing can be theory.

461 Some dreaming of the woman of the future by a duck pond before getting back to our other future. And the astrophysicals have adjusted the age of the universe back to 13.75 billion.

“Back from what.”

13.8. And maybe that is a silly thing.

462 We had many photos on the weekend so the writing is short. A little break. Here in 2022 that break is coming to an end. The break from photos, I mean.

463 was a Sunday with far too many photos to work through and on.

464 We have a little run on words. No details about bowling but we were up there rolling a few lanes and filling a few pages and drinking a brew or two. Talking about anything.

465 It was a dark and lonely Tuesday. Despair was the only joy.

466 Some relaxing time in Narnok Harbour. And on Ea

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steve Howard
• Release date: Dec 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005339500

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 30

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 447 29.07.2021

day 448 30.07.2021

day 449 01.08.2021

day 450 02.08.2021

day 451 03.08.2021

day 452 04.08.2021

day 453 05.08.2021

day 454 06.08.2021

day 455 07.08.2021

day 456 08.08.2021

day 457 09.08.2021

day 458 10.08.2021

day 459 11.08.2021

day 460 12.08.2021

day 461 13.08.2021

day 462 14.08.2021

day 463 15.08.2021

day 464 16.08.2021

day 465 17.08.2021

day 466 18.08.2021

day 467 19.08.2021

book 30

day_447_29.08.2021

Dear Luna: I want to eat your pussy. That’s what I said to the girl in my dream.

What did she say.

She smiled. There was too much going on. A crowded house with the television right beside my head and I was helping her get dressed or changed to go out. Most of it was just random confusion but for the wide open legs with black jeans on and that look that you give me that tells me to say what I have to say. With you in the real, it is often. I love you. Even if I stopped to think if I should rather say nothing, you pull it out of me and other people hear me tell you. As they may have in the dream. But it was busy.

Anyhow. It is true. I want to eat your pussy and that is not the best way to start book 30 but the fucking plastic garbage truck is on the street making a fucking noise to make me wanna say fuck off already. Jesus fucking Christ and a swarm of flying fish. Da fuck is the deal with so much fucking noise. Fucking cunts can’t make goddamn fucking shit machine hydraulics that ain’t fucking screaming to lift little plastic cunty fucking boxes. Christ in a pool of cunt juice.

Maybe I will make an infant, unborn unfertilized cunt dropping. Fuck off already. Get a new fucking truck. Jesus. An egg. I will fry an egg. Now that I’ve made it impossible for Baptists to read this book. Let out a flurry of vagina stuff and they are out. But they don’t even accept evidence of gravity or evolution. So let the read, good fuck-bye goddamn plastic garbage truck.

Where were we before being terrorized by noise machines.

You want to eat my pussy.

Ah yes. We can assume it is Luna’s pussy. I would not likely say it to anyone else. Also not likely to Luna. Unless she pulls it out of me. What do you want, Little Bunny. With her legs wide open and I am between them on my knees. Then I would.

Anyhow. So we know the nature of the narrator. It is his dream to get the full show. The inspiration of the goddess and the contact to her vagina and other parts. So. A true romantic love life cult love letter science fairy tale love song.

The point is, Luna, My Goddess. No one knows what rules God made for how to walk and talk and who to kill and rape. That’s all bullshit. Justifying actions with a God flag is for cunts. Those folk need therapy. And it is why, if we had a why, what we don’t, we do not censor your love letter. We will Second Genesis mostly to have one book that is censored by the narrator.

Anyone who thinks they got god rules is wrong. Ya all gotta get your own brain tuned to your instinct. For instinct leads to love and follows the will of the goddess. Your honest will is her will. In my specific place and time, she wants me to want her. It is the primal desire for physical.

And a bouquet of bunnies and heavenly vagina smiling down at your face. Unless you like dick. Then may there be a big cock flying down at your from above. Or below. Or right there beside you. Will we mix our sex in the future. Add dicks to chicks. Some will. It is a fantasy of many men. Chicks with dicks. Just one. But likely retractable. Or extractable. Vaginas for men. Not likely. Men will go out of style. Who needs them. They just fuck shit up. Rotating sex. Be a man, be a woman. Be something in between. Or an android with no sex. A virtual reality being.

With a life support drone to feed it and make its body move and take a shower once a week. We will see. But not today. Not before we all eat some pussy or an egg over easy.

Luna. Egg was good but I think I missed the boat for going out. The day is fine but it is not mine. And I know I have two weekends in August where I will go out. Not in a boat but across the river up in the back yard of the castle. So many hours of people. Some will talk to me. At least on the first night.

That will be enough fun for this year. I may even drink a beer. Let the summer wind blow through my hair. Talk to a girl and not think to care. Maybe tell her I ain’t wearing any underwear.

On the other fin. Maybe I will see it as hopeless crying to the moon. A time that has come but a year or two too soon. Our dream put in a box and tied to a hot air balloon.

All these things and more for a buck 44. Get yours while you can. Soon it will rain or the woods will burn. The schools will be closed for there is nothing to learn. Take a pill, they say. Get down on your knees and pray. Pray the king does not chop off your head or fuck your virgin wife on your wedding bed.

Anyhow. We leave it for now. Now that we have slaughtered the sacred cow. Ate the pussy. Put out the cat. Flushed the day’s lunch down the toilet for the resident rat. Had a dream but was still awake. If I want a cookie, I will have to bake. This I might or perhaps I won’t. Maybe I need someone to tell me don’t. Don’t do it that way. Don’t do it like this. Don’t sleep at the rest stop or you will swim in piss. Get fucked by a sick stranger who does not care. Don’t say your name. Don’t ask him his. Just push it to find the jizz.

Oh, Little Bunny. You need a nap. Take some time to dream.

Remind me to look for my hand shoe. Otherwise known as a glove. I am wallowing. The Friday blues. The no nothing for news. The world goes by without me and there is nothing I can do but wait for news from you. But I can not be holding my breath, as they say, for I will be many times dead. I had a cucumber and pickle sandwich. Open face. The bread. Again I am out of apples. I may crack and open another banana. To help get down cookies I will not buy again. The chocolate is milk chocolate. How depressing. Like eating soap bubbles. Or a stale ice cream cone. The light weight kind from the old days. My dad never ate the bottom bit on account he found a bug or worm in the bottom of one once. So I don’t either. But more to avoid a bit of the sugar mass. And to be a little religious, I suppose. That is how religious rituals come to be. In our family, we don’t eat the bottom of the ice cream cone. Law for ever. Moses liked to say that. Law. I said so. For ever.

Oedipus did not mean to kill his father. As far as I can remember, he was god like and at the Olympic games threw the disc 5 times farther than the next best. I like it. Discus throwing. Not for me. I am too little, but to see the motion. Spinning around like a ballerina and brute force. Short burst of power. Thank fuck someone has a dog that they leave alone to cry for hours at a time. People should need to pass a test before owning a dog. Especially in a city. Dogs are pack animals and don’t like to be left alone. So for the blind or the lonely old folk or alcoholic but not dick alcoholics like some are. But I like the one guy that is always walking with his old dog. The two are both cool. Not the woman in the underground DM. She goes in to sit down and leaves the dogs outside to howl. Don’t fucking get a dog unless you are prepared to accept the consequences. Or move to the county and let the dog run with the wolves and coyotes.

And he would not have fucked his mother had he known. I would fuck my grandmother, well, I would be happy to have her fuck me. If she was reborn out of my this life family. If you are up for an old fucker. I am up for a young nana.

All right, Luna Love. We gonna have to cut our loses, as they say, and read a little pulp fiction. Don’t tell anyone. John C. is a cheese ball and follows the strict rules of Klee Shay. Like Dan B. However.