Yesterday I invoked the name of the Hierophant while texting to Peter Shapiro yesterday. Peter learned of this, man, while we were roommates in Oakland. I was working on my second painting of Rena Easton – as the High Priestess! By a waterfall I said this to her;
“I don’t want to fuck you anymore! My mind is filled with dark plots born of low self-esteem. We haven’t talked. I don’t’ know who you are. You don’t know who I am.”
Rena – beamed!
“You are the first person that has ever talked to me!”
What she was saying, males were so intimidated by her beauty, and radiating intelligence. they were afraid to reveal anything about themselves, lest they be disqualify from – The Carnal Fuck of The Century! Our First kiss – remains a magnificent event!
I awoke this morning with this truth….Jesus and Meher Baba – ARE DEAD! And, there is no real evidence they are communicating with any mortal – from hither side! I have been, there, and now I am here! No one dare ask me what I saw. I saw Beauty beyond compare. Before I died I saw the Battle of Armageddon – that is unfolding right now. And no religious leader dare talk about it. The Sneaky Leader of the House – snuck away to Florida to see The Sneaky Pee-Pee Man convicted of bribing a porno star, about how to get his power – in order to destroy THE ENEMIES OF JESUS! And the Pope says nothing and does not condemn the murderous rabbis of Israel. Are you folks – insane! This is – YOUR LIFE! Take a chance – and speak your real mind! What the hell do you want? You don’t want religious freedom, or, want how things used to be. How can any Jew accept these things – with the bombing of babies and pregnant women? How can any American accept these things from a Grand Liar and Cheat. Trump cheated on all his wives. And he tried to overthrow our Democracy! He’s just getting started!
Above is a drawing of Pope Adrien, whose image was in Busch’s panting The Wedding Feast At Canaan. It was removed, replaced with a dancing dog. I believe the other figure if Gottschalk Rosemondt, the head of Louvain and the Falcon Art College. His rose is in full bloom suggesting he was the Grand Master of the Swan Brethren – and a Hierophant. Look at the robes of the two priest before the Hierophant. There are roses on one, and lilies on the other. I give permission for devotees of Baba at his centers – to copy thing whole blog for future reference!
John ‘The Hierophant’
The emblem worn by the Swan Brethren depicts a a rose, or lily, amongst thorns. At the root of the rose is the Latin word SICUT which is the first word from a line from Song of Songs.
2:2. As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters. Sicut lilium inter spinas sic amica mea inter filias
This Tarot card was originally called La Papesse, or “The Popess”. Some of the cards directly linked the woman on the cards to the papacy by showing the woman wearing a triregnum or Papal Tiara. There are also some modern versions of the Tarot of Marseilles which include the keys to the kingdom that are a traditional symbol of the papacy.[2] In Protestant post-reformation countries, Tarot cards in particular used images of the legendary Pope Joan, linking in to the mythology of how Joan, disguised as a man, was elected to the papacy and was only supposedly discovered to be a woman when she gave birth.[3] However, Italian Catholics appear to only have seen the La Papesse as representing the Holy Mother Church in an allegorical form,[4][better source needed] with the Pope taking office becoming married to the Body of Christ, which Catholics refer to in the feminine gender.
A hierophant (Ancient Greek: ἱεροφάντης, romanized: hierophantēs) is a person who brings religious congregants into the presence of that which is deemed holy.[1] As such, a hierophant is an interpreter of sacred mysteries and arcane principles.
The word comes from ancient Greece, where it was constructed from the combination of τὰ ἱερά (ta hiera, ‘the holy’) and φαίνω (phainō, ‘to reveal’).
In Attica, Hierophant was the title of the chief priest at the Eleusinian Mysteries. It was an office inherited within the genos of the Eumolpidae, one of the two main clans which managed the Eleusinian cult – the other being the Cerycids.
In the Rider–Waite tarot deck and similar decks, “The Hierophant” (known in the Tarot de Marseille as “The Pope”[2]) is one of the twenty-two trump cards comprising the “Major Arcana“, and represents conformity to social standards, or a deference to the established social moral order. As the guide towards knowledge, insight, and wisdom, in a Tarot reading it might, for example, represent a priest, scholar, therapist, or teacher, possibly similar to the Hermit or the King of Cups cards.
…symbolizes also all things that are righteous and sacred on the manifest side. As such, he is the channel of grace belonging to the world of institution as distinct from that of Nature, and he is the leader of salvation for the human race at large. He is the order and the head of the recognized hierarchy, which is the reflection of another and greater hierarchic order; but it may so happen that the pontiff forgets the significance of his symbolic state and acts as if he contained within his proper measures all that his sign signifies or his symbol seeks to shew [sp] forth. He is not, as it has been thought, philosophy—except on the theological side; he is not inspiration; and his is not religion, although he is a mode of its expression.[2]
The original Unearthed Arcana supplement to 1st edition AD&D detailed how the 15th-level Grand Druid (the in-game head of all druids) could step down from his position and become a 16th-level Hierophant.[3] In 3rd edition D&D, the hierophant prestige class for high-level divine spellcasters appeared in the Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting and in the 3.5e Dungeon Master’s Guide.
The Hierophant (V), alternatively depicted as The Pope or The High Priest (as a counterpart to “The High Priestess“) is the fifth card of the Major Arcana in occult Tarot decks used in divination. It was identified as the Pope in early decks like Tarot of Marseilles, while modern decks like Rider–Waite Tarot may use the term hierophant (Ancient Greek: ἱεροφάντης), a person who brings religious congregants into the presence of that which is deemed “holy“.[1]
In many modern packs, the Hierophant is represented with his right hand raised in blessing or benediction, with two fingers pointing skyward and two pointing down, thus forming a bridge between Heaven and Hell reminiscent of that formed by the body of The Hanged Man. The Hierophant is thus a true “pontiff”, in that he is the builder of the bridge between deity and humanity. In his left hand he held a triple cross. His crown has three nails projecting from it, symbolizing the crucifixion of Jesus.[2] The Hierophant is typically male, even in decks that take a feminist view of the Tarot, such as the Motherpeace Tarot, The Hierophant was also known as “The Teacher of Wisdom”.
In most iconographic depictions, the Hierophant is seen seated on a throne between two pillars symbolizing Law and Freedom or obedience and disobedience, according to different interpretations. He wears a triple crown, and the keys to Heaven are at his feet. Sometimes he is shown with worshippers, as his alternate title is the Pope or, sometimes, Jupiter.[3] These are often a pair of tonsured priests.[2] The card is also known as “The High Priest”, as a counterpart to “The High Priestess” (which itself is also sometimes known as “The Papess”, as counterpart to “The Pope”).
The papacy was not just a religious force, but was a political and military force as well. When the tarot was invented, the Pope controlled a large portion of central Italy known as the Papal States. Renaissance culture did not question the abstract ideal of the Pope as God’s human representative on Earth, but others involved in the religious Reformation of that Age would have disagreed. In Tarot of Marseilles, he wears a red cape and a blue robe, in contrast to The Papess, who wears a blue cape and red robe.
In occult circles, the more commonly encountered modern name “Hierophant” is due to Antoine Court de Gébelin and was an attempt to dechristianise the standard French tarot pack, the Tarot de Marseilles, out of a mistaken belief of a pre-Christian origin.[4] According to de Gébelin, “hierophant” was the title of the chief priest in the Eleusinian mysteries (an ancient Greek ritual). However, historical evidence shows that tarot cards were invented in Northern Italy in the first half of the 15th century and not in ancient Egypt.[5]
The Hierophant stands for righteousness, sacredness, hierarchical order,[6] orthodoxy,[7] and moral righteousness. He is an exoteric figure, in contrast to the esoteric symbolism of The High Priestess.[2] Reversed, the Hierophant can be interpreted as standing for unorthodoxy, originality, and gullibility.[7]
5. THE HIEROPHANT.–Marriage, alliance, captivity, servitude; by another account, mercy, and goodness; inspiration; the man to whom the Querent has recourse. Reversed: Society, good understanding, concord, over kindness, weakness.
In Astrology, the Hierophant is associated with the feminine, fixed-earth sign of Taurus and its ruling planet, Venus.[9]
The Hierophant
Hierophant is a strange word, unaccustomed to us these days, and I doubt very much whether it was ever a common sound in our mouths. Coming from Latin roots, and words meaning “sacred” and “to reveal”, the late 17th Century meaning of the word Hierophant is that of a person, (often, but not solely confined to a priest) who interprets sacred mysteries or esoteric principles.
Wondering nervously how she is to fill the remit of such a card, she reassures herself that she is not being judged and that she will see whatever she is meant to see. Walking into the world of The Hierophant, she first thing that she notices is the weariness of her feet, which are beginning to drag a little in the arid red earth, sending stones skittering down the steep hillside into the dry stream bed below. Dust stained, and frayed at the edges, her skirt has begun to show signs of wear, where it has been snagged and torn by the thorn bushes along the way, a subtle reminder of how far she has come, and also of how far she has yet to go.
How vain and brave her dreams of pilgrimage seem now, and as she looks at the reality of the situation, down there on the ground, in the harsh grit beneath her boots, she begins to wonder if her vision is crumbling to desert dust beneath her aching feet. Looking up from the baked earth to scan the scene before her, she feels dejected, almost hoping that a bus with “Home” written on the front will come, motoring happily over the hill, and stop, facing in the opposite direction, to wait for her to climb thankfully aboard. She guesses that the desert gets to everyone in the end, for the bus home does not come, and nor will it, so instead she slowly surveys the hilly brown landscape, dotted with scrubby trees. Her appraisal of the view suggests to her that she is probably somewhere in North Africa, and she takes in the sweeping lowlands studded with small villages, their bright colours a welcome interference to the red-brown that pervades the majority of her vision.
In the distance, she glimpses people moving about their lives, a few animals wandering, but nothing really catches her eye until a shepherd appears some way off in the distance. Refreshed by this new addition to the landscape, she steps forward with renewed enthusiasm, walking towards the shepherd to engage him in conversation. He tells her that he is watching his flock, observing them, noting their movements and how they behave in different situations. He says that by becoming one with his flock, he can gain a greater understanding of the world around him, and as she leaves him with his sheep his words bring her optimism; she is reminded that sometimes, even the most mundane things that we meet in everyday life can be pointers in the right direction when the going gets hard and stony. Walking around the next bend, her attention is then completely taken up with the appearance of a bull and an elephant standing together in the middle of the track. The bull, not really aggressive looking, but extremely solid and hardwearing, seems to represent persistence and strength, something she will need if she is to continue on her journey effectively, whilst the elephant conveys the importance of the long memory, which she needs in order to understand the meaning of the many patterns that she will encounter along her path.
At the side of the road where the animals have stopped, stands a small square house, built of mud bricks, and looking to find Malachi at home, she pushes open the door, peering through the gloom. As her eyes adjust to the soft light of the interior, she sees that he is sitting at the table polishing a large plain, golden coloured cup. Malachi tells her cryptically that it is all about timing, and that she needs to start listening to the heartbeat of the earth. He says that the Hierophant is aware of the timing required, the processes that take place and the necessity of things to be born, to grow and to die, that it gives him an understanding of all things, and that it is this that brings wisdom. Malachi also adds that this is why sometimes the Hierophant is seen as hard and harsh, because nature is merciless, red in tooth and claw, and has no room for sentiment. Like the shepherd, who understands life by becoming one with his flock, Malachi says that it is the same with the Hierophant; he gains wisdom by becoming one with life. Malachi then quips that she has spent long enough listening and that she had better try and understand what she has heard.
She walks out of the hut, feeling a little put out; Malachi seemed quite cross and impatient today, and not his usual self; but anyway, it is probably time for her to go. She stands waiting in the stark sun and soon the veil appears in the desert like a shimmering banner, welcoming her back into The Hallway of Beginnings.
When the Hierophant speaks to you, there is a need to seek the wisdom and understanding of your environment. This could be from your own observations, from a book, or from a teacher that you meet, in fact the source of your understanding could be from anywhere, but its function is always the same, to help you process the myriad of experiences that you are encountering on a day to day basis, and to use them to bring a sense of meaning and purpose into your life.
V The Hierophant Zodiacal Trump of Taurus The Magus of the Eternal Venus Rules Taurus, The Moon is in Exaltation in Taurus
Notes.
I received a lot of imagery concerning the number 5 at the end of this journey, and of course, this card is number 5 of the Major Arcana!
The number 5 is associated with the deliberate forging of links between features that are naturally felt to be separate, fiveness is therefore an expression of our creativity and capacity for intellectual understanding. The number 5 describes how we seek to impose our will upon the world, dominating and rearranging it to suit our own needs. In the number 5 we see the world as an extension of ourselves and create an artificial world shaped to our own needs, this is how the symbol of the pentagram, a 5 pointed star has become associated with magic. The source of ‘fiveness’ is to be found within, rather than being imposed upon us from outside or created out of a sense of belonging to the world.
The Greeks thought of five as “hieros gamos”, the marriage between heaven and earth.
Images: The Hierophant reproduced from The Alchemical Tarot with the kind permission of Robert Place. The illustration from the story of The Hierophant from Thoth Journey, is reproduced with permission from Aia Leu. The Hierophant is reproduced from the Thoth Tarot with the kind permission from US Games. Header image Image by Anja#helpinghands #solidarity#stays healthy
2 I am a rose[b] of Sharon, a lily of the valleys.
He
2 Like a lily among thorns is my darling among the young women.
She
3 Like an apple[c] tree among the trees of the forest is my beloved among the young men. I delight to sit in his shade, and his fruit is sweet to my taste. 4 Let him lead me to the banquet hall, and let his banner over me be love. 5 Strengthen me with raisins, refresh me with apples, for I am faint with love. 6 His left arm is under my head, and his right arm embraces me. 7 Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you by the gazelles and by the does of the field: Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires.
8 Listen! My beloved! Look! Here he comes, leaping across the mountains, bounding over the hills. 9 My beloved is like a gazelle or a young stag. Look! There he stands behind our wall, gazing through the windows, peering through the lattice. 10 My beloved spoke and said to me, “Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, come with me. 11 See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. 12 Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land. 13 The fig tree forms its early fruit; the blossoming vines spread their fragrance. Arise, come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me.”
He
14 My dove in the clefts of the rock, in the hiding places on the mountainside, show me your face, let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely. 15 Catch for us the foxes, the little foxes that ruin the vineyards, our vineyards that are in bloom.
She
16 My beloved is mine and I am his; he browses among the lilies. 17 Until the day breaks and the shadows flee, turn, my beloved, and be like a gazelle or like a young stag on the rugged hills.[d]
Here is the Rose Root of my grandfather born of Two Roses. That my daughter was going to name her first child Lily-Rose is pure prophecy that she nor her mother and aunt – can undo! Tyler Hunt will always be on my side.
Because of the controversy of naming my grandson, and the naming of Lilibit, I link them to John the Baptist and…..The Swan Knight. Both these children will have The Name Rose in their name.
The emblem worn by the Swan Brethren depicts a a rose, or lily, amongst thorns. At the root of the rose is the Latin word SICUT which is the first word from a line from Song of Songs.
2:2. As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters. Sicut lilium inter spinas sic amica mea inter filias
Rosemondt and Erasmus Posted on April 20, 2018 by Royal Rosamond Press
My ancestor a good friend of a Pope, and he was a friend of the Great Erasmus – whom he defended! Pope Adrien’s papal papers were probably thrown out in the trash by the Medici, along with Gottschalk’s papers? They were at the cusp of the Reformation and, and the center of Dutch Renaissance. Note the wallpaper behind Erasmus, that is like the work of Kehinde Wily, that took me to the very feet of Erasmus and his Habsburg backer – unknowingly!
Members of the Rosemont family were interred in the Minderbroedersklooster that was founded by the Franciscan Monks. Above are my Wieneke kindred who were members of the Order of Saint Francis. This is the real Rose Line. I was destined for the Church.
I am convinced Lara Roozemont and her family are kin to me and Elizabeth Rosemond Taylor.
The opera has inspired other works of art. King Ludwig II of Bavaria named his castle Neuschwanstein Castle after the Swan Knight. It was King Ludwig’s patronage that later gave Wagner the means and opportunity to complete, build a theatre for, and stage his epic cycle Der Ring des Nibelungen. He had discontinued composing it at the end of Act II of Siegfried, the third of the Ring tetralogy, to create his radical chromatic masterpiece of the late 1850s, Tristan und Isolde, and his lyrical comic opera of the mid-1860s, Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg.
Renaissance Castle Posted on September 5, 2014by Royal Rosamond Press falcon15 falconc2 falconc3 falconc4 falconc5 falconc6 falconc10
Ghisburtus van Roesmont was a Dutch nobleman of some importance. His mother was jonkvrouw Adriana Theodorici Rover, the daughter of Dirk Edmondszn Roover. The Roover family appears to descend from one of the Radbot rulers of Holland who was given the name Roover, or Rover due to conquest of the Netherlands. Arnoldus Rosemont also descends to Radbot, who was employed by the Franks to fight the Normans, the Vikings, who were called Rovers. The elder Radbot was allied with the Franks to fight the Viking, many who carried a banner with the image of a wolf. Was their marriage with a Merovingian princess, and thus a marriage union to carry on this line?
The Rosemonts are mentioned in the genealogical book, Taxandria, an extinct province that was replaced by ‘s-Hertogenbosch that had no rulers, or Papal interference, which is rare. The Swan Brethren appear to have owned Saint John’s Church, and ran its affairs as a guild.
Ghisburtus Rosemont was the church warden of Saint John, and later sat in the ships chair. The chances her knew the Renaissance Artist, Hieronymus Bosch, and his father, is very high for his job to was to hire artists and craftsman.
“Only in 1454th – in 1455 were Van Aken and his wife a member of the Brotherhood of Our Lady . In 1461 – 1462 kreeg he was commissioned damaged (by fire) altarpiece of the Brotherhood in the former St. John’s Church in collaboration with the master painter Claes Schoonhoven.
This is a remarkable discover. It puts my kindred at the heart of the Dutch Renaissance, for starters.
Here is a translation of a event, a miracle. There is a box. What is the object. What is “Cloth Hall”?
“On March 16, 1384, Ghijsbrecht Rosemont, witnessed a miracle with Jacob Mertensz. [No. 322 Miracles of Our Lady at ‘s-Hertogenbosch 1381-1603]. Henrick Painter, ships from Den Bosch in 1383 shared in 1397 with Chris Ruffle Mont Tijn a box in the Cloth Hall, which had been the case. Late Godscalck Roes Mont. In 1430 Godschalk Roes Mouth, buy the high sheriff of Den Bosch and Meierij castle Maurick. In 1442 he sold it back to Henry of Vladeracken.
The emblem worn by the Swan Brethren depicts a a rose, or lily, amongst thorns. At the root of the rose is the Latin word SICUT which is the first word from a line from Song of Songs.
2:2. As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters. Sicut lilium inter spinas sic amica mea inter filias
ers, who were then still underage, will have been legal children of Ghijsbrecht and Lady Margriet. Master Godschalc was born in Eindhoven around 1483, studied artes in Leuven in 1499 and was promoted there in 1502 as the third of 99 students to magister artium . In 1510 he was nominated by the OLV fraternity for a benefice in the Bossche St.Jan and since 1515 he was also canon of the St.Petrus church in Leuven. He also always resided in Leuven where he was a professor in theology from 1515 and wrote a number of popular tracts.
On September 18, 1467, Ghijsbrecht Roesmont, counselor of Den Bosch and widower of Mabelia , added a codicil to this will in the presence of Rembout Vilt (no.403). Ghijsbrecht, who previously lived in the Orthenstraat (1422), then stayed – exhausted by his old age – in his house at the Zijle. As witnesses, the codicil includes the secretary Rutgher van Arkel (no.14), Ghijsbrechts servant and clerk Sander Pyeck van Batenburg (no.313) and his servant Lysbeth Goyart Goebelens from Eindhoven. In addition to the latter two, Ghijsbrecht also left goods to the St. Lambert church in Liege, the Bossche St. Jan, the St. Peter’s church in Vught, the parish church of Uden and the Bossche OZ brotherhood, as well as Katherijn, widow of the goldsmith. Arnt vander Weyden, to Goetscalc and Jan, sons of his late cousin Jan Goetscalcs Roesmont, and to “the other heirs”. Ghijsbrecht is mentioned in the obitus fratrum of the OLV fraternity under the year 1469/70, together with Rutgher van Arkel, secretary, and master Gerit Boest, counselor and secretary (see no.57). Ghijsbrecht probably died in the beginning of 1470. He was provided with the last sacraments by Brother Alart Alartss, Minderbroeder, and will be buried in the Minderbroedersklooster, just like some other members of his family. As far as he knows, he did not leave children behind. Still, he must have had a son Goyart because on September 12, 1422, Ghijsbrecht drew up a concept in the Bosch ‘protocol in which Henric Heyme promised to pay 50 Arnoldus guilders to ” michi ad opus Godefridi, filii May “.9)
Minderbroedersklooster (‘s-Hertogenbosch) The Minderbroedersklooster in ‘s-Hertogenbosch was the first monastery founded by the Franciscans in the present Netherlands . The monastery stood on the corner of the current Pensmarkt and Minderbroedersstraat and continued until the current Snellestraat . The Franciscans settled in ‘s-Hertogenbosch in 1228 . This is only two years after the death of the founder of order Francis of Assisi . On a site that Henry I of Brabant had given to the Franciscans, they would establish a monastery and a church . In 1256 the church is demolished to build a new, larger monastery church. In 1263 this church is dedicated by Henricus van Vianden , the Bishop of Utrecht .
The Rose Wolf and Erasmus Posted on September 15, 2017by Royal Rosamond Press
Erasmus wrote letters to Rosemondt. One letter has the Rosemondt wolf seal on it. This is about the Spanish Inquisition. and of great interest to the history of Haarlem. This is one of the greatest genealogical studies of all time.
Jon Presco
Copyright 2017
1153/ To Godschalk Rosemondt Louvain 18 October 1520
Gottschalk Rosemondt of Eindhoven in Northern Brabant, matriculated at the University of Louvain on 1499 and remained there until his death in 1526. A doctor of divinity in 1516, he succeeded in 1520 to the chair o f theology formerly held by Jan Briart. Like Briart he was a personal friend of the future Pope Adrian V1. His prominent position in the theological faculty notwithstanding , he retained an open mind towards humanists studies and a measure of sympathy for Erasmus. This letter is addressed to him in his capacity as rector of the university for the winter term of 1520-21 (cf Matricule de Louvain 111-1963) It was published in the Epistolae ad diverse. In preparation for a confrontations with the theologian Nicolass Baechem Egmondanus, to be held in the presence of the rector, Erasmus launches an elaborate protest against his opponent, who had attacked him from the pulpit of St, Peter’s church on 9 and 14 October,
After meeting Belle Burch for the first time at Ken Kesey Square I did a three-minute sketch of her while looking at the video I made. Belle has a sculpted face that artists love to draw. I already compared her to Botticelli, and then Leonardo. Alas, I placed Belle’s face in the family of Augustus John who I was compared to when young. His muse was Dorelia McNeil who dressed in Javanese clothing and brought this foreign lifestyle to England. Belle’s mother, Catherine Vandertuin, introduced Javanese Gamelan to Eugene.
Talitha Pol married John Paul Getty, Her father was Willem Jilts Pol, a painter who subsequently married Poppet John daughter of the painter. Tlaitha is…
Above is a photo of the last block on Washington Street that ends where the Venice Pier begins. In the 70s, every Friday and Saturday night young men whose girlfriends were knockouts, came here for a impromptu beauty contest. I do not know if this was going on when I met Rena in July of 10970. She was hiding in the dark doorway of one of these establishments at 3:00 A.M. in the morning. Her boyfriend had driven from Grand Island Nebraska to Los Angeles. I suspect he wanted to get his lover in the movies, or, perhaps, Playboy? Rena was waiting fore someone to come along – that she could trust.
After calling the Venice Muscle Men “fags” they chased him down the boardwalk, caught up with this Cornhusker, a mile away, and put him in the hospital. Rena saw the muscle guys return, and waited, and waited for her boyfriend. She spent all her money buying cokes until the bar closed at 2:00 A.M. She saw Michael and I walk by, and, the soon to be most highest paid artist in the world, the famous……’Rosamond’.
Rena watched me stop, while my sister continued to the end of the pier with her lover. Feeling left out, I looked down on the crashing waves, and asked;
“Where are you? The love of my life?”
I was calling to my new Muse because two days earlier I met with Marilyn for an hour, and she said we were through. She was my Twin Flame, a term I only learned about six months ago. Marilyn and I are dear friends today.
Rena watched the world famous artist to be, and future sister-in-law of the ex-wife of Thomas Pynchon, coming back her way. I walked twenty feet ahead. I was Christine’s teacher. She would give me credit for her amazing success. When she came at me from the dark doorway, I gasped. I looked, and could not catch my breath. Not but an arm’s length away, is the most beautiful face I have ever seen. I had to look away, if just to compose myself.
“Can I walk with you?” this apparition asked. I wanted to speak of the obvious, tell her there and then she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. This was the TRUTH! Who could believe it? Why me?!!!
“Of course! I was expecting you?” This is what came out of me.
“What do you mean by that?” This sea creature inquired, she scouring the interior of my soul in search of any foul hidden agendas.
“I was looking down on the waves, asking where she was, the love of my life! Don’t be afraid, I am a hopeless romantic.”
“Oh! Rena said. When Christine saw the painting I did of Rena two years later, she took up art.
When Christine Rosamond Benton came up to us, I introduced her to my family.
“Christine. This is…….?”
“Rena.”
This fateful meeting took place at three in the morning. Michael would buy Christine her first art supplies. His brother was married to my younger sister. This is a creative family – event!
In six days, the first movie made from a Pynchon book, will premiere on the silver screen. ‘Inerent Vice’ takes place in Venice. It is about a PI who is visited by his beautiful ex. Consider the Playboy Beauty who drove West to get a contract with Ken Kesey to author her screenplay she had in mind. She was raised in the same town Rena was, Grand Island Nebraska. Consider the dangerous Alley Gang and Belle Burch, whom I asked to marry me so she could have these famous folks in her family tree, because, I am in need of a Bohemian Heir. This is the REAL Inherent Vice.
Last night I heard the Moody Blues perform this song on T.V. I heard it many time before, but, after learning about the Twin Flames, it was like hearing it for the first time. From what I gather from our recent communications, Rena has no appreciation for the incredible scene she starred in for 48 hours. Very wealthy men come from all over the world – for just a taste! I know Rena thinks no one noticed her, but, when you win the contest, it is gauche to look at Beauty directly. I had trouble – after she chose me.
In the contest held on this block, you saw the hottest women in L.A. There were blonde Aryan Couples with matching pure blue eyes. But, here come the Chicano dudes with the most stunning women you have ever seen.
I have to laugh! The palm trees, the tan surfer, the perfect sunsets, and the most Beautiful Woman in the world – who is you! And, somehow, this is what you came here for, and its all…… icky-pooh! Then, I happen along!
In hind sight, the Strong Men of Venice helped me become a legendary hero. Didn’t Hercules judge a beauty contest? We know Paris did. For years I have said this about Rena:
“Her beautiful face launched a thousand Rosamond prints.
It is coming back to me. Wings and the t-shirt store were once a bar. The door Rena came out of says “t-shirts” in red print.
Below is the photograph my sister took of me in 1973 in her studio. Rosamond’s images of beautiful women were found all over the world. I was going to be her first male subject. She wanted to make me famous, too. When I saw this photograph for the first time several years ago, I understood who Rena saw that night, a beautiful young man with pale blue eyes that she chose to save her. Rena has gold eyes. By the energy in our first kiss, I now know that she struggled to catch her breath.
I was seventeen when I rented my first abode a half block from Santa Monica Beach. Of course I tought of living here with Irene (Rena) the moment I lay eyes on her.
“You have no place to stay. You can crash at my pad!”
My aunt gave me her 1958 Ford Fairlane that you see in the black and white. I was torn between two worlds. I was born and raised in Oakland. When we moved to LA when I was sixteen, Christine and I went through an identity crisis. After she became famous, overnight, she offered to teach me her style so I could be rich and famous, too. She wanted me to move to LA. Here I am in my mother’s pool with Cindy Blake who I knew since she as born. She and her father put makeup on Johnny Carson. That’s my brother’s son and wife. Patty was a good friend of the actress, Sue Lyon, who played Lolita. Mark drover Sue to Santa Monica City College. Liz was not happy with Richard flirting with Sue in the water.
I had no idea Daniel Craig played in LA, but, I have James Bond move in next door to the group Love. Of course he lives here. This is where all the Beautiful Players live. Craig bought a brownstone in Brooklyn. When I read Rena had married an Admiral thirty years her senior, and had two children, I wondered what movie was going on in her head. She is now……A Player! Her luxurious days of being a cowboy’s wife, is over. The sad tale of they needing hip surgery, or, their ranch fails, is over. No more getting Deputy Dan Mayland to pick me off at the pass, for here comes riding a bonified Bond Author.
But, here’s the real heat of the matter…Rena and I were destined to be Dance Stars. When I read she danced in the Royal Ballet and taught modern dance in Bozeman, my heart danced all over my being. I was a choreographer since I was thirteen. We would have been a dance team in 1970. We would have had a dance studio on Wilshire a block from the beach. We would go to the Hollywood clubs, and put on a show.
For fifty days, everything we did, and everywhere we go….was a dance. We had no T.V. or radio. We had each other, every morning and evening. We played with the sunsets, and parted the crowds when we went to town. Irena Maserati, and I.
John Presco
I can visualize our dance routine to this song that can be extended. Play both videos at same time, turning the sound down on the second.
In the morning we arise and Start the day the same old way As yesterday the day before and All in all it’s just a day like All the rest so do your best with Chewing gum and it is oh so Repetitious Waiting on the sun
Down on Go-stop Boulevard it Never fails to bring me down The sirens and the accidents and For a laugh there’s Plastic Nancy She’s real fancy with her children They’ll go far, she Buys them toys to Keep in practice Waiting on the war
I feel shivers in my spine When the iceman, yes his ice is melting Won’t be there on time Hope he finds a rhyme For his little mind
I can see you With no (hands) (face) Eyes I need you You’re my (heart) (face) Look we’re going round and round
When I came back to California after living in Greenwhich Village for eight months, I got a job at May Company and moved into a studio at the back of a house on Ocean Park Blvd. The year was 1964. I was seventeen. I bought a hawk, and drove the 1958 For Fairlane my uncle Vinnie gave me. I explored Venice that was a mile down the beach but do not recall if I went into the Gas Light.
The house I lived in is the second from the end of the street. My Fairlane was dark and light green like the one on the lower left. This was the life. My boss was going to make me the manager of four art supply stores. Then my ex-girlfriend showed up and bid me to come back to the Bay Area because there was something wonderful going on. She hung with the Beats in Venice when she was sixteen.
It is rumored 007 influenced Arthur Lee to write two songs for Love’s ‘Forever Changes’.
At 12:42 P.M. James Bond was out by the pool throwing tomahawks at a log, when Arthur Lee stuck his head out the window, and shouted;
“Knock it off! Some people are trying to sleep!”
,Bond looked up and saw a angry, disheveled black man.
“Look chap! I’m a firm believer in ‘live and let live’, but it’s past noon. Normal people have long been up and about.”
“Well, I’m not normal people. I’m a rock musician. and I work till 2:00 A.M. and then party and jam with my my – mates – afterwards. You’re from England. Do me a favor. Can you throw your tomohawk in the evening. I don’t get out of bed till around four!”
James went over and pulled his weapons out of the block.
“You got it. Now, go catch some more shut-eye!”
By the way….what’s your name?”
“Bond….James Bond. What’s your’s?”
“Lee….Arthur Lee!”
Arthur Lee, a founder of the group Love, lay in bed trying to fall back asleep. He assessed if he was justified in yelling at the new neighbor. Would he cause trouble. He ended up composing a song that he wanted on the new album. ‘Live and Let Live’ was about the British Invasion, and, the people who were already here. The base in this song is played by Carol Kaye who would go on a date with James, who ended up on the wrong side of the Hell’s Angels who befriended Michael MacLure, whose nose he bloodied at the Whisky A Go Go.
At the party, Lee worked on another song about Bond, he recognizing him as another Alpha Male who moved in on Carol like a big dog. This member of Spector’s ‘Wrecking Crew’ had deflected many smooth moves from the smoothest men in the business were she was known as the best bass player – ever!
“I see that we are the adults in the room. You appear to be alert and into getting to the point. Let’s spend the night together.”
When I discovered Carol played the base in The Daily Planet I knew I had found the genius behind the Forever Changes album, that I want in LA Bond – if it becomes a movie.
Rena and I were made in the image of God. When Christine Rosamond Presco saw a photo of the painting I did of Rena Christensen standing on a hill watching the sunset, she took up art. She couldn’t stand it, that I got so much, and she got – nothing! Out of vengeance – she had to have it all! In her autobiography that the New Narcists disappeared, my jealous sister began Her Story, this way
“Everyone thought my brother would be a famous artist someday, but, it wasn’t meant to be!”
Rosamond hated to go to shows because men and women always asked…
“Are you a Lesbian? Are you in love with women?”
I was in love with women – including the most beautiful woman in the world – whose back sent me to heaven. I just made this sunset on Fotor, that is close to the painting I did that I showed Christine in person, and that my brother – disappeared! They both wanted me to be…The Hidden One!
After spending the day on Monte Rio beach, we would shop for food, then drive into the Armstrong Woods. Putting the Dodge in second, and finding music to go with on the radio, we began our ascent to the top of our mountain. I felt I was stealing Beauty away from the World. I accused Rena of wanting to be in a crowd of people, but, she just wanted to be……with me!
John ‘The Hidden One’
“It was very uncool for a Hippie to get caught taking a pic with a camera, a rule I wished I had broke. This is a…….re-creation.“
Alas I found the road that Rena and I traversed almost every day for fifty days. It was a miracle my 1950 Dodge held up. Mind you Rena grew up in Grand Island Nebraska where it is completely flat. There were some hairy turns and deep drop-offs that my love looked down with some unease. This was her High School graduation excursion her harrowing climb in the Swiss Alps. Coming down, my breaks would get hot and we stopped at the usual pullover. We wee healing for a swim in the Russian River, or a day at Victoria Beach.
In the bottom video, the water in the pond was much higher. Rena would swim here at dusk, in the buff. I made all the meals, and the camp coffee. I gave lessons about the Indian Religion around the campfire. Then we watched the sunset, and the milky way appear.
Rena was afraid to even look at the ocean. I took her to our beach about five times, and she was trying to brave, more than I knew. Looking at the video taken near Jenner, I can now put myself in her place, a flat safe, place.
I was concerned our Dodge would break down going up one of the greatest roads in the West. I was going to post a map, but changed my mind. We took a back pack with us in case we had to bail, and put our thumbs out and hitchhike to Nebraska. Rena was such a special cargo. She called her grandmother every time we went to town. Rena was part Nerd. She sure got her ticket punched for the California Dream Ride.
It was very uncool for a Hippie to get caught taking a pic with a camera, a rule I wished I had broke. This is a…….re-creation.
Rena let me take her in, capture her beauty as we stood together looking down at the clear pool of water at the bottom of the waterfall. To behold her perfect face, her chestnut hair against the vibrant green of the forest, was overwhelming. I could not get enough of her. I knew I would never behold such a beautiful vision. I now plotted how to capture her, keep her with me, forever: for the world would no longer exist for me if she was not by my side.
Tow hours earlier we were naked in bed at Hell Hotel. Since our kiss two days earlier, we longed to make love. But, being homeless in a tent in a friends backyard, we put out there like animals, would not do. Now, we heard a maniacal scream of some hippie wanna-be having a bun trip at four in the afternoon that stopped me in my tracks.
“I can’t. I won’t make love to your here! C’mon. Let’s get out of here!”
Rena did not ask where we going. We put our clothes on, and we were out of there. I had to marvel at what I had just done. The perfect nakedness of Eve, was gone. As my Dodge Coronet went over the San Raphael Bridge, I felt Rena grow tense. She was afraid of the ocean, and even more afraid to be suspended over the San Francisco Bay.
In Nebraska, everything is flat, and safe. Now my vintage car was climbing a mountain. At the Zenith, I parked, and bid Rena to follow me.
“I have something wonderful to show you!”
I parted the barbed wire, and taught her how to do the same for me. We waked across a field of golden grass drying in the hot summer afternoon.
“Behold!” I said to the beauty I had rescued!
“I watched Rena intently as she took it in, the vast Pacific Ocean, and Stinson Beach below.
“Listen! You can hear the waves break from way up here! We are on Mount Tamalpais, which means ‘Sleeping Maiden’.
I watched Rena walk towards the bank of fog that lay offshore until the sunset, then it moved in an hugged the maiden, covering her in a blanket of down. To behold her beautiful form against this backdrop, was the painting of my dreams. Here was my masterpiece, that fate had a hand in. If we had not taken that late night walk on the Venice Pier, we would have never met. What are the odds.
Against the vibrant green of the moss on the trees, I was now in Eden, with Eve. My mind was racing, I filing threw mu brain looking for just the right trick, the perfect piece of magic that would make her mine – until the end of time! Rena turned to gaze at me. She trusted me because I did what no man had done before, when she got naked for them.
“Rena. I am having a very difficult time here. You are the most beautiful creature – any man has seen. Your beauty has made me very insecure. I feel so unworthy of being in your presence. I don’t know you. You don’t talk that much. Your beauty is like a mask that conceals your true identity. For this reason, I no longer want to make love with you.”
Rena, winced. I watched her demure, change. No one had done what I had just done. I had unmasked her. She changed before my eyes. The person before me was even more stunning. I knew I was in deep trouble, for now it would be impossible to let go that look upon her face. I looked at the deep pool of turquoise water and saw us naked there. It would be a Baptism. A spiritual experience. She had asked me if there was a place we could go swimming.
“Will this do?” I asked, hoping I would now be getting more direct answers.
“I don’t want to swim there. Is there a river nearby.”
For the next fifty days I spoiled her, the most beautiful woman in the world. After making her a wonderful dinner at Camp Laura Dell, we walked to edge of the world and watched a magnificent sunset.
The home where Elizabeth Taylor lived in the 1950s with then-husband Michael Wilding has hit the market in Beverly Hills.
Coldwell Banker Global Luxury has confirmed the new listing — the first time in 21 years the property has been up for sale — at 1375 Beverly Estates Dr. for $15.9 million. According to the real estate broker, the couple purchased the 2.01 acre property as their private L.A. retreat in 1954, shortly after it was built in 1953. According to reports, Taylor and Wilding made the decision to buy the property after scaling a fence to check out the grounds. Taylor and Wilding married in 1952 and divorced in 1957.
What if no film company buys my Victoria Bond idea? Well, I got a back up. Just in case folks think I am fixating on Lara Roozemond, even stalking her, I am willing to let her go for The Almighty Dollar. Consider this My Giant Cop-out!
James Bond In La La Land
A Movie Script
by
John (Jon) Gregory Presco
Shortly after the death of his beloved wife, Teresa Bond, James has a total mental breakdown. He is sent to see a crack team of psychiatrist who tell him it is time to retire. They suggest he move to Los Angeles California, where he can blend in. Having won a small fortune playing cards in Monaco, he asks The Team Real Estate Agents, if they know of a house. They tell him a house designed by George McLean has just come on the market. There is another buyer who made an offer, but, it could be made to look like they lost a bidding war.
“Who is getting bumped?”
“Oh, just a has-been Hollywood couple whose latest movie was a big flop. Mr. and Mrs. Richard Burton.”
“What about the neighbors? I don’t want to be disturbed. I’m not in the best of shape.”
“Let’s see. There’s Joe Spine on your right, and a rock band called ‘Love’ on your left. Joe is a right-wing T.V. talk personality, your typical American asshole.”
“What about noise?”
“L.A. is a noisy place. There’s an acid rock band every square mile.”
“Maybe I could jam with them. I play a mean Scottish flute.”
“You got one more neighbor, Mr. Natural, who lives illegally in a treehouse up the canyon. He’s harmless. He’ll actually give you money if you let him graze on your lawn.”
“What about women. Do they got pretty women in L.A.?”
“James. You act like you never heard of Los Angeles a place famous for beautiful women. You will have a pool. There will be pool parties, and, just women who like to hang.”
“O.K. Sounds like my cup of tea! Let’s close the deal. Are you sure the Burtons won’t be upset?”
Phone rings.
“Hello Liz. I was wondering when you would get wind of this. I’ll ask him.”
“What the fook. They know who I am?”
“Calm down James. They just know you aced them out. You see, there is this Hollywood Network thing. They want you over for dinner to let you know there are no had feelings. If you refuse, they will make sure things go badly for you in THEIR town.”
“What the fook? I thought I was ordered to stay out of trouble, and relax! My pappy always said “Sometimes when you aren’t looking for trouble, trouble is looking for you!”
Let me pre-warn my movie goers. I plan to shoot the greatest Acid Trip – ever! If I go before this is done – there goes the sixties! Cary Grant took LSD. He would have made a great James Bond. I don’t want to give it away, but, James has his martini spiked with LSD. Who did it?
Mr. Natural – Joe Spine – Liz – a Getty – Love
After his major freak-out James takes up bowling and joins a team that turns out to be Korean Vets who are suffering from PTSD. They are a bad bunch. A bond is made. They conclude bowling isn’t cutting it. James suggests they go over to the dark side and form a motorcycle club. They chose one bike. Here are your choices…….
Turns out they were prisoners of war. They choose a name……..
THE MANCHURIAN CADIDATES
They all know Jiu Jitsu – Marine style. No one fucks with them, but the Burtons. They just can’t let it go. It’s like a bad dream, worse than acid! On a run, they stumble upon the hidden vortex, that spawned Charlie Manson. The Candidates wear tall boots and a red loin clothes like they wore when they were prisoners. I think Trump thinks he’s Bond. He has turned the world into his reality show. He lets go of Theresa’s hand, and she almost falls. He does not want a shot of them holding hands. How did my sister’s fake death get in Fonda’s movie. Who are those babes on black horses? Imagine what I could come up with if I got paid money? How much will they pay me just to keep my script off the Bond market? I think it is bullshit I need the permission of the Fleming family. Sue me! That will result in millions flocking to see James Bond In La La Land the second worst movie ever made. I can produce twenty hilarious scenes of the Burton’s at the home they begrudgingly settled for, coming up with another dirty trick to pull on that Limey Bastard S.O.B 007
I just talked to Joanne in Prague Oklahoma where Meher Baba had a car accident. She told me 200 Baba Lovers from all around the world came to Prague for a Baba Accident Festival. Twenty minutes away, my grandfather had a auto accident in Saint Louis Oklahoma – in a Chevrolet. Did Baba and Royal listen to the same tunes on the car radio? It is said Baba became a big fan of Jim Reeves while crossing America. I would have liked to been in the car with God, at 3:00 AM, the glow of the car radio sweetly singing out brief moral and love tribulations. Country Western Music is huge in India.
Here are videos of the Fairlane Ford that belonged to Marijee and was shipped to India. I used to own one, my first car.
It’d 5:42 A.M.in the morning. I awoke – deeply depressed – wondering if I am done as a writer. There is so much negativity. I keep seeing this ugly picture of the Montana riot squad clearing the balcony. Then, I hear the testimony of a woman who claims she was raped by the ex-president of the United States.
I almost gave up, trying to save Rena and I – our story. Then I find a lost poem by my grandfather, Roy Reuben Rosamond. I just wrote it down in my note book and will post it later. This poem reminds me that heterosexual love – is not easy! Not as easy as heterosexual sex? Do we all want to be in love – before we die? What exactly is The Cowboys Lament – they don’t see enough soaring eagles when they ride the range – mending fences? Where have all the eagles gone? Here’s one I just found in Roy’s story ‘A Voice Of The Mountains’…
“An eagle that nested in the cliffs above above Calvin’s ranch, soared above them gracefully!”
BINGO! There it is! The CRUX of the culture war – that is tearing this country apart. I call BULLSHIT! How many Montanians own a ranch – with eagle in the cliff? How many conservative folks who are giving Zooey a hard time – have ever written a poem to the beautiful one – they love? There aught to be a test for those who claim Montana in the name of Cowboys who – herd cattle! How many are there – ten thousand five hundred and thirty three? I have to wonder if Royal took literary liberties when he wrote this. He’s not selling his Ozarkian books and has got a beautiful wife and four daughters to feed. How many Montaneians – can say this?
“Herded cattle in the western part of Kansas to get the money to come on.”
In her long letter Rena declines to be my “live-in muse” but bids me to put her in my “muse hall of fame” which I have done – BIG TIME! Rena Easton is to me, what Mary Magdalene Rosamond was to Royal – a reason for living and writing! That said, alas – our story begins…..
Marilyn Reed called me about 5:00 P.M. and told me this was the last Jazz & Poetry Night at the Granary. After three years, it was time for the Muse of Poetry and Jazz, to seek another abode. Many hearts did she warm. Many bright words came from starry beings.
I had little time to prepare. I wanted to bring my blow-up of Rena’s photo that she gave me in 1970 when she was 18. I had brought my muse here before in order to read my poem I wrote about her. Now that we were exchanging words, I wanted to read her poem while the audience beheld her beauty.
While reading ‘All Winter Long’ I wished there was a young woman who would read Rena’s poem. All of a sudden, Marilyn’s daughter walked in and sat next to me. I have known Nisha since 1987 when she was four years old. She was my surrogate daughter before my daughter came into my life. Marilyn was my first girlfriend. She has memories of all members of my family, and I hold memories of her family.
Marilyn read a poem, and then sang the words while her husband’s Jazz band backed her up. Nisha missed this. She had never read a poem in public. She played Cello at the Universtity of Oregon and performs Asian Music all over town.
After reading Rena’s poem, twice, her step-father called us up to read. After reading it once, Nisha started to read it again, but then, she began to sing. She never sings, least on stage. Her voice became an instrument. It was spell binding because Nisha’s muse took hold of her, and, Rena at eighteen years old, came into the room. There was magic and light in the room. I now own the end of my autobiography. I am with those who love the Muse.
There is nothing more I expect of Rena Victoria Easton. We have been embraced. We are made complete with the sharing of our love, our soul, and our story. This video is a true miracle.
In her letter Rena says “I have a million poems memorized.” that she recites while she works. So, for now the Muse will be broadcasting sonnets from KMUS Bozeman Montana while accompanied by – vacuum cleaner?
This morning I went in search of Roy Reuben Rosamond’s story about Calvin and Nell that takes place in Montana. I am blown away.
“The sun climbed toward the zenith, up over the colossal Beartooth Mountain!”
It is high noon in Bozeman. Andre Artaud and Vincent Van Gough have gotten off the train so they can be witness to the Greatest Artistic Destiny in Creative History. The Ghosts of Creations Past all want to meet her, they summoned by the spirit of my grandfather – I never lay eyes on – to come behold her, Rena Destina, the cowgirl of our dreams. Destiny rides again!
It appears Rena was married to Rob Burda an architect for Beartooth builders! WHAT!!!! Rob built the house where in back is parked the White Ford Pickup, the Ghost Truck of Dreams Past. In Roy’s story ‘The Voice of the Mountain’ he talks about newly built Pasadena cottages as being the place they are destined to live in if they are forced to come down from the mountains by Nell’s father. Calvin grabs Nell’s arm in a tug-of-war, like I grabbed Rena’s arm a hundred miles West of Winnamucca. We had a little fist-fight in my 1950 Dodge Coronet. She was angry at me because I turned my back on her while we were in bed.
“I don’t want to play anymore!” is what I told her after her boyfriend came from Nebraska to take her back home. They talked in the living room of the Harkins home on Willis Court. I fell asleep, expecting when I awoke, she would be gone, the girl of my dreams. All of a sudden, I am awake. Rena has made a tent over us with just the sheet. With her elfin, cattish face, there is a strange fire in her eyes, as she chatters these word with a hiss;
“I hate him. I hate him!”
Rena, you scared the shit out of me! There! The truth is out! But, now I see, you took us back to Renamont and our beloved tent. For, this was YOUR FIRST HOME! Outside our home, was a real campfire. I loved you so much, and always will.
“Nell stood breathless because of a painful grasp from her lovers hands, a signification of his will unconsciously explained to her.”
WHAT???
It gets even more strange. Above are photos of Beartooth in alpenglow! It looks just like the mountains in Swiss Alps, and, Clarence King Mountain.
Rena I am going to do two paintings of you, one destined for the Gene Autry Museum. The other will be you as a Pre-Raphaelite Goddess.
And now my epic tale can begin. It will be a continuation of Royal’s story…….
‘The Voice of the Mountain – Rena Destina and the Second Coming of Wolfdietrich’
I am come to rescue you once more, Rena Destina. We will live in that home built to hold our dreams. We will wed at the foot of Beartooth mountain. It is – our destiny!
When Brian shut Rena and I out, I reminded him I had just given up my apartment for his good friend. So, he grabs his tent, and throws it down on the ground, locks the door, and leaves. I set the tent of in the backyard, and that night Rena and I get in it. It is summer. We start taking off our clothes, so alas we can have sexual intercourse. Then I see her bare back with the flow of her auburn hair cascading down it.
“My God, Rena! You have the most beautiful back. Let’s leave our underwear on. I don’t think doing it in a backyard is right. Here, lie down and let me rub your back.”
For an hour we were both in heaven as my hand explored, my nails, tickled, and the palm of my hand lie on her abdomen. I worshipped a Goddess, and I filled her with color energy. Then, I pulled our blankets halfway outside our tent, and we looked up at the stars. My message was one of cosmic union and love. Rena fell asleep on my arm and shoulder.
I had a poetic voice. Rena had forgotten that. Then she listened to my ‘Birth of Venus’. She became alarmed, because, she came to own that voice. She never considered the source after she left for home.
Jon Presco
When Rena and I first kissed on my friend’s floor, a cosmic event occurred. We both found The Other. Cosmic Sparks, flew. The energy we created altered – much! How much?
Let us return to the place of The Kiss. It happened on Congress Avenue in Oakland California after my friend kidnapped Rena, drove down Pismo Beach with her until she demanded he return for me, he having left me standing there, watching him go crazy. He had to have her, just as Paris had to have Hellen.
So jealous was Brian of me, of us, that he locked us out of his apartment and went to stay at his mothers. Rena and I were now homeless. Brian gave us his tent and sleeping bag so we could sleep in the backyard. I went to Map Quest to look at that house again where I once lived. I had just given up my apartment there for a married couple and newborn child. I had gone to LA and considered moving there. I met Rena at the Venice Pier. I have never seen such a beautiful woman hence. Her animal magnetism was off the chart. She was a creature from another planet. The cosmic image above was posted on Facebook by my friend Persephone Rose who post a beautiful woman on her wall everyday. She thinks Rena is my Twin Soul. I concur, for we are both very isolated at this moment, if not most of our life.
Whatever wonderful genetics Rena’s parents carried before they made love and born four beautiful daughters, was from a superior gene pool. Combined, the results were overwhelming, overpowering. When Rena came at me from the dark doorway and stood feet from me, I had to look away so I could catch my breath. When I looked at this creature, I was a disbeliever. They don’t make human being this beautiful. Then, it spoke;
“Can I walk with you?”
When I saw the movie ‘Species’ I laughed aloud at the urgency of the alien to mate with an earth man and was being very direct. Rena could have been asking me a carnal question. This just doesn’t happen in real life. Why me? Is it because I carry the genetics of Royal Rosamond who gave birth to four beautiful daughters? Did Rena read my genetic material, somehow, and I was fit to be her Knight in Shining Armor?
I found, her. She was lost and forsaken. Rena is a Foundling. For reasons she did not divulge she was sent to live with her grandmother when she was seven. In a letter she sent me a year ago she says she was sexually abused by her father. She did not grow up with her three sisters who became models. She did not get along with, them, her family, that she felt she was not a part of. And now, he boyfriend has disappeared leaving her alone, and without a place to lay her head. Alas, Rena has made manifest her core identity, the way she truly feels most of her waking hours. For seven hours or more she has had time to study her situation, take it all in, her hidden feelings that are concealed no more. This is one of the best things that ever happened to her, for she alone can hone her survival skills, and come up with ‘The Solution’. I was that solution, she chose. She chose me, like a preditor, a Cheetah that has run down a gazelle.
“Sure. I was expecting you!” is the answer I managed to eek out, for I was rendered speechless.
“What do you mean by that?” Rena asked, she moving a step ahead of me in order to head my answer off, get a better look into my eye for the glint of a a hidden agenda.
When we woke that first morning she was very relaxed with me, for I told her the truth;
“I am a harmless romantic. Don’t be afraid.”
We spent two nights in that backyard. Men who met me, now rushed into the backyard to behold her. They didn’t bother to say hello to me, the dude they didn’t know that well, and, didn’t want to know – at all! I was disgusted! They were like dogs around a bitch in heat.
Then, there was Rena’s walk, her gate. We walked through a tough Oakland neighborhood she oblivious and impervious to any danger, or anyone. I was awestruck at how she was taken in. Rena got respect. It was like I had a man-eating beast, on a leash! We walked to a store located on 35th. Avenue in Oakland. When people saw Rena coming their way, they were spellbound. She exuded animal magnetism. She was a Sexy Beast. She put on a show for real cowboys back in Nebraska. Se made grown married men, whimper.
Rena was the most perfectly proportioned woman I have ever beheld, and she was tall, about 5/11. From afar you knew you were going to be treated to a show. She had a walk – the walk! It was like a great cat. Then there was the look in her eyes. This was a powerful human being. I loved to study people’s reaction to her. There were some cool Latinos and Blacks in this hood. Coming from Grand Island Nebraska, this seventeen year old had no idea how cool she was, how she complimented every scene, every stage she walked onto. Everyone parted the way, and got a good look she seemed oblivious to. Irene had animal magnetism – in spades! She was a very rare Royal Flush!
About to go into the store, suddenly Rena backed up. She spotted a magazine in the window depicting a blonde in a bathing suit.
“I think that is my sister. She said. “She was going to be one the cover of a magazine.”
We went inside to get a closer look.
“No. It’s not my sister.”
Now, I am four generation Oakland, and I never dreamed I would hear such words. LIFE magazine had done a pictorial on ‘California Girl’s’ obviously shot on the beach in Southern California. This blonde is emerging from the sea, dripping wet, splashing in the foam. She is a beautiful Nereid. I just found the photos for this article. I suspect Rena’s sister is amongst the group of waders, or, perhaps she is the woman lying on her side with her back to us.
This article precedes the Sports illustrated pictorial. I am sure there was a contest to see who gets on the cover, and Rena’s sisters, lost. This meant, LIFE magazine hired at least one professional model. However, when I first walked on Santa Monica beach at sixteen years of age, I saw model material everywhere.
Marilyn, my first girlfriends, modeled for Sea and Ski when she was thirteen, which happens to be the age of consent in Nebraska. I assume this was because young women were scarce in the barren planes, and young men were want to start family early so as to have sons to work the fields. Rena, and her three beautiful sisters, wanted none of that, and fled. That is Marilyn, the blonde in the black and white photo. The famous fashion photographer did a shoot of Marilyn on the beach siting on a rock like a Mermaid.
I am going to assume Rena’s boyfriend heard about the sister modeling in California, and drove Rena out west to see if she could be discovered and end up in a magazine, or, on the silver screen?
My friend was a good friend of the Stackpole family who lived in the Oakland hills. After the Oakland fire we went and looked at the ruins of the Stackpole home. What a loss. Thousands of negatives were consumed in the inferno. Peter Stackpole shot Hollywood stars for LIFE and was assigned to Liz Taylor. Peter went on a cruise with Errol Flynn who dated two of the four Rosamond sisters who were raised in Ventura by the Sea. Rosemary and Lillian argued forever about whom the Swashbuckler was attracted to the most.
My grandfather, Roy Reuben Rosamond, wrote for Out West and Liberty magazine. I believe he and I were the embodiment of the minor god, Nerites, who was the brother of the Nereids, the only male sibling. Consider the fifty images of the Rosamond Women captured in the gallery in Carmel, a city co-founded by Robert Louis Stevens.
I just noted that the name Irene (Rena’s birth name) is found in Nereid.
Jon Presco
Copyright 2012
In Greek mythology, Nerites was a minor sea deity, son of Nereus and Doris (apparently their only male offspring) and brother of the fifty Nereides. He is described as a young boy of stunning beauty. According to Aelian,[1] Nerites was never mentioned by epic poets such as Homer and Hesiod, but was a common figure in the mariners’ folklore. Aelian also cites two versions of the myth concerning Nerites, which are as follows. In one of the versions, Aphrodite, even before her ascension from the sea to Olympus, fell in love with Nerites. When the time had come for her to join the Olympian gods, she wanted Nerites to go with her, but he refused, preferring to stay with his family in the sea. Even the fact that Aphrodite promised him a pair of wings did not make him change his mind. The scorned goddess then transformed him into a shellfish and gave the wings to her son Eros. In the other version, Nerites was loved by Poseidon and answered his feelings. From their mutual love arose Anteros (personification of reciprocated love). Poseidon also made Nerites his charioteer; the boy drove the chariot astonishingly fast, to the admiration of various sea creatures. But Helios, for reasons unknown to Aelian’s sources, changed Nerites into a shellfish. Aelian himself supposes that Helios might have wanted the boy for himself and was offended by his refusal.
Once upon a time, there was a young cowboy riding along the trail to Beartooth Mountain. He was thinking about his cowgirl he just lost. He was figuring he got it all wrong. They were not destined to for one another. Perhaps it was Lilly Mae he was supposed to marry!
Suddenly, a rattlesnake lashed out at his horses legs, and Lil Nell jumped back out of the reach of its poisonous fangs. Cal knew Nell was backing them over a cliff. If he pulled hard on the reins that would send them over. So he leaned forward, and whispered in Nell’s ear.
“I love you Nell!”
Nell sensed her danger, and they both looked back, down on the river flowing far below. Feeling Nell’s front legs grab the earth, was like being reborn. When her back hooves got a good hold of the trail, Cal heard a strange clanking and jingling. He looked at his hands grasping the reigns, and they were covered in metal. Then, he beheld a sharp metal horn on Nell’s brow. She looked like a Unicorn. Wondering if he was in shock, and seeing things, now he was hearing, things. It was a voice coming down the mountain.
Born during a shower of stars
a great dragon appear in the sky
to devour thee.
But, this was not your destiny
Raised by wolves
my beloved grandson
deep in the woods
where only I could find you
You were born to save a fair maiden
restore a lost kingdom
and own the cloak of invisibility
after you do battle with
the Dwarf King Lauren
in his rose garden
When Cal noticed there was a sword on his waste, with what looked like a very expensive gem on its hilt, his first thought was to ride hard to town and sell it at the pawn shop so he could afford to by that old Winnabega. Then. would she marry him, now that he was not living in a tent out on the range?
Then, a bank of clouds rolled in on the drum roll of thunder. He and Nell took cover under a overhang, and in half an hour there was a break in the dark clouds. The sun was setting. Cal felt a chill come over his whole being as he beheld Beartooth bathed in a bright reddish light. Then he whispered;
“Alpenglow!” Then, he wondered what this word meant. Cal looked down to see he was covered in a body of armor so shiny, he could see his………….mountain in it. He had brought her here, and read his grandfather’s poem to her. She thought it was stupid when he could not tell her – her name.
The tide was low today, my love A cadence of the sea was wrought In melancholy strain, and low and fraught With whisperings of your name above The deep sea song! A shell that lured along the shore Whispered; “I love you evermore!” I wrote your name upon the sands – Would that I traced with gentle hands – The minor chords were wont to spell Each syllable! The tide is high tonight, my dear. The rock-bound shore loves the wave But sends it dying to its grave. The low base notes vie with the fear The wind send on The all-encircling gloom Descended o’er old ocean’s tomb! Your name is gone tonight, my love: The angry surge rushed in above. It cries aloud, with sea gull’s shrill “I love you still!”
The South Tyrol saga of King Laurin (German: König Laurin, Ladin: Re Laurin, Italian: Re Laurino) is part of a popular tradition in the Dolomites. It is a popular explanation of the optical phenomenon of Alpenglow (Ladin: Enrosadira), by which the summit of the mountains change their color to shades of red and purple during and after sunset. King Laurin’s legend is also considered to be the source of the German name of the Rosengarten group (Italian: Catinaccio) between South Tyrol and the Trentino.
The visitation I speak of began when I began my portrait of Rena, my Muse, and Christine’s! Muses are Spirit Guides who visit this one and then that one. I thought Rena knew what a Muse was. Is her muse a lover of horror movies? I think WE have a Muse and she drives an old white Ford truck. She wants a Happy Ending!
Rena, you inspire me – no matter what! Can we start from the top. I want to do paintings from your photographs – the Rena Collection. We can sign a contract. We can do talks shows. Contact me!
Above is the cave Keith Purvis took me to with his kin and our mutual friends. It is located a hundred feet from the rock I fell on a year later. When I was authoring my theological novel ‘Where Art Thou?” I found myself sitting in front of this cave beholding ‘The Tree of Life’ in the back of this abyss, surrounded by a hundred galaxies. I had pondered God’s first question to the man and woman he created, and believed I had come upon the answer as to why Adam and Eve became invisible.
I had just finished reading Tolkien’s Ring Trilogy when Keith Purvis, James Taylor, and myself, set out for McClure’s Beach to drop Stanley Augustus Owsley’s latest and most powerful dose of LSD. On the beach, Keith suggested we each drop two doses. That was our first mistake. We had stopped and got some hotdogs and buns which was a cosmic joke, because you can’t eat anything – on two doses! We brought no water or soda – our second mistake. The date was February 11, 1967. It was unusually warm. However, the nights were still cold.
As we climbed the large rock at the end of the beach, I began to feel the effects of the LSD. I looked up to see Keith and James disappear into the sun that was setting atop the rock. I had a vision of us as Hobbits taking the Ring of invisibility to the mount to cast it in so we three could end the War in Vietnam.
When I stood up at the zenith, I was in a flash of bright white light. I lost my footing, and was tumbling down the rock. I put my hands out to stop my slide, and cried out as a sharp piece of rock tore into the palm of my hand. My feet were dangling over the edge. I looked down a hundred feet at the sea lions on a rock. I went into shock. I did not have the strength to pull myself up. That’s when I felt my friends grab the army shirt I was wearing, and pull me up. I looked at their eyes and they were black orbs due to the dilation of their pupils. They could barely move. We were in deep trouble for it was a treacherous climb up, and would now be a life and death struggle to get down. Keith and James had to hand me down to one another because my legs were gone. It took us a half hour to get down, and by that time, the LSD had become a monster. We had taken too much.
James tore up my army shirt to make a bandage for my wound that exposed a bone. He took me in the water to wash my wound, and we both got soaked by a wave. We had made the final mistake. The sun was setting, and it was getting cold. Then, I saw them, these beautiful white horses coming out of the waves. It was a very peaceful sight as I sat in the sand. Then, they came, with their beautiful banners flapping in the sea breeze. They contained the cote of arms of their noble families. My ancestors were amongst them. The Lords of Rougemont and Guyere, sent knights to capture Jerusalem. We were captured in battle and hung together on a gutter of a Crusader Castle we could not defend. We were left their for weeks, in our white tunics stained with blood.
Not once in my blogs have I mentioned John of Patmos. When I read Revelations many years later, I wondered. I wondered if we had fought the coming battle of Armageddon – and won! Had we prevented a worl war?
As the knights came out of the sea, row after row, I knew I was about to die. These knight meant business. All of sudden I felt and smelled their fear. People were going to die. These knights were riding into hell. Much blood would be shed. Why? I was powerless to stop them. I was wet and cold and going into shock. We had no warm blankets. And then I heard the helicopters and the tracks of the landing barges. I was in the present. I was in Vietnam.
Jon the Nazarite
Copyright 2012
To be continued
John of Patmos is the name given, in the Book of Revelation, as the author of the apocalyptic text that is traditionally canonized in the New Testament. According to the text of Revelation, John is living on the Greek island of Patmos, where by some, he is considered to be in exile as a result of anti-Christian persecution under Roman emperor Domitian.[1][2]
In Christian denominations, John of Patmos is regarded as a prophet and a saint who receives divine revelation. He has been referred to as John the Divine, John the Revelator, John the Theologian, Eagle of Patmos[3] and John the Seer.
Friday, March 9, 2018, I looked in a box a the Knight Library. I did not find what I was looking for. However, the gentleman at the desk suggested I look on the internet. When I got home – Eureka! My book explodes with knowledge – and images! I have decided not to share all of my findings, and my understanding of Hieronymus Bosch. I looked in a box containing the writing of the late, Damon Knight. I wish he were alive. He failed to identify the figure of what looks like a Pope holding a church. Tonight CNN begins a series on the Pope. I believe the figure in front of the Pope, is my kindred. Note the medallion.
I may have spent ten thousand hours on the internet researching my Rose Line. On Saturday, an old friend said;
“Computers are evil!”
She was attacking me in the name of Trump who she titled “A sensitive genius!” She has turned her life completely over to the President of the United States. I am going to remove her name from this blog. Israel minted a Trump-Cyrus coin. How prophetic.
I would like to thank the people close to me, who have been supportive, but, there aren’t any. Strangers at the libraries………are my friends. Damon and I would have been great friends!
The clue Damon gave me when I read his papers, was Bosch did a painting of John of Patmos. Bosch has John on a hill overlooking Den Bosch. The tower of Saint John’s in in the distance. I was reminded of painting of New Amsterdam and New York. The I saw ‘Our Lady of the Harbor’. Our Lady of Holland, is pointing West. What is that book she is cradling in her arm ‘The Book of Revelations’ by John of Patmos.
My sisters saw a blue angel at the foot of their bed. Hallucinating may run in my family. I suspect the model for John, was a Rosemont. Prophets tell of things to come. We are looking at a great and hidden, Art Dynasty, that once was lost!
Frater (Father) Roesmont comes from 1382 until 1408 for Rolof as brother of Porta Coeli. His brother Ghijsbrecht was since 1382/83 sworn brother of the o.l.v.-brotherhood. On March 16, 1384 he entered the St. John as witnesses at a miracle story. A boy from Dreumel known as Alaert, son of Jacob Mertenssoen, “was covered by datmen hot Alaert siec welc vanden-Cornelisong-wee Sente hemac”, together with his mother told when Aleyt and his neighbors how he was healed of his epilepsy after his mother to o.l.v. van Den Bosch a pilgrimage had promised. An earlier promise of a pilgrimage to Kornelis munster at Aachen had not helped.
While being screened to enter the special collection, a woman overheard me speak of Damon Knight. She told me she had gone to hear him speak. She is a Science Fiction Writer. When two boxes of Knight’s work was wheeled out, and a woman carried one over to the table I sat at, and placed it before me, I realized I had come to the end of my in-finished science fiction novel ‘The Gideon Computer’ that my friend Nancy Hamren bid me to write. She was a good friend of Ken Kesey and suggested I write the history of the hippies because I could recall so much. I wrote about the Last Hippie – in the future. Damon is a co-founder of Futurians and wrote a book about them.
I just found this. A voice told me to take a photograph of the Damon Box, and me next to it in the Knight Library. I can not show the details – yet! There were images of painting with lines intersection hands to geometric shapes. There were several Sacred Geometry researchers in the Priory de Sion group I belonged to that Dan Brown peeked in on. Was Damon aware of them? The box was compiled in 1998.
Damon published his work on Bosch on Eugene Free Net who charge a small annual fee. I lost my essay when I forgot to pay my dues. Dito for Damon? ‘I See You’ is a preview of things to come, along with the I-Phone. I can see Damon struggled to master the WWW. He was getting old. I picked up the gauntlet. I am the Last Futurian standing.
“During the Forties the bulk of the Society wandered through varying communal living arrangements, treated each other to an endless series of newsletters (The Ivory Tower Goetterdaemmerung. The Prime Base Godhelpus) and scatalogical verses, and got through a surprising number of marriages and divorces. This is an irresistible story or set of stories. Yet there is something formless and undecided about the telling. One can only be grateful for Knight’s labor of love (and telephone book and tape recorder), but one also senses struggling motives behind it, even at this date. Is he trying to chronicle a historical episode? To disinter a few old bones of contention? To record something elusive and marvelous? Luckily it is the last that one remembers longest.
The only Time Viewer we know exists for sure, is our Family Trees, our recorded genealogies. Genesis! My Rosemont-Roover kindred appear in Bosch’s work. They were Swan Brethren. So was Bosch. Thomas Pynchon is in my tree. I invite Damon Knight to come take his seat at this great oaken table, along with all the Futurians. Note the rose and thorns that crowns the home of the Brethren with this word SICUT. Put a Sacred Woman there – with geometry!
The emblem worn by the Swan Brethren depicts a a rose, or lily, amongst thorns. At the root of the rose is the Latin word SICUT which is the first word from a line from Song of Songs.
2:2. As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters. Sicut lilium inter spinas sic amica mea inter filias
They say the Hippies invented the Internet. This is where my Unending Novel – go!
Welcome, my friends! Welcome, my Brothers! And, if that madman in the Oval Office brings the world to an end, we will still meet, here, to search for a better ending.
Ignore the old woman. There is evidence Bosch wore glasses. I love the wallpaper.
The history of the van Cuyck family goes back to the 11th century. It begins with a man called Herman van Malsen. He married Ida of Boulogne, sister of the great Godfrey of Bouillon, daughter of Eustace II, Count of Boulogne, and (Saint) Ida of Lorraine. The family of Herman van Malsen held land in the Betuwe around Geldermalsen and Meteren. Receiving the Land of Cuijk as a fief from the Emperor, his descendants started to use the surname ‘van Cuyck’.
The van Cuyck family became an important family. They developed a very close relationship with the Dukes of Brabant, whom they represented on several occasions.
During the Forties the bulk of the Society wandered through varying communal living arrangements, treated each other to an endless series of newsletters (The Ivory Tower Goetterdaemmerung. The Prime Base Godhelpus) and scatalogical verses, and got through a surprising number of marriages and divorces. This is an irresistible story or set of stories. Yet there is something formless and undecided about the telling. One can only be grateful for Knight’s labor of love (and telephone book and tape recorder), but one also senses struggling motives behind it, even at this date. Is he trying to chronicle a historical episode? To disinter a few old bones of contention? To record something elusive and marvelous? Luckily it is the last that one remembers longest.
Damon Knight, a prolific science fiction writer and editor whose wry humor found its biggest audience in ”To Serve Man,” a short story that was adapted into a beloved episode of ”The Twilight Zone,” died on Monday at a hospital in Eugene, Ore., his family said. He was 79 and lived in Eugene.
Mr. Knight was part of the first wave of literary-minded science fiction writers. Born in Baker, Ore., he moved to New York in the early 1940’s and joined a group of budding writers called the Futurians. Their ranks included Isaac Asimov, Donald A. Wollheim and Frederick Pohl, who went on to be some of the most influential writers and editors in the field. Mr. Knight’s memoir of the group, ”The Futurians,” was published in 1977.
My kindred, Elizabeth Rosemond Taylor is in the Peerage as are those closely related to her. Burke’s Peerage, for the time being, does not pursue the genealogy of Elizabeth Mary Rosemond, Liz’s grandmother, to all the Rosamonds, including my mother Rosemary Rosamond, and my sister, Christine Rosamond Benton, whose marriage to Garth Benton put us in the Preston family tree that has ties to the Stewarts, and thus Kate and William Windsor who gave birth to a baby boy yesterday. This royal child is yet to have been given a name.
What I hear, is that Kate wants her son to be named Arthur, and William wants George. There was an argument between the parents of John the Bpatist as to how their son will be named. Nazarite priests are present. I believe they asked the eight old infant what name he preferred.
I am kin to Baby Cambridge via the Bronkhorst, Montfoort, and Roesmonts, who were Swan Brethren. William Windsor is kin to the House of Kleve and the Swan Legends. Arnold de Rode (red) is kin to us all. I have associated him with the Red Knight, who brings a challenge to the Round Table. Let us summon the Rouge and Swan Knights who will ask the child how he will be called, for the Swan Knight is the guardian of secret names, and a mysterious lineage.
Above is the oldest surviving Dutch painting depicting my Roover kindred as Knights of the Swan. Four generations are ushered in by Saint George to behold Our Sweet Lady and her new born baby. May this child know the protection of the Swan Knight and his Swan Brethren.
The Rosemonts were the Lords of Wolfswinkle house and our cote of arms was a dancing wolf.
Today, August 7, 2007, I found the castle of the Rosemont/Rode family. Through the mists of time, the Red Knight has come home.
Arnold graaf van had three sons, Ghijsbert van Rode, and Roelof (Rover) van Rode, and Hendrick van Rode. There is a Horst castle that was once called ‘castellum Rode’. This is the Rosemont family. Rode means “red” Ghijsbert was a ridder, a knight. Here is a real Red Knight that appear in Arthurian legends. This family has intermarried for several generations, they passing down the same names.
Ghisburtus van Roesmont was a Dutch nobleman of some importance. His mother was jonkvrouw Adriana Theodorici ROVER. the daughter of Dirk Edmondszn ROOVER. The Roover family appears to descend from one of the Radbot rulers of Holland who was given the name Roover, or Rover due to conquest of the Netherlands. The Roover family would build Montfoort castle one of the most prestigious castles in Holland. These two families were keen on forming a marriage alliance as Arnold Rover married Heilwigis Arnoldi Danielis ROESMONT. For this reason I suspect the Roesmont Wolf names came from Roelof the Roover R + Odilia van Montfoort. Perhaps the Roovers owned Wolfhouse where the Roesmonts came to live in 1450. Ghisburtus was the master of Saint Janskerk, and a member of Lieve-Vrouwe-broederschap that met in Janskerk church. Hieronymus Bosch was a member of the Zwanenbroeders (swan brothers) and was commissioned by the master of Janskerk to do a stained-glass window for the church.
I am going to visit my daughter and grandson my family who appear out of nowhere. I have taken on powerful people, and I have prevailed.
Radbout (2) de Roover
Rosamond Press 
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