this piece was written as a writing challenge, which Shapeshifter Anna and I both experimented with. The idea? Choose a picture of any person , from the internet, and write a descriptive passage.....
can you guess who it is? picture link at foot of page to show you....
I and Thou
what do you notice first, do you see she is black? brown skin, bronzed tones, ancient iconista on byzantine copper weathered green?
is your eye drawn to the scars on her right cheek, in curiosity, compassion - two vertical line with a short horizontal stroke between?
is it a random slash, wound or injury to the lady? has her painting been damaged, battered by time and climate and adversity?
do you see her as an image, she is as she is, or look through two millennia of tales of grace, sorrow, strength, prayer and pity?
she gazes directly from the picture, she looks out from her own story into yours, her eyes are calm, sad, small almond eyes
in a long, slender face, small mouth, neat and slightly mournful, but gentle, eyebrows, curved, soft, dimple in her chin
and, defined, slightly rounded at its tip, accentuated in the fall of the light; the nose is long, both strong and delicate, thin
the light falls on her nose and right cheek; her right hand to her breast, curved, slightly stiff. she holds the child in her left arm
her neck looks short: do you notice that, or find you're wondering whether she the woman, or her painting, came to harm?
the scar perhaps looks like a letter H, I think of Holy, Human, Hope, Hebrew, Healing...... the halo, like a symbol of infinity
encircles her head, and that of the child, connecting them in union, and telling us the familiar story of their divinity
her robes are dark in colour, decorated with fleur, de lys, and trimmed with softer orange gold, her hair covered by the hood
her eyes are sad, wise, still, full of memories and future vision, do you see an ordinary woman or the Mother of all that's True and Good?
(eva day)
here is the link for the picture
see also separate note in comments section
Thursday 31 March 2011
Tuesday 29 March 2011
Give her an inch and she'll take your soul..... The Dark Tales of Thumbelina
For no particular reason, I've been doing a series of posts and pieces of writing in sets of three, with linked theme. Here's another min-trilogy, this time a sinister (and rather odd) twist on a fairy tale.....
Prelude: Thumbelina's Thimble
"good skills, how you gathered all those scraps and made a marvellous patchwork quilt"
good construction how you read between the lines and fabricate accusation guilt
"oh but poetry is beautiful and yours slithers from the sewing machine like satin"
put the cat out, bring the kettle in, do domestics, turn the gas off let the cat in'
"but that's so contrived and ill-fitting, badly tailored, you only introduce the feline theme
because you wanted something rhyming, like a word garment, neat hem, tidy seam."
but i was always fond of rhyme and rhythm and of tongue in cheek and poetic whimsy:
so when you asked me to design new emperors clothing, I created something flimsy.
and faithful to the fairy story, did you expect the clothes to be invisible, like the original version?
"oh darling, have a rummage through the remnants, tour my premises, enjoy this sweet excursion!"
because I am not a practised needlewoman and can't sew for you a gorgeous costume drama:
someone let the cat out of the bag, we had a domestic: I took it out on you and now I am much calmer.
scissors slashed your suit of the best day of our lives, and cut you from the picture album so completely.
a stitch in time won't save a marriage but my homely prose and poems about us are tacked so neatly.
"a quick tuck, a dart, a poison glance, a pattern from our lives of married- this- years- hottest- trends.
but the material of matrimony suits neither me nor you, all shabby, frayed, lots of unpleasant loose ends."
do I love you? i don't like you anymore so much: instead of a cushion I use a voodoo doll to stick my pins.
my mother said back then, girl don't be a seamstress, be a weaver and a spinster (one who spins.)
when we got wed, I bought the product and the promise, wanted to wear you like a designer label.
who would be king, who would be queen? for me, no Cinderella's ballgown that i read of in the fable.
I don't have fancy clothes or stylish looks, i make ends meet, turned out in hand-made skirt and dress
i hate our home, unravelled ordinary life: i sew and sew and so , and so .... I write poems less and less.
well then, to hell with you, and I'll keep your heart in my thimble, darn your ripped life with my fateful thread
here is the story of your life to come, your past re-sewn and patterned, served up with your breakfast in bed.....
Opus: Jack Nimble's Lament
my wife was small, formed perfectly, enchanting, and delicate in frame but not in spirit, action or intent.
she wished me harm and when once love had began to fade, her hatred was determined, she would not relent.
she sailed at night in a walnut shell, haunting me with fiendish nightmares and ghoulish curse.
the honeymoon was bitter-sweet, after the evil spells she hurled, not for better but for worse.
I was always nimble, but no agility was enough to out-reach her malevolent rage and spite;
perhaps I was entertaining, yet I not on the whole a good husband, but only a light-hearted sprite.
my acrobatics did not entertain Thumbelina, the circus tricks could not win her deeper passion.
I was witty, and charming, and couldd spin a good yarn, was always dressed in the latest fashion.
but my miniature wife yearned, she said, for something or someone with greater vision - and bolder.
her brooding spells and furious loathing grew in heat despite her size, and yet her world with me grew colder
I heeded not when mother and father had warned, beware, Jack, marry that lass in haste, repent in long remorse.
witchery wife, she lit a candle and chanted a dreadful spell of loveless binding and a devilish fearsome force.
I who am nimble and fast, I jumped over the candlestick, leapt through the flame into the abyss of despair beyond.
oh I could not outreach her grasp, the chill and cruelty of the punishment of the sweetheart, once so dearly fond.
and how she'd delighted in me, in early days, a handsome boy, a light relief from lonely bleak long years,
a game of love and elegance, an easy distraction from the history of her legacy and all her deepest fears.
as a child, the beautiful Belina had told me, her mother had taught her that witches will sail dusk to dawn
in the empty shell of the breakfast egg: so if you don't smash the case, you'll rue the day that you were born.
but I was the shell that was broken, and the lady ate walnuts and eggs and my soul, all pickled in brine:
despised the marriage, the fairy tales I had believed in, and devoured the life that was once mine.
she had grown not in her mother's womb, but in an empty snails shell, conceived by supernatural force;
Tommelisa the country folk called her with good cheer, but soon learned her cruel nature and angry heart.
when she met me and wed me, they never warned the darker side of the vows and till death do us part.
yes we happily left the inhabited lands of human company, Thumbelina and I, and went to our own sweet nest.
I thought there we would live in a tender romance, a world of gentle sensual lust, easy peaceful rest.
but, soon disappointed and bored with wedlock, she wanted me neither in her home nor her bed, but still -
would not let me go, and I could not leave for I was compelled by her, and must stay or go at her will.
in time, after weary years, her attention was taken by a chance meeting with an ugly toad and a devious mole.
oh my dearest Belina, with slender, sweet body and eyes so kind, yet a mind like a swamp and black as coal.
these undergrowth creatures were more of her kin than an airy being with no harsh desperate past.
she cut the ties, I bled I hurt, I was cruelly starved of her magic. but I was wise, knew I was free at last.
she still lives in that faraway place, with the mole and the toad, not the friendly ones from wind in the willows -
but the evil kind, who will haunt you: children keep talismans, bent pennies, eggshells and walnuts, under your pillows
And all is well, for the most part, for me, for I live in a wonderful castle where the walls shout out, warn of danger,
and rise up one hundred feet tall and grow one thousand arms wielding swords, to alert and protect at approach of a stranger.
I am visited often, though, by invitation and with welcoming smiles, by thirteen princesses, such grace and sweet sweet charms.
I shall never marry again, and I dine, dance and dream with these ladies and yet, empty - I dream I'm embraced in Belina's arms
yes I am Jack, the lad, the flash, the man with sparkle in his eyes, and known for being quick and nimble
but I am not free, she's kept a portion of my soul, it floats ghost-like in her cauldron, the beautiful Belina's thimble.
Finale: the fairy tale romance of Jack and Tiny Belina....
it was a silly fancy, mother said, to keep broken eggshells, coins, nuts, beneath my pillows, horsehoes hanging over my bed.
she assured me that the dreams I had were childish nightmares, I'd grow out of them, put superstitious worries from my head.
tragedy came at spring cleaning season, when I was off at school, learning the facts of life and sensible ways of the world.
Mum's good intentions were my road to hell, my talismans went in the bin, and the nightmares were unfurled.
yes, many times I'd thought I'd heard and sensed that tiny lady of the world of horrors, stalking eerily,
out in the garden, and up at my window, hungry, greedy: but "don't be silly" ma had said, so wearily.
returning home I felt the terror, and helpless to repair the damage done, for there were no eggs, the chickens had not laid;
no walnuts to be had for love nor money, the horseshoes alone would not protect, the coins were gone, the milkman had been paid....
and so the ordinary domestic duties and peace in our household seemed safely comfortable and tidily secure.
but I knew I now had now protection from the Tiny Thumbelina, coming to devour me and the waiting I could not endure.
and so that night I ended the long hours of tormented agony dreading, yearning for her nocturnal touch and dark caressing
out into the garden I stumbled, fearful, desperate, and there was wed to Thumbelina, as a dark priest gave his blessing.
each morning, after nights of pain and struggle, she lets me go, so quietly I return to bed and often mother says I seem withdrawn.
she knows not that she's a grandmother, the night shadows dance with the children of a lad and a tiny witch, those wicked spawn.
but day by day, well trained now, yet full of fear, regret, I do the routines of a normal lad; sports, girls and homework.
yet I am hollow and never shall be free, to have a home, hearth, wife and family, doomed by the world where Belina and the tiny devils lurk....
well-meaning mothers everywhere, believe this tale and for god's sake do not take duster, mop and broom
to sweep the debris from your sons dark lair, there are worse fates than the foul pit that is his room....
(eva day)
(note: alternative names and versions of Thumbelina are drawn from original and traiditonal tales.... with thanks to Hans Christian Anderson and various translators.)
Prelude: Thumbelina's Thimble
"good skills, how you gathered all those scraps and made a marvellous patchwork quilt"
good construction how you read between the lines and fabricate accusation guilt
"oh but poetry is beautiful and yours slithers from the sewing machine like satin"
put the cat out, bring the kettle in, do domestics, turn the gas off let the cat in'
"but that's so contrived and ill-fitting, badly tailored, you only introduce the feline theme
because you wanted something rhyming, like a word garment, neat hem, tidy seam."
but i was always fond of rhyme and rhythm and of tongue in cheek and poetic whimsy:
so when you asked me to design new emperors clothing, I created something flimsy.
and faithful to the fairy story, did you expect the clothes to be invisible, like the original version?
"oh darling, have a rummage through the remnants, tour my premises, enjoy this sweet excursion!"
because I am not a practised needlewoman and can't sew for you a gorgeous costume drama:
someone let the cat out of the bag, we had a domestic: I took it out on you and now I am much calmer.
scissors slashed your suit of the best day of our lives, and cut you from the picture album so completely.
a stitch in time won't save a marriage but my homely prose and poems about us are tacked so neatly.
"a quick tuck, a dart, a poison glance, a pattern from our lives of married- this- years- hottest- trends.
but the material of matrimony suits neither me nor you, all shabby, frayed, lots of unpleasant loose ends."
do I love you? i don't like you anymore so much: instead of a cushion I use a voodoo doll to stick my pins.
my mother said back then, girl don't be a seamstress, be a weaver and a spinster (one who spins.)
when we got wed, I bought the product and the promise, wanted to wear you like a designer label.
who would be king, who would be queen? for me, no Cinderella's ballgown that i read of in the fable.
I don't have fancy clothes or stylish looks, i make ends meet, turned out in hand-made skirt and dress
i hate our home, unravelled ordinary life: i sew and sew and so , and so .... I write poems less and less.
well then, to hell with you, and I'll keep your heart in my thimble, darn your ripped life with my fateful thread
here is the story of your life to come, your past re-sewn and patterned, served up with your breakfast in bed.....
Opus: Jack Nimble's Lament
my wife was small, formed perfectly, enchanting, and delicate in frame but not in spirit, action or intent.
she wished me harm and when once love had began to fade, her hatred was determined, she would not relent.
she sailed at night in a walnut shell, haunting me with fiendish nightmares and ghoulish curse.
the honeymoon was bitter-sweet, after the evil spells she hurled, not for better but for worse.
I was always nimble, but no agility was enough to out-reach her malevolent rage and spite;
perhaps I was entertaining, yet I not on the whole a good husband, but only a light-hearted sprite.
my acrobatics did not entertain Thumbelina, the circus tricks could not win her deeper passion.
I was witty, and charming, and couldd spin a good yarn, was always dressed in the latest fashion.
but my miniature wife yearned, she said, for something or someone with greater vision - and bolder.
her brooding spells and furious loathing grew in heat despite her size, and yet her world with me grew colder
I heeded not when mother and father had warned, beware, Jack, marry that lass in haste, repent in long remorse.
witchery wife, she lit a candle and chanted a dreadful spell of loveless binding and a devilish fearsome force.
I who am nimble and fast, I jumped over the candlestick, leapt through the flame into the abyss of despair beyond.
oh I could not outreach her grasp, the chill and cruelty of the punishment of the sweetheart, once so dearly fond.
and how she'd delighted in me, in early days, a handsome boy, a light relief from lonely bleak long years,
a game of love and elegance, an easy distraction from the history of her legacy and all her deepest fears.
as a child, the beautiful Belina had told me, her mother had taught her that witches will sail dusk to dawn
in the empty shell of the breakfast egg: so if you don't smash the case, you'll rue the day that you were born.
but I was the shell that was broken, and the lady ate walnuts and eggs and my soul, all pickled in brine:
despised the marriage, the fairy tales I had believed in, and devoured the life that was once mine.
she had grown not in her mother's womb, but in an empty snails shell, conceived by supernatural force;
Tommelisa the country folk called her with good cheer, but soon learned her cruel nature and angry heart.
when she met me and wed me, they never warned the darker side of the vows and till death do us part.
yes we happily left the inhabited lands of human company, Thumbelina and I, and went to our own sweet nest.
I thought there we would live in a tender romance, a world of gentle sensual lust, easy peaceful rest.
but, soon disappointed and bored with wedlock, she wanted me neither in her home nor her bed, but still -
would not let me go, and I could not leave for I was compelled by her, and must stay or go at her will.
in time, after weary years, her attention was taken by a chance meeting with an ugly toad and a devious mole.
oh my dearest Belina, with slender, sweet body and eyes so kind, yet a mind like a swamp and black as coal.
these undergrowth creatures were more of her kin than an airy being with no harsh desperate past.
she cut the ties, I bled I hurt, I was cruelly starved of her magic. but I was wise, knew I was free at last.
she still lives in that faraway place, with the mole and the toad, not the friendly ones from wind in the willows -
but the evil kind, who will haunt you: children keep talismans, bent pennies, eggshells and walnuts, under your pillows
And all is well, for the most part, for me, for I live in a wonderful castle where the walls shout out, warn of danger,
and rise up one hundred feet tall and grow one thousand arms wielding swords, to alert and protect at approach of a stranger.
I am visited often, though, by invitation and with welcoming smiles, by thirteen princesses, such grace and sweet sweet charms.
I shall never marry again, and I dine, dance and dream with these ladies and yet, empty - I dream I'm embraced in Belina's arms
yes I am Jack, the lad, the flash, the man with sparkle in his eyes, and known for being quick and nimble
but I am not free, she's kept a portion of my soul, it floats ghost-like in her cauldron, the beautiful Belina's thimble.
Finale: the fairy tale romance of Jack and Tiny Belina....
it was a silly fancy, mother said, to keep broken eggshells, coins, nuts, beneath my pillows, horsehoes hanging over my bed.
she assured me that the dreams I had were childish nightmares, I'd grow out of them, put superstitious worries from my head.
tragedy came at spring cleaning season, when I was off at school, learning the facts of life and sensible ways of the world.
Mum's good intentions were my road to hell, my talismans went in the bin, and the nightmares were unfurled.
yes, many times I'd thought I'd heard and sensed that tiny lady of the world of horrors, stalking eerily,
out in the garden, and up at my window, hungry, greedy: but "don't be silly" ma had said, so wearily.
returning home I felt the terror, and helpless to repair the damage done, for there were no eggs, the chickens had not laid;
no walnuts to be had for love nor money, the horseshoes alone would not protect, the coins were gone, the milkman had been paid....
and so the ordinary domestic duties and peace in our household seemed safely comfortable and tidily secure.
but I knew I now had now protection from the Tiny Thumbelina, coming to devour me and the waiting I could not endure.
and so that night I ended the long hours of tormented agony dreading, yearning for her nocturnal touch and dark caressing
out into the garden I stumbled, fearful, desperate, and there was wed to Thumbelina, as a dark priest gave his blessing.
each morning, after nights of pain and struggle, she lets me go, so quietly I return to bed and often mother says I seem withdrawn.
she knows not that she's a grandmother, the night shadows dance with the children of a lad and a tiny witch, those wicked spawn.
but day by day, well trained now, yet full of fear, regret, I do the routines of a normal lad; sports, girls and homework.
yet I am hollow and never shall be free, to have a home, hearth, wife and family, doomed by the world where Belina and the tiny devils lurk....
well-meaning mothers everywhere, believe this tale and for god's sake do not take duster, mop and broom
to sweep the debris from your sons dark lair, there are worse fates than the foul pit that is his room....
(eva day)
(note: alternative names and versions of Thumbelina are drawn from original and traiditonal tales.... with thanks to Hans Christian Anderson and various translators.)
Thursday 24 March 2011
An Inventors Flirtation and a Scientific Romance.......
I have been playing a lot with words, ideas and themes, for many years and more recently revisiting the games and fun of writing, as a way of freeing up flow and creativity. Myself, I am a perpetual beginner, but here I offer an idea for some fun, for others who want to write and to develop their storytelling or character building skills. I've also shared a few writing challenges, jointly, with another aspiring writer, as well as looking at similar challenges and practises from on-line writing groups, and recommend these as a good focus. If you want to do similar with others, just takes turns to pick different themes and guidelines for short pieces, which you can then share for feedback and further inspiration. This can help give you a starting point,too, if you're committed to producing some writing on a daily basis, to keep reaching into your potential.
Of course, you can also invent and set yourself challenges - but a bit of interchange and networking can be very growthful.
Chose some more weighty or reflective themes, but give yourself challenges, too, that are about fun: and go for a range of formats, from straight prose, to poetry, dialogue, first and third person, etc....
Here's an offering, a challenge I set myself. Play with it if you feel like it and see where it takes you:
choose a well known saying or homily such as "too many cooks spoil the broth" or "a rolling stone gathers no moss." Use it in a piece of dialogue between characters from history or fiction, to include a "girl meets boy" element in some way. Write in dialogue only, as much as possible, as if in drama script format; so any action is indicated briefly, eg: exit Luke, Lucy falls down, etc.....
Here's my piece of nonsense!
BOY MEETS GIRL.....
Sir Isaac Newton: "These many unanswered questions and ideas I am having are a burden to me, I feel depressed and heavy.... as if something was pulling me down."
(Newton sits down under a tree.)
Thomas Edison: "Stop fussing, what do you think it's like for me?.... I keep trying and trying with different prototypes for my marvellous light bulb invention, but my brain just won't work. I'm in a very dark mood."
(Enter Kali, Goddess of Destruction, waving her six arms enthusiastically)
Kali: "Don't worry, I can help. After all, many hands make light work."
Edison: "But you're a destroyer!! I don't believe you will help me invent anything, as you have a terrible reputation for breaking things."
Kali: "Well, that's true, so we'll just have to completely dismantle all your current theories, to make way for a new perspective. And have a smashing time doing it, probably breaking new ground..." (laughs crazily)
Newton: "Stop making puns and being so foolish. This is serious, I have a scientific dilemma too, so we need a little gravity I feel.)
(an apple falls on Newton's head.....)
Edison: "Ouch I bet that hurt. Kali, see what trouble you bring? Stamping about, shaking apples from the tree like that!! You really are rotten to the core...."
Voice of God: "DON'T ARGUE, YOU LOT; GET TO THE ROOTS OF THE MATTER AND BE MORE DOWN TO EARTH OR I SHALL INTRODUCE SIR EDWARD APPLETON INTO THE PLOT!!"
(Newton jumps up)
Newton: "Eureka!! That knock on the head has done it!! I have the perfect theory..... to explain falling apples and fallen angels...."
(enter Archimedes)
Archimedes: "You bloody sod, you took my line!! EUREKA was the only bloody spoken word I had in this damned play......"
enter Einstein Stephen Hawkins and Caroline Herschel :
Einstein: "Did somebody mention roots? E =mc 2 and the square root of pi is infinite, it goes on and on and doesn't have a repeating value..."
Newton: "A bit like you then, you old ranter....."
(enter Lucifer)
Lucifer: "And did someone mention fallen angels......?"
Hawkins: "This is madness! Chaos theory, applied....."
Herschel: "Now we see the reason for the long division between science and religion!"
God: "Don't bring me into this!! Look, you lads, here's Caroline, she's a nice lass...... One of you ask her out on a date and then take it away from there. I've told you before to go forth and multiply......"
Herschel: "Boys, if you want to grab my interest, you need to approach me from the right angle. Bring half a dozen red roses, six being a perfect number. In addition, you should not even consider speed dating, it's not at all a sound practice...."
(with a flourish, Edison produces from beneath his jacket, a bunch of roses)
Edison: "Madame! Flowers delivered, faster than the speed of light...."
etc, etc.....
What comes more easily to you? Initial ideas? Characters, coming to life? A storyline? Or dialogue? And what's most challenging.... the aspects you could play and practice with more?
Enjoy! eva day.
Of course, you can also invent and set yourself challenges - but a bit of interchange and networking can be very growthful.
Chose some more weighty or reflective themes, but give yourself challenges, too, that are about fun: and go for a range of formats, from straight prose, to poetry, dialogue, first and third person, etc....
Here's an offering, a challenge I set myself. Play with it if you feel like it and see where it takes you:
choose a well known saying or homily such as "too many cooks spoil the broth" or "a rolling stone gathers no moss." Use it in a piece of dialogue between characters from history or fiction, to include a "girl meets boy" element in some way. Write in dialogue only, as much as possible, as if in drama script format; so any action is indicated briefly, eg: exit Luke, Lucy falls down, etc.....
Here's my piece of nonsense!
BOY MEETS GIRL.....
Sir Isaac Newton: "These many unanswered questions and ideas I am having are a burden to me, I feel depressed and heavy.... as if something was pulling me down."
(Newton sits down under a tree.)
Thomas Edison: "Stop fussing, what do you think it's like for me?.... I keep trying and trying with different prototypes for my marvellous light bulb invention, but my brain just won't work. I'm in a very dark mood."
(Enter Kali, Goddess of Destruction, waving her six arms enthusiastically)
Kali: "Don't worry, I can help. After all, many hands make light work."
Edison: "But you're a destroyer!! I don't believe you will help me invent anything, as you have a terrible reputation for breaking things."
Kali: "Well, that's true, so we'll just have to completely dismantle all your current theories, to make way for a new perspective. And have a smashing time doing it, probably breaking new ground..." (laughs crazily)
Newton: "Stop making puns and being so foolish. This is serious, I have a scientific dilemma too, so we need a little gravity I feel.)
(an apple falls on Newton's head.....)
Edison: "Ouch I bet that hurt. Kali, see what trouble you bring? Stamping about, shaking apples from the tree like that!! You really are rotten to the core...."
Voice of God: "DON'T ARGUE, YOU LOT; GET TO THE ROOTS OF THE MATTER AND BE MORE DOWN TO EARTH OR I SHALL INTRODUCE SIR EDWARD APPLETON INTO THE PLOT!!"
(Newton jumps up)
Newton: "Eureka!! That knock on the head has done it!! I have the perfect theory..... to explain falling apples and fallen angels...."
(enter Archimedes)
Archimedes: "You bloody sod, you took my line!! EUREKA was the only bloody spoken word I had in this damned play......"
enter Einstein Stephen Hawkins and Caroline Herschel :
Einstein: "Did somebody mention roots? E =mc 2 and the square root of pi is infinite, it goes on and on and doesn't have a repeating value..."
Newton: "A bit like you then, you old ranter....."
(enter Lucifer)
Lucifer: "And did someone mention fallen angels......?"
Hawkins: "This is madness! Chaos theory, applied....."
Herschel: "Now we see the reason for the long division between science and religion!"
God: "Don't bring me into this!! Look, you lads, here's Caroline, she's a nice lass...... One of you ask her out on a date and then take it away from there. I've told you before to go forth and multiply......"
Herschel: "Boys, if you want to grab my interest, you need to approach me from the right angle. Bring half a dozen red roses, six being a perfect number. In addition, you should not even consider speed dating, it's not at all a sound practice...."
(with a flourish, Edison produces from beneath his jacket, a bunch of roses)
Edison: "Madame! Flowers delivered, faster than the speed of light...."
etc, etc.....
What comes more easily to you? Initial ideas? Characters, coming to life? A storyline? Or dialogue? And what's most challenging.... the aspects you could play and practice with more?
Enjoy! eva day.
Tuesday 22 March 2011
Invisbility In Vocation (Being Invisible, Part Three)
I am doing a series of themed posts in trilogies: this is part three of the invisibilty sequence (see earlier posts for the other two.)
SO: another take on invisibility. Choice makes such a difference..
in praise of invisibility
i have cultivated the art of invisibility and studied the great mystics
the technicalities involved are tricky, lots of planning and logistics
certainly I would resent it greatly if the state of not being recognised
were imposed through social limitations but I like being so disguised
emily, I remember, wrote "I am nobody, who are you?" and I relate
to that sense of nebulous mystery: too much public notice I would hate
but most especially, and delightful, when I can't see myself I am more able
to slip and float more fluidly through worlds of legend, myth and fable
I don't want to look or seem the sort of person who can easily be bagged
for those who want me gift wrapped, conveniently tied up and neatly tagged
How much easier, and more fun it is, to be me by just not being me, disappear
this is my invisibility invocation, I have made it my dedication and career
of course this is perhaps escapism in the world of every day: a paradox
but I won't display identifiable features, they might put me in a box
a psychiatrist once said to me: "such unhealthy avoidance of being seen!"
but I asked him "don't you ever shrink yourself, visit places in between
what we think is normal reality, and the magical other world of parallel?
I spend a lot of time exploring shadowy lands, and am adjusting very well"
(eva day)
(NOTE: reference to emily is re Emily Dickinson poem "I'm Nobody")
KATE BUSH. LYRICS: HOW TO BE INVISIBLE
I found a book on how to be invisible
Take a pinch of keyhole
And fold yourself up
You cut along a dotted line
You think inside out
And you're invisible
Eye of Braille
Hem of anorak
Stem of wallflower
Hair of doormat
I found a book on how to be invisible
On the edge of the labyrinth
Under a veil you must never lift
Pages that you must never turn
In the labyrinth
You stand in front of a million doors
And each one holds a million more
Corridors that lead to the world
Of the invisible
Corridors that twist and turn
Corridors that blister and burn
Eye of Braille
Hem of anorak
Stem of wallflower
Hair of doormat
Is that the wind from the desert song?
Is that the autumn leaf falling?
Or is that you walking home?
Is that the wind from the desert song?
Is that the autumn leaf falling?
Or is that you walking home?
Is that a storm in the swimming pool?
You take a pinch of keyhole
And fold yourself up
You cut along a dotted line
You think inside out
You jump 'round three times
You jump into the mirror
And you're invisible
SO: another take on invisibility. Choice makes such a difference..
in praise of invisibility
i have cultivated the art of invisibility and studied the great mystics
the technicalities involved are tricky, lots of planning and logistics
certainly I would resent it greatly if the state of not being recognised
were imposed through social limitations but I like being so disguised
emily, I remember, wrote "I am nobody, who are you?" and I relate
to that sense of nebulous mystery: too much public notice I would hate
but most especially, and delightful, when I can't see myself I am more able
to slip and float more fluidly through worlds of legend, myth and fable
I don't want to look or seem the sort of person who can easily be bagged
for those who want me gift wrapped, conveniently tied up and neatly tagged
How much easier, and more fun it is, to be me by just not being me, disappear
this is my invisibility invocation, I have made it my dedication and career
of course this is perhaps escapism in the world of every day: a paradox
but I won't display identifiable features, they might put me in a box
a psychiatrist once said to me: "such unhealthy avoidance of being seen!"
but I asked him "don't you ever shrink yourself, visit places in between
what we think is normal reality, and the magical other world of parallel?
I spend a lot of time exploring shadowy lands, and am adjusting very well"
(eva day)
(NOTE: reference to emily is re Emily Dickinson poem "I'm Nobody")
KATE BUSH. LYRICS: HOW TO BE INVISIBLE
I found a book on how to be invisible
Take a pinch of keyhole
And fold yourself up
You cut along a dotted line
You think inside out
And you're invisible
Eye of Braille
Hem of anorak
Stem of wallflower
Hair of doormat
I found a book on how to be invisible
On the edge of the labyrinth
Under a veil you must never lift
Pages that you must never turn
In the labyrinth
You stand in front of a million doors
And each one holds a million more
Corridors that lead to the world
Of the invisible
Corridors that twist and turn
Corridors that blister and burn
Eye of Braille
Hem of anorak
Stem of wallflower
Hair of doormat
Is that the wind from the desert song?
Is that the autumn leaf falling?
Or is that you walking home?
Is that the wind from the desert song?
Is that the autumn leaf falling?
Or is that you walking home?
Is that a storm in the swimming pool?
You take a pinch of keyhole
And fold yourself up
You cut along a dotted line
You think inside out
You jump 'round three times
You jump into the mirror
And you're invisible
Thursday 17 March 2011
ANNA'S APOSTREPHIC AIKIDO
written for my friend Anna, for fun, after a brief conversation about rebelling against grammar... and as she has declared herself, and is, practitioner of verbal aikido....
ANNA'S APOSTREPHIC AIKIDO
the author of its all one sentence to me was sad and very concerned
to realise at school she'd apparently not well understood nor learned
the correct rules for how to use grammar ( ie and etcetera, for example.)
this distressing realisation was received when she'd sent a small sample
of her sci-fi short stories, and a novel, fantasy fiction, first draft.
But unkindly, the publisher's rejection note said "Oh, How we laughed!
When we saw how your strange punctuation is absent or scattered ad hoc,
without any consistency at all!" Well, this came as a quite nasty shock.
"It does seem I've lost a few of those silly required symbols, I suppose.
I'll hunt for them!, Maybe they're hiding, to escape the duties of prose
I've never been very sure of grammatical rules, and am not so very fond
of commas, which look rather like little tadpoles that squirm in a pond.
And behave like them, too, as they tend to be damned slippery critters,
and so hard to grasp: like exclamation marks, they give me the jitters.
Oh, dear, what perplexity and trouble, each strange line, squiggle and dot:
I just don't care for it all, such a fuss, but maybe I must study and swat?
And if more troubling rules about words like reflex verbs make me squirm,
I'll just have to get tough. To stop misplaced prepositions, I'll be firm;
with double negatives, tell them clearly to not never uninvited, intrude,
when I'm just in a wonderful story line. Their interruption is so very rude.
I warn now: awkward syllables or faulty quotation marks will come a cropper,
if they mess with my metaphors, disrupt dialogue, written so nice and proper.
I'd much rather just get ideas on paper: bother these punctuational glitches.
And capitals, lower case or those horrid colons? I think they're all bitches."
( eva's reply .....
I too find the freeform versatile or minimal punctuation literary style
hugely pleasing though getting used to it for some can take quite a while
when i first read ee cummings andhiswords ran together that made me smile
and i much so prefer my name to be written eva with all
lower case letters
though of course ive been reprimanded for this by my teachers and betters
but we do it on purpose, us rebels of written rules, throw off the limiting fetters
another thing ive often Noticed is I enjoy using dashes like this - and how I do tend
to put i before c, after e, or somesuch similar confusion,or sentences often will end
with dot dot dot a favourite though sometimes i use several full stops and i will defend
your right and mine to enjoy these eccentric adaptations,
for sometimes its so much more fun
to scramble the proper Nouns, verbs and adjectives or
start a sentence before you've begun.
and breaking up paragraphs, perhaps let your word play
express some kind of whimsical pun
to explain what i mean i could tell you just now the past and its participle are tensely fighting
and i deliberately swapped around certain letters (like the g and the h in
I am hgost writing)
if i also included some mathematical symbols like + square root of = minus; that would be exciting!.....
etcetera. (eva day)
ANNA'S APOSTREPHIC AIKIDO
the author of its all one sentence to me was sad and very concerned
to realise at school she'd apparently not well understood nor learned
the correct rules for how to use grammar ( ie and etcetera, for example.)
this distressing realisation was received when she'd sent a small sample
of her sci-fi short stories, and a novel, fantasy fiction, first draft.
But unkindly, the publisher's rejection note said "Oh, How we laughed!
When we saw how your strange punctuation is absent or scattered ad hoc,
without any consistency at all!" Well, this came as a quite nasty shock.
"It does seem I've lost a few of those silly required symbols, I suppose.
I'll hunt for them!, Maybe they're hiding, to escape the duties of prose
I've never been very sure of grammatical rules, and am not so very fond
of commas, which look rather like little tadpoles that squirm in a pond.
And behave like them, too, as they tend to be damned slippery critters,
and so hard to grasp: like exclamation marks, they give me the jitters.
Oh, dear, what perplexity and trouble, each strange line, squiggle and dot:
I just don't care for it all, such a fuss, but maybe I must study and swat?
And if more troubling rules about words like reflex verbs make me squirm,
I'll just have to get tough. To stop misplaced prepositions, I'll be firm;
with double negatives, tell them clearly to not never uninvited, intrude,
when I'm just in a wonderful story line. Their interruption is so very rude.
I warn now: awkward syllables or faulty quotation marks will come a cropper,
if they mess with my metaphors, disrupt dialogue, written so nice and proper.
I'd much rather just get ideas on paper: bother these punctuational glitches.
And capitals, lower case or those horrid colons? I think they're all bitches."
( eva's reply .....
I too find the freeform versatile or minimal punctuation literary style
hugely pleasing though getting used to it for some can take quite a while
when i first read ee cummings andhiswords ran together that made me smile
and i much so prefer my name to be written eva with all
lower case letters
though of course ive been reprimanded for this by my teachers and betters
but we do it on purpose, us rebels of written rules, throw off the limiting fetters
another thing ive often Noticed is I enjoy using dashes like this - and how I do tend
to put i before c, after e, or somesuch similar confusion,or sentences often will end
with dot dot dot a favourite though sometimes i use several full stops and i will defend
your right and mine to enjoy these eccentric adaptations,
for sometimes its so much more fun
to scramble the proper Nouns, verbs and adjectives or
start a sentence before you've begun.
and breaking up paragraphs, perhaps let your word play
express some kind of whimsical pun
to explain what i mean i could tell you just now the past and its participle are tensely fighting
and i deliberately swapped around certain letters (like the g and the h in
I am hgost writing)
if i also included some mathematical symbols like + square root of = minus; that would be exciting!.....
etcetera. (eva day)
Wednesday 16 March 2011
invisibility part two - how to disappear without attracting too much attention
HOW TO BE INVISIBLE PART TWO
have an everyday ordinary life and an orderly response always be aware of the majority view
dress, move, think unremarkably blandly blur the edges be part of the many never one of the few
consider at all times safety and discretion, the better valour, the bolder aspects not recommended
leave the acts of sudden impulses or the urge to speak out to those happy to be naked, undefended
consider volume, colour, tempo - speak quietly, wear mottled tones and dulled hues, don't walk too fast
never arrive early at a venue, nor sit too close to the front, leave quickly, quietly, neither be first or last
avoid any extreme or intense emotion or response, most particularly sudden anger or bursts of enthusiasm
don't let sexuality be more than moderate pleasure, don't get too abandoned, don't allow yourself orgasm
passion is not to be engaged in, it tends to make a person noisy, and magnetism may make them more evident
better to be controlled neat, mild and remain in middle ground: take care not to elaborate, question or invent
never be noticeably often part of any particular group or trend, or strong opinion, listen and observe and be aware
of changes and hot issues and the dramas of the folk around you - yet look subtly, from the sidelines, never stare
step back and let others take the spotlight, stay close to quiet and shadowy places, but never linger or seem to lurk
don't be loud or rude or particularly funny but avoid any impression of being morose don't step out of line at work
always speak less than others and most briefly without particular indication of strong thoughts, feelings or ideals
stay safe stay quiet agree with the majority view but don't commit be empty never notice never speak of how it feels
in social situations, always aim for unexceptionable behaviour don't be too often part of groups or anything off-beat
but neither should you seem to be reclusive, too withdrawn don't notice anyone familiar if they pass you on the street
when you must look into a mirror to make sure your appearance is acceptable, appropriate, don't look into your eyes
be content and settled in a routine and in a simple world, don't dream or dawdle or invent, become your own disguise.
eva day
have an everyday ordinary life and an orderly response always be aware of the majority view
dress, move, think unremarkably blandly blur the edges be part of the many never one of the few
consider at all times safety and discretion, the better valour, the bolder aspects not recommended
leave the acts of sudden impulses or the urge to speak out to those happy to be naked, undefended
consider volume, colour, tempo - speak quietly, wear mottled tones and dulled hues, don't walk too fast
never arrive early at a venue, nor sit too close to the front, leave quickly, quietly, neither be first or last
avoid any extreme or intense emotion or response, most particularly sudden anger or bursts of enthusiasm
don't let sexuality be more than moderate pleasure, don't get too abandoned, don't allow yourself orgasm
passion is not to be engaged in, it tends to make a person noisy, and magnetism may make them more evident
better to be controlled neat, mild and remain in middle ground: take care not to elaborate, question or invent
never be noticeably often part of any particular group or trend, or strong opinion, listen and observe and be aware
of changes and hot issues and the dramas of the folk around you - yet look subtly, from the sidelines, never stare
step back and let others take the spotlight, stay close to quiet and shadowy places, but never linger or seem to lurk
don't be loud or rude or particularly funny but avoid any impression of being morose don't step out of line at work
always speak less than others and most briefly without particular indication of strong thoughts, feelings or ideals
stay safe stay quiet agree with the majority view but don't commit be empty never notice never speak of how it feels
in social situations, always aim for unexceptionable behaviour don't be too often part of groups or anything off-beat
but neither should you seem to be reclusive, too withdrawn don't notice anyone familiar if they pass you on the street
when you must look into a mirror to make sure your appearance is acceptable, appropriate, don't look into your eyes
be content and settled in a routine and in a simple world, don't dream or dawdle or invent, become your own disguise.
eva day
Sunday 13 March 2011
Tuesday 8 March 2011
Heinz, Svie and Driegh. Three Poems who are hanging out together
These three poems really don't have much in common, no theme that they share etc. It was really just coincidence that brought them together on this post. They were all on their way to different destinations. The first was going to join some mates on a fishing trip, then he remembered he gets real sea sick so he headed of randomly in another direction and ended up here. The second was going to a big music festival but got abducted by aliens, managed to escape, and ran here for sanctuary and to recover from the experience. which wasn't too bad really but just weird. and the third was on her way to a job interview, but the chariot driver who she had hired to take her there crashed the chariot into a field of dreams where some ghostly hockey players looked like they didn't have great control of their jolly sticks. so she also came here, while waiting for alternative transport.
anyway the atmosphere was a bit tense at first but now they seem to be getting along better.
poem one (by sven, also known as svie)
DOUBLEYOUDOUBLEYOU COMMODDITY DOT
she twittered me with wittiness her told me thanks for the add
then tagged me in a photograph and then stole my new i-pad.
he friend un-friend me on fb, because I could not play fishville
in mafia wars he hit-man murder me for a thousand dollar bill
a forum chat room pal send me some recommendations for new mates
who tick all my same boxes, interests / like/ unlike/ personal pet hates
on you-tube I was OMG crushed my cute cat video got less hits than your dog
but that's ok I guess, cos LOL my tame iguana writes a cool cult following blog.
my buddies live inside my laptop, they're operated by their hard drives
we're 2D SIMS and Graphics Gifs and we love our buz-buzz social network lives
POEM TWO. DRIEGH (AKA DREW)
she wrote this poem for the rowdy British tourist having a larf on holiday sprees. Inspired by Classic Poets, she writes pieces which adapt their most well known works.
for this one, Drew was inspired by Keats, Ode to a Nightingale.
("my heart aches and a drowsy numbness fills my sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, or emptied some dull opiates to the drain....)
my heart aches and a drowsy numbness pains my sense
as though hemlock I had drunk
I went to Rhodes on holiday, what a laugh, I was totally pissed as a skunk:
but now my head spins and I'm really wired, as if of Red Bull I had drunk.
I staggered around and shouted, puked on the pavement, offended the locals
but they are there to cater to us British tourists, those simple foreign yokels.
me and my mates got put in the slammer abroad, after I shagged a bird in Greece
and had a fight with some bloke, got arrested and the cop said that tart was his niece
and the bloke I'd been scrapping with was bleeding and messed up and pasted
they reckon I assaulted him but I don't remember, by that time I was friggin wasted.
shit, my head aches, got a lousy numb feeling and pain in my nuts, cos that cop took offence
and kneed me right in the knackers, then some bloody Stavros judge with no friggin sense
said I was a dull oaf with my life down the drain
- what a tosser: next year I'll fekkin well go to Spain
POEM THREE. HEIDI HEINZ-KETCHUP WROTE ABOUT HER HEP C EXPERIENCE
Horrible Incantation
combo compost mentis heps so ipso facto riba bad
its the meds them aggro maketh us mucho mad
foggus loggos jibber jabber jitter every week
vacantium vacantium regrot forgotto how can't speak
logarhythm drop log und mud fried uber brain fog
hb white blood cells bloody bloody bloody hells
tx tee ex dehydrated dry sick lizard nauseata tongue
crack joint, moody horizontally stretched and strung
muscularis minusucle, pcr agititation, unhingedly ref anticipation
oblio oblivio distortio intoleratum; heptology hepaticirus
whoever donot unnerstand a word of this never had the virus
(ps if while you are visiting this post, these poems do get a bit edgy and start fighting with each other - please just stroke them, speak kindly to them and feed them some chocolate coated chocolate triple chocolate drops. they will soon settle down. eva day.)
anyway the atmosphere was a bit tense at first but now they seem to be getting along better.
poem one (by sven, also known as svie)
DOUBLEYOUDOUBLEYOU COMMODDITY DOT
she twittered me with wittiness her told me thanks for the add
then tagged me in a photograph and then stole my new i-pad.
he friend un-friend me on fb, because I could not play fishville
in mafia wars he hit-man murder me for a thousand dollar bill
a forum chat room pal send me some recommendations for new mates
who tick all my same boxes, interests / like/ unlike/ personal pet hates
on you-tube I was OMG crushed my cute cat video got less hits than your dog
but that's ok I guess, cos LOL my tame iguana writes a cool cult following blog.
my buddies live inside my laptop, they're operated by their hard drives
we're 2D SIMS and Graphics Gifs and we love our buz-buzz social network lives
POEM TWO. DRIEGH (AKA DREW)
she wrote this poem for the rowdy British tourist having a larf on holiday sprees. Inspired by Classic Poets, she writes pieces which adapt their most well known works.
for this one, Drew was inspired by Keats, Ode to a Nightingale.
("my heart aches and a drowsy numbness fills my sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, or emptied some dull opiates to the drain....)
my heart aches and a drowsy numbness pains my sense
as though hemlock I had drunk
I went to Rhodes on holiday, what a laugh, I was totally pissed as a skunk:
but now my head spins and I'm really wired, as if of Red Bull I had drunk.
I staggered around and shouted, puked on the pavement, offended the locals
but they are there to cater to us British tourists, those simple foreign yokels.
me and my mates got put in the slammer abroad, after I shagged a bird in Greece
and had a fight with some bloke, got arrested and the cop said that tart was his niece
and the bloke I'd been scrapping with was bleeding and messed up and pasted
they reckon I assaulted him but I don't remember, by that time I was friggin wasted.
shit, my head aches, got a lousy numb feeling and pain in my nuts, cos that cop took offence
and kneed me right in the knackers, then some bloody Stavros judge with no friggin sense
said I was a dull oaf with my life down the drain
- what a tosser: next year I'll fekkin well go to Spain
POEM THREE. HEIDI HEINZ-KETCHUP WROTE ABOUT HER HEP C EXPERIENCE
Horrible Incantation
combo compost mentis heps so ipso facto riba bad
its the meds them aggro maketh us mucho mad
foggus loggos jibber jabber jitter every week
vacantium vacantium regrot forgotto how can't speak
logarhythm drop log und mud fried uber brain fog
hb white blood cells bloody bloody bloody hells
tx tee ex dehydrated dry sick lizard nauseata tongue
crack joint, moody horizontally stretched and strung
muscularis minusucle, pcr agititation, unhingedly ref anticipation
oblio oblivio distortio intoleratum; heptology hepaticirus
whoever donot unnerstand a word of this never had the virus
(ps if while you are visiting this post, these poems do get a bit edgy and start fighting with each other - please just stroke them, speak kindly to them and feed them some chocolate coated chocolate triple chocolate drops. they will soon settle down. eva day.)
Monday 7 March 2011
How To Stay Off The Internet.....
I decided that since I am too often apparently symbiotically plugged in to my laptop and emotionally chained to it and so to the world wide web ... I would attempt to break this addiction. Perhaps there is still life beyond the internet? Therefore I decided to limit my daily time on line, and to take my attention elsewhere.... On day one of this new regime, so far it's going... crap.... and I am doing ... lousy at it. I keep thinking of just one person I must catch up with, just one more thing I want to check out. Bloody Hell, how the hell did people manage before the Industrial and Technological Revolutions? To find out more about this, and to discover if there really is still life beyond the portal of the laptop screen... I decided to do some direct and experiential research. So I went time travelling. Of course I had to enter space-time continuum over-ride via my computer, thus providing myself with yet another neat paradox among the many that form my daily life.
Anyway - here is an extract from my notes and observations from time travelling, an account of an event I witnessed first hand.
(This piece was inspired by a joint enterprise between myself and kooky pal AnnaMaRou, as we are sharing some creative writing practice on different themes. For this one, we chose anything we like which is around the theme of bored, boredome, boring etc.... Why would a Hep C patient think of that, I wonder??)
Ok, so here is the Tale of Two Boring Bastards
A Tale of Two Boring Bastards
In 1798, General Ted Ious Dunderhead of Dullardo (on the northern peninsula) insulted Field Marshal Horrid Lee-Stuffshirt during a game of dominoes in which they both only had one piece each, owing to the shortage of dots at the time. After they had both repeatedly picked up and replaced their domino on the table about 156 times, General Dunderhead remarked "By God, Sir, Your strategy and technique in this game is damnedly abysmal and playing with you is worse than watching the paint dry on the canvas after Remnant Brain the DoubleDutch painted my extremely boring portrait......"
"The plague of a thousand utterly pointless moments on you, Sir!" droned Stuffshirt. "To be even in the same room with you is to feel ennui freeze the last remaining brain cell I had left, after a war surgeon amputated the rest of them following The Great Battle of Bollocks..... " and he rolled his eyes slowly and sighed a slow sigh. "What a total waste of space you are sir, why to look at your foolish face in person is even worse than to have had the lack-lustre experience of seeing that dreadful and dire portrait..." and he picked up one of his wet socks (for he had hung his up by the fire to dry, it being a very boring rainy day) and slapped General Dunderhead across the chops with it."In your face!! Your boring face.... I challenge you to a dual !" he said.
"Choose your weapon!!" mumbled Dunderhead, with a flat voice and complete lack of real interest or enthusiasm "Devil take me, I have fought so many cretins like you - I shall be glad to put an end to you and any prospects you may have had of bringing more fools, dullards and dead-brains into this world!!"
"I shall bore you death!!" drawled the Field Marshall laconically. "For that is all you deserve, you cad. No, you shall not die an honourable death by the knife or the bullet. You will die a curs death grovelling in bored misery while I grind you down with tedious lists and military facts which I shall recite to you...."
"By Zeus!" grumbled General Ted ... " You insufferable boar, I will read to you the latest chapter from my autobiography......."
"Why you arrogant little prig" said old Stuffo, "I shall......
But nobody knows what terrible fate he was about to describe to his adversary, as suddenly at that moment, a third man stood up (he had been playing cards, with a small group of friends on the other side of the salon) and shouted "Shut Up You Pair of Boring Old Bastard Gits!"....
and pulling out a pair of pistols from a holster beneath his rather splendid Regency jacket - he shot them both dead.
THE END
You see?? None of those three had internet access - if they had done, it might have provided a distraction and this horrible scenario would never have unfolded. Or they could have Had other technology such as Playstation or X-Box and had their duel via gaming in a virtual world...
May The Powers That Be Bless Your UPS - eva day xx
Anyway - here is an extract from my notes and observations from time travelling, an account of an event I witnessed first hand.
(This piece was inspired by a joint enterprise between myself and kooky pal AnnaMaRou, as we are sharing some creative writing practice on different themes. For this one, we chose anything we like which is around the theme of bored, boredome, boring etc.... Why would a Hep C patient think of that, I wonder??)
Ok, so here is the Tale of Two Boring Bastards
A Tale of Two Boring Bastards
In 1798, General Ted Ious Dunderhead of Dullardo (on the northern peninsula) insulted Field Marshal Horrid Lee-Stuffshirt during a game of dominoes in which they both only had one piece each, owing to the shortage of dots at the time. After they had both repeatedly picked up and replaced their domino on the table about 156 times, General Dunderhead remarked "By God, Sir, Your strategy and technique in this game is damnedly abysmal and playing with you is worse than watching the paint dry on the canvas after Remnant Brain the DoubleDutch painted my extremely boring portrait......"
"The plague of a thousand utterly pointless moments on you, Sir!" droned Stuffshirt. "To be even in the same room with you is to feel ennui freeze the last remaining brain cell I had left, after a war surgeon amputated the rest of them following The Great Battle of Bollocks..... " and he rolled his eyes slowly and sighed a slow sigh. "What a total waste of space you are sir, why to look at your foolish face in person is even worse than to have had the lack-lustre experience of seeing that dreadful and dire portrait..." and he picked up one of his wet socks (for he had hung his up by the fire to dry, it being a very boring rainy day) and slapped General Dunderhead across the chops with it."In your face!! Your boring face.... I challenge you to a dual !" he said.
"Choose your weapon!!" mumbled Dunderhead, with a flat voice and complete lack of real interest or enthusiasm "Devil take me, I have fought so many cretins like you - I shall be glad to put an end to you and any prospects you may have had of bringing more fools, dullards and dead-brains into this world!!"
"I shall bore you death!!" drawled the Field Marshall laconically. "For that is all you deserve, you cad. No, you shall not die an honourable death by the knife or the bullet. You will die a curs death grovelling in bored misery while I grind you down with tedious lists and military facts which I shall recite to you...."
"By Zeus!" grumbled General Ted ... " You insufferable boar, I will read to you the latest chapter from my autobiography......."
"Why you arrogant little prig" said old Stuffo, "I shall......
But nobody knows what terrible fate he was about to describe to his adversary, as suddenly at that moment, a third man stood up (he had been playing cards, with a small group of friends on the other side of the salon) and shouted "Shut Up You Pair of Boring Old Bastard Gits!"....
and pulling out a pair of pistols from a holster beneath his rather splendid Regency jacket - he shot them both dead.
THE END
You see?? None of those three had internet access - if they had done, it might have provided a distraction and this horrible scenario would never have unfolded. Or they could have Had other technology such as Playstation or X-Box and had their duel via gaming in a virtual world...
May The Powers That Be Bless Your UPS - eva day xx
Wednesday 2 March 2011
A CLOUD WHICH IS OPAQUE WITH TRANSLUCENT AREAS
THIS BLOG AND ITS THEME COMES FROM SEVERAL YEARS OF HAPPY VISITS TO CLOUD KOOKY LAND, AND CHATTING WITH INHABITANTS, STUDYING THE LANGUAGES AND CULTURE. THE IDEA TO PUT THIS GUIDE TOGETHER CAME FROM A BRIEF EXCHANGE OF MESSAGES WITH THE MAGICAL DEB Z SO MANY THANKS TO HER. THE POST IS DEDICATED TO A VIKING PRINCESS IN RECOGNITION OF HER MARVELLOUS LANGUAGE SKILLS.
In Cloud Kooky Land, there are many different languages and dialects, as well as standard English. Here, anthropolist and linguistic Vera Verbatim the Triple-Tongued presents a guide to common and useful phrases from Perlucidus, which is the most commonly used dialect in the south -eastern peninsula of Cumulus Nebulus. Perlucidas as a word does not change according to syntax - the language is called Perlucidus and you speak Perlucidus. It is a patois language - adapted from English and with words and phrases both borrowed from other languages (earth and inter-galactic) and freely invented. It has no grammar. Attempts at applying grammatical analysis to Perlucidus would suggest that you are being a real ylluumtaich.
the word perlucidus comes from a terminology used in cloud science.
PERLUCIDUS. A beginners guide
FUGRIT - means "whatever you like, could be anything at all." often used where symbolism and metaphor has no defined interpretation but is intended to evoke an instinctive or creative response, allowing the viewer / participant to explore own personal themes and perceptions. or to indicate that "a thing is a thing is a thing and being is." *
*this is a quote from a popular children's rhyme: "a thing is a thing is a thing and being is. thing what thing. what? and being is and being is. what thing be thing be do be do be and why do i always ask why? " can be sung as a round, and the word order would changed eg: being is. what thing be thing be do be do be and why do i always ask why a thing is a thing? (similar to our play on words re: a rose is a rose is a rose etc,)
example -
Q: I love that picture you painted..... but what does it mean? A: "Oh, the banana is just a random banana, but it in itself represents fugrit. And the rest of it really is just fugrit."
Fugrit may also be used ironically. eg: "The plot and dialogue of the play is steeped in metaphor and classic references: unfortunately many of them are incorrect, simplistic and distorted and any real insight is perhaps just so much fugrit." Occasionally also used in the way we might use "all that jazz." Eg. "Yeah we were talking about not much at all really, just nonsense. and they were reading between the lines a bit too much., looking for hidden meanings and all that fugrit."
MEGLAMBIC : that state of mind or surreal experience when people are talking to you in apparently simple terms in your own mother tongue, and you hear and recognise the words but they mean nothing to you. so you say something meaningless and unrelated or you just stare blankly. example: "some people say their dogs apparently understand every word they say. mine, I think, does not. I told him my dream, hoping for an interpretation and he began discussing the stock exchange. His meglambic insights left me totally perplexed."
GROO-DRUNCHER: a person who always seems to get in the way of other people and have either no spatial awareness or just doesn't give a flying fig. eg, those who stand around in shop doorways talking to each other, walk into you in the street as they are so busy texting and then look at you as if you were annoyingly in the way, or those who park badly, boxing you in or making it impossible for you to open your car door so you have to climb in via passenger seat after smashing their car up first of course. " example : "I went shopping today, a bunch of groo-drunchers were blocking the aisles. I ran over their feet with my trolley."
TROBSCHLAPPEN; a mischievous spirit, who possesses people temporarily, causing them to do say or think of things which are normally out of character and which may be temporarily distressing, embarrassing, disturbing or apparently disruptive - but which ultimately lead to creative change and positive new opportunities. Trobschlappen (plural is same as singular) operate in such a way as you have to go through some amount of unpleasant in order to get the pleasant. They are a popular theme in many comedies, particularly films.
example: "Suddenly, during the middle of the important sales meeting, bored and unaware of quite what she was doing, she reached into her bag, and in a trance, drew out a small tin, and from it's contents, proceeded to assemble, light and smoke a juicy reefer. This made the meeting a damn sight easier to endure but resulted in her getting the sack. However, upsetting as this was at the time, she later realised it was the gift of the trobschlappen as it led to her deciding to finally make that trip to Mongolia and the Gobi Desert which she had always dreamed off. There she discovered a previously undiscovered love and talent for photography and now is showing her first major exhibition. Called Stoned and Sacked." (1 - see foot note.)
LIJKERTORPH: the pleasure and ease between two friends who share a very similar sense of humour and or way of expressing ideas and thinking about things, which may be incomprehensible to others, or which may include a running joke or reference to past events either not worth explaining or too complicated to outline. Lijkertorph is generally looked upon benevolently by others, but it is considered impolite and a sign of cliques and exclusivity to invoke it too often. And definitely bad to use it in thge presence of others to secretly mock or refer to them. Very poor form. Generally however, it is a happy experience. Examples "Am I missing the point of this discussion, or are you two in lijkertorph?" Or a mother might say to a child, "stop with the lijkertorph for now, there are people here you've only just met and it could seem rude."
CORMWITAWL. means; any event or news or conversation which has such an impact on you as to cause a really noticeable physical reaction. Can be positive or negative. Verb and adjective. Examples. "It was a powerful speech, people of both parties were deeply affected and the room was charged with cormwitawl." Or "Get a bucket, I want to be sick, your attitude makes me cormwittal with disgust." "I leapt from the bath shouting Eureka! and was cormwitalling so much with inspiration, I rushed into the street with no clothes on!" (2. see foot notes.)
NUQ - pronounced nuch (to rhyme with much) a moment of supreme and sublime stupidity and complete confusion, in which one realises that one actually knows nothing and understands even less and that all familiar objects and realities appear surreal and alien. There may also a sense of having abandoned all reason and control - or been abandoned by it. Not understood in the sense of a moment of divine or mystic revelation or union, but more comedic and humorous, although there is a spiritual aspect to it's meaning in that it is regarded as a practical joke on the human experience, sent from the gods to remind us that we don't know diddly squat and keep us down to earth. used in the way that we might use deja vu. Example: "Pursued by the dog, the Wombat (3. see footnote) raced through the house, crashing into the finished cake, which had taken all day to decorate. As I stood there watching, and the cake slowly toppled sideways and crashed to the floor, I had a moment of nuq, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. I then dived into the wreckage and rolled around in delicious soft spongy vanilla, swallowing mouthfuls of creamy almond custard and wombat fur, realising that there must be some kind of mad poetry in making a wombat shaped cake and having it destroyed be a real wombat....."
Footnotes.
1) In Cloud Kooky Land it is very unlikely that a person would be sacked for getting stoned at a meeting, though they might be reprimanded and either told firmly that this was not the appropriate time or place, or possibly that they had caused some offence by not sharing the joint. However, should a meeting have proved that boring, it is likely that they would have said so and suggested a more interesting approach. Therefore this story would be probably a telling of an event that happened pre-settlement, in MadsVille.
2) Another note on Kookonian culture. Nakedness in itself would not be that disturbing, suprising or shocking, the Kooks are not prudish. However they enjoy clothing and prefer to be fairly well covered, so as to better appreciate the mystery of the human body and the sensual pleasures of and contrast between dressing and undressing. They are also more aware than the people of MadsVille of appropriate and inappropriate images of nakedness and sexuality for the affect the may have on children. Kookies consider MadsVille images to be unhelpful to children and part of the reason so many develop into confused and troubled adults. Therefore they prefer to be mostly (and creatively) clothed so to run down the street naked would be surprising. But not as surprising or worrying as excessive use of half naked female bodies draped over consumer goods in order to promote sales, as is common in MadsVille and which seems rather perverse, to them. Kookonians do have sales, marketing, advertising and an active economy - but have a very different approach to it. A separate article on this is available in the archives.
3) The Wombat. In literature and in the vernacular, this may refer to an actual Wombat or to an archetypal Wombat which represents the humorous and complex relationship between humans and animals and the tendency of humans to be unable to avoid anthromorphism. The Wombat is also a familiar figure from traditional folk tales - a loveable but mischievous and chaotic being who always brings goodwill yet also chaos and the unexpected. As a familiar, he represent eccentricity, and distortion of normal reality in both a harmless and amusing way - or, in his Dark Aspect, in a malevolent and disturbed way. More features on The Wombat will appear in future blogs.
(Editor's Note: it may be seen from the scenarios used here to illustrate word usage, that life in Cloud Kooky Land is far from perfect, idyllic or free of human inconsistencies and conflicts. Kookies are prone to the same tensions, uncertainties, irritations, hopes, dreams and passions - and so on - as are all humans, However, they certainly are more aware of them and more ready and willing to acknowledge and resolve them quickly, straightforwardly and with good cheer. Therefore in many ways, Cloud Kooky Land can be seen as a Utopia and the people there as being in the process of evolving into a more humane, creative and co-operative humanist society. This is their wonderful journey and their story. The reader should also understand that many people have wombats as pets; however in all cases, they are purely imaginary and invisible pets, no-one would actually keep domesticated wombats.)
Authors Note on Editors Note: sometimes that fekkin editor really gets on my nerves. I was not intending to explain the Utopian and Humanitarian nature of the Kookonian culture, but to allow that to become apparent as the blogging unfolds. And likewise, wasn't going to explain at this point about the invisible pet wombats: I already said that there will be future articles about the wombats. Sometimes that Editor is a real ylluumtaich .
blogged from Cloud Kooky Land By Eva Day
In Cloud Kooky Land, there are many different languages and dialects, as well as standard English. Here, anthropolist and linguistic Vera Verbatim the Triple-Tongued presents a guide to common and useful phrases from Perlucidus, which is the most commonly used dialect in the south -eastern peninsula of Cumulus Nebulus. Perlucidas as a word does not change according to syntax - the language is called Perlucidus and you speak Perlucidus. It is a patois language - adapted from English and with words and phrases both borrowed from other languages (earth and inter-galactic) and freely invented. It has no grammar. Attempts at applying grammatical analysis to Perlucidus would suggest that you are being a real ylluumtaich.
the word perlucidus comes from a terminology used in cloud science.
PERLUCIDUS. A beginners guide
FUGRIT - means "whatever you like, could be anything at all." often used where symbolism and metaphor has no defined interpretation but is intended to evoke an instinctive or creative response, allowing the viewer / participant to explore own personal themes and perceptions. or to indicate that "a thing is a thing is a thing and being is." *
*this is a quote from a popular children's rhyme: "a thing is a thing is a thing and being is. thing what thing. what? and being is and being is. what thing be thing be do be do be and why do i always ask why? " can be sung as a round, and the word order would changed eg: being is. what thing be thing be do be do be and why do i always ask why a thing is a thing? (similar to our play on words re: a rose is a rose is a rose etc,)
example -
Q: I love that picture you painted..... but what does it mean? A: "Oh, the banana is just a random banana, but it in itself represents fugrit. And the rest of it really is just fugrit."
Fugrit may also be used ironically. eg: "The plot and dialogue of the play is steeped in metaphor and classic references: unfortunately many of them are incorrect, simplistic and distorted and any real insight is perhaps just so much fugrit." Occasionally also used in the way we might use "all that jazz." Eg. "Yeah we were talking about not much at all really, just nonsense. and they were reading between the lines a bit too much., looking for hidden meanings and all that fugrit."
MEGLAMBIC : that state of mind or surreal experience when people are talking to you in apparently simple terms in your own mother tongue, and you hear and recognise the words but they mean nothing to you. so you say something meaningless and unrelated or you just stare blankly. example: "some people say their dogs apparently understand every word they say. mine, I think, does not. I told him my dream, hoping for an interpretation and he began discussing the stock exchange. His meglambic insights left me totally perplexed."
GROO-DRUNCHER: a person who always seems to get in the way of other people and have either no spatial awareness or just doesn't give a flying fig. eg, those who stand around in shop doorways talking to each other, walk into you in the street as they are so busy texting and then look at you as if you were annoyingly in the way, or those who park badly, boxing you in or making it impossible for you to open your car door so you have to climb in via passenger seat after smashing their car up first of course. " example : "I went shopping today, a bunch of groo-drunchers were blocking the aisles. I ran over their feet with my trolley."
TROBSCHLAPPEN; a mischievous spirit, who possesses people temporarily, causing them to do say or think of things which are normally out of character and which may be temporarily distressing, embarrassing, disturbing or apparently disruptive - but which ultimately lead to creative change and positive new opportunities. Trobschlappen (plural is same as singular) operate in such a way as you have to go through some amount of unpleasant in order to get the pleasant. They are a popular theme in many comedies, particularly films.
example: "Suddenly, during the middle of the important sales meeting, bored and unaware of quite what she was doing, she reached into her bag, and in a trance, drew out a small tin, and from it's contents, proceeded to assemble, light and smoke a juicy reefer. This made the meeting a damn sight easier to endure but resulted in her getting the sack. However, upsetting as this was at the time, she later realised it was the gift of the trobschlappen as it led to her deciding to finally make that trip to Mongolia and the Gobi Desert which she had always dreamed off. There she discovered a previously undiscovered love and talent for photography and now is showing her first major exhibition. Called Stoned and Sacked." (1 - see foot note.)
LIJKERTORPH: the pleasure and ease between two friends who share a very similar sense of humour and or way of expressing ideas and thinking about things, which may be incomprehensible to others, or which may include a running joke or reference to past events either not worth explaining or too complicated to outline. Lijkertorph is generally looked upon benevolently by others, but it is considered impolite and a sign of cliques and exclusivity to invoke it too often. And definitely bad to use it in thge presence of others to secretly mock or refer to them. Very poor form. Generally however, it is a happy experience. Examples "Am I missing the point of this discussion, or are you two in lijkertorph?" Or a mother might say to a child, "stop with the lijkertorph for now, there are people here you've only just met and it could seem rude."
CORMWITAWL. means; any event or news or conversation which has such an impact on you as to cause a really noticeable physical reaction. Can be positive or negative. Verb and adjective. Examples. "It was a powerful speech, people of both parties were deeply affected and the room was charged with cormwitawl." Or "Get a bucket, I want to be sick, your attitude makes me cormwittal with disgust." "I leapt from the bath shouting Eureka! and was cormwitalling so much with inspiration, I rushed into the street with no clothes on!" (2. see foot notes.)
NUQ - pronounced nuch (to rhyme with much) a moment of supreme and sublime stupidity and complete confusion, in which one realises that one actually knows nothing and understands even less and that all familiar objects and realities appear surreal and alien. There may also a sense of having abandoned all reason and control - or been abandoned by it. Not understood in the sense of a moment of divine or mystic revelation or union, but more comedic and humorous, although there is a spiritual aspect to it's meaning in that it is regarded as a practical joke on the human experience, sent from the gods to remind us that we don't know diddly squat and keep us down to earth. used in the way that we might use deja vu. Example: "Pursued by the dog, the Wombat (3. see footnote) raced through the house, crashing into the finished cake, which had taken all day to decorate. As I stood there watching, and the cake slowly toppled sideways and crashed to the floor, I had a moment of nuq, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. I then dived into the wreckage and rolled around in delicious soft spongy vanilla, swallowing mouthfuls of creamy almond custard and wombat fur, realising that there must be some kind of mad poetry in making a wombat shaped cake and having it destroyed be a real wombat....."
Footnotes.
1) In Cloud Kooky Land it is very unlikely that a person would be sacked for getting stoned at a meeting, though they might be reprimanded and either told firmly that this was not the appropriate time or place, or possibly that they had caused some offence by not sharing the joint. However, should a meeting have proved that boring, it is likely that they would have said so and suggested a more interesting approach. Therefore this story would be probably a telling of an event that happened pre-settlement, in MadsVille.
2) Another note on Kookonian culture. Nakedness in itself would not be that disturbing, suprising or shocking, the Kooks are not prudish. However they enjoy clothing and prefer to be fairly well covered, so as to better appreciate the mystery of the human body and the sensual pleasures of and contrast between dressing and undressing. They are also more aware than the people of MadsVille of appropriate and inappropriate images of nakedness and sexuality for the affect the may have on children. Kookies consider MadsVille images to be unhelpful to children and part of the reason so many develop into confused and troubled adults. Therefore they prefer to be mostly (and creatively) clothed so to run down the street naked would be surprising. But not as surprising or worrying as excessive use of half naked female bodies draped over consumer goods in order to promote sales, as is common in MadsVille and which seems rather perverse, to them. Kookonians do have sales, marketing, advertising and an active economy - but have a very different approach to it. A separate article on this is available in the archives.
3) The Wombat. In literature and in the vernacular, this may refer to an actual Wombat or to an archetypal Wombat which represents the humorous and complex relationship between humans and animals and the tendency of humans to be unable to avoid anthromorphism. The Wombat is also a familiar figure from traditional folk tales - a loveable but mischievous and chaotic being who always brings goodwill yet also chaos and the unexpected. As a familiar, he represent eccentricity, and distortion of normal reality in both a harmless and amusing way - or, in his Dark Aspect, in a malevolent and disturbed way. More features on The Wombat will appear in future blogs.
(Editor's Note: it may be seen from the scenarios used here to illustrate word usage, that life in Cloud Kooky Land is far from perfect, idyllic or free of human inconsistencies and conflicts. Kookies are prone to the same tensions, uncertainties, irritations, hopes, dreams and passions - and so on - as are all humans, However, they certainly are more aware of them and more ready and willing to acknowledge and resolve them quickly, straightforwardly and with good cheer. Therefore in many ways, Cloud Kooky Land can be seen as a Utopia and the people there as being in the process of evolving into a more humane, creative and co-operative humanist society. This is their wonderful journey and their story. The reader should also understand that many people have wombats as pets; however in all cases, they are purely imaginary and invisible pets, no-one would actually keep domesticated wombats.)
Authors Note on Editors Note: sometimes that fekkin editor really gets on my nerves. I was not intending to explain the Utopian and Humanitarian nature of the Kookonian culture, but to allow that to become apparent as the blogging unfolds. And likewise, wasn't going to explain at this point about the invisible pet wombats: I already said that there will be future articles about the wombats. Sometimes that Editor is a real ylluumtaich .
blogged from Cloud Kooky Land By Eva Day
Tuesday 1 March 2011
The True Story of The First Settlers in Cloud Kooky Land.......
The True Story of The First Settlers in Cloud Kooky Land.......
they came from a place which some of you may have visited - called MadsVille. A close knit community with many honoured traditions such as the annual festival in tribute to the Great White Lord of the Ivory Tower, and the Fence Builders Society of Neighbourhood Protection and the Birthday of the Dead Person who Brings Coca Cola to all the Good Children. A rich culture steeped in history and encouraging Allegiance to the Smiley. The Smiley was a great symbol of the Unity of Nations and was intended to bring together those who Bear Arms and Dig for Oil for the Good of All Beings. The Smiley was always cheerful though rather stupid but it made life simpler and reminded believers that happiness can be achieved by faking it till you make it. Indeed a religion had been founded on this principle and the teachings of this religion were transmitted daily via short tv broadcasts called Adverts or Commericals which reminded you that You are Worth It and of the Powerful Incantation "I'm Loving It" - and so boosted your self-esteem and love for all mankind and of course womankind too (which had to be made clear owing to a basic linguistic problem in reference to the two genders, but this also had it's roots in the great history of MadsVille.)
Why would anyone leave such a place? You could eat burgers and drink fizzy drinks and this would be a sacrament which would bring you Freedom of Spirit and Consumer Rights.
Well the sad truth is that some people are just disturbed some would say and will always be Outsiders no matter how much you offer them salvation in a shrink wrapped package with 10% off tokens for next purchase. Maybe they are born that way maybe they are products of faulty genetics or maybe they are just damned awkward who really knows? But for sure maybe it is better if they leave, they are the sort of folk who spoil the neighbourhood. Every time they see a blank wall they have unaccountable urges to scrawl graffitti on it. . Where others have neat lawns and front gardens they have chaos and when others turn left at the next roundabout in accordance with the instructions of the Sat Nav Lady who is the Great Mother of Us All and The Voice of Reason - they always turn right or just follow their hearts. This is disruptive to others. Really The People Of MadsVille had always had great pioneers and explorers. Heroes who would travel to new lands and tear down trees to build new living quarters for their kinsfolk who even now are probably on their way to convert the natives to a better way of living and subsidise their industry and agriculture at terms very advantageous to themselves thus maintaining a sensible market economy.
But these Mavericks (the Outsiders of which this historian tells) wandered whether it was possible to make a new life elsewhere without destroying the true beauty of the place which they settled in and to create new ways of life which seemed just easier and more gentle and fulfilling. Of course all this sort of thing is a bit tree-huggy, highly impractical and bloody inconvenient as well. So many of the MadsVille folk were bloody glad to see the back of them.
THE GREAT VOYAGE. The travellers boarded a magical train that would take them on their great journey to a new world. A famous engineer had built this marvellous vehicle, from a train of thought .....
being very resourceful, she had gathered together many digressions, random thoughts and daydreams which were floating around in the ether and welded them together with liquid molten deja vu's. The Train of Thought awaits in Imagination Station as the first passengers arrive for fantastic adventure. The Engineer's name was Imelda Welder and she is a great historic figure in the legends of Cloud Kooky Land. All of which happened, are happening now, might happen or may never happen but which nevertheless are an important part of the written and oral history of the people there...
This is the first part of the rich History of Cloud Kooky Land. Some other time I will tell about the journey from MadsVille and how going off track turned out to be a marvellou accident of fate and serendipity. (written by Parabolia Ludicrezia Triviata the Arborean.)
they came from a place which some of you may have visited - called MadsVille. A close knit community with many honoured traditions such as the annual festival in tribute to the Great White Lord of the Ivory Tower, and the Fence Builders Society of Neighbourhood Protection and the Birthday of the Dead Person who Brings Coca Cola to all the Good Children. A rich culture steeped in history and encouraging Allegiance to the Smiley. The Smiley was a great symbol of the Unity of Nations and was intended to bring together those who Bear Arms and Dig for Oil for the Good of All Beings. The Smiley was always cheerful though rather stupid but it made life simpler and reminded believers that happiness can be achieved by faking it till you make it. Indeed a religion had been founded on this principle and the teachings of this religion were transmitted daily via short tv broadcasts called Adverts or Commericals which reminded you that You are Worth It and of the Powerful Incantation "I'm Loving It" - and so boosted your self-esteem and love for all mankind and of course womankind too (which had to be made clear owing to a basic linguistic problem in reference to the two genders, but this also had it's roots in the great history of MadsVille.)
Why would anyone leave such a place? You could eat burgers and drink fizzy drinks and this would be a sacrament which would bring you Freedom of Spirit and Consumer Rights.
Well the sad truth is that some people are just disturbed some would say and will always be Outsiders no matter how much you offer them salvation in a shrink wrapped package with 10% off tokens for next purchase. Maybe they are born that way maybe they are products of faulty genetics or maybe they are just damned awkward who really knows? But for sure maybe it is better if they leave, they are the sort of folk who spoil the neighbourhood. Every time they see a blank wall they have unaccountable urges to scrawl graffitti on it. . Where others have neat lawns and front gardens they have chaos and when others turn left at the next roundabout in accordance with the instructions of the Sat Nav Lady who is the Great Mother of Us All and The Voice of Reason - they always turn right or just follow their hearts. This is disruptive to others. Really The People Of MadsVille had always had great pioneers and explorers. Heroes who would travel to new lands and tear down trees to build new living quarters for their kinsfolk who even now are probably on their way to convert the natives to a better way of living and subsidise their industry and agriculture at terms very advantageous to themselves thus maintaining a sensible market economy.
But these Mavericks (the Outsiders of which this historian tells) wandered whether it was possible to make a new life elsewhere without destroying the true beauty of the place which they settled in and to create new ways of life which seemed just easier and more gentle and fulfilling. Of course all this sort of thing is a bit tree-huggy, highly impractical and bloody inconvenient as well. So many of the MadsVille folk were bloody glad to see the back of them.
THE GREAT VOYAGE. The travellers boarded a magical train that would take them on their great journey to a new world. A famous engineer had built this marvellous vehicle, from a train of thought .....
being very resourceful, she had gathered together many digressions, random thoughts and daydreams which were floating around in the ether and welded them together with liquid molten deja vu's. The Train of Thought awaits in Imagination Station as the first passengers arrive for fantastic adventure. The Engineer's name was Imelda Welder and she is a great historic figure in the legends of Cloud Kooky Land. All of which happened, are happening now, might happen or may never happen but which nevertheless are an important part of the written and oral history of the people there...
This is the first part of the rich History of Cloud Kooky Land. Some other time I will tell about the journey from MadsVille and how going off track turned out to be a marvellou accident of fate and serendipity. (written by Parabolia Ludicrezia Triviata the Arborean.)
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