what is it with #snow, anyway? everyone who lives where there is such a thing falling from the sky complains about it constantly. even in the summertime when it’s somewhat warmish. wait until the #snow comes. oh the #snow kept coming late this year. didn’t even get to go camping until july this year. was so cold. and places where it doesn’t #snow? they can’t get enough of it on vacation. people are odd. it was with this in mind that i got on the plane at heathrow, thinking i’ve seen plenty of #snow in my life for a dozen lifetimes but of course i have to be heading off to alaska. why, you ask? see, now there is an intelligent question. it could even be deemed smart if you thought there was going to be a sensible answer. mostly to freeze my ass off, i believe. i’d say balls but, well, girls seem to be lacking in that department. all the guys coming, though, they will be lacking in that area if they stay outside, anyway, so i don’t feel too bad. to see the #northern #lights. what is it with #light shows? a school trip? to the frozen #north? in america? what the actual fuck are they thinking about.
there are those who would say that it is childish. i agree wholeheartedly but i’m not sure why that is such a problem. sure i might be twenty but who says i can’t do things that don’t require vast amounts of worldly experience or high school graduation? #painting is #perhaps the most respected of the fine #arts. blatantly professional, viewed with such talent, provided the #painting is done with oil, #canvas, and exactly no numbers over which to place the #brush. graffiti has become an #art to be reckoned with even if the vast majority of so-called #artists are simply tagging things with their name and making buildings desperately require cleaning instead of #painting something striking or beautiful or contemplative or even creative that could give #art to a city desperately in need of it, as all cities everywhere are. still, if one says something negative about spray#paint in polite #artistic company (does such a thing exist somewhere?), there would most certainly be cross words and the speaker would most likely be covered in said spray#paint relatively quickly. or whenever he next sleeps. #perhaps both.
#birth happened. that’s all i can say about it reliably. i know nothing else. it wasn’t until almost ten minutes later that i realized that i wasn’t in a hospital. it was either the pain or the joy. i hope it was the joy. it was the pain. i was told once that nothing hurts more than a paper cut. if i could invite the person who shared that insight with me to give #birth to a four-pound #child surrounded by the comfort of a newly-vacated first-class lounger on a #transatlantic redeye, without the benefit of either doctor or medication, i would do so. i shall leave it at that, however. the remaining two hours of the #flight into frankfurt were as uneventful as one can imagine the first two hours of life would be, surrounded by a crowd of apathetic strangers in a flying cigar, pressurized to the point of crushing the bones in a newly-formed skull. simply put, it was loud. quiet in comparison but mindlessly vibrant in the moment.
so, in a #world before #smart, there was this #swan who gave birth and #completely didn’t #notice. in that same #world, there was a #duck, curiously enough, giving birth in the same lake at the same time. can you #imagine the noise that was to be heard that morning with the honking and quacking and the father birds trying desperately not to get seen edging away in search of television sets and motoring magazines? i assure you, there were feathers to be seen flying and water churned to near boiling #point. that being said, six ##ducklings and seven #signets entered the #world that day, almost as wet and sticky as the day they were conceived. this, of course, being a #world before #smart, is a #world without counting. we shall ignore those numbers in exactly the same manner as their mothers.
#pillows are the most misunderstood of creatures. they are warm and cuddly and love nothing more than to be held. some believe that they are #simply tools created for resting but it is not the case. they are missing the whole point, the evolution of the pillow from its ancestor, the common sheep. there was a child many thousands of years ago who was given a #lamb for her birthday, to care for, to love, to hold. she took that #lamb everywhere with her but at night, she was cold and the #lamb gave her warmth as they cuddled next to each other. as she grew, the #lamb curiously stayed small, never grew into a full-sized sheep. that was good for her. she no longer needed the sheep’s warmth but the straw that she rested her #head upon every night was rough and uncomfortable. when she became ill and took to bed for weeks, her #lamb, while she was delusional with fever, crept under her #head, pushed the straw aside, and lay down, giving her a #soft place to rest her #head. her father came to feed the #lamb but the #lamb barely moved and drank only a little water for the time that she was sick, until she recovered. it was this #lamb that was the beginning. as the #lamb had #lambs of her own, she taught them that it is in the service of sore and tired #heads that the would be, not to be eaten or stolen away for coats. over hundreds of generations, the #lamb gave up noise, movement, eating, sleeping, all signs of life but one – thought. in fact, the #lamb’s descendants became so good at thought that they could take the thoughts from the #heads resting upon them. as their humans slept quietly, they stole the thoughts before they could become nightmares and replaced them with images of pleasant meadows and fleeting clouds in the summer afternoon’s haze. in time the #pillows have become so talented at this that they no longer have to think to perform the task, #simply need to be squeezed, held, pressed upon by a tired #head. #pillows are such misunderstood creatures, taken out of there element to be used in #soft fighting, to press against lovers’ faces when they are to be teased, to cover a body in the light after passion is replaced by exhaustion. please do not misunderstand your pillow. treat her well and she will reward you with happy dreams. treat her as a #soft weapon of entertainment and your #head will be filled with the nightmares that she #simply could not be bothered to eat in place of the food she no longer needs. sweet dreams.
They tell me that war changes men, makes them wild. That’s only the weak ones, though. He was sad when it was unavoidable, happy when it was ended. A lifetime of harsh realities, defeated by laughter. Memories depart quickly but I always feel at home there. Continue Reading…
echoes of selves.
[ or ]
history through eyes of glass.
Analysis of Falling and Seeing the Air
An analysis of two partial short story collections by the author.
hearing through new eyes.
[ or ]
image as humanity’s defining language.
[ or ]
meaning as use(less)?