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In 1976, 413 high school runners in Finland competed in a 2000-meter race. At the time of the race and in a follow-up study twenty-five years later, the faster runners had much lower blood pressures than the slower ones (International Journal of Sports Medicine, July-August 2005.)
The researchers wanted to know whether a maximal endurance test to measure aerobic fitness in adolescence would predict hypertension in adults. This is the first study to show that faster teen age runners have lower blood pressures and that the lower blood pressures persist long after they stop running. In their teens, the faster runners were more fit than the slower runners, and their dedication may have persisted into later life; or the faster teen-age runners may have had some physiological advantage that kept their blood pressure lower and made them less likely to suffer heart attacks in later life. Either the faster runners were genetically superior to the slower runners, or something in their lifestyles made them faster as teenagers and also caused them to have lower blood pressures throughout their lives. Either way, the findings of this study should encourage early participation in sports and lifelong exercise habits.
Sometimes doctors mistake a large, strong healthy heart caused by vigorous exercise with the large, weak, sick heart of cardiomyopathy. A report from University College London Hospitals describes the case of a professional athlete who was prohibited from playing football because doctors didn’t order the right tests (European Journal of Echocardiology, August 2005).
In cardiomyopathy, the enlargement is caused by the heart’s inability to pump blood through the body at rest because of poor pumping power and inability to fill adequately with blood. A person with this condition can die during exercise. On the other hand, people who exercise vigorously over many years can develop a very large muscular heart which is stronger than normal and far less likely to suffer any disease. If this patient had an echocardiogram and treadmill exercise tests read by a physician experienced with athletes, he would not have been diagnosed with cardiomyopathy.
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The Portrait of: Mr. Augusto S. Moaio
The Mu-man
“The Mu-men, how did they get here?” asked Professor Eceptico-Espirtu, of the University of Lima (in Peru).
“How do you think,” said a youthful student named: Augusto S. Moaio, a wild looking flat faced undergraduate from one of the South Pacific Islands: adding, “they came on a damn ship from Saturn and some from Mercury, from its gigantic volcano area.”
It was the first day of classes for the students and so the Professor hesitated in correcting the young lad, and simply smiled reluctantly at him. Then after a—something shorter than a pause—he remarked, “That all seems a bit far fetched, like one of those Edgar Rice Burroughs novels, or Mr. Doyle’s “Lost World,” crap”; the class laughed and so the professor figured he’d string the new student along and listen like a good father would to a spoiled son, and then make a lesson out of him in front of the class.
“So it does,” responded the mad and impatient young man, with a receding hairline, and long ears; not long-long ears, but not normal size either. Matter of fact, the professor took a second look for he had not noticed them a moment ago being long at all.
Said the Professor [cynically] “Tell me Mr. Moaio just where these Mu-men came from in a more specific and detailed manner: and if possible, in chronological order, for we all seem so uninformed according to you; henceforward son, move on, give us a better grasp on this!” This was the normally way for the professor to scare off his challengers [or challenges] in class; that is, toss a little fun their way [belittle them if need be] make them sweat; thus, shutting down their stupid questions, or remarks, as he felt they were just annoyances, but he had to allow some inquiry.
Said Mr. Moaio with a smile [after a short consideration], or was it a sneer, it’s hard to determine, “They were already here long before the aliens arrived: the Mu-men that is.”
“You don’t need to clarify who we are discussing; you are all alive and I dare say, some undergraduates, and some graduate students, are you not; you all got cultured brains I hope, especially being in my class you better have.” The ‘not’ and ‘you’ had an inflection to it. “Carry on Augusto,” bellowed the professor.
[A little stiffly—he’s mad.] “As I was about to say,” the class all looking at the young tall man standing by his desk now, all twenty students with inquisitive eyes and wondering if this was a stage play or what. “…the primitive Mu-men were injected with a chromosome buster, they were evidently breaking and life expectancy was less than twenty-five years for them, and the aliens helped in this area, in particular, the Saturnites. This of course was the beginnings of the highbred Mu-men, whom were similar to our great apes or primates if you will, prior to their helpful technology.”
The professor now said [laconically]. “So are we getting a lesson on Evolution, Mr. Moaio?”
“Oh no just a chronological order of how they came to be and whom they were as you wanted Sir.”
“Carry on, carry on, young lad…” said the professor—wild-eyed—with distain in his countenance, adding: “and when did all this take place, since you seem to have hidden knowledge none of us have; dates give me dates, they got to someplace in that big head of yours.” Now the professor got another laugh from his students, as he predicted. But it didn’t seem to faze the new student.
“Well,” he said with thought through breathe, ‘it’s not all that simple, it really was a long trip, I mean it happened in stages….”
[A pause, as Augusto took a swallow.]
(The professor now leaned against his podium, putting his forearms down on its wooden side frame; his lecture was stopped for the most part and he knew it, which was originally on the 8th continent [Lemuria: which was to have stretched from Easter Island to Tahiti, to Fiji and onto Guam and beyond, and over to Hawaii]. He was going to explore the Maya culture and the Egyptian and try to mix it in with Lemuria. It was all lost now, the South Pacific per se was his domain to talk about, he had spent 26-years on Easter Island, during his summer breaks, and was always delighted to start his program out on the history of this area adding his exploits to the learning process, and this Augusto had just taken it away.)
Said the professor [emphatically], “Were you were about to say something Mr. Moaio?”
[Blinking.] “The Mu-men were once a great ape society, giants if you will (the professor quickly added, ‘Like King Kong I suppose?’ but Augusto just continued to talk without stopping). In consequence, they were given a Gravity-reinforcer, what you might call a membrane around a cell, but it was put around the chromosomes of the Mu-men, allowing their chromosomes to withstand their breakage so easily. And in time they were even given an additional chromosome. Again I repeat myself, allowing longer life for the Mu-men.
The collapsing of the chromosomes was the big fault the aliens from Mercury had concluded. Thereafter, their life span jumped up fifteen if not twenty-five years, and as time proceeded they would gain even a longer life span, once acquiring better eating habits, disease control, along with better hygiene. I do agree with you professor with the size of the continent, although it was a bit larger (the professor gave a limped smile).
The Mu-men were self producing, in essence, they kind of laid eggs in reproducing themselves. And by the continued aid from the two alien races, they acquired both sex organs, and started to cohabitate with humans. Actually capturing them and bringing them to their abodes as they felt a need to, or out of necessity for offspring that might be more humanoid like. As a result, the alien races decided to stop the so called experiment; of course to the disappointment of the Mu-men. Let me add, the Mu-men were now a distorted bunch of creatures: some with three eyes, and feet that looked like ducks so they could walk backwards or forwards, some even sideways. In addition, they had a small cranial, possible that of the Neanderthal, or even Homo erectus. But he or they did become a new species, and that was what they wanted.”
As Augusto stopped to catch his breathe, the professor noticed his brow ridges were pronounced over his eyes (he hadn’t noticed them before being so), it was as if he was of an old age; for he concluded, age, thickens the brows, and drops the jaw bone, thus he must be very old, but he was young looking in all fairness.
The Professor [losing confidence under Augusto’s stare] said, “Continue please,” digging his fingers into the wood of the podium stand.
[Cooley.] “Well,” he continued with a dry mouth, but steady voice, “they had little brains compared to us, one could say. But great was their supernatural willpower; that is to say, they could move objects unbelievable heavy. Things large cranes today could not move.”
[Suspiciously.] The professor looked up to the ceiling as if to stop Augusto from talking for a moment—showing a bit of world-weariness, and want to insert his two-cents worth, thus, saying as he lowered his head, “No, no, now do you really think we are to believe this, I mean, move what, show us, I mean point to an example so we can scientifically …”
[Augusto now interrupts. He rings off despondently.] “I was about to explain, if you will let me Professor [a pause, limited to a moment] the Mu-men moved great stones with the clap of an eye, how they acquired this ability was a mixture of their hybrid genetic breeding I would imagine. They were quite primitive you know, and had four arms at one time. And for your dates, I’d say it was 17,694 BC when they became completely a jawboned bipedal human, yet let me not forget to include for your information, they remained still linked to the ancestry of the two limbed Lotus Demon [of Mercury] now, they carried their blood through these developing stages of trying to become closer to the humanoid species. And then around 13,500 BC, the war started with Atlantis.”
“Honesty,” said the professor, “my gosh, now we got Atlantis in this so called thesis, and a two limbed demon, what next?”
Two limbed Lotus Demon
Said the professor with a speculative eye, “It seems to me you are grabbing at fragments of unwritten, mythological history, legends if you will, adding them to your recipe of anthropological gobbledygook, and with a slice of interplanetary jargon; and thinking we are to swallow it whole?”
Augusto (with a tortured mind trying to convince the professor ((magnanimously))—assured himself he’d give it one more try), “Professor [he said], a large object, possible several miles across struck the planet Mercury, this smashing into the planet caused immense waves of superheated vapor that rolled for hundreds of miles, killing everything in its path, thus the Mercurynites sought out another haven, earth. The impact was so devastating it caused a tidal wave sending millions of tons of dust and vapor into its atmosphere, which darkened a side of the planet; in a similar manner the very thing that took place on earth. The creatures of Mercury are in our blood.” Augusto had to imply the word ‘us,’ instead of ‘him,’ so as to not cause alarm.
Mercury’s Demise
At that very moment Augusto sat down in his chair, closed his eyes, and folded his hands [somewhat despairingly]. The Professor noticed now he had long finger nails—so the professor had just noticed—with a lofty high head of red hair, again something that just occurred to him, and his groin area bulged out as if he had an overgrown penis. All concerned, he was looking [He being: the Professor] at the rest of the class to see if they had noticed the transformation of this young student’s bodily configuration—and to no avail, they all seemed quite content to carry on with listening to the dialogue between the two, without an iota of any x-ray appearances taking place. Thus, he rubbed his eyes and wiped his glasses, but it was more than that. He tried to place this person into a gap of time, pre-historic epoch, relating him to mankind’s ancestors, like: Australopithecus, Homo Habilis or Home erectus, for he was shape changing in x-ray vision in front of him with such features, yet his height remained the same. Possibly he was seeing layers of this person, his ancestry layers, along with bazaar alien layers also, such as: skull, lower jaw, ribs, and vertebrae and limb fragments, ex-ray configurations. He was no paleontologist, but he knew what he saw in the fossil findings of early man, and he knew anatomy quite well. And he concluded he was witnessing 40,000-years in a moment’s time.
As Augusto closed his eyes, he held his hands against his frontal lobe, he chanted something beyond recognition, the professor could hear his heart beat, it was like the thumping of hoof beats—hoof beats coming louder and louder; the professor became speechless, almost as if in a trance. To break the silence the professor said, “It is all still a mystery; just, just a damn mystery…” but at the end of the last word the five story building started to shift off its concrete foundation, brick by brick it loosened and lift its home base—lifted up several inches from its groundwork. Then the young man opened his eyes, a flat look on his face, his teeth grinding, eyes bloodshot like a gorilla’s, a Great Ape’s.
Said the young man with a tarnished and rustic voice, one not quite like the Professor had heard a few minutes ago: “Mysteries are not meant to be completely sold for the price of curiosity, they all have a heavier price than one normally wants to pay, and should you wish to seek out all it has to offer, you will have to pay the price.” It was a statement not a question. It was as if the lad was giving the professor a choice of some kind (we also must remember the building is still standing several inches in the air and throughout the hallways and classrooms people are thinking an earthquake just took place and are running wildly about.) But let me continue with the shrewd professor—so he thinks he is.
“Mysteries, the mind, the why’s, they belong to people like me, who have studied all their life to seek them out; the layman knows not how to handle such things, it is the scientist who deserves the discovery.” The young man just looked [eagerly] at the professor as if he may get his wish. Then [breathlessly] crashing through the door was the Dean, he had ran from classroom to classroom, but when he came upon Professor EE’s room [as he was often called] he was stunned to see everyone still sitting calmly, and the professor at the podium still having a discussion, or so it looked like it to him.
“Are you mad Professor EE, get this classroom out of harms way, get them outside, we’re in the middle of an earthquake!” then he ran uncontrollably out of the room to warn the adjacent class. At that moment, that very moment, the class seemed to have gotten out of its fog and stumbled to the door, all left, but the professor and the young man, whom remained stationary in the same positions they had been for the past hour, with their ongoing dialogue.
“Ah!” said Augusto [fiercely], “there is a Mecca of possibilities Professor!” The professor knew beyond a doubt he was with some kind of ancient being; possible a shape-changer, things were too weird, the whole day was too eerie. The building now fell back roughly onto its foundation, but was still not stable, it was leaning, and some of floors and stairways had broken and sunk onto the lower floor; it would take a miracle to put it back into place; it would have to be rebuilt.
The Professor [astounded] asked, “Where are you from?” now having changed his style and tone of voice.
“From the third cataclysm of Atlantis and the one wherein Mu sank, and Atlantis survived; as it had twice before tasted near-extinction, calamities as you would have it. The forth cataclysm it sank completely, those who survived, were scattered around the world. The residue of Mu was scattered around the world likewise, I helped build the Gran Saposoa in the Amazon jungle, lost to humanity for 2000-years. I seen two Ice Ages come and go; I witnessed the warm airs of Europe pass over to North America when there was no Greenland to subdue it. I witnessed the Geological North Pole move from the Northwest Passage to where it is today. I was one of the first Chahopoyas natives. It’s been an interesting life to say the least.” A sneer again appeared on the professor’s face, Augusto knew he’d have to prove it, but should he it would have to be—aggravatingly. It was one thing to show his powers in levitation, another to say you were over 13,000-years old.
“Excuse me Professor,” said Augusto, “just how much proof do you want of me, to scornfully prove, the Mu-man lives on in me?” Now Augusto’s body became like an x-ray again, but with beams radiating from it. But the professor, arrogantly would not except this manifestation as proof he was as old as he claimed or personified in [with] his materializations; and Augusto could not go beyond this without harming himself, or for that matter, without returning to his old genetic half-human like species, the one he left behind so long ago; changeability was not on his menu like his grandfather’s before him: it would be his obliteration, he had chromosomes now that would never break, he could live possibly 20,000-years should he care for himself properly. (You could hear the fire engines, and the police cars now outside ((below)); the authorities wondering what had, and was taking place, while these two men remained standing in the same place, same position they had now for, let’s say an hour and a half. Then just as the professor began to laugh, a little stiffly he became, his bones were receptive to the new developments inside his skin; his chromosomes: his twenty-third lost its vitality—his face looked as it had gone mad, his chin drooping with old age, distorted; he was developing long lived hormones, he was separating from the Homo sapiens, more within the genera of Australopithecus, with features closer to the Neanderthal, thus he was becoming a living fossil, if you will: close to the looks of Homo erectus. His large brow ridges now rested over his eyes, made him look a thousand years old, a build-up of bone over the eye socks that were so pronounced he could not look straight up at the ceiling as he did before; his feet were like a ducks, he must had been nine feet tall now, with a three eyes, two new arms growing, facial distortions, worse than homo erectus; a primitive human species beyond his imagination, more like the Murcerynites. His brain capacity was lowered, he couldn’t think quickly, and when he did think and try to hold the thought, he forgot it even quicker, but he had a stronger will now, but didn’t know how to use it. He would soon find out, he couldn’t change his body back to how it was. Augusto had learned how to transform into another comatose body, and when that person died of old age, he’d shift into another. But this freak of nature, as the professor would soon be, would be subject to all the sciences the world had to offer. He would never have peace.
That is when Augusto stood up, walked out of his the classroom, never to return; for the shrewd professor could not speak a language anymore, just some sounds, gestures, and he became the talk of the decade, until he committed suicide.
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22 March, l968
As it turned out, Johnny would visit Jill’s room off and on during the following weeks. And that strange woman that left the Belmont’s room brought along another woman, and on occasion, he’d catch her on her way down the steps and invite her into his room, although she’d had preferred ‘Jill,’ so she said.
Tasma was not aware of most of this, but a little. Also, she had received at this time several letters from home by her parents, in particular her father, but she did not respond back. She was not certain what to say, she loved them, and Jill assured them she was fine, but it was too stressful for her to talk or write them. She did have a profound desire to please her father, and wishful thinking to please her mother, but it seemed she needed to learn how to please herself first, and to Jill, she did not blame them for anything, not anymore anyway. And had she started a communicational dialogue, they may have persuaded her to return, the one thing she did not want at this time.
—Jill was in the kitchen—the ironing board was pulled out from an inner-cabinet built into the wall, a wall-unite if you will, it was kept snugly in, in which there was a door attached to it; Jill was ironing Tommy and Johnny’s cloths, another lover circle had stared. Both were arranged in separate piles. Mrs. Belmont was sitting at the table talking seriously to her; it was most unusual thought Tasma, for seldom did she see Mrs. Belmont other than at the bar talking to Jill. As Tasma neared them to join them, the subject—whatever it was—changed, and what appeared on Mrs. Belmont’s face was an un-cheerful smile, not unusual, but quite sudden, and it was apparent. Consequently, feeling a little awkward she left the kitchen to work on her diary-novel (some poems), in the living room in her usual spot; in effect, she could overhear bits and pieces now of their conversation. It didn’t occur to her to get up and leave, rather the opposite; she actually pretended to be busy writing and was simply drawing a picture undiscernibly.
“It’s been going on for a while mom, I didn’t think it was, I mean it would end up like this.”
“Get rid of him, or all of them.”
“No, no, I don’t think Johnny will go so easy. He likes me, and thinks he can have me, and he has me of course.”
“What about Tommy?”
“I like him, I like him a lot, but that’s the problem, I don’t love him, I just like him.”
“He’s what you need though. He’s more anchored.”
[With scorn] “What the hell does anchored mean!” said Jill.
“Ok, ok, I could have used a better term, Tommy likes to work and go to school, he’ll be somebody someday.”
“Tommy doesn’t pay you a dime; Johnny does and Johnny works hard.”
“Yes, he works hard all right, hard at drinking, screwing you and god knows who else—smoking that weed.”
“So Tommy was screwing me and working.”
“You’re going to lose him to that cousin of yours if you don’t hang on to him.”
“Tasma,” she looked at Tasma reading, “you got to be kidding, she’s as naïve as a sparrow.”
“So you say: does a pineapple come from a pine tree?”
“No,” said Jill apprehensive, “now what does that mean?”
“She’s not the little girl she was three, four months ago, or is it five or more? She has a good shape, and pretty face, and if Tommy can’t see it, I can. And so can a lot of men at the bar. Anyhow, Tasma is not the issue, Johnny and Tommy are.”
(A long pause came, then with a cracking voice, and an almost whisper, she leaned over to her mother, and Tasma leaned over the arm of her chair): “I think I’m pregnant…”
“Ay caramba,” she said in a sigh that slurred all the way to Tasma’s ears, “…now what?”
“It’s Johnny’s, not Tommy’s, Tommy uses a rubber, and Johnny thinks it is not manly to do so.” It was momentarily hard for Jill to look her mother in the face; she was at this time, pacing the floor in a small circle as her mother followed her with her eyes.
“Listen Jill, Johnny’s drinking with all the gang members at the bar, and he’s gambling, it’s just a matter of time before he gets in trouble with them.” (Some of the gang members had motorcycles, others cars, it was somewhat an unofficial bunch of criminals, in that they were but twenty of them that hung out at a number of bars).
23 Shan’t be a Minute
Tasma found herself walking upstairs to her room, it was quieter in the kitchen, and figured, she had heard enough, a voice said, “Where are you going?” it was Jill, polite but to the point.
“Shan’t be a moment,” was her answer. She wanted to tuck away her diary-novel, she had written some exposing things in it. And so she tucked away, under her pillow, as if it was safe, and her place was off limits to others, which in presumption it seemed to be. For the most part, she did not want to leave it laying about for someone to pick up accidentally.
Life had seemed uncomplicated she thought, and now with Jill’s mother it seemed somewhat speculative, if not downright disjointed. It had now crossed her mind Tommy would find out the secret, the secret being Johnny’s behavior and her being pregnant, or so she said she was, and ‘I know about it,’ she felt as if she was a betrayer, be it to Jill or Tommy, or even Johnny. Down the stairway, into the living room she went. She looked outside through the bay-window and there was Mrs. Alice Whitehead getting into the car, she looked at Tasma, Tasma waved at her, she was a nice old lady, and it always seemed to her she had concern on her face for her.
As she turned around looking towards the kitchen she noticed Mrs. Belmont sorting out bills: ‘I suppose she’s done talking to Jill now,’ was her thinking.
“I talked to your mother a few days ago Tasma, she’s doing well and I told her likewise, you were doing well.” Tasma simply made a polite gesture, no verbal adjectives.
“I want to do something today, a surprise, come with me,” asked Tasma, for some odd reason something had popped into her head.
“What, may I ask, is on that devious mind of yours?” laughed Jill.
—Tasma and Jill were gone for several hours, and arrived back home at about 6:00 PM. Johnny and Tommy were sitting in the living room watching TV. As they both walked into the house, both the boys were somewhat taken back a bit at Tasma’s appearance—if not down right, star-struck. Her long reddish hair was cut to where it reached only the nape of her neck. And she was wearing more makeup than she had before, the result: she looked a little fresher and less school-girlish, than before. Thought Tommy, ‘…before she seemed more delicate and fragile..,’ as he glanced at the poise she displayed as she smiled and stood in the middle of the room awaiting the verdict of the two young throbbing hearts, the heart breakers themselves. Johnny noticed her slender bones, and her nicely shaped neck was more defined (front and back). Tommy for some reason noticed her neatly-set breasts, small as they were—just above her small waist they were a hand full no more. Yet her slyness somewhat removed, still left her with a harmless effect. Her nervousness was repressed for the most part.
Along with all that, with all the money she had saved up, she also purchased some bath salts, talcum powder and a small mirror, which she duplicated for Jill as a gift for allowing her to stay. She had spent her $100-dollars she had saved.
For some odd reason, Tasma had glanced back into the kitchen, expecting to see Mrs. Belmont, but of course was not surprised when she was not there, she usually would go to the bar around this time, either she had missed her, or she was in her room preparing to go. The boys looked at one another in jest, and laughed.
Said Johnny with his normal side joking way, “So now you’ve grown up, welcome to the real world kid, looks like you’re willing to join us.”
Tasma knew Johnny’s ways and knew that was better left alone.
“It makes you feel good,” commented Jill; meaning spending money on oneself for preservation purposes, or simply for a change in one’s life. But there was concern in Jill’s unseen eyes, in her cerebellum. She was no psychologist, like Skinner or Pavlov with his salivating dogs (who worked on association), but the boys were kind of salivating, restlessly slobbering might be a better way of putting it, if not downright uneasy, with this new Tasma look.
Everyone had gone to bed now, it was Jill’s turn to sit downstairs in the sofa-chair for once, wondering, thinking, not sure of her next move. ‘I just don’t get it,’ she asked herself, ‘why am I so attracted to Johnny, and going with Tommy? Tasma wouldn’t have the answer even if I asked her, nor mom, facts are facts, feelings are feelings, I don’t sense they are neither right or wrong, they just are. Johnny makes love as if he was a mad man and seems almost barbaric, and I think of him when I make love to Tommy—it’s just unthinkable. I wonder how Tommy’s new book will turn out. Can you love two people at once, at one time? A good question; I think I do, or maybe it is lust, how do I know, I’m just…(pause) will be nineteen in a month. Mom said: love is a choice. I say love is a feeling. I wonder what Tasma would say. I know Tommy feels love through his penis, like Johnny, all men do, kind of, sort of—most of the time; but Tommy is more willing to be dedicated, I think. I have learned men are attracted by looking, but I like touch.’
On her way to her bedroom, she stopped at Tasma’s room, knocked lightly, “Can I come in just for a moment?” she asked.
“Why sure you can,” answered Tasma with a thoughtful voice.
“I had a great day with you today, and thanks again for the things you bought me (this was a good lead-in she thought to bait her for a question to be soon asked), but I have a question, somehow I think you’re going to oversimplify the answer but I’ll ask it anyhow. How do you know if you’re in love with a person?”
Surprisingly, Tasma answered Jill with foreknowledge, “You mean you are having a hard time trying to figure who you want, Tommy or Johnny?”
(A tight look went over Jill’s face.) “Yes, yes, that is where I’m coming from; I didn’t know it was so obvious.”
“It’s becoming obvious Jill, it was the first day Johnny came through the door, and it has progressively taken a greater shape to it. But in regards to your answer, I’ve never been in love so I might be the wrong person to ask, but I do know this, as simple as it may be: if I wanted to go out with Johnny, I couldn’t be in love with Tommy—that much. I mean, I’d think whoever you were in love with—you’d not want to go out with anyone else; you’d kind of want to stop shopping around for another person, or so I believe. If I was to get married, I’d not want to go out with anyone else: and if I did, I’d know that I was not ready for marriage, to him or anyone, if that makes any sense.”
But to Jill it made all the sense in the world. She was sleeping with Tommy at night, and wanted to be with Johnny.
“What do you think I should do?” asked Jill.
“I think you already know; I don’t think I need to say anymore. My heart is with you, no matter what the outcome is.” Then Tasma hugged her tightly.
24 Reset
As the next two weeks passed a kind of silence took over the house, people talked less to one another, I suppose you could say, Jill was the life of the house, and now she was deep in thought. Everyone tried to keep busy and pretend things were normal, but they of course knew they were not. The Belmont’s kept their normal schedule, and the pretense lingered.
Tasma had finished up with Tommy’s book on San Francisco, and had explained to him how she liked the ending of ‘Bustling,’ by his fake name Colleen Grant; she commented to Tommy: “The younger woman fell in love with the older man, but she had psychological issues, and she was too fragile for him to care for her emotional illness, and he was too sick biologically for her to care for him. It was a sad ending I thought, but had they married: love would not have been enough, as they wished, they’d both had ruined the life of the other. Yet they remained friends as they parted, matter of fact they remained friends until he died at the age of eighty-years old, and her, at eighty-two.” She then read a poem she was working on for him: “I haven’t put it in my book or diary yet, but here it is I’ll read it to you from the paper (Tommy sat inquisitively on the edge of her bed):
The Maiden from Seattle
When she walked into the light The door to life, grew black as
Night, And her earth began to swell
(This youthful beauty of Seattle);
At first glance— Fell this youth from high Aching to touch the morning sky.
Who dare take this maiden’s hand? To help her though this silent land! Ah! From hair, to heart, to breast:
Like faded flowers in the ground Fleshless alms, could not be found, And so she remains—bound!
Said Tommy in surprise, “I like it, I think a little or maybe a lot of you is in the poem; I think you’re going to be a Mrs. Plath, or Dickinson some day.”
—The following day Tommy had come into Tasma’s room unexpectantly, “Are you still writing your story?” he asked.
She looked at Tommy, “Just some poems, and dairy notes, really haven’t gotten into the plot or theme of anything in particular yet; not sure how to get it going.”
“Let me see, maybe I can help you” he said. Yet Tasma was still bewildered of his rudeness to just kind of enter at will; she liked him and didn’t want to scare him away, on the other hand, she was not going to join any love-circle.
She leaped quickly to her pillow, then it dawned on her, she had much information in it about Johnny, Jill, Tommy and, none other but the: The Lady in Black, as she referred to her in the diary. But had she not jumped, she thought afterwards, had she not jumped she’d had not given away her hiding place, although it was no vault for sure—I mean, a mouse could have found it had it looked for it.
“I, I have too many personal things in it, private things, I’d rather you not see,” said Tasma as she currently held the book in the middle of her chest; as she got off the bed with her one knee, fully turning about now, she tripped on her shoe and the book fell, Tommy quickly grabbed it and opened it. Tasma saw him reading it, and needed to do something quick, she grabbed it out of his hands and jumped on the bed, her dress flying above her waist showing her underwear and all.
Somehow Tommy found the child in him, and jumped on her bed trying to grab the diary from her as they rolled around in the bed; now Tommy hovering over her, his legs between hers.
“What are you two up to?” questioned a voice in the background, it was Jill: she had heard the ruckus.
“My fault, I was trying to get her diary from her, I started to read something quite interesting,” he looked at Jill halfheartedly. Had he gone back any farther, thought Tasma: The Lady in Black was there.
Jill looked at Tasma in an indefatigably way, “I see I wasn’t invited to the party—”and slipped off to her bedroom where she just looked out the window aimlessly. In a way it didn’t bother her about what she’d seen, but on the other hand, she was jealous. When Tommy left the bedroom to join Jill he didn’t know whose child it was; he had only read up to ‘I overheard her say to her mother she was pregnant today by….” He could not ask Tasma to betray Jill, it would be too much to ask, if anything, Jill might be betraying him, it was indicative of her.
—In the following days, Tasma noticed Tommy and Jill fought quite a lot; and Tommy was not a person to be irritated easily, it must be that she was leading Tommy to believe it could be his child, Tasma thought. Then one evening she noticed Tommy sleeping on the coach, and Johnny still remaining in his bedroom.
During this interval, Johnny entertained himself in his bedroom, hoping Tommy and Jill would sort things out—thus he remained in kind of a queue, waiting for Jill’s signal to return, somehow he had come to that conclusion she would. He found himself pacing the floor at night, saying, ‘I wish, whatsitsname, would…’ and never ended the sentence.
—I must make this awkward at this point, his mind broke off the subject of Jill and Tommy after the first week, his insides became external. He looked at himself, pretending he was not feeling this serge; he had not guessed at this until it engulfed him, there was stern on his face—and, toil in his hand. A cold shower might work he thought, but it was too far away. He felt he was on a fast run; he hardened his body like a weightlifter, a boxer ready to take a punch.
This lasted two weeks, finally an agreement came about, Jill would sleep with Johnny, and Tommy would sleep in Johnny’s room, and in due time Tommy would have to leave, approximately in a few months, considering once she started to show it would only provoke issues within the household, or so she felt. The real problem was that Johnny did not have the heart to tell Jill he liked the way things were, and he really liked Lorie to a higher degree. He wanted his sex, but could find it elsewhere if need be, now he’d have to resort to living in her bedroom, and his alone time would be altered. In addition, Lorie was somewhat out of the picture for he had not seen her in weeks as he waited for this all to settle, but he’d see her again is what he was planning. Again, everything seemed in the air now. But to resist the plan would be too premature at the moment he deliberated out.
In spite of the tension, things appeared to move about on a regular base for a few more weeks. However, Johnny was starting to hang out with the gang more often now, with their motorcycles, and customized old cars. He was doing a lot more drinking and gambling with the gang members. They had even stopped on a few occasions at Jill’s house looking for Johnny, taking pains to find him, going out of their way it would seem. It came to her attention; Johnny owed them money, how much it wasn’t said (but it was close to $6,000-dollars). They’d not go to his work; it was one thing the groups forbid: that being, to endanger a man’s livelihood was not being a man at all. They could do almost anything else, even kill you, but not jeopardize your job: that was considered a low blow.
Out of nervousness, Tasma started to keep her distance from the group at the bar, if she could, she would have vanished into thin air.
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It's no surprise that both genders rely on lying to some extent. They just do it differently and sometimes for different reasons.
All humans, especially women say they want their partner to be honest. Is this the truth? Can you keep a relationship up and running if you are telling the truth all the time?
Imagine that you just have brought your girlfriend at your home, to spend the night together for the first time. You have made a great effort to arrange and clean your home and especially the bedroom. You are proud about this and ask your partner what she believes about your home.
She responds "It is a little old fashioned... and something smells bad in here". Ups! Ok.
You two pass through this awkward moment, then you start kissing each other, but you make a joke about... the size of your penis, and instead to hear the most used reply: "hey, relax, size really doesn't matter", she tells you that her ex was quite huge.
Ups... Not again. :)
If she were to say just two little lies everything could be great, but now...
The truth is, telling a few lies can be one of the best ways to keep your relationship healthy.
So if you want to keep her happy and keep getting laid, you're going to have to learn how to lie - and lie convincingly. The trick is figuring out what she wants to hear.
1. Never mention your sexual past... especially if it was a good one. If your girlfriend asks you what it was like or how good your ex was, you can tell a lie if you have to. Say it wasn't all that good. Don't ever mention her. Even if what you're saying is uncomplimentary, it will still have a negative effect. You bringing her up hints that she's still on your mind.
2. When it comes about how she looks, if you picked her to be your partner, you have to make her feel that she is a WOMAN. Every woman has something beautiful, something sexy and attractive, and if you make her know that you find her attractive she will be more confident, wilder and more passionate. But when she asks you about something you don't really like at her look, never but never tell her your true opinion. Just say that it is OK and pass over the moment. If you are telling her that you don't like something at her, she will feel frustrated and become more inhibited.
3. Everybody knows that women have more sensibility than men. So pay attention to her sensibility and don't make bad jokes about other people (especially her family) or let her know when you are up to take the cat and throw it out through the window. She will find you insensitive and you will lose points. Use your common sense and try not to hurt your woman’s feelings even if you have to say a little lie from time to time.
Overall, lying is a bad thing to do. But when it comes to women, you really have no choice.
The little white lies don't hurt anyone and are only meant as reassurance every now and then
It's therefore okay to tell a person what they want to hear.
