Genevieve Goes Back to School on the Tenth by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

Genevieve Goes Back to School on the Tenth

by

Edward Drobinski

Copyright © 2021 by Edward Drobinski.

All rights reserved.

“You have to write the book that wants to be written.

And if the book will be too difficult for grown-ups, then you write it for children."

-Madeleine L’ Engle-

“I can only explain it to you. I can’t understand it for you.”

-Kayleigh McEnany-

Genevieve; Back Stepping

Genevieve was walking uptown with two of her puppyhood friends.

That’s easy to say, thereby tending strongly toward the popular, oversimplified and clipped story, though it does not convey the complexity of Genevieve’s endeavor. Truth be told, Genevieve had not been a puppy, nor had she seen these two puppyhood “friends”

in decades. One in particular was hardly remembered at all; much like that “disappeared,” velveteen, bunny rabbit she slept with before her age could be measured in years.

Genevieve

She was also in a part of Poochville she had not seen for many years, and was thereby not able to unequivocally discern whether she was walking uptown, downtown, crosstown, or some composite.

Perhaps of more personal significance, Genevieve had some

reservations about whether she wanted to be in this strange and packed territory at all; the degree of desired canine accompaniment another issue, perhaps more or less, one marginally lesser under her current circumstances of Michael-Jackson-type moonwalking, but in the early morning, angled sun; this particular one coming in at a one-fifty from the lower right quadrant, with a demonstrated tendency to furtively slink; like a discreetly unbalanced, though “state-of-the-art,” semi-automated, mechanical, descender of mid-height stairs.

You can see the problem, and know that it is best to ignore it.

Under those circumstances it quietly goes away.

Genevieve

The generous countenance to which Genevieve was strongly predisposed could find no compelling cause to murmur, while

simultaneously maintaining her long defaulted, cordial manner; any “issue,” one of potential interest only to those content and approvingly secure within the limitations effectively imposed upon those trapped by the browser of their monopolized “choice.”

Still, it didn’t hurt Genevieve’s outlook to not be at the true epicenter, any such view a cursory, olfactory based deficiency of the mistaken viewer; that viewer’s irrelevant and uninteresting problem. Genevieve’s left flank was removed from any possible immediate contact with Louhi; a periodically pugnacious, purported pooch pot-pourri. When Louhi was not present, some pooches registered the opinion that she overuses the Cosmetic Gorilla Glue on her knowledge knot, making her braids appear wingish.

Louhi

Genevieve’s right was protected as well as any NFL quarterback, more or less, as in the dilution dictated by the avaricious league; more expansion than competency or interest driven, now having twice as many teams and players than they did a few years back, thereby making current NFL pros of the half who would previously have been classified as unheralded, factory rejects.

This was quietly compensated for by Genevieve’s instinctively trusted Lenore on her right flank.

Lenore

Genevieve was again in the trio she more or less, half wanted in a “No Exit” fashion; 2/3 an infinite imprecision in anything other than simplistic, though yet to be improved upon, fractional conceptual conveyance. Ostensibly limited point; 6-6-6, or 6-6-6-6-6-6, or 6-6-6-6-6-6-6-6-6, ad infinitum is ultimately just a series of redundancies, until someone dares to

end the sequence with the installation of a concluding 7 digit, arguably installed in an attempt to avoid the tedious, Franzenian type pedanticism prevalent in current disciplines, crowned with a aleph-nought or omega topped squiggly, often incorrectly referred to as a tilde, which actually does not signify any particular expansion, other than “I think I’ve had enough.”

Not her problem. Right now Genevieve’s only goal was to lope and pace in safe tranquility near the row-houses, which lined the avenue in as much diversity as a set of row-houses can supply.

There were even degraded, northern Italianette reprises here and there.

.

Row-houses on the avenue

It might be more annoyingly accurate to characterize Genevieve’s walking companions as one vague friend and an all too frequent

associate, but the reader doesn’t want to hear all that stuff inadequately explained at length, as in a western European novel. Either he/she has been there and done that needing no further detail, or they have not been there nor done that; in which case no volume of written detail could be sufficient.

Unburdened by any such silly expectations, Genevieve mindlessly loped and paced as well as a Dylan-esque fabrication of an anti-heroine with bit parts in the middle of several movies she had begun remotely viewing some personally indeterminate time after her somnambulistic walkthrough and the production’s overstated opening credits replete with the emblematic recapitulative overture destined for MD waiting rooms. It was quite relaxing in a most pleasant manner, making Genevieve’s most immediate of attentions turn to her desire not to doze while still on her feet. She was no sacred cow. At least she didn’t think so.

Poochville High School came into view. It was the first day of a new school year. Many pooches were already there.

Poochville High School

Genevieve and her group sat in an area which seemed to have been occupied by a dining service which had departed. Coins which were probably tips left by the dining service employees sat in three piles. Genevieve wasn’t sure if it was okay to take them, but since no one else was going to, she did.

She saw Dillon, left the group, and joined him.

Dillon

He said; “Come with me freshman. I’ll show you the ropes. What took you so long?”

“Freshmman? What are you?”

“Sophomore, silly.”

The bell rang. Genevieve didn’t know what classes, if any, to go to. So she followed Dillon’s lead to the second floor of the Gothic revival structure, and into room number 205. They were as yet, the only students in the class, and took adjacent seats in the back. The teacher, a studious looking pooch, was fussing with some papers up front, after having chalked the blackboard with “Mr. Collie,” followed by “Mythology II.”

Mr. Collie

Genevieve asked Dillon; “Is this an elective?”

“More or less. It was either this, Book-keeping, or Critical Pooch Theory.”

“I hope more students show up. I hate being scrutinized by the studious types.”

“Me too. If few show up today, we can always drop the course and transfer to Book-keeping.”

“Omigod. There must be some other choice available.”

“Yeah, a worse one.”

“I guess. At least Book-keeping makes you employable.”

Dillon said; “Look! Here they come. Some of these pooches only do things when the group does. Betcha they all sit together.

..... Ha! Told you.”

“Safety in numbers.”

“Dismal boredom too.”

Mr. Collie cleared his throat and said; “I’m Mr. Collie and this is Mythology II, an elective you have chosen to take.”

Genevieve and Dillon eyed each other and shrugged.

Mr. Collie continued; “If this is incorrect, please bring your cards up to the desk, and we’ll straighten this out.”

Genevieve whispered to Dillon; “I don’t have any cards.”

Genevieve

Dillon whispered back; “Then you’re not invited to the desk.

Just sit tight.”

Dillon

Genevieve sat tight.

Genevieve

Mr. Collie said; “Okay. Now that we’ve determined that everyone here wants to be, I’d like to give you an idea of what this course will be about.”

Genevieve said to Dillon; “Mr. Collie jumps to unfounded conclusions. Doesn’t he?”

Dillon said; “Like any social media libtard.”

Mr. Collie said; “Is there some discussion going on at the back of the room?”

Dillon replied; “Small exchange rather than a discussion. I dropped my protractor. Sorry.”

Mr. Collie continued; “We will be attempting to familiarize you with some of the lesser known, but relevant legends. I read to you of Dogoda.”

The Legend of Dogoda

Dogoda; Wind God of Regained Love and Compassion It is obviously high time for the poor of spirit to join with the rest and request Dogoda’s help to neutralize their undesired situations which have already been neutralized, apparently when they were paying no attention.

Dogoda

Financial poverty is a relative term and a different consideration. There will always be those who so aspire, just as there will always be those who aspire to riches. In Poochville, food, clothing, and shelter have long been provided to those making the slightest degree of effort, in some cases none at all.

Dogoda

And what is equality anyway? A word for the terminal gripes to chant. Outside of the mathematical application, it doesn’t exist and never will. Anyone in the Poochville of today who seriously thinks that they are impoverished is welcome to experience the average US life of the 1940’s. But, enough of the bourgeois minded gripes. They bore and always will. It is the spiritual; perhaps some might say psychological, poverty at the more interesting core.

Dogoda says that now is the time to request to remember, re-gain, forgive, and gently move forward together, within your chosen group or individually to inevitably meet up with another group. Maybe that should have been done yesterday. But who has the correct time? To make that request is really more of a potential benefit to you than anyone else, and it contains no downside, sans the pre-drift off; a pleasant, yet time consuming minute before slumber.

Dogoda

Believe; the “proof” in that intricate, un-interesting, and among other things, inarticulate inversion inserted or “fact-checked” by one of the aspiring Fakebook devils of wannabe significance; doomed to the grateful receipt of a “master’s”

obligatory head tap; the source of Nirvana for an appropriately thankful pawn, expressed in sarcasm or not.

The view from inside the cave.

Do not be put off. Remember, Dogoda is tired, reticent, too shy, or too polite to proclaim such, and has been long overwhelmed by half-assed entreaties devoid of any merit. Despite that un-debatable recognition, Dogoda is not inclined to disregard or disrespect anyone; a cock-eyed optimist if there ever was one.

Go ahead, and have your short lived kicks at his expense. Dogoda doesn’t care, as he has lost count as well as the need to respond to obnoxious losers.

Summer is a time to play and have fun, while you still keep a watchful eye on your crops as they grow. It is also important to be aware of how time fertilizes and cleanses your hopes and dreams.

Dogoda

Much of what was previously known about Old Dogoda’s practices has come to us, like everything else, through bits and scraps of the early writings of the Romans and Greeks. From these old documents, together with current research and the Internet, it is possible to piece together the significance of these legends, songs, proverbs, and exorcism practices.

To ensure their survival, it was common practice among Old Polish shamans to offer sacrifices to the nature spirits. One practice produced thick clouds of smoke to drive off evil weather spirits. Dogoda was the only directional wind they anthropomorphized, expressing the qualities of love and compassion. His appearance ensured that the corn would grow and that the mating season was in full bloom.

Dogoda

When the predicated belief of the people is that everything in the world is infused with God, and God infuses everything with Its unique spirit, it makes sense that the countryside of Poland is dotted with sacred landmarks. The Polish pray at crossroad shrines, holy wells, the wooden groves at the base of giant boulders, and at cairns for direct contact with the divine. The Slavonic tribes of the field worshipped Mother Earth, Matka Syra Ziemia. Trees, rocks, and animals were considered older than mankind, far wiser, and were consulted for aid and advice Tradition is the bedrock of the Polish people. Ritual preparations leading up to an event are key.

When Dogoda whooshes from the east, sacred memories are being stirred in your subconscious, in order to re-establish your old beliefs. Loyalty to time tested ideas can help you stand in the western wind. Examine the signs and omens that cross your path.

The loss of an idea, a loved one, a job, or a life pattern may leave you feeling sad, disoriented, and disappointed. Take heart in the knowledge that Dogoda’s moist breath will rust and break the shackles of your mind with the winds of compassion. Remain true to your rituals and ceremonies.

Dogoda

If you are prone to seeing the world in black and white, Dogoda reminds you to take note of the various shades of gray that are also aspects of your life. Clear your poker hand by dumping the bad cards. Better ones will be substituted. The game cannot refuse, as it is bound by its own rules.

Dogoda may manifest as strong words from a loving friend, reminding you to stay present with your current course. This is a time to re-energize sacred practices and let go of uselessly, harmful notions and expectations.

Unlike elsewhere as in the cardgame, Dogoda doesn’t differentiate past from present, and plays by his own rules. He

ultimately only seemingly defers to those who would impose their own, when he deems them personally and mutually innocuous, despite the attempted imposition of a contrivance. Time is not honored. Nor is it dishonored. It is merely ignored. Time may not like that, but is apparently incapable of registering any discernable objections.

Dogoda fully expects that even if they don’t already see, hide inside the shade, or try to mask it with blinders, all will soon see the sunrise. It comes up again every tomorrow. You can’t miss it. That seems the safest of big payoff bets.

Dogoda can be a real wicked independent or a rewarding interdependent. The choice is presented to you yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

Dogoda

The arrival of Dogoda from the south signifies that this is the time for a moral victory over your emotions. Dispel whatever is ugly; lighten up, laugh, and enjoy yourself. Repressed emotions may be triggered by an unexpected loss, recognition, achievement, or illness. With Dogoda’s assistance, you need not suffer needlessly. You can experience compassion for yourself and others whilst moving towards a satisfactory resolution.

Do not become a martyr to your pain. You do not have to fight to stand your ground. Dogoda can help you loosen your grip on current survival strategies that no longer work. Dogoda may cast a spell of heartbreak to expedite the healing of old wounds and soar like an eagle.

When Dogoda comes from his home in the west, show respect for your spirit visitor by setting an extra place at the table.

Allow your dreams and visions to take precedence over the mundane world. Be on the lookout for omens. One Polish myth describes how the nation of Poland was founded. An army troop stopped to rest in a meadow alongside a lake, when they noticed a large eagle, circling overhead. It came to rest briefly on the edge of a cliff, and, as it spread its wings to soar once again, the rays of Dazhbog, the sun, struck its wings, which made them

glitter like gold. Taking this as a harbinger from the sun god, Svarog, Lech, the leader of the battalion, declared this place their new home, calling it Gniezno, the Eagle’s Nest. To this day, Gniezno remains the historic center of Poland. This myth is a reminder to keep your inner and outer ears and eyes open for signs that will guide you to your rightful place.

Dogoda

Despite harsh and impoverished living conditions, the Polish remained true to their faith. When Dogoda blows open your doorway of doubt, enter with joy, confidence, and an open heart.

Be grateful for all that you have, large and small, and remember to share your gifts with others.

Farmers paid homage to a supreme God, while beseeching numerous nature gods for help and guidance in their everyday lives.

Dogoda comes bearing the gift of compassion. Reconcile your idealistic beliefs and allow others to express themselves as individuals. When Dogoda blows in from the north it is to remind you to put away the sword of your own illusions. Things are not always as they appear.

Dogoda

Symbols may not always be what they appear. Originally, the swastika represented the poles of the Big Dipper constellation, as well as time itself, which, according to shamans, moves forward and backward for Polish speaking Pagans. Like the Nulib Nazis of today, the German Nazis redefined the swastika to symbolize destruction and war. Dogoda comes as a reminder that

sacred time is circular, and that the current perception of events that have occurred in the past are directly influenced by present repetitive actions. To understand this idea fully requires that you undergo a paradigm shift of consciousness. Put aside preconceived ideas. Offer up your devotion to the wind and stars, and perhaps you will change the course of your life.

Dogoda’s Aftermath

Mr. Collie said; “Comments?” His upturned eyebrows and withered tone of bark seemed to indicate that this wasn’t what he wanted, likely said only because Mr. Collie’s job description required making overtures to the students.

Undeterred and actually encouraged, Dillon raised his left paw and said; “And if this weird waylay won’t work, one can always go to Wubway for a whale wobble wedgie.”

Excited, Genevieve contrarily spouted; “Okay, but you might have mentioned ‘excuse making;’ alliteration of course lost.”

“If it was up to only me I’d have gone for ‘Radical Chic and Mau Mauing the Flak Catchers.’”

“Who else is it up to and why should you care?”

“One is obliged to facsimile social concerns. No?”

“Well, kind of. But, it’s only us pooches here.”

“I take it that you didn’t see the cameras rolling near the ceiling.”

“Got sound?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that was their big secret.”

“We’re in Poochville; not Hominidville!”

“ .......... That net gets me confused.”

“Paranoid.”

“Careful when there is no need to take a risk.”

At the momentary lull, Mr. Collie said; “Please continue this stimulating discussion, while I step out for a Wubway whale wobble wedgie.” He smiled as he closed the door behind him.

Lenore’s Story; Back Stepping, Once Removed Lenore was walking uptown with two of her long lost puppyhood friends. She was in an area vaguely familiar to her, walking uptown. In the early morning, angled sun; she could see the situation clearly.

Lenore

The generous countenance to which Lenore was mildly predisposed could find no compelling cause to murmur, while simultaneously maintaining her long defaulted, cordial manner; any “issue,” one of potential interest only to those content and approvingly secure within the limitations effectively imposed upon those trapped by the browser of their “choice.” She looked in an open

door and saw the accoutrements rather than the resident pooches, who had opted for a waggylicious, whitewashed, wooden floor.

Lenore was content to not be at the true epicenter, she quietly secure in her nearness to trusted Genevieve;

Genevieve; property of the author as Lenore was again in the trio she half wanted to be in in a

“No Exit” fashion; half not her problem. Right now Lenore’s only goal was to lope and pace in safe tranquility.

Unburdened by any silly expectations, Lenore mindlessly loped and paced well. It was quite relaxing in a most pleasant manner, making Lenore’s most immediate of attentions turn to her desire not to doze while still on her feet.

Lenore thought she heard; “Time is the enemy.” ....... “Why do we have to grow old?”

She felt compelled to reply; “If we didn’t, there would be no room,” hearing a familiar; “I know. That was rhetorical, silly.”

A voice can unintentionally sound much too assured, high-handed, and clandestinely mocking; the latter attribute most often

assigned through the listener’s internal confabulation, rather than the speaker’s tone.

Lenore; property of the author.

Poochville High School came into view. It was the first day of a new school year. Many pooches were already there.

Poochville High School

Many pooches.

Lenore and her little group of Genevieve and Louhi sat in an area which was abandoned by a dining service vehicle. Coins littered the scene. Lenore saw Genevieve take them, but since no one else was going to, she did.

She saw Dillon, left the group, and joined him.

Lenore was unable to maintain her pace, and rolled off onto a comfortable blanket some pooch had left behind.

Louhi

The blind daughter of Tuoni, Old and wicked witch, Louhi, Worst of all the Death-land women, Ugliest of Mana's children,

Source of all the host of evils, All the ills and plagues of Northland, Black in heart, and soul, and visage, Evil genius of Lappala,

Made her couch along the wayside, On the fields of sin and sorrow; Turned her back upon the East-wind, To the source of stormy weather,

To the chilling winds of morning.

— Kalevala, Rune XLV, from the translation by John Martin Crawford

As You Said

Tides and “As You Said” written by Jack Bruce and Pete Brown; property of the author, the latter under both the “fair use” and “transformative” doctrines.

My Back Pages

Byrds and “My Back Pages” written by Bob Dylan; property of the author, the latter under both the

“fair use” and “transformative” doctrines.

The End