What do I, Ptolemy, think of our Hero, Hans, and the fast-ship, Eldeweiss — ?
He told me once, back in his Saõ Paulo days, after seeing the (self-proclaimed) sex-machine African man harass his friend on the subway, he came across a destitute but big-hearted homeless black youth on the street. Chico gave him $10 and the man brightened like a golden dandelion. He said “God bless you!”. Chico told him “No, God hates us.” The kid said “No, no, you are wrong…” etc as he followed him some steps.
….Remember one of our debates…
“I got this, I got this. What it mean that thing evil?” asked Joffrey the Jamaican, “I heard a steel-class mind once arrive at the conclusion that evil is that which takes resources away from the Earth and uses it to unleash suffering upon the world.”
“Should be also, frank…” Hans, our Hero, said in his misty-tongued way, beginning a typical metaphysical word flow that used to earn him the name “Preacher”…
From somewhere behind them, “What is a ‘should’ in a world without God?”
This debate had gone multidimensional.
God is 0 and 1 is Unity
*reality is some matrix of this
*God exists when a Confluence befalls you – that is spirit power in action
“See zero is also Nothing — with a capital N. The horizon of all existence. A paradoxical waterfall which consumes eternity and spews Birth and Renewal.” Thus spoke the Preacher when off the vapors.
Such were the good old days of working as the sous chef of a tourist attraction liner in the South China Sea. You know those heavenly rockscape isles off clam-baked sand beaches in Vietnam? Our hero spent his formative years meandering in its wonders. He got to know the most sublime female landscapes he thought only existed in exotic art house movies, and lived as a bumkin — learning Tai Chi with the old folk during port stays.
This is how Preacher became a legend in his men’s hearts in addition to his captain’s favorite (from heady midnight oil burning debates on politics and ethics).
During the 3rd season, a feisty Arab named Mah’oun who sported a steel wool beard and shark tooth necklace would outpace every other sailor at work, curse their laziness and drunken lack of morals, and in general be a thorn in everyone’s side. Then one pre-dawn session of yoga and Savate boxing drilling saw our hero face to face with a browning out Mah’oun reeking of sticky hashish.
“YOU. Why you no drink the white devil drink?”
“You mean alc — rum?” Going for the more familiar word.
“Yesssss, the brown shiiit.” He hung up on the last word as if confused of its meaning.
“No. But if you like hashish you should join us in the stow on the night before leaving port. We christen our mission with a righteous smoke circle.”
The next moment saw our hero’s aura shock into a new flavor and take a half-step back at the sight of hate and fervor in Mah’oun’s eyes. “WHO SAY you I like hashish!?” The transition of accents into a dissaproving note, each word knocking down the door of his boundary, his respect and pride crushed underneath the rapid advance of those words, the clangorous calvary of his new enemy.
Not that day.
The next part is best told by Stoogie, a former Indiana basketball player who learned the trade helping illegal seal fur hunters in the icy waters south of Patagonia. He was visited by a vision of the Virgin Mary in the personage of his beloved nana — and converted to ocean wildlife activist radical extraordinare. Then he became extremely well known by the private goons for raking up large sums of debt and then somehow the bookie gets arrested for something he did in the 70’s with China…
“So fuckin’ Mah’oun act like he walkin’ away — then he flip back flash on homeboy–”
Did we mention Stoogie was a 6’4″ gold-teeth sporting afro-centric white boy? “–like [WHAM] hit him with the Muhammad Ali whiplash and I thought Preacher was done for, but he like ghosted that shit, just glanced his jaw and he went beserk! on the motherfucker. Got crouched like Tyson and [BAM] [BAM] hit him with the upper cut! Sent that [ninja] flying!”
And thus was born the legend of Preacher. Though if you asked him, he wanted to be remembered by his holliday scallop and butternut squash soup.
But Mah’oun was underground royalty, nobody knew…and now Hans had to decide between staying on the fringes of the community or banking in with the Shanghai triads for security…
elquetienelaspatas 