Sims in writers group

Of a SIMS in a writers group, in it all of the members of the group finally meet in a meadow, this is my part which I can share with you.

Ok, as I said, this is my little trip that now is yours also, btw, I have enjoyed this trip we are sharing, maybe I haven’t said much to praise or comment, but I have you very present in my thoughts, thank you kindly, so here’s sim # n...

...suddenly, a lonely, wistful tune flows like quicksilver through the dusk. Culann and a few of the others felt the song’s words in their mind... “my love, you do me wrong, to treat me so uncourteously,” the tune is so haunting it leaves no room for thought. Silver casts about, trying to find the source of the music. Gregory and RJ spy rob by the Sacred Giant Oak, recorder on hand spewing forth the liquid magic. In the light of the dying bonfire, his face is radiant as if in an ecstatic trance. As the next tune follows, as if a hologram, a scene starts to unfold. Lady wonders, How can he play the recorder and sing at the same time? Culann and Silver recognize what they see as the Cliffs of Doneen. ...But of all the fine places that I've ever been

Sure there's none can compare with the cliffs of Doneen.

Take a view o'er the mountains, fine sights you'll see there

You'll see the high rocky mountains o'er the west coast of Clare

Oh the town of Kilkee and Kilrush can be seen

From the high rocky slopes round the cliffs of Doneen.

Oh, but it’s not only Irish songs, ‘Something’ by ole’ George, may God show him finally the peace he so craved, ...something in the way she woos me, I don’t want to leave her now, you know I believe and how....Darlene cries silently, a tear traveling the curve of her cheek. “I’m finally finding I am home, no matter where I am. I’ll be with Cristal, Dad will be Ok, until he’s not Ok, and so it is with us all. Thank you my brother for fathering Dad for awhile, I’m just so tired and a little guilty for...No! Never guilty. We do what we can... what we must for others, but we also must do what we can for us.” Mathew looks at her full of devotion, lovingly tracing the tear’s path. “Are you Ok?” Darlene melts into his caress, basking in the feeling of being completely in love. “Yes, love. The music got to me in a beautiful yet sorrowful way, that tear was of Joy, I know I am home now with you, with my earthly family swathing me in their love. Things are as they must be now and forever. The tear is sorrow, tomorrow we must all move along. I would love to have the power of giving people the world over who are now suffering a night like tonight. God thank you for this extra time you have granted me to share yet another gift. Such peace, such quiet, such...Hey, where’s the music coming from, I wonder....let’s go see!” “But I thought you were tired, my love...”

“I was, but we have rested some, let’s go see what those lovely looneys are up to.” Taking his hand, she kisses it, and as the warmth spreads through him in waves of the tremendous capacity for love that his Queen has, “I’ll travel with her to the end of the world, and if this were my last instant, I’d go happily, in the little time that we have shared, I have received more love than in my whole life. As they walked toward the fire, the last of the melody lingers in the air as someone who said much, but has not yet said it all. The smiles on everyone’s face says more than words could ever recall, we are ecstatic and grateful (and a little bit stoned), to be able to regroup together in this orgy of fantasies, where we finally met each other and found that their on-line persona was as sincere as their real selves, no false projections.

Pamelita, shuffles over to Darlene, radiant in her peace, guitar in hand. “There are a couple of country songs that I’ve been working on, mommy, can we produce them once and for all?” Darlene thinks it’s a good idea and anyway, Rob’s taking a break. He wanders over with his pipe trailing that incense-like smoke. Of course, he smokes his drink. He sits on the ground, recorder neatly slipped in his waistband, near Culann, presiding the pavilion, the scars of his battles giving his face a look of fierceness. Darlene and Pamelita’s voices complement and enhance each other, and the sisters voices are chorusing to form a mesh that surrounds the pavilion cocooning us all within.

Rob offers Culann his pipe. “What, a peace pipe?” I really don’t indulge in the wacky weed, but....

Rob: “You want it to be the peace-pipe, sure why not. Let it be the peace pipe. I have no peace to make with you, I never had a fight.” (Culann smiles to himself, he had seen this coming). “This peace I share with you” drink a smoke, man. If you are not used to it, a little won’t scramble your brain, to me, it’s inspiration. I’ll tell you what our problem was, Chuck, you are so like my grandfather, a bit arrogant, you believe you are better than others, and why not? You are, and you won’t say this openly, but you will if they rattle your chain. I should know, he raised me. And yes, I batted horns with him as he was the only role-model I had, and the only authority to rebel against. But under that stoic facade, there was a heart bigger than the mountains and more tender than soft baby skin. And that I also saw in you. And that is why now, like it or not, we are family, ok?”

Culann, “At first I thought you were another of those floozies that abound in the writers groups. Pasting some old poem or writing and expecting everyone to praise you and say “how pretty!”, I’ve come across so many of them...as far as I’m concerned, it’s just masturbation.”

Rob, “Hey, don’t knock it, masturbation is a valid form of pleasure.”

Culann, “Yes, but isn’t better than the ‘real thing’.”

Country voices soar in the air like Aurora Borealis coloring the scene, Mommy, Pamel, and the sisters are having a grand ole’ time, Bear and Billy give deep tones to the musical fabric.

Rob, “it might not be as good as the real thing, but sometimes there’s no better. You see, it’s funny but I’d have these funny discussions with my dad, like once he was telling me not to go around home naked (we lived in an Island in the Caribbean, out of the city amid native islanders, lots of room between houses) because the neighbors always had someone looking out their window to see what others were doing. Hell, this is my freedom, I didn’t ask the neighbors to be out looking, and so if they need to see something, they might as well see something! I’m not an exhibitionist, I don’t derive a secret thrill, -or maybe a little- from others seeing me naked, I just love to be, never wore anything to sleep, unless I was made to. Then he would start with morality. -Crap, morality is crap-. Dad would then go on with, there have to be a set of preambles and stops to guide us or it would be Anarchy. -Well, why then can’t a person go around naked or is wearing a bikini to the beach better than going naked?-

Because then, you can undress her in your imagination. -Yes, and then make love to her in your imagination, what a waste of time! That’s so much hypocrisy. Typical of our society: let’s make noise about something stupid, like we saw Marylin’s panties, let’s not think of Viet-nam, or our children dying on foreign soil for a cause that is not even ours. Look, if the neighbor sees me naked around the house, she can either ignore me or enjoy the view.”

Culann, “ok, Rob, we’re going to agree to disagree, let me have that piece of pipe and smoke another drink.”

As the last waves of angelic melodies wash over everyone, Rob pulls out his recorder and starts weaving a melody that all recognize, some hum and break into song

An Irish Lullaby

Me Mither sang a song to me

In tones so sweet and low.

Just a simple little ditty,

In her good ould Irish way,

And l'd give the world if she could sing

That song to me this day.

Chorus:

"Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now, don't you cry!

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, that's an Irish lullaby."

Oft in dreams I wander

To that cot again,

I feel her arms a-huggin' me

As when she held me then.

And I hear her voice a -hummin'

To me as in days of yore,

When she used to rock me fast asleep

Outside the cabin door.

We look at each other and know the time to head for dreamland is come. So much we’ve learned in the past few hours and looking toward the heavens we give thanks, humbled by the great celestial sight, to have been granted this time to be with each other, to share as we had never shared before, to acknowledge each other as great and worthy of being called “my friend, my love.”