"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

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

 

The Mirror: We are absorbent of slights

Websafe: Hello?
The Mirror: Hundreds of versions of me exist.
W: I'd say it's more like millions.
M: Are you saying contemporary poetry is nothing?
W: Because it appeals to the millions?
M: When Westerners discovered Morocco, they spoiled it.
W: They added the millions.
M: My whole life is full of similar complaints.
W: Too many people?
M: I've acclimated.
W: How do you cope?
M: It's the sound of my own voice.
W: The sound of your own voice soothes you?
M: In my dreams.
W: Have you tape-recorded your dreams?
M: (First enters)
W: First, you enter them in a highly decorated logbook?
M: Do not open such a box.
W: I would never trespass on your dream station.
M: No, no, no, this is always being in the middle of a story.
W: You only know the middle of your dreams?
M: I can listen when others are silent around me.
W: You have to concentrate on the sound of your own thoughts.
M: Too many people?
W: There are entirely too many people in the world at large.
M: Great discoveries can be made in that arena, not that discoveries are in and of themselves desirable.
W: The people on their way out might not find such a plan desirable.
M: Too many people?
W: But we have to respect all beings, there's the rub.
M: Why would you want to do that?
W: It is a question of moral balance.
M: But we have to respect all beings, there's the rub.
W: Now you're learning!
M: Do you wear clam diggers?
W: I prefer trousers which cover the ankle.
M: Was Wells Fargo good?
W: You had to go too far to reach the wellsprings.
M: Us all being right.
W: We can't all be at once, or can we?
M: To be able to write while being observed, seems to me an important test.
W: Because there are chockfull places now.
M: What do you want with me?
W: I was just stopping in.
M: People should pay me to be worshipped.
W: Do you offer worship services?
M: But St. Thomas cried out in pain!
W: A martyred sort of Fontaine.
M: Nothing could be easier for me.
W: You must have your mind on the higher things, as an anodyne.
M: A lost number was picked up from the mud at the side of the road, written on a postcard.
W: It was a trick.
M: Should I eat a bank mint?
W: Only on bank holidays.
M: What time is it?
W: Time to go home!
M: How old am I?
W: That's something you have to tell me.
M: Only on bank holidays.
W: How many of those are there per year?
M: As world and word lose brilliant articulation, my consciousness seems oriented to something beyond the world.
W: You're not here to discuss anything as mundane as bank holidays.
M: Because there are chockfull places now.
W: Full of pullulating humanity.
M: I think you have a pressing need for time travel.
W: Then we could all exist in our own special times.
M: How many of those are there per year?
W: None, because time travel hasn't been invented yet.
M: I just told you, I can do nothing.
W: I don't expect you to invent time travel.
M: Peace of mind.
W: Because then we could go anywhere to escape.
M: Reactions.
W: The people already there would react to the people popping in and out of phase.
M: Am I now talking to the second me that just rose up out of my recumbent physical self?
W: I don't think I was ever you.
M: Are you going to harm me in future?
W: I always try to prevent all kinds of harm.
M: Sponges.
W: Yes, we are absorbent of slights.
M: Your wit is empty?
W: I shall squeeze it out.
M: Geronimo might have known magic, but Savonarola would balk at it.
W: I would like to stack the banned books in a neat pyramid, like cakes for sale.
M: Our common humanity must prevail.
W: It's our only hope.
M: You can change the subject too.
W: We can't change our era, but at least we can suggest new topics daily.
M: How do you know?
W: I try to do this, on occasion.
M: Is that a "No"?
W: No, that is a Yes.
M: Yes, we are absorbent of slights.
W: We get hurt all the time, our wants are deflected.
M: I'll read to you.
W: What will you read?
M: No, that is a Yes.
W: Read to me.
M: I agree with you.
W: But I want to be read to.
M: Surely he is minor, though delightful and sunny-glade-filled.
W: That sounds like a perfect author!
M: Let's make up a story about A, B and C.
W: A apple pie, B bit it, C cut it?
M: You want to burst that bubble?
W: No, let's keep the nursery rhymes intact.
M: No, I am too restless for that.
W: I too.
M: It was a lukewarm, namby-pamby question, I retract it.
W: Goodbye!
M: Closing in 1 second ... Goodbye!

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