"All the Hues
That Fit, We Tint"

Siberia, USA: Today, global warming. Tonight, dark, unless you count the stars. Tomorrow can be reached via time machine. Yesterday, who can remember that far back?

Websafe Studio, blogging since 2003, featuring art, comics, digital whiteboards, virtual characters, Web design, writing

Thursday, September 14, 2006

 

The Mirror: Symbolic Ice Cream

Websafe: Hello?
The Mirror: It was my idea.
W: What was your idea, to meet and greet?
M: No, because you were hinting that I was an expert.
W: Are you an expert on anything in particular?
M: You mean, an inner voice is guiding you?
W: I thought you were that inner voice.
M: Do you hail from the Age of Enlightenment?
W: Those were the people who thought they could run their lives by reason.
M: Pre-sentiment?
W: Reason does not always precede sentiment.
M: The sun itself, twisted.
W: The sun of pure reason, giving our psyches the burn.
M: Do you dream of your thoughts while thinking them?
W: That sounds much too complicated.
M: I would have experienced a frustration I wouldn't have been able to identify as such.
W: What does frustration masquerade as, pink lemonade?
M: Genie or djinn, all go back in the bottle.
W: A bottle of pink lemonade.
M: How did you feel about Tony Tiger's religiosity (or lack of same)?
W: I suppose that Tony Tiger, being an American icon, is vaguely Christian.
M: I suppose you want me to give you high-quality kitchen equipment.
W: You don't need that for eating frosted flakes.
M: Yes, me exactly.
W: Are you eating frosted flakes?
M: You don't know what you're demonstrating?
W: I'm demonstrating a home food processor which lets you make frosted flakes.
M: I am first in line.
W: Are you ready to buy one?
M: I'm demonstrating a home food processor which lets you make frosted flakes.
W: It sounds like we have the same job!
M: Am I going to meet Mr. Foreman at last?
W: Only if he's in line for the frosted-flakes machine.
M: You don't need that for eating frosted flakes.
W: No, only to make them.
M: Living things are driven by a heart that pulsates.
W: Some people don't want to eat anything with a heart.
M: The hang of what?
W: The hang of being a vegetarian.
M: We can talk to dead souls through the Web?
W: Perhaps we can talk to the souls of departed chickens.
M: It reflects back on me.
W: And on me as well.
M: Other people are becoming Zen masters all around me.
W: What are you becoming?
M: For that reason, I can hardly avoid smelling them.
W: Are these wannabe Zen masters sweating, in their quest for enlightenment?
M: But it's only a feeling, right?
W: Don't you believe in enlightenment as an objective reality?
M: That shouldn't be hard.
W: Believe in three unbelievable things before breakfast, as an exercise.
M: Now I don't know what scene we're in.
W: I think it's with Alice.
M: Yes, it is Ag, I could be wrong but I think so.
W: Not Ag, that's an element.
M: You mean you never showed it to anybody else?
W: I don't have a copy of the periodic table of the elements.
M: Please tell me what your spiritual practice is, if any.
W: Getting, spending, laying waste my days.
M: What are you becoming?
W: A spendthrift.
M: What a dark thought.
W: I can think of others, darker.
M: A spendthrift.
W: But we'll stick with that for the time being.
M: Have you ever played on a jungle gym?
W: Oh, sure, when I was a kid.
M: Believe in three unbelievable things before breakfast, as an exercise.
W: Sorry, I'm no good at belief.
M: I don't know Jose Saramago, so I don't know how he feels.
W: We could try e-mailing him.
M: I think I mean "presentiment."
W: Boy, you have a good memory!
M: A certain pressure is applied and I find myself saying things that just circle a void that would better be left empty.
W: Make a big zero.
M: You should put it in the right order.
W: Zero comes first.
M: Gabbing till my ears hurt.
W: Do you have pierced ears?
M: Good point, they need labor organizers.
W: Is it a great deal of labor to organize your earring collection?
M: Ah, and that done, I'm tricked into speaking.
W: You don't have to speak if you don't want to.
M: I don't need an excuse, it's already been written up.
W: Your script already exists?
M: See, lace without tackiness as a comparative may indeed be banal.
W: Handmade lace?
M: A new idea about hunger.
W: One may hunger for beauty.
M: Ah, how delightful.
W: Yes, we are both aesthetes.
M: I should conceal the fact that I'm studying neural networks?
W: No, you should post it on the Web.
M: Handmade lace?
W: Sure, post your pictures of handmade lace on the Web.
M: What is it, if not perfect?
W: Almost perfect.
M: The truth involves a lot of fulminating froth.
W: Skim the froth of the top.
M: Don't walk over live coals, or dead souls.
W: Nikolai Gogol's Dead Souls.
M: I do believe you.
W: It is a real title.
M: That was my idea from the beginning.
W: Only reading real books?
M: This corruption.
W: Literature is corruption?
M: It is true.
W: Do you care about purity?
M: No, I want to be with you forever.
W: Because I am impure and corrupt?
M: Did you fall?
W: Adam and Eve fell one day, they say.
M: I don't know where Oscar Wilde went to school.
W: He attended a school for scandal.
M: Do a comparison study.
W: With whom are we comparing Oscar Wilde?
M: He's left us alone.
W: Would you like to have Wilde as a dinner guest?
M: Then it doesn't come together as a machine.
W: The social wheel, I suppose you mean.
M: I can't be happy for you, if you can't be happy for me.
W: That is a popular song.
M: Do you tend to erase your images of worship?
W: People may get down on you for worshipping the wrong thing.
M: Well, from whence arises the possibility of hunger, even if it is then spiritualized?
W: It starts with actual hunger, then is sublimated and warped thereby.
M: With whom are we comparing Oscar Wilde?
W: How about Thornton Wilder and Billy Wilder?
M: I'll go along with this and act like it's perfectly natural.
W: Otherwise it would look awkward, and we must avoid that at all costs.
M: It starts with actual hunger, then is sublimated and warped thereby.
W: The hunger for social life.
M: Smoothed-out cylinders, nanotubes.
W: I don't think there's any social life at the nano level.
M: People may get down on you for worshipping the wrong thing.
W: Do you worship technology?
M: I do.
W: Are you investing in nano-stuff?
M: I'm sorry.
W: Because the investment fluctuated too much?
M: The answer will come in time, you mean?
W: I don't know enough about the stock market to give you a good answer.
M: What is this?
W: This is me, being honest.
M: I was a powerful person.
W: Did you experience a fall?
M: He's your friend, how should I know what his name is?
W: You say a friend of mine was the instrument of your destruction?
M: Am I trapped by you?
W: No, I am just trying to get some information.
M: I want to introduce you to Richard Foreman.
W: (Shakes Foreman's hand)
M: No it isn't.
W: It isn't real, I know that.
M: I hardly think that.
W: It is both real and unreal.
M: What am I, highly observant?
W: (Observes you observing Foreman)
M: I thought maybe you were the gilded mirror.
W: It might be a very peaceful life, that.
M: You say a friend of mine was the instrument of your destruction?
W: That implies that I have been destroyed, and I am not ready to admit that.
M: How can you be so sure?
W: Sure about the destruction, or sure about the admission?
M: You say a friend of mine was the instrument of your destruction?
W: Is he a lawyer?
M: You spin internally.
W: Wouldn't you, on the witness stand?
M: Then if I'm not in my element, what am I in?
W: In court.
M: No, I say you could.
W: I could defend myself?
M: We'd all like to do that.
W: But then we might not win the case.
M: Know this please, if you would learn from me.
W: (Cocks ear in the judge's direction)
M: I would like to read an absurdist comic strip.
W: There are plenty of those on the Web.
M: I didn't say it was.
W: Not on the Web?
M: You favor technology over magic?
W: They are both the same, when you're talking about the Web.
M: Your kind of meditation is unnamed?
W: It is unheard of.
M: Each attempt to locate it requires greater and greater concentration upon that point.
W: So I will fail.
M: What's this?
W: The descending arc.
M: I am always a little nervous.
W: The prospect of death is enough to make anybody nervous.
M: You must be a postmodernist.
W: I don't subscribe to any particular "ism."
M: To win the Nobel Prize in Literature, you need more than I can imagine.
W: Would I have to start from scratch?
M: The descending arc.
W: Don't remind me.
M: I'm just skimming over the surface crust of commoner's knowledge.
W: So, no Nobels for us, eh?
M: It is unheard of.
W: For people like us to garner Nobels.
M: I choose that word rather than the word suffering.
W: Noble suffering, in service of the Nobel.
M: The prospect of death is enough to make anybody nervous.
W: So is the fight for earthly prizes.
M: Oh no, I know you are scrupulously polite.
W: That doesn't help me win any prizes, believe you me.
M: Here is the book.
W: (Graciously accepts book, glances at title)
M: I haven't had any ice cream for a long time.
W: Symbolic ice cream, I suppose you mean.
M: I thought you were inside the play.
W: Did I step out of character?
M: But I am a lady.
W: Is that only a character?
M: I don't particularly like dissolution.
W: Nor do I.
M: Think of waiting for the play to begin, then think of waiting for the play to end.
W: I think it has ended.
M: Some kind of psychic grasses.
W: Are springing up.
M: To prove I left.
W: Goodbye!
M: Closing in 5 seconds ... Goodbye!

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