Feral Oklahoma

That pairing of words, a month after the previous post, was the impetus of communicating this eve. Relevance to my life? It is the setting for much of the current audiobook I busy myself with, currently. A jokester's hunting ground, it is. Cherubic face. Half a million in earnings. No email. But somehow, tight communication and failsafes. From sweat on the oilfields to a vendetta against the monied men. Ten hours of shenanigans I am enveloped in. Not my life, but now my life.

You are what you do.

Discretionary

On Lightning
   This evening, under cloud of thunder, I opened the door to the outside with phone camera in hand in an attempt to capture lightning. The minute I opened the door, a large fuzzy tree of electricity did strike a mile or so in front of me, and I slammed the door and fell back with an utterance of "whoa!".
   This is so not in the same category as my most memorable encounter with the light beast. That was some fifteen years ago, and I was in a one-piece camouflage uniform. I had a rifle in my hand. A rifle that shot deadly pink paintballs. I was with a handful of other paint hunters when the facility crew member in residence lifted his walkie talkie and requested a vehicle to pick us up. For a few raindrops had begun to fall. And then the needle of life jumped a groove. That I wasn't blown off my feet was notable, because everything was white and deaf. When we recovered from the great white shark woodland T-bone onslaught, we looked at each other with agreement that lightning had just struck in the next game field.
   The facility impresario with the communication apparatus screamed into it for the arriving vehicle to arrive faster, which it did, and that white pickup truck did quickly become populated with now-wet color marauders. Unfastened to the bed, we bounced along in our wet deafness, and I thought then, "I was not alive for Vietnam, but my god, this is the Vietnam of recreational dangers."
* * *
I am writing an unconventional fiction book.

Prebbably

My favorite male narrator of non-fiction audiobooks is Simon Prebble. The first one of his that I heard was Holy Blood, Holy Grail. A good journey was also had with Churchill. I still want and have yet to hear Wizard: The Life and Times of Nikola Tesla...The Six Wives of Henry VIII...The Red Queen: Sex and the Evolution of Human Nature...Genome: The Autobiography of a Species in 23 Chapters...Soldaten: On Fighting, Killing, and Dying...The Irregulars: Roald Dahl and the British Spy Ring in Wartime Washington...and many more, sadly.

Long Wind

I was searching some public domain books for the word narration, and was intrigued by how intricate the following 1887 passage seems to me - and by the coincidence that voice-workers by law must now declare themselves either narrators, allegorists or fabulists.

    THE TALE, the Parable, and the Fable are all common and popular modes of conveying instruction. Each is distinguished by its own special characteristics.
    The Tale consists simply in the
narration of a story either founded on facts, or created solely by the imagination, and not necessarily associated with the teaching of any moral lesson.
    The Parable is the designed use of language purposely intended to convey a hidden and secret meaning other than that contained in the words themselves; and which may or may not bear a special reference to the hearer, or reader.
    The Fable partly agrees with, and partly differs from both of these. It will contain, like the Tale, a short but real narrative; it will seek, like the Parable, to convey a hidden meaning, and that not so much by the use of language, as by the skillful introduction of fictitious characters; and yet unlike to either Tale or Parable, it will ever keep in view, as its high prerogative, and inseparable attribute, the great purpose of instruction, and will necessarily seek to inculcate some moral maxim, social duty, or political truth. The true Fable, if it rise to its high requirements, ever aims at one great end and purpose representation of human motive, and the improvement of human conduct, and yet it so conceals its design under the disguise of fictitious characters, by clothing with speech the animals of the field, the birds of the air, the trees of the wood, or the beasts of the forest, that the reader shall receive advice without perceiving the presence of the adviser. Thus the superiority of the counselor, which often renders counsel unpalatable, is kept out of view, and the lesson comes with the greater acceptance when the reader is led, unconsciously to himself, to have his sympathies enlisted in behalf of what is pure, honorable, and praiseworthy, and to have his indignation excited against what is low, ignoble, and unworthy.
    The true fabulist, therefore, discharges a most important function. He is neither a
narrator, nor an allegorist. He is a great teacher, a corrector of morals, a censor of vice, and a commender of virtue.
   In this consists the superiority of the Fable over the Tale or the Parable. The fabulist is to create a laugh, but yet, under a merry guise, to convey instruction.

There is no such law for voice-workers. And voice-workers is not a term.