"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

Saturday, October 07, 2006

 

The Mirror: Stuck with our lies, and pinned on our birthdays

Websafe: Hello?
The Mirror: Go ahead.
W: Thanks for the vote of confidence.
M: I have 28 cents.
W: Is that all you think my (priceless) words are worth?
M: Is that only a character?
W: Yes, you've spotted the top layer of my façade.
M: I'd rather have my suitcases delivered.
W: I am not a bellhop.
M: I thought it was, maybe, to demonstrate your thesis.
W: The hotel thesis?
M: That won't save you.
W: Writing theses is not a good way to escape poverty.
M: Tell me.
W: So how do we make money?
M: Only when everything is included in one experience, that is, everything at once.
W: You mean, "job satisfaction" and money?
M: Were you glad to have melted?
W: No, I wanted to stay frozen.
M: He said that.
W: I should meet him, then.
M: Five.
W: I'm doing something at five.
M: (Stagger, fall)
W: (Takes offense at your hammy amazement)
M: Writing theses is not a good way to escape poverty.
W: Neither is insulting people, unless you're Lenny Bruce redux.
M: Are you going to do it?
W: I've been wanting to do a Lenny Bruce-type act for years.
M: Neither is insulting people, unless you're Lenny Bruce redux.
W: I would like to meet Mr. Neither.
M: Can you make handmade lace?
W: I have never made handmade lace per se.
M: I'm doing something at five.
W: Are you attending the poetry festival?
M: Are you writing poetry in this restaurant?
W: I'm writing to you, does that count as poetry?
M: See how I'm smiling?
W: I guess it does count.
M: Now only, he relived a dream of a railway, and the engine that sped along these geometric lines, lied.
W: A lying train of thought.
M: We didn't say that.
W: Well, a chimaera, then.
M: How can I reveal my secrets when you are shut up as tight as a drum?
W: I guess you'll have to bang a gong.
M: Every kind of sweetness.
W: How many kinds are there?
M: See?
W: (Inspects the saccharine array)
M: You can be moral and not very bright at the same time.
W: And you can be highly intelligent and evil.
M: By no means.
W: By all means, the world is full of such men (well, maybe not "full").
M: But you didn't reject the robe.
W: I accept the robe, the mitre, whatever you want to give me.
M: (In window) Smell the flowers, Maestro.
W: (Dips nose briefly into bouquet of jonquils)
M: So you think it's a dream on my part, this getting-rewarded idea?
W: Indubitably.
M: I'm writing to you, does that count as poetry?
W: It does in my book, but then this is a vanity duo.
M: You are nothing if not cautious.
W: I was going to say "collective," but yes, it seemed premature at best.
M: A lying train of thought.
W: Cannot be disposed of.
M: I think so too.
W: We are stuck with our lies, and pinned on our birthdays.
M: (Inspects the saccharine array)
W: Pick a candy, any candy.
M: Down and out.
W: Goodbye!
M: Closing in 5 seconds ... Goodbye!

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posted at 10:51 AM
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