This is the second installment of the first draft of a novel written by our old friend Terra Cognita. For the next little while it is our Sunday Serial.
Terra welcomes all suggestions and feedback — this is draft — you can note them in the comments.
Time, Place, Form, and Event
Chapter 7
“Help!” I screamed. My voice was becoming hoarse. And Joan hadn’t moved since I’d begun “CPR.” Which seemed like an hour ago. I had to do something else. Like call an ambulance.
“I’m gonna run for help.” I almost added, “Don’t move. Stay where you are.”
I jumped up and dashed out of the room and down the narrow hallway leading to the stairs. I bounded up the steps three at a time and at the first floor landing, yelled for help for the thousandth time.
“Rick? Is that you?” a voice called from upstairs.
“Yes! Joan’s unconscious! And I don’t have a working cell phone. Call 911!”
Doug came running down the stairs. I met him halfway between the first and the second floor.
He grabbed both my shoulders and leaned into my face. “Tell me what’s going on!
“It’s Joan! She just passed out. I’ve tried CPR but she’s not responding. She’s not breathing and I can’t feel a heartbeat. You gotta call 911!”
“Okay, okay. You go back and stay with her. I’ll call for help.”
I nodded, turned, and sprinted back to the Purif room.
Joan hadn’t moved. If anything, she looked bluer. I resumed CPR.
Three breaths in. Followed by three chest compressions. Three breaths, three compressions. Back and forth, all the while listening for the sound of sirens. Listening for the sound of Doug and a team of paramedics racing down the hallway. I glanced at my watch. What was taking them?
“Come on, Joan, breathe. Breathe. Come on.” Three breaths, three compressions.
I thought of her husband, Bill. Short, dark, and dumpy. Where was he? At work? Probably. Maybe he was an enrolled agent, too. Hopefully, Doug had called him after he got off the phone with 911.
I paused and felt for a pulse. Her wrist felt cold. So did the side of her neck. The hard, tile floor was sucking the heat out of her. I grabbed the orange beach towel hanging over the back of her chair and covered her body. And resumed CPR.
Three breaths, three compressions. I remembered hearing the procedure had changed in recent years. Like people were only supposed to do the chest compressions. The breathing part wasn’t necessary. Or was it the other way around? Maybe I was killing her. By breathing into her, wasn’t I breathing in spent air? Air from which my lungs had already absorbed all the oxygen? Or at least most of it? Where the fuck were the paramedics!
I glanced at my watch again. Shit! It’d been close to twenty minutes since I’d dragged her out of the sauna. For the hundredth time, I wondered how long a brain could survive without going all vegetable. Seven minutes? Ten? Fifteen? For sure, not the twenty minutes she’d been out. Brain cells began dying after minutes. Or so I thought. I knew as much about brain function as I knew about CPR.
Uncharitable as the thought was, Joan might have been better off if she never woke up. Because lying in a bed with no brain function for the rest of your life was no life at all.
“Doug!” I yelled. “Where the fuck are you!”
Chapter 8
I’d just returned from a year of traveling abroad and had no clue what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. Big reveal, right? I’d never heard of Scientology.
“So,” Dev said, “you going back to UCSB?” University of California, Santa Barbara.
I shrugged.
He held out his hand. “Pass me the fuckin joint, dude.”
I passed him the roach and leaned back on the old ratty, inherited green couch. A single ray of light from the streetlamp outside pierced the layer of smoke swirling about the upper half of the room. White Rabbit played on the radio. I reached for another potato chip.
“So, what you gonna do if you don’t go back to school?” Dev asked. “Like you only have a couple more years to graduate, right?”
“What you gonna do?” had been the question churning inside my head since I was old enough to realize Mom and Dad wouldn’t be around to support me for the rest of my life. My big hope was to find my calling in college. So far, it hadn’t happened. I sat at the crossroads. Not moving. Not having the guts to just choose a path and start walking.
“What about you?” I asked.
“Thinking of going into accounting.”
“No fuckin way.”
Dev and I had been best friends since eighth grade. The last place I imagined him sitting was at a desk crunching numbers. I looked out the window of the Little House—what my family called the cottage at the back of the property. No light shined from any of the windows inside the main house on the other side of the back yard. Which meant my dad and two younger brothers had already gone to bed. Tenth grade for Jake; twelfth for Jack; and for Dad, teaching three courses in history at Santa Barbara City College.
“You can always get a job in accounting,” Dev said. He tossed the dead roach in the abalone ashtray on the scarred coffee table and grabbed the bag of chips. “And numbers don’t lie. Like two plus two always equals four. And twenty percent of a hundred is always twenty. No bullshit, like there is in history and politics and subjects like that.”
Math was one of my favorite subjects. He had a point.
“So you’re no longer thinking of doing something in psychology?” I asked.
“Since I’ve been working at the jail and seeing who ends up there… I just can’t see myself working with crazy-ass people for the rest of my life.”
Dev had recently finished paramedic training while taking general education classes at CC. Santa Barbara City College: with its incredible views of the Pacific Ocean, yacht harbor, and zillions of tanned coeds.
“Thinking of transferring to Cal Poly,” he said. In San Luis Obispo, a hundred miles to the north. “You and Patty want to see a movie tomorrow?”
Patty was five years older than me, involved in some kind of new age religion, and although I didn’t know it, was about ready to dump me for a more mature model. She lived in a small apartment perched on a steep hill overlooking a narrow swath of Santa Barbara. I’d planned on seeing her later that night.
“I’ll ask her,” I lied. She didn’t like any of my friends; I knew she wouldn’t want to go.
Dev got up, walked across the small room to the “kitchen,” and grabbed an orange soda out of the refrigerator. “Gonna hit the road, dude,” he said. “Call me tomorrow.”
I said I would. I brushed my teeth and grabbed my car keys.
Ten minutes later I was sitting on Patty’s couch reading Problems of Work, by L. Ron Hubbard, the founder of Scientology. She appeared from the bedroom and sat down beside me. Her nightgown covered about a quarter inch of smooth thigh. Fuck going to the movies.
“You ought to read Dianetics, too,” she said. “Heard of it? It’s also by LRH.”
“LRH?”
“L. Ron Hubbard. Everyone just refers to him as LRH. Anyway, it’s all about how incidents in the past effect a person in present time.”
“Like Freud, right?”
“No. Nothing like him,” she scoffed. “Dianetics is much more scientific. Like with Dianetics you find the exact incidents holding you back in life.”
Must have had a shit-load of those. Tell me more.
“You do this thing called auditing,” she continued, “where an ‘auditor’—kinda like a counselor—directs you to those exact incidents in your past that are causing your present time problems.”
“I’d settle for being able to study better. Like concentrate on what I was reading for more than twenty minutes at a time.”
“Funny you should mention that. They have a course that specifically addresses study problems.”
“Really?”
“It’s called the Student Hat. You should check it out, Rick.”
The next evening, I walked through the front doors of the “mission.”
Chapter 9
Doug burst into the room and kneeled down on the other side of Joan. “How’s she doing?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No pulse. She’s not breathing. I think she’s dead.” Or maybe she wasn’t. I wasn’t a fuckin doctor! I continued chest compressions. Maybe all of a sudden, her eyes would pop open and she’d say, “What’s going on? Why am I laying here on the floor?” Then again, probably not.
Doug looked up at me. “I called Brenda. She should be here shortly.”
Brenda was the ED. ED was short for “executive director,” the person in charge of the org.
“And what about an ambulance. What’s takin’ em so long? And do you know anything about CPR?”
Doug shook his head. I didn’t know if this meant he didn’t know what was taking the ambulance so long, or no, he knew nothing about CPR.
“And what about Bill, Joan’s husband? You called him, yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Fuck, dude! You gotta call him. They gotta have his number somewhere around here.” I remembered the Purif application sheet had a line for an emergency contact person. If this wasn’t an emergency, I didn’t know what was.
“Don’t worry. We’ll call him. We just gotta wait for Brenda.”
“What? Why? No. Just call him, Doug. There’s no reason to wait.”
“No! We gotta wait. So, just keep doing what you’re doing.”
Without warning, Joan’s bowels emptied, sending streams of warm shit oozing out of her swimsuit. I just about soiled my own trunks.
I said, “Oh fuck. What do we do now?” I thought, “Oh shit. She has to be dead now.”
“Get a towel,” Doug ordered.
“There’s one covering her,” I said.
“Get another one!”
I dashed inside the sauna and grabbed the towel Joan used to sit on. I ran back out and knelt down beside her. The small room smelled like a porta-potty at the end of an all-day, outdoor festival.
“Now clean this up,” Doug said.
“What?”
“This shit. Clean it up.”
“But… What about CPR and…”
“Just do it, man! I don’t have time for any of your counter intention.”
I stared down at the brown mass seeping out of from underneath Joan.
“Let’s roll her over,” Doug said.
“Like on her side?” I said.
“Yeah, so you can…get to her.”
“You wouldn’t have any disposable gloves, would you?” I asked.
“No.”
Doug grabbed one of her shoulders and pulled. I pushed from the other side. Once we had her on her side, she flopped over on her stomach. Her magenta shirt reached the middle of her thick thighs and was stained brown. The stench just about killed me.
Doug reached in his pocket and pulled out a Swiss Army knife. “Here, use this to cut off her shirt,” he said.
I felt nauseous. Had I wanted to, I could have forced myself to throw up without using a finger. I took the knife from Doug and began to cut Joan’s shirt, starting from the top and working my way down. I tried not to touching the material when I got to the brown stain but the blade was only an inch long. I muttered, “Ah, fuck,” as my fingers touched the brown wetness.
After wiggling her arms out of the sleeves, I pulled the shirt from under her body, held it out with two fingers before running to the bathroom to throw it in the trash. I thought of flushing it down the toilet but figured the last thing we needed was overflowing, contaminated water running down the hall.
Doug was talking on his phone when I got back.
“Okay,” I heard him say. “Right… right… Uh, huh. No, I didn’t. Okay, see you soon.”
“Was that the paramedics?”
“No. Brenda. She should be her in a few minutes. In the meantime, we gotta clean this mess up.”
I stared down at Joan’s wide, flaccid ass. And wide, flaccid thighs. Both of which were covered in a thin layer of brown shit. Beginning with her thighs, I wiped off as much as I could with the towel.
“Get under her swimsuit, too,” Doug said.
“Fuck,” I muttered for the hundredth time.
“Just do it.”
I lifted the thin nylon material of her swimsuit with one hand and slid in the towel over her dimpled ass with the other. I’d never performed a more disgusting task in my life and it soon became apparent that one towel wasn’t going to take care of things. I tried not breathing through my nose.
“Rinse it out in the sink in the bathroom,” Doug ordered.
I rolled my eyes.
“Come on, we don’t have all day,” he said. “Just do it.”
I held out the soiled towel as I made my way to the bathroom careful not to let it touch any part of me. I stared down at the sink. Which was too small to accomplish much. No way would its drain have been able to accommodate all the crap on the towel. I stepped over to the shower, reached in, and turned the handle inside the stall.
Rinsing shit off a two by four-foot towel was only slightly less revolting than wiping it off a dead woman’s ass. But I did the best I could before running back to Doug and Joan.
“Brenda just texted. She just pulled in the parking lot,” Doug said. “Let’s see if we can finish cleaning this up before she gets here.”
We?
I took two more trips to the bathroom before he deemed the job “done.”
“What about her swimsuit?” I asked. Which was still wet and stained.
Doug shook his head. “Nothing we can do for now. Don’t really want to cut it off her. For now, let’s just leave things as they are.”
Chapter 10
Time: Winter, 2016.
Place: Santa Barbara, California.
Form: Cognitive Dissonance.
Event: Walked in the front doors of a Church of Scientology. Got royally mind fucked.
Cognitive Dissonance is a state of mind in which a person holds differing and contradictory ideas or beliefs with regards to people, organizations, and religions. In other words, he chooses to look the other way in the face of things that make fuck-all sense. In my case, the ideas were those of one self-proclaimed messiah, L. Ron Hubbard, and his followers. The religion was Scientology. The cognitive dissonance was mine.
“Time, place, form, and event” was the required format for “getting off” all of one’s transgressions, crimes, lies, indiscretions, pretty much anything considered not good. Because in Scientology, “clean hands made a happy life.” Disclosing one’s sins was the only way a person could hope to get better. As long as one withheld shit, he had no hope of improvement.
More on transgressions later.
Chapter 11
Doug and I were sitting at the table, every two seconds, glancing down at Joan lying on the floor when Brenda burst in the room.
“Smells like shit in here,” was the first thing out her mouth. Then, “She’s dead?”
Doug nodded. I nodded. God nodded. Fuck the ambulance.
Brenda’s eyes took in the scene, eventually coming to rest on Joan. I could almost hear the gears turning in her head, wondering what to do. How to spin this. Doug didn’t say anything. I didn’t say anything. God didn’t say anything.
“How did this happen?” she asked.
“She just keeled over in the sauna,” I answered.
“Fainted?”
“I guess. I was sitting at the table taking a break when I heard this bump.”
“So you’d left her in the sauna all by herself?”
“Just for a few minutes.”
“But you’d left her all alone.” Brenda’s eyes bore into mine like a pair of hot, steel rods.
“I was right outside. Not more than five or six feet away from her.” I didn’t like the tone of her questions. Which sounded more like accusations.
“But you were her twin. You were responsible for her,” she said.
Doug stared at me, his eyes tight, like he thought I’d abandoned Joan, too, and all this was my fault. Like if I’d stayed in the sauna with her none of this would have happened. I didn’t say anything. Wondering if they were right.
“You were responsible for her,” Brenda repeated, staring at me, as if waiting for me to admit my guilt.
I took a deep breath. Of foul air. All the while, trying my best to maintain eye contact with Brenda. Maintaining TRO—one of the first drills on the Communication Course. Because, as I’d learned recently, “that which one could confront, one could handle.”
Chapter 12
Prior to the Purification Rundown, I’d done the Communications Course. It was the first course most Scientologists did, and had been developed by LRH to facilitate auditing—which I’d been told, depended heavily on communication skills.
“Do birds fly?” I said.
“Yes,” Sandy replied.
“Thank you,” I acknowledged. “Do birds fly?”
“Most of the time.”
“Thank you. Do birds fly?”
“All the ones I’ve seen.”
“Thank you. Do birds fly?”
“No.”
“Thank you. Do birds fly?”
“I guess.”
“Thank you. Do birds fly?” I glanced at the new girl two chairs down. If her skirt rode up another inch or two, there wouldn’t be much left to conceal. I could just make out the soft hairs on her upper thigh that hadn’t been touched by a razor.
“Flunk,” Sandy said. “You looked away. And I wasn’t really getting it.”
“You mean you couldn’t hear me?” I asked.
“I heard you. I just didn’t feel like you really wanted to know if birds really flew. Like I wasn’t getting your full intention.”
She had that right.
“Start,” she said.
“Do birds fly?” I asked with more enthusiasm and meaning.
“Uh huh,” she answered.
“Thank you. Do birds fly?”
“Yep. They sure do. Especially eagles. They fly the best.”
“Thank you. Do birds fly?”
“The sky is gray.”
“Okay. Do birds fly?”
“Whatever.”
“Thank you. Do birds fly?”
Training Routine One, TR1 for short, was the third of six drills comprising the Communication Course. Students cycled through these drills withy their twins until they reached the “EP,” or end phenomena of the course. A twin was simply another student doing the same course. Twins were responsible for getting each other through the drills. The end phenomena was the goal, or what the student was supposed to get out of the course. In this case: the ability to communicate comfortably.
We’d started the course that evening with TR0, which involved my twin and I sitting in front of each other. Just being there. Just staring into each other’s eyes. Without doing anything else. Until we each felt comfortable and had had a win.
A win was any positive realization, awareness, or feeling of accomplishment. All drills were done to a “win.” Wins were big Scientology. Kinda like the carrot at the end of the stick. The prize.
For the next six weeks, Monday through Friday, from seven to ten o’clock each evening, I cycled through these TRs with a half dozen other students.
Thank you for sharing your draft. That’s a courageous act!
My 2 cents:
I agree with a few others that the graphic description of Joan dying could be toned down. But not so much as to lose the surreal horror of it.
Chapter 12:
When the coach answered “The sky is grey”, wouldn’t that have elicited the response, “I’ll repeat the auditing question.”? Similarly with “Whatever”. That also might have elicited an inquiry response as an origination, depending on how it was said.
Hope this helps.
I witnessed first hand a similar situation with a man doing the purif. He went crazy, ran out of the sauna and then passed out in a stairwell, not breathing. Nobody called 911. Fortunately, he didn’t die. “You make that body lie there” was the “handling”.
Freebeeing: Wow!
I’m glad people commented that the clean up of evacuation went on too long. I agree. But if I’m going to say what was hard to read for me, I also want to point out what I like. I liked Doug and his sycophantic attitude toward Brenda. He was this changeable character, who shows little character. At first Rick probably thinks Doug is on his side. Then Brenda’s impending arrival changes Doug and gives him a bit of backbone to be demanding and ‘right’ like Brenda.
I liked how Rick kept doing CPR and how you wrote what was going on in his head. Rick’s very indecisiveness in life at the beginning certainly gives you room for an arc of change for him. Both inside the church and hopefully outside.
I’d like the cognitive dissonance part chapter 10 to be more clear. I didn’t really follow where you were going with it. It was defined which was fine, but I feel a specific early-on incident of cognitive dissonance, perhaps some weird thing happens and Doug the course supervisor spins it into acceptableness. This would serve a two fold purpose, one to introduce Doug more fully and to really show cognitive dissonance. Even though I know what it is from Chris Shelton’s videos, I need an anecdote to hang my understanding on.
I’m not done with chapter 10. After defining cog dis, then you explain Time form place and event. This is the title of your book. Me, I say make chpter 10 just about cog dis and the example, forwarding your story and introducing side characters and building the scene a bit more.
Then in another chapter do time form place and event. That too needs an example, like the first time Rick was late to course and had to go to maa and write up overts and empty the trash, or clean the bathroom with a toothbrush or whatever he had to do to tighten up his ethics.
Chapter 10, that is an invitation to write more.
Now that I’ve been all picky, I’ll say that I enjoy hating Brenda. I like Joan because she loved her husband and thought of him as tall dark and handsome when he was perhaps just an ordinary middle aged guy.
Oh yeah and while Doug is ordering Rick around and we have less gore, I’d love to know of his rebellious thoughts as he’s being manipulated around. I’d also be curious if he’s always been this much of a push over. Does he need to please others? Is he a wimpy guy? Does he need to be a follower? Has he been ordered around a lot in his life? Have others always solved his problems? I am curious why he let’s himself be maneuvered like this. I want to know more. Does he have an uncaring step parent? What’s his deal? Did the comm course help him speak up?
As you can see I can’t wait for the next installment.
Terra Reader: Great suggestions! Thank you so much. You raised many excellent points I hadn’t considered–especially those concerning Rick’s character and motivations.
I debated whether to go full tilt picky with you.Some would be deeply wounded by that. But the fact that you respond to people and to what I wrote tells me that you really do care.
What John Doe said. I was reading the TR drilling and thinking, is something missing? The benefit of many voices shows here.
This is a great story, and I’m aching to know if it’s true or not and how it turns out. The only constructive criticism I can offer is that describing Joan’s wide, flaccid ass and thighs seems unnecessarily mean (especially if this is a true story). We can already gather that the situation was awful and tragic, especially for Joan, so no need to take away every shred of her dignity.
Agree.
Right Richard, just because he is gay he is a sadist. More insane cult of scamology think by L Wrong Hubbtard.
You and FP should get together so that you can team up to have a double digit IQ.
I was busting your chops, Wynski. The comments are out of sequence but yesterday you accused me of “making lame excuses for your insane cult.” I left scn in 1982 and haven’t been back. I occasionally make mention of something I think is worthwhile from the subject itself. My opinions only and not trying to convince you or anyone else otherwise.
I made no accusations. I simply reported what happened.
Ah! But Wyn, as you know my I.Q. is enormous! Humongous even! 14 points above Einstein! “Scientifically tested” even! And Scientology, correctly applied, increased it by 27 points as well! So Richard take comfort that you are indeed in “a good place”, and ignore Wynski’s ad hominem remarks. Next he will be saying that you are my twin on course or something. “We can’t have anyone being even a little bit sympathetic (or truthful) here and so we must align anyone doing so with the hated Foolproof” is the motto. (Richard, before you inevitably disassociate yourself from me, which I understand, I would like to say that you have no association with me. Honest injun! Alright now? (Probably not!))
“My I.Q. is enormous! Humongous even! 14 points above Einstein! “Scientifically tested” even! And Scientology, correctly applied, increased it by 27 points as well!”
Ha ha ha ha ha! Good one! As if! The proof is in the proof and you have been found to be sorely lacking in IQ! You don’t call yourself FoolProof for nothing! At that you have demonstrated plenty of proof!
Ed, it’s great having scamologists posting here. The surest inoculation for any lurkers wanting to possibly join the cult.
Poor old No-Wynski. Any lurkers reading the nonsense comments on here and believing them wouldn’t become Scientologists anyway as they are too stupid.
Perfect FP. Keep up giving out the inoculations.
Keep up giving out the inoculations. – Laughter!
I was wondering if there might be two n’s in inoculate so I looked it up. Strangely enough, there is this definition in my dictionary:
3. to introduce ideas, etc. into the mind of; imbue
So it might be best to specify “inoculate against scn” as opposed to “inoculate with scn”!
What a trip. In three years of reading scn blogs that’s the first time I came across the idea of “inoculating against scientology” – still smiling
Doctor’s question, “Did you get your Anti Scientology vaccination yet?”
it might be best to specify “inoculate against scn” as opposed to “inoculate with scn”! – Richard
Nope. The BEST inoculations use the material you are protecting against.
That would definitely and specifically relate to your comments, FP, for sure! The rest, not so much!
Delusions of grandeur much FoolProof?
Delusions much Eh?
This is interesting.
It is said that one can’t write a good novel if one has major character flaws.
It always shows in the writing.
T.C.’s conflicted and unresolved relationship with Scientology make this “novel” even less readable than his takes on what he thinks L.R.H.’s tech is.
The chapter about this woman dying is gross!
It’s interesting that some readers who buy his articles on Scientology don’t buy this.
They can see this is BPC talking, hatred really.
So there is hope that once all this destimulates (decompress I think they now call it), people will be able to think straight again on the subject of Scientology and L.R. H.
And maybe one day there is a good novel.
Marcel Wenger
Marcel: I won’t deny my character flaws; just ask my spouse.
As for having by-passed-charge, “hatred really,” regarding Scientology, I can understand how you might think this. I often write disparagingly of the church. I think current management and their programs are dead wrong and LRH wasn’t all he was cracked up to be–to put it mildly. Trust me though, I really don’t hate Scientology and I’m not sitting on BPC, despite how my writing appears.
I lead a full life and except when poking fun at Scientology through my writing, I never think about the church. Pure and simple, I write for fun.
As for thinking the chapter about the woman dying being gross…yeah, you and a few others. I might tone things down in the next draft. Thank you for your input.
I’m all for 3 dimensional characters and 3 dimensional events.
The more adjectives, the better. ; )
Terra, ignore those negative comments that attempt to hide ulterior motives. This is YOUR novel – write it your way and see what emerges. This is too early for masses of comments. Listen to a select few of your close friends or colleagues, if you must, but at some point you will need a good editor. Until then, just write it down as it flows. Each of us might like to see the novel go in one or another direction, so maybe we should just write our own and let you write yours! My comments were meant to apply to style and form – not the helpful comments such as “I’ll repeat the auditing question” or similar corrections. I’m enjoying it and look forward to next week’s installment.
califa007 – Good point. A friend of mine was writing a local history book. He gave me chapter by chapter drafts and I pointed out things I thought might be confusing and so on. It was up him if he agreed. When he got the book published he acknowledged me for catching a dangling participle.
When it comes to dangling participles and dangling prepositions, I agree with Winston Churchill:
“This is the sort of pedantry up with which I will not put.”
Hey, marildi, good to see you – just the other day I was wondering where you’ve been.
I think you may have been treated with a bit of “unnecessary roughness” – but that you also tend to “pull it in” because of your commenting style. I hope that you can find a way to continue to participate and contribute that works reasonably well for everyone.
PeaceMaker: “I think you may have been treated with a bit of ‘unnecessary roughness’ – but that you also tend to ‘pull it in’ because of your commenting style.”
And how else did you justify it? 😉
But thanks anyway.
marildi, good see our favorite criminally insane person back posting. Hey, any idea where Rathbun has slimed away to?
Hi marildi – That was a funny quote above. (or is it – Above, that was a funny quote.) Anyhow, my friend’s book was a big undertaking and my initial reading was a minor contribution. We both had a good laugh at his two line acknowledgement of me, “Richard___, my lifelong friend, applied his innate intelligence to a thorough analysis of the book’s grammar. He even found a dangling participle!”
Going over 400 pages of historical facts and occurrences and I get acked for grammar corrections?! (joke)
Current technology allows people to self publish a book relatively easily and inexpensively. Getting it sold is something else. A local college financed my friend’s book and he wasn’t expecting financial gain. He wrote the book for his own satisfaction.
Great story, Richard. Well then, with your “copy editor” experience, you might appreciate this Oscar Wilde quote, too:
“I spent all morning putting in a comma and all afternoon taking it out.”
It has been said
that he who writes
needs distance
needs time between
the telling and events
I guess one trusts
that feelings will
have ceased to blur his view
TC
needing others to tell
you how gross this was
tells me how blurred
your view must be
is all
Marcel Wenger
Marcel,
Who are you to say that Terra’s view is blurred? He asked for people’s feedback on his story, which shows confidence in that he’s open to suggestions and not going to get all bent out of shape over constructive criticism. That’s quite different than “needing” people to point things out.
As far as your prior comment about people “thinking straight” about Hubbard: Well, let’s see. The man was a pathological liar, a conman, a criminal, a bigamist and an abuser. That’s pretty straightforward.
I wouldn’t have taken a stick of gum from the man, let alone advice on how to live or improve my life.
Is this Vogon poetry?
Whoah! Careful Marcel – you might be juxtaposed to some dude called “Foolproof”! In fact I am surprised that so far you have been allowed to state your opinion without the usual barrage of adverse comments.
Look Pa, an insane criminal cult member named Marcel has climbed out from beneath a dung heap.
o be picky:
Some typos and some capitalization stuff.
Nothing a good spell/grammar program won’t flag.
Other than that – I am looking forward to this story every Sunday!
PS. Hot sauna + evacuation = gross
TC, I like the parallel cutting. The story is unfolding in an interest way. I’m assuming this is all true.
BKmole: Fortunately for Joan, this story is not “all true.” Certainly I have drawn on my experiences in Scientology, but for the most part, the the plot is figment of my imagination. Thanks for your comments.
Terra, why not make Joan a young, beautiful girl? Then there’d be all this sympathy for her, dying like that. Not that a middle aged, fat woman doesn’t deserve sympathy but you do depict her in a kind of contemptuous manner, rather gross to start off with anyway and then you make her totally gross.My reaction was, “Eew, die already”. Honestly, I just wanted her kind of out of there. If she’s fat and middle aged at least embellish her character, her personality, make her a terrific person so that we care about her. How about this? Either young, beautiful girl, and a total bitch, or, fat, middle aged woman, full of affinity, heart of gold. Just random thoughts, Terra. Hope you don’t mind.
You can’t care about a fat, middle-aged woman dying at the hands of a dangerous cult unless she has a heart of gold or a dazzling personality? Yikes. I hope this was sarcasm.
Frankly, I agree the description was contemptuous and that reflects on the character doing the describing, not the character being described. It made me think Rick was an unsympathetic piece of garbage.
dwarmed: noted. Thanks.
Aqua: I see what you mean about Joan. Thanks for your input.
This explains why Scientology has so many lawyers: to hide their secrets.
If we knew everything they covered up, even Scientology’s many bribed allies would keep their distance. The government might actually wake from its endless slumber.
It’s a known fact that people expel body fluids and substances when they die suddenly. There’s probably a technical word or term for it. My wife’s father had a heart condition and dropped dead walking up some stairs. He was overweight but didn’t “expel.” The people picking him up made mention of it.
I don’t think the graphic description of the clean up adds anything to the story and is disgusting. It could be described briefly and differently (find the technical word for it) while still emphasizing Rick’s predicament.
Agreed on the description. Spending more time describing a dead woman’s ass that describing any concern for what happened to her makes everyone involved look like a callous asshole, including the author. I’m not sure I would be motivated to read any more about a pack of people like this.
I think the term evacuate is sometimes used to describe this upon death. I do think this was more graphic than it needed to be, but then again this seemed to be extremely traumatic for him and rightly so. It may be traumatic for her family too if it’s a book that they would read.
Terra, I like your vibrant writing style. You kept my interest. I’m really looking forward to your next installment. You said you’re ok with honest feedback, and I’m giving it to you, the good, the bad and the ugly.
Well, I’ve already given you the good so here’ s the bad and the ugly: I’m not a big fan of being grossed out for prolonged periods of time. A little grossing out goes a loooong way with me because I have a vivid imagination. So I found myself cringing and not wanting to read the detailed descriptions of all the shit clean up. I’m with Richard here as re “the graphic description of the clean up” not adding anything to the story and being disgusting. I think if you’d lighten up considerably on that you could still make a hard hitting point about the guy being forced to clean it up by his senior, instead of immediately calling 911, which is the real crime. There’s been a death, and this guy is being ordered to clean up EVIDENCE of a death with 911 not called. Those, I believe, are the real crimes, destroying evidence (such as it were) and not reporting a sudden death.
Richard: got your comment–loud and clear–regarding the “evacuation.” I may revise this scene.
Hi Terra.
I absolutely love the draft of your forthcoming book and really look forward to reading it when it’s released.
Peoples’ views on the more graphic details in this week’s instalment seem to vary.
My view is, yes, it is a bit gross, but at the same time it is reality.
A good story is meant to have an impact. If people think “that’s gross” then it HAS impacted. Sometimes we may not like to see what we’re reading, but it makes it REAL.
Just my thoughts…….
exbritscino: Thanks for your viewpoint. I’ve struggled at times on how “graphic” to go. Likewise, I go back and forth on my use of the F-word. Some find the word offensive and poor prose. Others see the use of the word as realistic and the way young people really talk.
I felt very upset that Doug didn’t call an ambulance and Brenda immediately made it the fault of the one person who had tried to respond appropriately. I know this kind of thing has actually happened, but it was as if it were happening in front of me this time and I couldn’t protest. I felt I hated Scientologists in that moment.
I hope there is a higher percentage of decent Scientologists– who *would* have got help for Joan and would have seen the systemic flaws in the whole set up — than the horror stories have led me to suspect. I really hope so. Because conned or not, true believers or not, that is an inhuman way to respond to that situation. If humanity doesn’t kick in then, when does it kick in? It sometimes seems to me that Scientologists are inhuman. (That’s NOT a good thing, for those out there who only have Scientology dictionaries. It is a very very BAD thing.)
One nitpicky kind of feedback, the story seems to me to jump around in time a bit more than it needs to. But I could figure it out, just a little jarring at times.
I should clarify that the first part of my previous message means I was definitely engrossed in the story, to the point of having emotional reactions to the characters.
Cat W.: I think the majority of people who get involved in Scientology are decent people with good intentions.
I also think the majority of people have good intentions initially in Scientology, but the more they get into it the more likely for their active morality to be replaced with “what does LRH insist be done?” Your first chapters highlight this: the new guy recognizes he medical risk the overweight lady is taking, and he is the one who tries CPR and wants to call 911; the slightly more experienced guy insists on handing decisions off onto the ED person (while making the new guy do a cleanup to please the ED), and the ED herself is only interested in finding a scapegoat to blame.
I think the clean-up scene is important. It presages the top-down ordering of work, especially the dirty work. It shows that a clean-up attempt has more value to the committed member Doug, trying to please his superior, that actually dialing 911 to try to save a woman’s life.
Along with the enforced wait for the ED to arrive, the whole scene sets the tone for Scn abuses at several levels. The unscientific, non-medical, quackery starts by sending an overweight, out-of-shape person to spend long periods in a hot sauna – and at significant cost to her, which could itself be stressful. She is given a hodgepodge of vitamins and minerals with no tested value. There is not only no medical supervision, there is no posted procedure or phone nearby with which to call 911 in case of emergency. Instead, the Scn paranoia takes over, wishful thinking that *not* calling 911 will have no effect on whether she lives or dies.
Lastly, the scene sets the stage for the victim blaming that permeates all of Scientology – Brenda, unable to put the blame on the dead woman, sets her sights on the next-lowest person in the pecking order. The worst part of Scientology is the blaming that goes on. In this case the only person taking effective action (CPR, sending someone to call 911) is the one who gets blamed. Because of the “LRH as infallible Source” mindset, no thought is given to blaming Source, or blaming whoever set up the crazy uncontrolled and unscientific Purif routine in the first place,
I would change one thing, the language about her fat. It is possible to describe a large person without using loaded, fat-shaming language. People come in all sizes, it is a fact of life. At least the poor woman was trying something that was supposed to do her some good. Too bad she chose a quack, unscientific method that lacked any medical supervision. Too bad this fiction parallels real life in Scientology.
Please keep the segments coming. The work is fascinating and very well written. I have only a minor complaint with the fat-shaming language, especially as it does not advance the story line. Some might see me as being politically correct about fat, but I see myself as simply recognizing the wide range of natural human morphology.
p.s. I make an exception for a certain little tyrant in the interest of maintaining long-term employment for all the good people who make his podiums short, his shoes tall, and his pompador taller still.
Ammo Alamo: I hear you about the fat-shaming. I cringed myself while listening to my spouse reread these passages. Thanks for your suggestions.
From someone who has C/Sed and monitored people on the Purification Rundown, namely me, I can tell you that your assumptions are completely unfounded. In fact, they seem to be hopeful that it is indeed so as you imply, purely in order to be able to attack Scientology. The people (staff) that handle the Purification Rundown take the utmost care about the people doing the rundown, unlike you with your comments.
Actually, I was commenting on the fictional piece, not Scientology’s actual purif and whatever medical monitoring its participants currently get or received in the past. But I’m curious, in your monitoring was there a phone always handy to the sauna, and someone willing and able to call 911 if a situation arose such as the fictional one? Was there a copy of the Red Cross booklet available or used for training – the one that Hubbard mentions in the purif HCOB? Was there a trained medical officer? Did each participant have to file a clearance from a medical doctor? Have you c/s a purif within the last 20 years?
I could actually agree with the disclaimer Scientology adds to the purif HCOB – that the purif is a spiritual activity, and not intended to treat any physical condition, this despite Hubbard’s several claims that his research discovered how to release retained toxins from body.
Ammo Alamo: I did my last Purif four or five years ago. There was no monitor–just me and my twin. There was no Red Cross booklet available and neither of us was trained in CPR or any other kind of emergency response. We did have to get clearance from a medical doctor, though. For me, this entailed a standard physical checkup.
And just like in my story, my twin and I were often the only ones in the building besides a couple of staff.
Terra, the set up you mentioned is/was the norm a few years after the purif was released and the big wave of people doing it was past. The subsequent small trickle of people doing the rundown didn’t justify a staff member being full time monitoring the participants.
Even at FLOG (where scamology is delivered the closest to LRH teachings) this was the case after ~1981. A hastily trained person with ZERO medical knowledge and instructions as to medical emergency procedures.
ANYONE that tells you otherwise is a criminal liar.
For those of you who missed it yesterday, I urge you to watch the 18 minute segment put up by Wynski. You’ll love every minute of it!
Two guys were filming the inside (the doors were open) of the Pasadena Idle Morgue. The guards came and went, realizing the two men had a right to film from the sidewalk. So, the call the cops. The cop goes inside to tell them they have a right to film from the sidewalk. It’s a classic takedown of the cult.
Thank you OSD….I viewed it & here is my comment…
How very sad to see these young people under he spell of “the organization”…..guzzling the Kool Aid & being under educated about the rights of a citizen to take a leisurely stroll on the sidewalk & film some of the sites with a good bit of history BEFORE “the organization” came in to town. Eventually that “org” will be another abandoned building……with a few staff to make it look busy.
This was beyond remarkable as Wynski kept his cool & was very polite & calm although HE was the one who seemed to be purposely cajoled by the Staff into making an issue out of his interest & inquiry about the organization. Seems like Wynski knew MORE about “the organization” then did the STAFF….he sure as Hell embarrassed them.
The cop didn’t seem all that interested in any of it, he just wanted to keep the peace….noticed how “the STAFF” kept scurrying inside the building, they seemed to have to check with a “higher up” to find out what to do…..or maybe HOPING that Wynski would lose his cool & enter the building……making it a “legal issue”…hmmm…THEN they could “do something??” So very sad to see the “still ins” “still in”….
I didn’t watch the video but a similar thing would probably happen in front of a church, mosque or temple. The people doing the filming were obviously there to harass people.
They weren’t being rude or harassing the staff. They actually didn’t say anything at all against the CO$. Just filming out on the public sidewalk, asking questions politely, etc. It was the staff members who instantly got rude and hostile and whipped out their own phones to take video.
My parents attend a local Christian church and the people there would never behave this way. They may or may not get annoyed, but they wouldn’t get all bent outta shape, calling people “haters” and start asking for their first and last names.
I don’t go to church and I’m not a fan of any organized religion, but there’s a huge difference in the way most church members would react and they way $cientologists react.
What Katherine said.
Ditto that. Just think what a boring video it would have been if the Receptionist had just given a smile and a friendly wave to Nathaniel and then just ignored him and gone about his business.
Except, of course, that the poor guy had no “business” to ” go about”.
And therein lies the problem and the reason for the animosity.
Can you imagine if there had been people coming in and out, a continual stream of public coming in for services?
That Receptionist would have been way too busy logging people in and answering the phones to worry about some guy outside videotaping!
No, Richard, they were just filming on a sidewalk. Since you didn’t see it, let me enlighten you. Nathaniel & his friend were just filming the outside of the Breley Building, when an agitated member came out and said they can’t be there (on a public sidewalk). The guards came out, chatted a bit, and told them they were go to go. They called the cops next. Same result. Cop says to the cult members, they have a right to be there and film. Are you a Scientologists?
No Richard. It doesn’t happen. I’ve watched many 1st Amend audit videos and no other type of church has reacted like that.
Fail trying to make lame excuses for your insane cult.
First I want to point out the irony that I frequently notice, that scientologists tout themselves as being far above all others and all other practices – and yet when caught doing something that is actually un-ethical and un-humanitarian, the first line of excuse is that they’re no worse than (or only just as bad as) anyone else or any other organization.
Plus, Richard, as others have pointed out, you lead off with an assumption that’s probably false, about the behavior or response of others – I’ve noticed that is common in scientological thinking, Foolproof does it all the time, and of course Hubbard was a master of it.
What assumption? If you want to believe that guy was filming just to test his first amendment rights go ahead. ANY business would not be happy about someone filming their customers go in and out.
“Foolproof does it all the time”! Oh! Really? This ASSUMPTION of yours as to my comments is a nice little generality thrown into the conversation hoping again that people nod their heads sagely and agree. Apart from the comment about Terra and his TRs course (although I am still fairly sure he did have a story some months back belittling his time and experiences as a student), I don’t recall many times, certainly not “all the time” that I make an unfounded assumption about someone or some topic! In fact many times my comments are quite mild compared to what they should be once the real facts about what people have been up to when they think or assume they have been practicing “Scientology” come out into the light of day.
I realize that it is unfortunate for you that Mike allows someone like me to post comments which upsets the apple cart being trundled around here, so you may have to think of some other ruse or “assumption” to get me to shut up.
And are you seriously suggesting that the persons doing the filming weren’t there to upset Scientologists? They just happened to be passing by eh? If so, I suggest you do Terra’s Hard TRs course then perhaps you can SEE what is going on. Actually I thought the black guy with the phone was indeed a pretty cool dude, much cooler than the childish idiots outside filming and just wanting to cause trouble. If I was Dave I would award him an intensive from staff credits or whatever for being quite composed when faced with such blatant idiocy.
Ah! But Richard, the difference is, is that you have done at least some Scientology and can actually see what is going on. I admire your non-biased response and the fact that you hold your ground.
Well thank you, Foolproof. I think there needs to be balance.
Change of pace. I’m not a classical music aficionado. Most of it is too slow for me so I let a lot of it roll at 1.25 speed. The orchestra goes full throat at 12:00 if anyone is interested in a short listen.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mhhkGyJ092E
Haha! Richard, I applaud your ability to sneak off from the conversation. Well done! Can’t say I blame you either.
You’re preaching to the choir, BL. These folks don’t have a lot of confront.
Balletlady, that wasn’t me but a gentleman named Nathaniel. A guy who videos gov’t and other organizations to see if they try to violate basic human rights.
Nathaniel sounds like a sadist hiding behind the banner of the First Amendment.
A while back someone posted a video of Nathaniel doing his thing in the center of Scioland in Clearwater. That one was funny. Nathaniel’s buddy discovered a hidden camera in a tree on the public sidewalk outside of a scn building and climbed up to investigate. He accidentally knocked it off its mounting and the drama continued with sea org people showing up and being in a pickle about explaining who it belonged to and how it got there. Eventually the cops showed up and amicably settled things and somebody from scn came out with a ladder and took the damn thing down. No charges filed. LOL
Richard just because Nathaniel is gay doesn’t mean he is a sadist. Typical insane cult member using El Wrong’s criminal data about homosexuals.
He’s gay? So what. All I know is that his name is Nathaniel, if that’s his real name.
I now think I gather that Nathaniel and The Angry Gay Pope are the same person. Anyone willing to march around a scientology center or anywhere else wearing a two foot high Pope hat is my kind of guy! I like him!
As usual Richard. You are wrong. Not the same person. But, as a scamology cult member, being wrong is a habit.
Also looking forward to more, AND the resolution to this scene, of course.
As I considered my previous comment, I wondered whether I should comment at all before you’d finished the draft to your satisfaction Anything I might percieve before then might well be premature and ill-advised, since you’ve proven yourself so many times in your essays.
Jere Lull: Feel free to comment at any time. I really do welcome your comments and suggestions. Know that I don’t have a professional editor–obviously!–at my beck and call.
And just so you know, there is a resolution to “this scene.” Though you wouldn’t know it, this is a very small scene and the main body doesn’t really kick into gear for another few pages.
Wait for FoolProof, (the idiot) to post his weekly make wrong of Terra! He will be along shortly as he cannot help himself!
Regardless of that the story is very good and well written.
Dead in the Head Ed seems to want an argument. Can’t be bothered this week… Well, unless you get into something that takes my fancy that is (as you can’t help yourself eh?) but even then – nah! Not this week. (Not) sorry to disappoint all you frothing-at-the-mouth types. Maybe next week, mark it in your diaries…
Maybe Terra learned something from the communication course and isn’t a “comm cutter” in real life.
Oh! Really? Last I recall Terra was denigrating the TRs Course he apparently “did”, saying he couldn’t understand it and didn’t do the drills properly. And by the way the phrase “comm cutter” was hardly ever used in this manner in Scientology. “You cut my comm” was more often heard, when and if. But surely you are not trying to cut my comm here Richard? Surely not eh?
And another BTW, I didn’t mention a word about Terra’s article, only the ad hominem remark from Dead in the Head Ed.
Richard: The communication course was the best course I ever did in Scientology!
Laughter! Internet communication. Sometimes it’s hard to tell when someone is being serious or being facetious. LOL
I believe you T.C. – I’m outa here
Terra – I assume your reply to Richard means that my remarks above were incorrect? If so, apologies although I do vaguely remember you belittling the Alice in Wonderland phrases, or something.
But don’t forget my little tip for your book – a few spontaneous combustions in the next chapters! Or the lady who has seemed to die (perhaps she will miraculously recover?) can be shown the “OTVIII” materials with her last breath, spontaneously combust, and then there’s no need to clean up, well, apart from the ashes that is!
FP: I don’t recall ever belittling the Alice in Wonderland phrases. I truly did like the comm course. I drilled every evening from 7 to 10 for seven or eight straight weeks. I’d never experienced anything like it and experienced good wins. I only regret that someone watered down the course some years later, making it a shadow of what it was.
As for your suggestion–spoiler alert!–poor Joan does not spontaneously catch fire and turn to ash. I’ll have to save that for the sequel.
Okey dokey. Yes, I agree with you about the watering down. I did the old Comm Course as it seems you did, and there was hardly any theory compared to later TR courses but one seemed to know what to do as if by magic i.e. “(not) grin and bear it”. I suppose it was actually replaced by the STCC which was ok and about the same level of theory but you’re right about the watering down as it seemed new students were granted a license to have wishy-washy TRs, due to generation changes (?) I suppose times had changed since the 60s and 70s but had they really changed that much – there were more drugs and other bad environment factors going the rounds in the 60s surely? Anyway, TR0 changed my life. There is an “old” LRH ED called “The World Begins With TR0” which I am fond of.
And so, this is why I can confront Wynski and the gang – haha!
Good one Ed. FP IS a push button machine as evidence by his uncontrollable response.
Haha – Ah! Wynski. How unusual for you to respond like a push button machine. I would never have expected a comment from you!
Great story Terra! This is Ike those weekend matinees back in the day when each week leaves you on the edge of your seat waiting for the next episode! VWD!
Go for it. It has some interesting passages.
OMG! Can’t wait to read the rest.
The story of Joan reminds me of a German woman who did the Purif at Flag back when the exercising part consisted of only running around town before baking in the sauna. This woman was found dead after she ran into the bay (probably trying to cool off). Quite a public flap that the GO had to handle cautiously. Internally, it was disclosed to anyone who knew about this mess that it had been discovered the woman had been treated by a psych in the recent past and never should have been sold the purif or been put on it.
Rick. Absolutely enjoy your riveting tales and look forward to more; and hopefully a book some day.
In the Cee Oh Ess it is ALWAYS SOMEONE ELSE’S FAULT!
Yo Dave,
Who ya gonna blame today good buddy. Sooner or later it’s gonna be John, Tom or Krusty’s fault for just not doing enough. And now that Krusty is an Oh Tee Ate, it should be a walk in the park for her to step up and confront the naysayers.
Whaddayasay Krusty? Give us all a big broadside.
Krusty’s attention units are elsewhere as she and Jenna are privately feuding.
Krusty was all set to be the voice of SuMP’s version of “Mr. Ed” (working title, “Miss Edna”). This was going to be a hilarious show about an overweight talking horse spewing obscenity-laced wisdom only to Jenna (who would of course be taking Wilbur’s old part.)
The problem is that to use Krusty as the voice, the talking horse would have to be mare, and that’s what has Jenna up in arms.
Now, while she doesn’t object to playing straight woman to a horse, Jenna feels strongly that playing opposite a female horse would preclude a showcasing of ALL of her unique talents in the equestrienne area.
She is therefore insisting that the horse be a stallion and not a mare – preferably her own stallion.
Her husband, Bodhi, of course, is, as always fully supportive of his wife’s artistic endeavors.
Things appear at an impasse. For now the show has been shelved.
Off topic but maybe important. Two years ago I was filling a small inflatable swimming pool in my backyard. There was about of foot of water in the pool and since it was a hot day I decided to flop on my back in the water to cool off. The water coming from the tap was cool but not cold. My entire midsection from my neck to my groin immediately cramped up and I was virtually paralyzed. I was able to roll out of the pool onto the ground where the cramp eventually loosened up.
Even though I’m in good health and a good swimmer, if I had been in a few feet of water in a lake I would have sunk like a stone and drowned. I now take care to accustom myself to the water before diving in.
Happened to me too and in my youth. Thought I’d jump into Lake Tahoe and do what had been suggested, “Just jump in! You’ll get used to it.” Off the pier I went and EVERY organ in my body stopped – bam! Couldn’t breath – anything – and then I could. Thank gawd it was only a second of that. I think if I did that now, I’d be a goner. LOL
In my youth my buddy and I couldn’t wait to go swimming when the first warm days of summer came around. We’d go to a local swimming hole and the water was so cold various private parts turned blue. We walked in – didn’t jump – lol
We called our annual early summer swimming adventures “blueball swimming.”
My father wasn’t big on fashion. He liked to joke that he preferred ballroom pants.
As a surfer, my advice to is you should really take care when swimming anywhere: Lakes, rivers, and especially the ocean.
I’ve been surfing since I was 13. Both Hawai’i, and the California coast. Accidents happen.
The way out is the way through. I also did the Lake Tahoe dip back in the day. Wow, who ever thought melt water could be so cold! ha ha You have to gradually get used to jumping into cold water. I now do polar bear dips in -20C every January with 100’s of other insane people, here in Ontario after breaking a hole in through the ice and barely break a sweat now! lol .
Protecting scamology’s image has always taken precedence over human life in the Co$.
It’s why they so often get into trouble. “Shut your mouth, get a good story, and STICK TO IT!
Hey Wyn! Can you put up that 18 minute segment again?
Sure OSD, here ya go. Pasadena Idle morgue
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F2fxldEv9lk
Outstanding. Thanks Wyn!
Just click on!
And it always will.
Wynski: it sure seems that way. A cult with little value for human life, relationships, family, or general decency.