Charles Pendelton
      © 2008 Marty Langdon
Chapter 02

                  The mystical realm of Neptali Sable

The subtle manifestation would eventually grow into full blown delirium as I sat
erect on the edge of my bed, waiting for the room to clear, while listening to the
tone of barely audible voices begin a formal conversation in the empty room next
to mine. Encaptivated by the linguistic suggestion of words in prose, I was feeling
within my own spirit, an intense longing. Sounding to be in their mid twenties or
early thirties, I could surmise they were either literary students or teachers.

So articulate and gentle were their words, that I thought they might very well
be lovers. The susurrant sighs and whispers turned into moans and kisses,
indicating to me what I had first appeared to believe was true. Soon an
altercation would develop between them over something as insignificant as a
pen, and without warning this small quarrel escalated into a full fledged brawl.

The intonations were so pronounced, I feared Mother
would come rushing into my room and blame me with, 
“What’s going on?” (((and))) “How dare you!”

<<<<<<<< But nothing >>>>>>>>

The room then became deathly quiet.

As a resonating chamber would resound in tunes distinct, so did these vocal tones
emanate in range, charged with fury. The pulling of hair and the shoving fueled
so much contention, the sound of brute slaps could be heard. A table lamp fell
crashing to the hardwood floor, but made no echo. If I tried to listen, they would
stop. Then a mild repose quieted the bickering and the argument ceased. Without
warning, the bathroom door slid from one side of its wooden frame to the other,
then back again. The shower turned on, and I would now hear the distinction
between reality, and a delusional mind locked in paranoid mode.

While the orchestration of time formulated new theories, a contingency plan was being
woven. Layered in vibrant colors, I ran my hands along the smooth bed sheets. My abstract
world was becoming increasingly strange, and it almost seemed as if I were breathing in one
lung and out the other at the exact same time, while my heart pounded within a celestial
cage of protoplasm and bone. Like a statue I sat, unable to move; frozen in time by worry.

I began to fidget like an autistic child and came to the undeniable conclusion, that I had
smoked too much, too soon. Nothing could be worse than that feeling of over intoxication.
The terrible sensation of my legs melting away, and my body hurling helplessly into space.
My entire soul was now affected and undulating. Like a stone cast into a still pond, I
could feel my very spirit rippling, as it disengaged from the housing of its weary temple.

                                                 Jarvis Street Revue - Sally's hymn

                                                              Pg 6

The gasping cries of sadness were those of utter sorrow, in a room where fact and fiction
overflow. Where everything relevant pulls apart, and the consortium of anguish grows. An
affliction of time and balance imprisoning one's own free will shall utterly incapacitate the
mind by striking the defenses of reason. A margin of error, equivalent to the summary of
fact, shall be duly noted, for the movements which have no shadow are illusion based.

There is a separation of time. . .

Their words become as distinct as the empty mollusk housing that had once graced
my hollow ear canal. Frequencies tuned to a channel, not of this earthly realm fade
away. As the voices become lower, there is a form of resolve. I can almost hear a
slow rearranging of furniture being pulled back and forth across the dull and dusty
timeworn floorboards. Until at last, the meek sound of whimpering was comforted
by an amiable and loving embrace. As the shower curtain was pulled back, the
shadows of time dissolved in a shell of inner peace, comforting my thoughts
where I now lay, blanketed and trembling under the covers of my soothing bed.

A remedy for the ailment which had now begun to plague me.

Icy on the
inside and feverish on the outside,
I shuddered in a harrowing state of over induced stupor.

Wasn't that always the case, when I got just a little too high?

A sigh of relief came when the morning yawned deeply, summoning the clouds of resinous
smoke in a semi circular motion up into the atmosphere and away from my room. Beneath
the covers was dark, and so my mind showed me what my eyes could not see.

Indiscernible notions eclipsed my fictitious room,
where the division point for the exact medium rested.

In a manner of speaking, if the world were to be cut in a perfect half,
from one end to the other, then my bed
would in fact, be its equator.
Actually, anywhere we stand on any given day could be the equator.
It's the person on the upside down side that needs to do the measuring.

                *Indeed I was a stoner, hung out to dry in the rain*

As I gradually begin to drift away, I can see the impression of an eroding shoreline.
The magical shore of Cairedon is within reach, for I am the dreamer who chose to
invoke its name.
 And as I willed it closer, I contemplated that alluring beach.

The silken sand of creamy white, had a moderate infusion of stramineous hues
projecting its color toward a radiant wheatish yellow.

While in exile, I found peace.

Silently, I imagined staring at the imperial tide coming in off the ocean.

Gazing out upon an infinite sea that seemed to go on forever, I visualized
the geographic area where everything stopped to become itself once more.
It stopped the moment my eyes found the back of my head.

           Hey, is that really me?

Again, I found my thoughts obfuscated within a veil of
illusive dreams where I was left to ponder questions
that could never be answered by mortal man. . .

How many men have lived and died?
How many tears has a woman cried?
How many widows are there in this world?
How many parentless boys and girls?

How many insects live underneath?
How many grains of sand on each beach?
How many raindrops have fallen down?
How big is Heaven?

                               Maurene - What and why

Only God knows the answer to these questions left unsaid, and what the hell
was I trying so hard to learn? To comprehend the impossible is madness and
besides, in the length of time it takes for the hand on my watch to move one
second, the outcome has already changed dramatically. “Mystical rhetoric,”
I blurted aloud in my distorted lair. Where an equal portion is longer than
its counterpart,
those equations can only be measured invalid.

                 Tomorrow - The incredible journey of Timothy Chase

                                                              Pg 7

What is longer than infinity, I thought?
The answer is in the hemisphere of the probe.

If something does not end which had once started, then it
is safe to assume that if we stopped it now, we could indeed
measure it from beginning to end, therefor measuring infinity.


Since it keeps on growing as does the cosmos,
          the end is, in fact, its beginning
    for the center goes on forever as well.

That's it I thought, half is the end of never!

It was right about here, where I had to control myself from
up and down the block screaming, “I found the answer
had plagued the world since the creation of time!”

“It was me!”
“I found it!”
“I did it!” 

                                           Half is the end
of never!!!

The more I dwelt upon this, the more hysterical and confused I became
until the round ball of string in my head slowly began to unwind. Curled
like a cat in his sleeping quarters, it
all made sense to me now.

*Zero equals more than its sum*

As vague imagery and minute recollections flooded my mind at an alarming
rate, there was nothing I could do but allow it to happen. I had absolutely no
control of the situation whatsoever. The zephyrs came and went, and I never
saw them at all, for I was in hiding. Like a primal creature in the earliest
stages of its development, I would wait until it was safe again to resurface.

After some time, my condition was once again stable, and so
I calmly unwrapped the sheets and coverings which secured me.

I gathered some sparse seeds together that had eluded me by rolling away
moments earlier.
Not knowing what to do with these scoundrels which would
surely form the basis of an inquisition, should I be caught with them, I
the only logical thing, that in my opinion, served any relevance at all. . .

                I put them in my mouth, and I ate them.

No evidence meant no crime committed, and it wasn't long after this where
I felt as free as a starling in an amaranthine sky to travel where it be I may.

In contemplation, my mind reflected the years which had sailed away.

Similar to a lost Clipper ship, inside the bottle that never moves from
my dresser; time is but a double-edged sword. In pleasure, it is swift
and just, and in pain it just keeps on cutting. Sparing no one from
the absolute resolve that is yet to come; our grim demise.

Standing up, I decided to casually examine the elaborately detailed
hand-blown glass bong for superficial marks or scratches attributed to
an occasional mishandling. Back in 1979, I stayed at my father's house
in New Dorp for the summer months. No curfew was ever imposed, and
no rules were ever enforced. At a very odd and eclectic place called,
The Merchant's is where I purchased the extravagant

It was more like a head shop back then with every novelty a pothead
could ever hope to stumble upon, right within arm’s distance. Where
the presentation of items were thoughtfully arranged in paradisiacal
order, and anything could be bought by anyone; no questions asked.

Along the glass display case, I can remember seeing those shiny steel
N2O cartridges of nitrous oxide called whippets, surrounded by a vast
assortment of rolling machines and every color of rolling paper one can
imagine. Petroleum ether in delicate brown bottles to inhale as soon as
you exited the store. Ahhh, the gentle high of breathing ether straight
from the bottle, and the memories that would be formed almost instantly.
I never used a rag, as I had an endearing respect for the solvent. It was
a magical drug for me, and besides, I would always yearn to be in control.

Nowadays, the only place you are likely to find a store like that
would be in
the basement of some reclusive East Village shop.

Looking around the room made me feel somehow, intranssient.
Completely remodeled was I now, for the incoming tide that had
once crashed to the shoreline carrying despair, pulled back again
leaving a shimmering trail of illustrious sea weed to sparkle like gold.

“Fashioned from air was thy kingdom and steadfast my home!”

I chortled in my head these words that bemused me.
An asseveration that should only be uttered by one
residing in the confines of a state mental institution.

                                                                Syd Barrett - Opel

                                                              Pg 8

"Inkpop" reviews for chapter 2

cara_ruegg - "they might be very well be" ? I think you made a tinsy mistake in
that sentence. Other than that though this chapter is even better than the first.
once more beautiful imagery and descriptions. I am very much impressed. I'll
probably end up putting all your chapters up on my picks. lol.

isabella2296 - The whole concept of this is fantastic, and I love your incredible imagery.
You have incredible talent! Keep writing!

Mcrae by Nature - Yay, you have a chapter two up here. Last time I read chapter one,
it skipped over to chapter three. "I felt strange, as if I were breathing in one lung and out
the other at the exact same time." I really fell in love with your writing in this chapter.
I loved the imagery and how you described you bed being the equator of your room. This
was all so brilliant. There is such a rare quality to your writing. Can't wait to read more.

"Worthy of Publishing" reviews for chapter 2

Katie Mae - Very interesting! Can't wait to read more! *rating = 5 stars*

Don Brennan - Half is the END OF NEVER!

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