Lohbado went into shock and forgot what he was trying to say. He got confused about confusion and never realized he was confused. A melanoma, blue, brown, patches of green and black spread over the side of his skull and encroached on his forehead.
To make a frothy cup of coffee and then to be able to say you made a pot of frothy coffee from freshly ground beans boosts the morale as Lohbado tried to find a moral to a story which perhaps had none. Lohbado, after coming in from the cold, glanced in the mirror and saw to his horror bodily fluids in his beard, leakage from his mouth and particles of sneeze. He immediately understood the importance of carrying paper towel to frequently wipe his beard when going out in winter.
The following episode occurred at the end of summer, when Lohbado and Jane took a two week vacation in the countryside of rolling green hills, rocky escarpments, valleys, lakes and rivers. It felt good to get out of the city, to unwind and let cramped, tense city thoughts dissolve into the vast panorama of the country.
Lohbado drove to a corner store in a three hundred-year old village along a side road and ordered enough coffee to fill his thermos. He parked his old pickup truck in front of the store, paused to read the posters on the bulletin board on the veranda, then went in. He liked the tinkle of bells on the door that swung closed after he entered the store.He enjoyed the creaky sound of hundred year old floor boards in a perhaps two hundred year old building. Of course, he was quite capable of making coffee at home.
After paying for the coffee, he drove to the reservoir. He walked across the cement top of the dam and gazed down at the water, a deep pool on one side, a huge vertical drop over cement walls to the rock below and a stream flowing out of the dam on the other side. Don’t get dizzy. A bit of vertigo happened as he walked across the dam and gazed into the distance at the rolling green hills and valleys. Lohbado enjoyed being in the countryside.
This is Lohbado’s adventure in the land of something or other. He did something, which could be explained in many ways. When overwhelmed with possibilities, he began with language, breaking it down into words and letters. Many of Lohbado’s thoughts occurred as language. Phrases and entire sentences flowed endlessly through his mind, a chaos of word, from some sort of infinite psychic reservoir of language. He broke down each letter into shapes and lines, into stem, bowl, descender, ascender, serif, finial, spine, crossbar, terminal. Letters came to life.
The word Lohbado is a good example. The L could be used as a pick to loosen the earth before digging a hole. Use B as a spade. When tired of digging, pull up a small h to use as a chair. Sit on the small h and eat an A then glance into the O orifice opening hole in the ground that you just dug. Or use the Os as wheels. Attach to Os to the small h to make a wheel chair. The possibilities are endless.
Before jumping into another love story episode, Lohbado reflected on his name. An effective way to be grounded, or to affirm one's sanity, is to repeat one's name. It's important to know your name and it's good to know the names of the people around you. I really want to know your name. I need to know your name. What is your name?
Son of OG, Lohbado was a son of OG. Og comes from the word DOG, or god spelled backwards. His biological father was Stonehenge, but his Moronovian father was Og the father. His father’s house had large white wooden windows, removed and stored in the garage, when replaced with screen windows during summer. The storm windows were heavy. They attached to the window via a hole and peg system at the top. The window then could be swung into place and secured with hooks. One had to do this at the end of a long ladder, when doing the second story windows. One had to lean back, window in hand, without falling off the ladder. Lohbado watched his father Stonehenge do this twice a year for many years, until eventually the windows were replaced with aluminium-framed windows in 1975.
Ok, now for the romance, another episode in the ballad of Lohbado and Dr. Jane Wormsly. Or perhaps you're getting tired of this. Everyone knows what it's like to fall in love, to get high on passion, to feel satiated, then irritated and then to want one's own space. So many factors need to be in place for a perfect love story to occur. Romantic love is so fragile. The least clumsy gesture, mindless word or unpleasant smell is enough to extinguish a libido that was ready and raring to go. The mood has to be just right, the room carefully prepared, everything in place, but not so orderly as to make one tense. It has to be casual, relaxed, but not too casual or relaxed. There has to be some sense of desire taking place, but not so overpowering as to be gross, like a pig going after a pile of corn. It's good to squeal, but to be careful to use the right vowels and not too many consonants, otherwise, it might be weird.
Lohbado and Jane gazed into each other's eyes with great longing, after Lohbado finished his thermos of coffee at the dam and visited her at the appointed time in the house they were renting off the beaten track. They sighed and fell into each other's arms, then closed the door.
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