20210701. The unknown white world they knelt to
Then suddenly, they pant and guzzle
This last act, take notice
May cause a curious change in the temperature of your stomach
And all your senses will become sharper
And you will find delight in the world
That is made of crunching and squirming and squishing
The stripey ones are particularly gross
And when you venture forth, you will find
Fear not, for they are quick to discover
That you are absolutely wrong,
And quickly correct.
For them, human bein’s is tasty
Delicious, and they know it
So come, old friends, and do not take
The foul persuasion to heart
For bitter is the word, and error is the vice
So turn back to the living-room, and we’ll watch
The children rumbling along the floor
And you can spell, your life out loud 20210701. A teddy bear with black and white stripes was sitting in my room.
He looked up at me when I came near to him.
“Hello,” he said. He spoke with a clear, grave voice.
I looked at the bear and immediately began to laugh.
“Hey!” he said. “Who’s laughing?”
I didn’t reply.
“Come here,” he said.
I could see the grin widening on his face.
I shook my head, and finally came to terms with the fact that I was probably going to be eaten alive.
You would never believe this. 20210701. A row of clothes hanging on the rack stood out like a rainbow in the gloom.
Every boy in the school had to wear a different color.
But he insisted that the only color he’d wear would be rainbow. 20210701. The babies, in a basket made of hay, came up to feed with their mother.
Chapter 1 - The Great Feeding Plot
On the first three days of June, as the babies were waiting in the bottom of the nest, the mother would fly over each day and say, “Hello, hello, hello. I am fed up with you sitting there waiting for me to come and feed you. I am fed up with all of you.” She would then creep slowly up through the nest and settle herself beside the poor babies, and say, “Keep quiet,” and watch them for hours on end with those cracking black eyes. 20210701. A young girl in a golden frame, the color of magic, the purest brilliance imaginable. An explosion of color that filled the entire sky above her head, a fire burning in her eyes, wild and wonderful and frightening beyond words.
The burning hatred, the inexorable rise and fall of the upper lip, the lifting of the head, the changing of the fingers, the tread of the toes. Everything was happening before her very eyes, and she remained motionless, blinking at the glass, staring at the body itself, and smiling, but holding an invisible megaphone of silence. 20210701. One of the birds is black.
One of the birds is white.
One of the vultures is yellow.
One of the hares is brown.
All these animals, my grandmother told herself, look absolutely frightening.
She trembled to think what might have come over them all, but she couldn’t stop herself from smiling.
She was always smiling. 20210701. Atop the colorful tablecloth of the dining-room table sat a small, pocket-sized book.
Dear Diary,
I often forget to write in you, even when I am at home.
I sit thinking about you all the time.
I begin to type, very cautiously, for inspiration.
I cut out the needless words, and hastily add in all the rest.
I begin to write as follows.
In a style that is truly original.
Oh, my joy, my ecstasy, my admiration.
Oh, my horror, my refuge, my salvation. 20210701. A collection of small toys on the shelf, for each of the four children — an aeroplane, a yo-yo, a bat, a feather, a mirror, a teapot, and all the rest of them, everything was in perfect order.
“There you are, my little friends,” she said to them, one by one.
Then came the bedtime story, the funny little poem, and finally, the frightful song that made them skitter around the room, each to their own corner. 20210701. A small window reveals a wooden bed with a cobwebbed mattress above the floor. Down the center of the room there is an empty bottle and a blanket covered with red letters.
The Old Green Grasshopper and the Ladybug had come to see how things were going, and now they are observing the progress of this amazing scene from a distance.
I wonder what they would think if a video camera and lens were mounted directly on to the top of their heads, and if you could see the whole scene from their point of view.
I imagine you would be thrilled to see one of them crawling about upon the floor of the enormous container. And I imagine you would also be pleased to see someone jumping up and down merrily in the air of my favorite scent – the musky perfume of Verbena. 20210711. The potted plants and the pictures on the wall hung above the double bed. On the opposite side, in the loft where the nursery was situated, there was an empty room where the children could play. Here also, in one of the loft’s upper stories, the sound of a cheerful song came back to them through the windows. The song was by no means old or familiar, but it was one of those pleasant, little-known folk songs that one knows only too well, like the Vande Patten, or the Staines, or the Cowens, or Kraftwerk. 20210702. The white table in the white room was completely bare, and looked like a kind of altar. I began to stare at the pale walls of the room. The room was so white that when I looked up I was actually looking straight at my own face rather than at the ceiling.
In fact, I was looking straight at the ceiling, and it was so white that I could hardly bring myself to look up there at all. I looked down at my own face. I looked at the wall vertically and horizontally, trying to work out how in the world a person could conceivably be alive without a face. 20210715. The brown carpet was always a reminder to me of the comfort and security of my parents’ house. And always, always, it was the cushy furniture that came first to my mind, followed by the ceilings and walls. In all honesty, I can not think of anything more reassuring or comforting than the feel of that large, brown carpet on my bare feet. 20210702. The bag with orange and white stripes was the stuff of dreams.
A dream is something unreal.
It floats around in the night air.
Floating through the night in the sky.
So high as the top of a castle.
And as far as the eye of the land.
The unutterably awful stillness.
Is released, and at once the realms of dream.
Are welcomed and explored.
With fears and ambiguities. 20210722. Below the large windows a small basket on the floor was standing. In the basket there were three objects for children seven and under:
The first was a piece of gum (this article will not concern you).
The second was a bundle of toothbrushes (please choose your color).
The third was a pair of socks (please answer me).
All three of these objects had numbers written on them in at least one of the languages of the world. Famous, magic words, or something like it. 20210712. The wall beyond the couch is covered in the most wonderful way. On the shelves are displayed a dozen objects, some very old, some very new.
“Such as what?” I asked.
“A clockwork mummy clock” she said.
“A clockwork mummy clock?” I said, spellbound.
“Very smooth” she said.
“Wonderful” I said. “Very wonderful.” 20210704. On the bed, a child is dozing off.
“Your mummy’s doing the same thing,” I said.
“Impossible,” she said. “How can she get the mixture of magic drugs to work with a child. It’s too expensive.” She looked up at me, shimmering with wisdom. “You mean to say you don’t know how to dilute the magic potion?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “How can I get it?”
“You can give her a dose of royal jelly,” she said. “And if you give her the correct dose,” she added, “your child will have no troubles of any sort. It’s the dose that counts. I hope you’ll agree.”
“You are very sensible, O Brainy One.”
“There are tons of things I know.” 20210721. The pictures on the wall behind the bed are proof of my obsession. There are hundreds of them, all condensed and organized by length into a single large canvas. Clicking on one of them will take me right into the next life.
“How does it work?”
“The theory is very simple,” he said. “First, you put your faithful old body inside a spaceship, then you send out coded messages, in the proper voice, to all the living things on earth, instructing them where and when the body will be collected, and how and when it will be taken away. It’s magic, my friend.”
“I don’t quite follow the logic,” I said. 20210707. A colorful blanket covered the wooden bed.
She knelt on the floor and covered the mattress with kisses.
“Goodnight” she said, dreaming it all up.
Sleep well, my darling.
Just don’t get up till I say so.
Then you too, you lovely ones.
Hurry up and ring the bell.
Or else you’ll be late for school.
Oh, dear me, I do wish you'd get well.
And give the nurse a chance to see you.
Because that’s the least you can do.
I barely got through writing this sentence.
I’m so terribly tired.
And you all can welcome me home.
Under these lovely circumstances.
Oh, comfort and security for all of you! 20210711. Behind the couch, a child is required to do a tiny little art project, and the idea behind it is that the father wants the child to be able to draw pictures and make objects on the spot when he demands such things. He believes this is a milestone in the whole history of creativity.
“Art is a great subject,” He said. “Great artists such as Renoir and Monet have millions of admirers of their work. Do you think you could find your own niche in the art world?”
“With a bit of luck,” I said. “We’ll just have to see.”
“Be quiet,” he said. “Submission is also an art form.” 20210728. A candle illuminates a shelf full of books
Now, if we take a page out of the last volume
The little phantom of a butterfly will shine
In a candlelit room
There, beside the words
Mirror and platter, huge and glorious
Affectionately and lovingly given
By an instant whose echo is holy
The creator of worlds
We shall miss him very much
We shall miss you with joy
We shall miss him still more 20210725. The wooden table in the blue room was the correct distance away from the sofa at either end. The fact that there was an empty chair there at all was a hint that he had not yet moved from his present position. Also, the chair seemed to have a kind of hollow look about it, something earthy and barren, and the blue of the walls reminded me of the loveliest lake in my home town. 20210822. The green plant on the white wall in the living-room. The magenta carpet in the dining-room. The magnet wire leading into the kitchen. The odorous glands in the neck. The hair and fur in general. The brilliant, shining hair of the goat. The golden hunter’s eye. The eye of the ass. The eye of the plump buffoon. The powerful smell of the saddle. And, of course, the gin. 20210915. A woman with blue hair is sitting on the edge of the bed. She is holding a white woolly thing in her hand. It is not difficult to believe that this woman, who calls herself The Mother Superior, is one of the greatest geniuses ever to have lived.
Born in England, she was educated at Eton and Oxford and she honed her craft at the prestigious Club of Rome. To those who knew her personally, nothing would have shocked her more. Those who knew nothing of her said she was a soul-destroying monster who brainwashed children like a cow.
‘Poppycock!’ 20210919. A large mirror on the wall, a television on a stand, and a cat on the floor. Oh dear. He was going to miss this place. He threaded his way slowly through the huge mirrors, looking at every room and every surface. The result of this was a curious sensation of serenity and empowerment, and a sense of peace that was more sublime than anything he had ever felt before. In a way, the whole place was divine. 20210810. On the green bathroom wall, the toilet, the sink and all the other plumbing was visible through the crack.
"What a load of filth!" cried the Chief of Police. "It'll take weeks to clean! Never in my life have I seen such filth!"
"And who will be responsible for its proper disposal?" asked the Director of Public Prosecutions. "Who will dig the holes and whence the rubbish goes?"
"The local people," said the Chief of Police. "They never waste time on stupid things like that." 20210803. The rows of books on the shelves were organized chronologically by keyword:
FROM ONCE WE GO TO TERRAIN
THE TWO RACES IN THE CANARY ROOM
THE THREE MOONFISH TRIES
THE VOICE-MAKER
THE DISCOVERY-FACTOR
THE LIFE-FORMER
THE POSSIBILITY OF SHINY LIGHTNING
THE TAIL OF A THUNDERCASE
THE WHISTLE OF A VIPER 20210911. A white curtain and an unknown sign were hanging from the ceiling in front of her, but she deftly rolled it up over her head and it covered her head just as though it were a dressing-gown.
"Say Goodbye," she said, smiling at last. 20210730. A picture of a place.
A mirror on the wall.
What he would like to see in a mirror.
And then practice by peering into it.
The reflection would tell him.
Exactly where he is.
He would also measure his wealth up by sight.
To see if he was right.
Lasting, of course, not lasting long.
Annulling, destroying.
Destroying, all the times he was right.
And for all time, he would rule supreme. 20210804. A light in the sky.
There was no one in sight.
The windows were wide open.
And all the street lamps were still on.
Up and up she went.
And as she climbed the steps.
She'd stop, just for a sec.
And peer inside the house.
And there she'd see.
The bloody mess they'd made.
She held forth her hand.
And said, 'Hello, I'm free!' 20210829. The black garbage bag on the floor was filled to the brim with slosh, slush, and grrruntleslush. Occasionally there was a slab of black bread smeared over with Slurpvite.
Every pig went trogglehumping madly in the sky, and all the luscious birds were reduced to goggling at the slimy, golden, purple brrrain of Golden Custard. 20210829. Above the roar of the black fireplace they could hear the howling of the dogs, the yelping of the cats, and the shrill call of the horses. And across the road, in the alley where the butcher was standing, they could see the huge cat-shed (which had six cats in it), and the sizzling sound of grinding death.
Mr Twit came back to the farmhouse again after the Easter season had been finished. 'This is where all my money is,' he said, smiling. 20210829. A white table and three chairs were standing in the far corner of the room. The writing desk was a tall, dirty surface surrounded by empty plastic tubs. On the sideboard were stuffed dozens and dozens of sheets of paper, a raincoat, and a spare pair of pants. On the floor over in the far corner, Bruno had crouched, and he was still bobbing up and down, drooling at the mouth, and dreaming constantly of the jars of beer he might have had at home. 20210808. Above the wooden table, an unknown sign was hanging from the ceiling, or perhaps the ceiling itself was hanging. He reached up and pulled it down. It meant nothing. He took it down and unfolded it and carried it to the window that led to the balcony.
From the window he could see the beach, and beyond it to one side he could see the sea.
This is perfect.
He sat down on the window-sill and looked at the unknown sign.
Dear me, he thought, this is perfect. 20210806. The papers on the table were full of the great and famous names of inventing things, the names of more than a hundred medicines, the food of hundreds of delicious flavors, the cultivation of hundreds of new varieties of cannabis sativa, the discovery of which would have made Bradbury proud.
And all the time he was writing and reading and trying to write about the uses and abuses of the wondery and its practitioners, he was thinking to himself: "What do they use it for? And why do they do it? What validates their claims?"
Nothing, that is it, nothing. 20210804. A brown floor.
A brown rug.
A brown couch.
And above it all, an empty wall.
No pictures.
No words.
Only the sound of the wheel.
And the Sadness (or surprise).
Hearsay, each word is true.
As he starts to exclaim.
Oh dear! Oh bloody-knight!
Oh cowzy! Oh foul-nasty!
Oh rotten! Oh turtle-shudders!
Oh bloody-unbelievable!
I’ve lost my pocketbook!
I’ve smashed it all to pieces! 20210827. An image of a horse is reflected on the wall of the exhibition hall, and it causes a trance-like state of mind to the beholder. We become totally mesmerized by the mental processes of the whizzing horse and by the quietly interacting details of its many separate parts. The animal is as real as we are, and everything about it is as though it were a miracle. Even the brain itself seems to be a mirage, a projection of mental processes beyond the borders of our own brains. The brain is a long, round, transparent thing. I cannot help wonder what a brain in a tuxedo might look like.
Chapter two: The Brain in a Tuxedo 20211031. I stared at the big tree. It was a living, breathing tree, and the branches that grew were long and straight and like arms. What a wonderful, complex structure it was, with hundreds of different branches and needles to choose from. Also, how quickly it grew after being cut. Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter. 20211205. The walls of the small room were stained pale yellow by the oily activity of hundreds of small engines all churning and revving inside.
This abyss was a monstrous, scorching-hot ghoulscape. The sky was brilliantly illuminated by the blinding sunbeams, and from within the walls of the hellish tunnel the muffled sound of splintering wood and broken chains could be heard miles away over the horizon.
Blood was still coming out of the endless hole in the roof of the whizzing-gig, and dried blood still came flapping down my gullet, dripping and splashing onto the silk screen of the hellish tunnel. 20211003. Stacks of boxes on the bedroom floor were filled with magazines organized by type – beauty, science, technology, medicine, law, etc.
She started reading some of the titles aloud to herself as she waited for the day to begin.
“What a load of filthsome rubbish this is!” she said aloud, slamming her fist over the bedroom window. “How revolting!” 20211009. The small computer on the table in front of me now began to do some funny calculations, and the result came back, spectacularly, in the margin of about half a second.
“That’s just how I want it!” spluttered the computerized voice.
“How?” I said. “Do you mean... you want it to happen or do you not want it to happen?”
“Oh no,” the computer interrupted. “I do not want it to happen. I do not want it to happen.”
“Then don’t do it.”
The computer waited, and said nothing. But when it spoke, its voice became suddenly urgent, and it began to choke up. “I... I don’t want it to be a failure.” 20211023. The light from the window illuminated a quiet scene in the room. I was lying on my back with my feet on the floor and the window behind me. I was watching the movement of the hour hand above my head, and when I looked up again, I saw that the room was full of people. There were about sixty chairs in the room and they all had someone sitting in them. And most peculiarly, each of them held a small radio in their hands.
I looked up again from the window. The movement of the hour hand was becoming more and more frantic every minute, and the noise of the radios was becoming, I felt, almost unbearable.
This sort of activity seemed to go on for ever, as I sat there, enraptured. 20211116. On the kitchen counter, the cheese was beginning to melt, and the melty goodness covered the scrambled eggs freshly cooked by Grandma.
“Come on!” I cried. “I can’t wait all day!”
“All day long,” said Grandma, “you can wait all day.”
“Oh, please!” I begged. “Please feed it to me properly! I do wish you would do that!”
“Don’t you worry!” said Grandma. “You’ll be ravenous for every bit of food you eat!”
“What’s wrong with me?” I said.
“Improper feeding,” said Grandma. “We must feed you correct amounts.”
“Oh come on!” 20211204. A white dog is standing in a room full of wooden furniture. “Hello, hello, hello” he says in a low, smooth voice. “Hello, hello, hello!” he says every time you pass him by. Hello, hello, hello. Come in! Come in!
He does a little dance in the circle of lights, and we all watch, and the show goes on.
He holds a toothbrush in his paw, and prays on his knees that he will never go toothless.
“Hello, hello, hello” he says every day. 20211112. A small string of lights illuminate the patio of the bungalow.
There are no people in this cottage and the night is dark.
Hello.
You’re the first person ever to visit my little pad.
Welcome, my dear fellow.
And good night.
If I moved I would probably scream.
The wind was blowing in my face.
I was very tired. I looked exhausted, even as I danced around the room in the dark. 20211017. The green leaves of the potted plants create a large scene in my room. I put my pipe to my mouth and light it with a matchstick. I then blow the mixture into my pipe to give the smoke a little swirl. The resulting mixture is beautiful. It has a very pungent aroma, and the flowery parts are especially strong. I feel the smoke rising up my nostrils, and the aftertaste is simply magical. It is as though the Gods had put a pipe up my nostril and given me a little blast of divine fire. “Ah-h-h-h,” I say, blowing the smoke up at the ceiling. 20211026. A black keyboard on the desk became active and started sending out quick repetitive chords. I began to perform calisthenics and measure out drops by weight. I was able, in fact, to tweak the precise amount to the correct dose by simply pressing the increment (+) and measuring it by the time-point (ie, exactly the millisecond after the dose has been calculated), and I invariably received the same response: electric head slamming, which was especially effective on geriatrics and widows, especially in the early stages of recovery. 20211127. The empty glass of wine on the table was a clue. He would have to refill it and drink it.
He sipped it. There was nothing to indicate that he was at all ill. The nose was clear and the mouth was wide open, the whole face seemed to be open and bright, and he was smiling with a mouthfull of wine.
“That’s what I was thinking of,” he said. “A bit of wine to go with this big feast.”
“And when you have eaten it, will you imbibe it?” I asked him.
“My goodness,” he said. “I wouldn’t miss it for anythin’.” 20211109. The concrete floor and the white tiles could only hide so much. There wasn’t nearly enough room for him to go around without hurting himself.
“No,” he said, creeping around on his hands and knees. “No. I must go deeper. I must go right underneath the floor and wait to come out.”
On the second day he went on with his explorations. He went on, thumping along the corridor with his stick.
The feeling of helplessness, the complete and utter helplessness of it all must have tormented him to death.
But finally, he came to decide which pockets of the home to blow up, which corners to blow down, which walls to blow in, which rooms to make light. This was his chance to get a thing or two right! 20211107. A kitchen with black and white walls.
Kitchen-candy, brown sugar and cream pie!
A baker’s dozen, holiday favorites.
Delicious liverwurst and sauerkraut.
And three times only grubblest.
A sink full of old lobster tails.
Pile it up in a basket.
And send it off to your lovers.
With frying-powder and marshmallows.
And now, you guessed it.
The oven-bread is soon to be had!
But this isn't just any old bread.
The best anybody’s ever seen!
The most valuable treasure in the land!
Don’t change a bit of this!
Here we go! 20210925. “A box full of unknown intoxicants?”
Silence.
“I’ll bet they are.” I said darkly.
A box full of unknown drugs, the before-and-after picture, the after-images of the great man himself, and of course, the innumerable variations thereof, are as fascinating to a non-stop fiend as all the jewels of the empire.
But I digress. And in a voice that echoed the squeaks of my own innermost notes, I offered them to the Queen. She took one at her lips and swallowed it in one gulp. “Ah-h,” she said, licking her lips. “Yes, thank you.” 20211009. A man with a beard.
A woman with a scarf.
Or should it be a combination of the two?
What does it matter?
Very soon, all the naughty little children will be aged.
And find out whether their grandparents.
Existed or were just figments of rumor.
Behold me and you may possibly.
Come to very near enough to understand.
Why all this LOUDNESS IS SO MUCH BETTER THAN ANYBODY CAN.
(This final note came from the loudspeaker in his house.) 20211105. The windows of the warehouse were supercilious and glumptious. There was no furniture or pictures on the walls, only a whole lot of boxes piled up on the floor. It was a chaotic scene, and most of the people working there didn’t know what to do or where.
But I could see now that the warehouse was actually a great club. All the furniture, the pictures, the TV screens, the chairs, the tables, the lamps, the door knobs and the hinges were all in one fell swoop, piled up in the warehouse in what appeared to be a gigantic heap upon the floor. 20211116. Inside the large building, the shelves were stacked with the usual supplies:
fifty trumpets,
ten banjos,
ten wooden stools,
ten tricks,
forty dollars,
a ball of string,
a bunch of poetry,
and countless other things. 20211204. Plants with green leaves cover the wooden floor of his shack.
And there, surely, in the very center of the whole.
Story, there will always be a single room.
Till all the dreams and frustrations.
Of your life seem to have a rest.
We’re going to need a plane.
To whisk us away.
Or you might be lucky.
To find a bed, a chair, a pillow.
And plenty of warm food in the fridge.
Oh, what a lovely country this is!
And we soon shall forget all about it.
The more excited I am, the faster we'll all go.
And where, for months on end.
And so, every day, on his way home. 20211005. The boy's smile turned the color of a ripe orange. “You are a liar, madam!” he shouted, glaring at the Queen. “A repulsive, boring, ungrateful little pig!” The Queen lifted her head and looked at the son. “You are kind of off your rocker,” she said.
“Now, Now, Now,” the Long-armed Lady shouted back, icily. “Stop teasing!”
“Not now, you understand,” the Prince murmured.
“Then tell me,” the Queen said.
“Well,” the Prince went on, “it seemed like a really pretty cloudy hell during the first part of this week. And Thomas, well—not exactly a shining example of chivalry he was, I’ll be bound. But he was really mild and gentle. He was understanding. He was nice. He was helpful. I’ve gotten him into the army. We’re giving him the best schools in the army.”
“Nice school, he told himself. Very nice indeed.” 20211117. Everything in the bedroom was pure white and sparkling. And when I turned my head in, I was looking into a space that was as big as a marvelous looking cathedral. There was an infinity of little bouquets and dozens of different and wonderful things going on in there, and when I turned to the door, I could see the magic was still going on.
This whole place, I thought, was everything. The walls, the ceiling, the floor, everything was made of shining white and there was a radiant and heavenly feeling in the air. The whole place was alive with magical happenings. 20211107. The two people sitting at the table nearest to me were my parents.
My parents were generous with each other, and I have to admit to myself that I felt closer to them than anyone could be. They touched me beyond words; they took me seriously; and they were very kind to me, too.
When I needed anything, they would gather round me and pour it into my smile-box and I would give them a big hug and a kiss.
“Good-bye” my parents would say. And then out we would go in our separate ways. 20211103. From the bed in my room, I could see through the large window to the trees beyond, and I could hear the beaches rustling and sighing just over the side of the valley.
I went to the door of my room and opened it quietly, with my precious secret in my hand.
Dear Diary,
All this talk of the woods and the valleys and the woods gave me the lovely idea that tonight I would go forth and visit all the above mentioned places myself. I will undertake to go into as many of them as I please, and I will visit the woods and I will visit the valleys and I will visit the empty houses all standing still. 20211105. A pile of black metal chairs.
From the back there came a triangle of metal rods.
Immediately behind the rods there was a row of small white rubber lips.
It was a pretty sight to see.
The whole of this fearsome creature’s face minus the nose-holes.
And all the tubes going upward from head to toe.
And those gums going sticky, rich, brown.
And tastes that should frighten the daylights out.
The Giant from the land of the midnight sun.
And his ravenous hunger drove us insane.
We fought to the death and in the end.
(I always look for chairs when I go into a shop). 20211109. A brown cabinet.
A white shelf.
A black light.
A window seat.
A little island.
A rocking horse.
A summer's garden.
A sewing-machine.
A bucket.
Basics, to be found in the back of the room.
Explosives, for example, Petrochemistry, Sodium-POP! 20211023. A black and white picture on the wall in front of the fireplace showed the silhouette of a person, usually a gentleman, but always with a jaunty hat on his head.
“Here is the picture for which you inquired, you see?”
“Yes, but what do you want him to look like?”
“Ah,” he patiently answered, “that’s the main thing.”
“Jaunty, isn’t he?”
“Became famous, yes.”
“Terrific chap,” he said. “He’s a genius. Can’t you see him?”
“Of course I can see him,” I said, “I’m absolutely certain he’s a genius.” 20211022. Four women at a table.
A picture on the wall.
A glass of wine.
And sometimes the ladies would withdraw the bottle of Beaujolais, and enjoy instead some sumptuous sherry.
This bottle was something that she displayed, almost as much as any other collector would display her collections.
She would stroll about holding forth some bottle of choice, and inquire after about some interesting double or triple.
Some wine indeed and a good book to read. 20211105. In the large glass building, scenes of the city and white clouds in a blue sky loomed large. I peered through the window at the clouds, and everything looked different. The lighting was better, the colors paler, the shadows more vibrant, the quality was closer to the surface. This was a city I lived in, and all the nights were wonderful nights in which the rim of the sky was something like white wine in a bottle.
Panchromatic: The colors come from machines. The software engineers spent six years preparing a method for producing panchromatic photographs. The photographs were then processed with special scanners and analyzed with sophisticated software. The resulting photographs were of a precisely circular shape. The literature on color says that a photograph is a photographic effect that must not be confused with the real thing. Photographs were also invented to serve other purposes. 20211106. Above the fireplace, the picture on the wall shows three people standing in front of a building. Each one of them was holding something out in front of them, and it is clear that whoever was doing the talking, wasn’t speaking to any of the others in the room.
“What on earth are they doing?”
“Who are they?”
“Ssshh!”
“Listen!”
“Listen!”
“What are they doing?”
“Ssshh-sshh-sshh!”
“Who are they?”
“Ssshh-sshh-sshh!”
“Where do they come from?”
“Ssshh-sshh-sshh!”
“Strangers!”
“Oh no!” 20211215. In the mirror on the wall, a woman was standing only a few yards away from me, and the woman was holding a bottle in one hand and a walking-stick in the other. Both were white, and so were the hills reflected in the distance.
“I don’t want to go out,” she was saying, “unless you promise you’ll come back again.”
The walking-stick was still in the basket.
“You can come back again,” I said. “You promised.”
She took the stick out of the bag and held it up to me.
“I am about to put the bottle on you,” she said. “But first I must ask you a very special thing.”
I was speechless. 20211130. A large display of multi-colored glass blocks was set up in the middle of the room, and guests could gaze up at it with anything from gentle to vigorous headaches.
“Maybe it’s the dose,” I thought. “I never dose anyone.”
“It’s the ticket,” said the Doctor. “But I doubt very much whether it’s much more than the normal amount.”
“Oh hell no!” I cried. 'How can this job ever be done properly! How can the government force this insane thing to be sold to a person?”
“Well,” said the Doctor, stroking his beard and gazing thoughtfully at the ceiling, “there’s really no knowing what might happen to your head if you swallow just a tiny extra dose of this.'
“Drunkenness is no fun,” I said. “It’s loathed very much,” I went on. “Illegal highs like kites and cannons are all but unknown. Look here, Doctor, you take this little sip and you shall see the future.”
“Would you want to see the future?” said the doctor. “Good heavens, it’s even worse than drunkness!” 20211229. Beneath the wooden stairs.
Through the gaps in the treads.
Ohmigosh! The vibrations!
She threw the first set of legs.
And beat the world record!
She did it in four hours.
She is now the most dreadful and dangerous woman.
Everyday, baaadly lounging.
So please, biby, buckle up, get on with it.
And while we do this.
We looch at her up all night.
Until wee light comes at last.
(Click here to see a larger and more pristine picture.)
And wee bones are beginning to weigh.
The word is truly loving and gracious.
(Click here to see a poem.) 20211229. Beneath the black couch, a dog is laying on the floor.
It isn’t the litter that he is looking for. It is the small white dog, fine, sweet and surrounded by loving people.
I always thought a white dog was the most beautiful color. The pure white of the Irish sea, the pure white of the Dover-London road, the white of the blackberry trees of Kent, the black of the Harzog between Beychevelle and Beychevelle, the flat white of the Haut-Brionne region, the tuxedoed beluga of Bordeaux.
I miss my Grandma. 20211230. In front of the door, a large mirror was mounted, and a voice came out of it. “On my instructions,” the voice said, “you may now remove your mask, open your mouth, and test for yourself whether you are indeed hypochondriacs or not. Is everything all right? Do you experience any peculiar symptoms?”
“Well . . .”
“Precisely,” the voice said. “And now tell me if these pills work and whether you are suffering. These symptoms are far more dangerous. Therefore, unless otherwise indicated, all hypochondriacs should be extremely cautious when taking these pills.”
“And who will be responsible for ensuring that they are not poisonous? Who will be the guinea pig?”
“I will.” 20211229. A kitchen table.
A bowl of food.
A bottle of wine.
A plate, perhaps.
It was a lovely house.
But the night was ominous.
The great plans were unravelling.
But nobody could see it with naked eyes.
She was at last successful.
She had devised a fascinating machine.
And in the middle of it all.
There was a little button.
Curious, rather brilliant.
Some sort of a camera.
A kind of life-extension.
Then all hell broke loose. 20211218. A man with black hair stands on the wooden floor of the theatre and cracks a bottle. He licks the bottle and returns to his chair. He is disturbed at being caught. “What’s wrong with being caught?” he says, and he glances at me. “I’m absolutely tickled.” He is then caught and thrown over the balcony into the theatre, where he sits on a chair in front of a roaring sea of blue dancers.
When he speaks again, it was in a voice that filled my head from head to toe and left me speechless. “You are the only monarch in the world who has a treble tonic. Pirates,” he says, “are not dangerous to the naked eye.” 20211222. All the colorful books on the shelf, the children’s books, the nursery rhymes, the geography books, popular culture — everything was swimming around and spilling out into the little room.
“Hello,” the voice was saying. “Hello hello hello!”
It was alive. The room was alive, and it was breathing.
And a fish was also alive. The dolphin was walking about, flapping its great water-bottomed tail around viciously in front of its face. The wolf was curled up asleep on the loose-backed skull, while the whale and the walrus hung upside down on their great shoulders, both motionless, respectively, the head on top, the arms out sideways, like a pair of swimming gloves.
Then suddenly, they pant and guzzle
This last act, take notice
May cause a curious change in the temperature of your stomach
And all your senses will become sharper
And you will find delight in the world
That is made of crunching and squirming and squishing
The stripey ones are particularly gross
And when you venture forth, you will find
Fear not, for they are quick to discover
That you are absolutely wrong,
And quickly correct.
For them, human bein’s is tasty
Delicious, and they know it
So come, old friends, and do not take
The foul persuasion to heart
For bitter is the word, and error is the vice
So turn back to the living-room, and we’ll watch
The children rumbling along the floor
And you can spell, your life out loud 20210701. A teddy bear with black and white stripes was sitting in my room.
He looked up at me when I came near to him.
“Hello,” he said. He spoke with a clear, grave voice.
I looked at the bear and immediately began to laugh.
“Hey!” he said. “Who’s laughing?”
I didn’t reply.
“Come here,” he said.
I could see the grin widening on his face.
I shook my head, and finally came to terms with the fact that I was probably going to be eaten alive.
You would never believe this. 20210701. A row of clothes hanging on the rack stood out like a rainbow in the gloom.
Every boy in the school had to wear a different color.
But he insisted that the only color he’d wear would be rainbow. 20210701. The babies, in a basket made of hay, came up to feed with their mother.
Chapter 1 - The Great Feeding Plot
On the first three days of June, as the babies were waiting in the bottom of the nest, the mother would fly over each day and say, “Hello, hello, hello. I am fed up with you sitting there waiting for me to come and feed you. I am fed up with all of you.” She would then creep slowly up through the nest and settle herself beside the poor babies, and say, “Keep quiet,” and watch them for hours on end with those cracking black eyes. 20210701. A young girl in a golden frame, the color of magic, the purest brilliance imaginable. An explosion of color that filled the entire sky above her head, a fire burning in her eyes, wild and wonderful and frightening beyond words.
The burning hatred, the inexorable rise and fall of the upper lip, the lifting of the head, the changing of the fingers, the tread of the toes. Everything was happening before her very eyes, and she remained motionless, blinking at the glass, staring at the body itself, and smiling, but holding an invisible megaphone of silence. 20210701. One of the birds is black.
One of the birds is white.
One of the vultures is yellow.
One of the hares is brown.
All these animals, my grandmother told herself, look absolutely frightening.
She trembled to think what might have come over them all, but she couldn’t stop herself from smiling.
She was always smiling. 20210701. Atop the colorful tablecloth of the dining-room table sat a small, pocket-sized book.
Dear Diary,
I often forget to write in you, even when I am at home.
I sit thinking about you all the time.
I begin to type, very cautiously, for inspiration.
I cut out the needless words, and hastily add in all the rest.
I begin to write as follows.
In a style that is truly original.
Oh, my joy, my ecstasy, my admiration.
Oh, my horror, my refuge, my salvation. 20210701. A collection of small toys on the shelf, for each of the four children — an aeroplane, a yo-yo, a bat, a feather, a mirror, a teapot, and all the rest of them, everything was in perfect order.
“There you are, my little friends,” she said to them, one by one.
Then came the bedtime story, the funny little poem, and finally, the frightful song that made them skitter around the room, each to their own corner. 20210701. A small window reveals a wooden bed with a cobwebbed mattress above the floor. Down the center of the room there is an empty bottle and a blanket covered with red letters.
The Old Green Grasshopper and the Ladybug had come to see how things were going, and now they are observing the progress of this amazing scene from a distance.
I wonder what they would think if a video camera and lens were mounted directly on to the top of their heads, and if you could see the whole scene from their point of view.
I imagine you would be thrilled to see one of them crawling about upon the floor of the enormous container. And I imagine you would also be pleased to see someone jumping up and down merrily in the air of my favorite scent – the musky perfume of Verbena. 20210711. The potted plants and the pictures on the wall hung above the double bed. On the opposite side, in the loft where the nursery was situated, there was an empty room where the children could play. Here also, in one of the loft’s upper stories, the sound of a cheerful song came back to them through the windows. The song was by no means old or familiar, but it was one of those pleasant, little-known folk songs that one knows only too well, like the Vande Patten, or the Staines, or the Cowens, or Kraftwerk. 20210702. The white table in the white room was completely bare, and looked like a kind of altar. I began to stare at the pale walls of the room. The room was so white that when I looked up I was actually looking straight at my own face rather than at the ceiling.
In fact, I was looking straight at the ceiling, and it was so white that I could hardly bring myself to look up there at all. I looked down at my own face. I looked at the wall vertically and horizontally, trying to work out how in the world a person could conceivably be alive without a face. 20210715. The brown carpet was always a reminder to me of the comfort and security of my parents’ house. And always, always, it was the cushy furniture that came first to my mind, followed by the ceilings and walls. In all honesty, I can not think of anything more reassuring or comforting than the feel of that large, brown carpet on my bare feet. 20210702. The bag with orange and white stripes was the stuff of dreams.
A dream is something unreal.
It floats around in the night air.
Floating through the night in the sky.
So high as the top of a castle.
And as far as the eye of the land.
The unutterably awful stillness.
Is released, and at once the realms of dream.
Are welcomed and explored.
With fears and ambiguities. 20210722. Below the large windows a small basket on the floor was standing. In the basket there were three objects for children seven and under:
The first was a piece of gum (this article will not concern you).
The second was a bundle of toothbrushes (please choose your color).
The third was a pair of socks (please answer me).
All three of these objects had numbers written on them in at least one of the languages of the world. Famous, magic words, or something like it. 20210712. The wall beyond the couch is covered in the most wonderful way. On the shelves are displayed a dozen objects, some very old, some very new.
“Such as what?” I asked.
“A clockwork mummy clock” she said.
“A clockwork mummy clock?” I said, spellbound.
“Very smooth” she said.
“Wonderful” I said. “Very wonderful.” 20210704. On the bed, a child is dozing off.
“Your mummy’s doing the same thing,” I said.
“Impossible,” she said. “How can she get the mixture of magic drugs to work with a child. It’s too expensive.” She looked up at me, shimmering with wisdom. “You mean to say you don’t know how to dilute the magic potion?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “How can I get it?”
“You can give her a dose of royal jelly,” she said. “And if you give her the correct dose,” she added, “your child will have no troubles of any sort. It’s the dose that counts. I hope you’ll agree.”
“You are very sensible, O Brainy One.”
“There are tons of things I know.” 20210721. The pictures on the wall behind the bed are proof of my obsession. There are hundreds of them, all condensed and organized by length into a single large canvas. Clicking on one of them will take me right into the next life.
“How does it work?”
“The theory is very simple,” he said. “First, you put your faithful old body inside a spaceship, then you send out coded messages, in the proper voice, to all the living things on earth, instructing them where and when the body will be collected, and how and when it will be taken away. It’s magic, my friend.”
“I don’t quite follow the logic,” I said. 20210707. A colorful blanket covered the wooden bed.
She knelt on the floor and covered the mattress with kisses.
“Goodnight” she said, dreaming it all up.
Sleep well, my darling.
Just don’t get up till I say so.
Then you too, you lovely ones.
Hurry up and ring the bell.
Or else you’ll be late for school.
Oh, dear me, I do wish you'd get well.
And give the nurse a chance to see you.
Because that’s the least you can do.
I barely got through writing this sentence.
I’m so terribly tired.
And you all can welcome me home.
Under these lovely circumstances.
Oh, comfort and security for all of you! 20210711. Behind the couch, a child is required to do a tiny little art project, and the idea behind it is that the father wants the child to be able to draw pictures and make objects on the spot when he demands such things. He believes this is a milestone in the whole history of creativity.
“Art is a great subject,” He said. “Great artists such as Renoir and Monet have millions of admirers of their work. Do you think you could find your own niche in the art world?”
“With a bit of luck,” I said. “We’ll just have to see.”
“Be quiet,” he said. “Submission is also an art form.” 20210728. A candle illuminates a shelf full of books
Now, if we take a page out of the last volume
The little phantom of a butterfly will shine
In a candlelit room
There, beside the words
Mirror and platter, huge and glorious
Affectionately and lovingly given
By an instant whose echo is holy
The creator of worlds
We shall miss him very much
We shall miss you with joy
We shall miss him still more 20210725. The wooden table in the blue room was the correct distance away from the sofa at either end. The fact that there was an empty chair there at all was a hint that he had not yet moved from his present position. Also, the chair seemed to have a kind of hollow look about it, something earthy and barren, and the blue of the walls reminded me of the loveliest lake in my home town. 20210822. The green plant on the white wall in the living-room. The magenta carpet in the dining-room. The magnet wire leading into the kitchen. The odorous glands in the neck. The hair and fur in general. The brilliant, shining hair of the goat. The golden hunter’s eye. The eye of the ass. The eye of the plump buffoon. The powerful smell of the saddle. And, of course, the gin. 20210915. A woman with blue hair is sitting on the edge of the bed. She is holding a white woolly thing in her hand. It is not difficult to believe that this woman, who calls herself The Mother Superior, is one of the greatest geniuses ever to have lived.
Born in England, she was educated at Eton and Oxford and she honed her craft at the prestigious Club of Rome. To those who knew her personally, nothing would have shocked her more. Those who knew nothing of her said she was a soul-destroying monster who brainwashed children like a cow.
‘Poppycock!’ 20210919. A large mirror on the wall, a television on a stand, and a cat on the floor. Oh dear. He was going to miss this place. He threaded his way slowly through the huge mirrors, looking at every room and every surface. The result of this was a curious sensation of serenity and empowerment, and a sense of peace that was more sublime than anything he had ever felt before. In a way, the whole place was divine. 20210810. On the green bathroom wall, the toilet, the sink and all the other plumbing was visible through the crack.
"What a load of filth!" cried the Chief of Police. "It'll take weeks to clean! Never in my life have I seen such filth!"
"And who will be responsible for its proper disposal?" asked the Director of Public Prosecutions. "Who will dig the holes and whence the rubbish goes?"
"The local people," said the Chief of Police. "They never waste time on stupid things like that." 20210803. The rows of books on the shelves were organized chronologically by keyword:
FROM ONCE WE GO TO TERRAIN
THE TWO RACES IN THE CANARY ROOM
THE THREE MOONFISH TRIES
THE VOICE-MAKER
THE DISCOVERY-FACTOR
THE LIFE-FORMER
THE POSSIBILITY OF SHINY LIGHTNING
THE TAIL OF A THUNDERCASE
THE WHISTLE OF A VIPER 20210911. A white curtain and an unknown sign were hanging from the ceiling in front of her, but she deftly rolled it up over her head and it covered her head just as though it were a dressing-gown.
"Say Goodbye," she said, smiling at last. 20210730. A picture of a place.
A mirror on the wall.
What he would like to see in a mirror.
And then practice by peering into it.
The reflection would tell him.
Exactly where he is.
He would also measure his wealth up by sight.
To see if he was right.
Lasting, of course, not lasting long.
Annulling, destroying.
Destroying, all the times he was right.
And for all time, he would rule supreme. 20210804. A light in the sky.
There was no one in sight.
The windows were wide open.
And all the street lamps were still on.
Up and up she went.
And as she climbed the steps.
She'd stop, just for a sec.
And peer inside the house.
And there she'd see.
The bloody mess they'd made.
She held forth her hand.
And said, 'Hello, I'm free!' 20210829. The black garbage bag on the floor was filled to the brim with slosh, slush, and grrruntleslush. Occasionally there was a slab of black bread smeared over with Slurpvite.
Every pig went trogglehumping madly in the sky, and all the luscious birds were reduced to goggling at the slimy, golden, purple brrrain of Golden Custard. 20210829. Above the roar of the black fireplace they could hear the howling of the dogs, the yelping of the cats, and the shrill call of the horses. And across the road, in the alley where the butcher was standing, they could see the huge cat-shed (which had six cats in it), and the sizzling sound of grinding death.
Mr Twit came back to the farmhouse again after the Easter season had been finished. 'This is where all my money is,' he said, smiling. 20210829. A white table and three chairs were standing in the far corner of the room. The writing desk was a tall, dirty surface surrounded by empty plastic tubs. On the sideboard were stuffed dozens and dozens of sheets of paper, a raincoat, and a spare pair of pants. On the floor over in the far corner, Bruno had crouched, and he was still bobbing up and down, drooling at the mouth, and dreaming constantly of the jars of beer he might have had at home. 20210808. Above the wooden table, an unknown sign was hanging from the ceiling, or perhaps the ceiling itself was hanging. He reached up and pulled it down. It meant nothing. He took it down and unfolded it and carried it to the window that led to the balcony.
From the window he could see the beach, and beyond it to one side he could see the sea.
This is perfect.
He sat down on the window-sill and looked at the unknown sign.
Dear me, he thought, this is perfect. 20210806. The papers on the table were full of the great and famous names of inventing things, the names of more than a hundred medicines, the food of hundreds of delicious flavors, the cultivation of hundreds of new varieties of cannabis sativa, the discovery of which would have made Bradbury proud.
And all the time he was writing and reading and trying to write about the uses and abuses of the wondery and its practitioners, he was thinking to himself: "What do they use it for? And why do they do it? What validates their claims?"
Nothing, that is it, nothing. 20210804. A brown floor.
A brown rug.
A brown couch.
And above it all, an empty wall.
No pictures.
No words.
Only the sound of the wheel.
And the Sadness (or surprise).
Hearsay, each word is true.
As he starts to exclaim.
Oh dear! Oh bloody-knight!
Oh cowzy! Oh foul-nasty!
Oh rotten! Oh turtle-shudders!
Oh bloody-unbelievable!
I’ve lost my pocketbook!
I’ve smashed it all to pieces! 20210827. An image of a horse is reflected on the wall of the exhibition hall, and it causes a trance-like state of mind to the beholder. We become totally mesmerized by the mental processes of the whizzing horse and by the quietly interacting details of its many separate parts. The animal is as real as we are, and everything about it is as though it were a miracle. Even the brain itself seems to be a mirage, a projection of mental processes beyond the borders of our own brains. The brain is a long, round, transparent thing. I cannot help wonder what a brain in a tuxedo might look like.
Chapter two: The Brain in a Tuxedo 20211031. I stared at the big tree. It was a living, breathing tree, and the branches that grew were long and straight and like arms. What a wonderful, complex structure it was, with hundreds of different branches and needles to choose from. Also, how quickly it grew after being cut. Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter. 20211205. The walls of the small room were stained pale yellow by the oily activity of hundreds of small engines all churning and revving inside.
This abyss was a monstrous, scorching-hot ghoulscape. The sky was brilliantly illuminated by the blinding sunbeams, and from within the walls of the hellish tunnel the muffled sound of splintering wood and broken chains could be heard miles away over the horizon.
Blood was still coming out of the endless hole in the roof of the whizzing-gig, and dried blood still came flapping down my gullet, dripping and splashing onto the silk screen of the hellish tunnel. 20211003. Stacks of boxes on the bedroom floor were filled with magazines organized by type – beauty, science, technology, medicine, law, etc.
She started reading some of the titles aloud to herself as she waited for the day to begin.
“What a load of filthsome rubbish this is!” she said aloud, slamming her fist over the bedroom window. “How revolting!” 20211009. The small computer on the table in front of me now began to do some funny calculations, and the result came back, spectacularly, in the margin of about half a second.
“That’s just how I want it!” spluttered the computerized voice.
“How?” I said. “Do you mean... you want it to happen or do you not want it to happen?”
“Oh no,” the computer interrupted. “I do not want it to happen. I do not want it to happen.”
“Then don’t do it.”
The computer waited, and said nothing. But when it spoke, its voice became suddenly urgent, and it began to choke up. “I... I don’t want it to be a failure.” 20211023. The light from the window illuminated a quiet scene in the room. I was lying on my back with my feet on the floor and the window behind me. I was watching the movement of the hour hand above my head, and when I looked up again, I saw that the room was full of people. There were about sixty chairs in the room and they all had someone sitting in them. And most peculiarly, each of them held a small radio in their hands.
I looked up again from the window. The movement of the hour hand was becoming more and more frantic every minute, and the noise of the radios was becoming, I felt, almost unbearable.
This sort of activity seemed to go on for ever, as I sat there, enraptured. 20211116. On the kitchen counter, the cheese was beginning to melt, and the melty goodness covered the scrambled eggs freshly cooked by Grandma.
“Come on!” I cried. “I can’t wait all day!”
“All day long,” said Grandma, “you can wait all day.”
“Oh, please!” I begged. “Please feed it to me properly! I do wish you would do that!”
“Don’t you worry!” said Grandma. “You’ll be ravenous for every bit of food you eat!”
“What’s wrong with me?” I said.
“Improper feeding,” said Grandma. “We must feed you correct amounts.”
“Oh come on!” 20211204. A white dog is standing in a room full of wooden furniture. “Hello, hello, hello” he says in a low, smooth voice. “Hello, hello, hello!” he says every time you pass him by. Hello, hello, hello. Come in! Come in!
He does a little dance in the circle of lights, and we all watch, and the show goes on.
He holds a toothbrush in his paw, and prays on his knees that he will never go toothless.
“Hello, hello, hello” he says every day. 20211112. A small string of lights illuminate the patio of the bungalow.
There are no people in this cottage and the night is dark.
Hello.
You’re the first person ever to visit my little pad.
Welcome, my dear fellow.
And good night.
If I moved I would probably scream.
The wind was blowing in my face.
I was very tired. I looked exhausted, even as I danced around the room in the dark. 20211017. The green leaves of the potted plants create a large scene in my room. I put my pipe to my mouth and light it with a matchstick. I then blow the mixture into my pipe to give the smoke a little swirl. The resulting mixture is beautiful. It has a very pungent aroma, and the flowery parts are especially strong. I feel the smoke rising up my nostrils, and the aftertaste is simply magical. It is as though the Gods had put a pipe up my nostril and given me a little blast of divine fire. “Ah-h-h-h,” I say, blowing the smoke up at the ceiling. 20211026. A black keyboard on the desk became active and started sending out quick repetitive chords. I began to perform calisthenics and measure out drops by weight. I was able, in fact, to tweak the precise amount to the correct dose by simply pressing the increment (+) and measuring it by the time-point (ie, exactly the millisecond after the dose has been calculated), and I invariably received the same response: electric head slamming, which was especially effective on geriatrics and widows, especially in the early stages of recovery. 20211127. The empty glass of wine on the table was a clue. He would have to refill it and drink it.
He sipped it. There was nothing to indicate that he was at all ill. The nose was clear and the mouth was wide open, the whole face seemed to be open and bright, and he was smiling with a mouthfull of wine.
“That’s what I was thinking of,” he said. “A bit of wine to go with this big feast.”
“And when you have eaten it, will you imbibe it?” I asked him.
“My goodness,” he said. “I wouldn’t miss it for anythin’.” 20211109. The concrete floor and the white tiles could only hide so much. There wasn’t nearly enough room for him to go around without hurting himself.
“No,” he said, creeping around on his hands and knees. “No. I must go deeper. I must go right underneath the floor and wait to come out.”
On the second day he went on with his explorations. He went on, thumping along the corridor with his stick.
The feeling of helplessness, the complete and utter helplessness of it all must have tormented him to death.
But finally, he came to decide which pockets of the home to blow up, which corners to blow down, which walls to blow in, which rooms to make light. This was his chance to get a thing or two right! 20211107. A kitchen with black and white walls.
Kitchen-candy, brown sugar and cream pie!
A baker’s dozen, holiday favorites.
Delicious liverwurst and sauerkraut.
And three times only grubblest.
A sink full of old lobster tails.
Pile it up in a basket.
And send it off to your lovers.
With frying-powder and marshmallows.
And now, you guessed it.
The oven-bread is soon to be had!
But this isn't just any old bread.
The best anybody’s ever seen!
The most valuable treasure in the land!
Don’t change a bit of this!
Here we go! 20210925. “A box full of unknown intoxicants?”
Silence.
“I’ll bet they are.” I said darkly.
A box full of unknown drugs, the before-and-after picture, the after-images of the great man himself, and of course, the innumerable variations thereof, are as fascinating to a non-stop fiend as all the jewels of the empire.
But I digress. And in a voice that echoed the squeaks of my own innermost notes, I offered them to the Queen. She took one at her lips and swallowed it in one gulp. “Ah-h,” she said, licking her lips. “Yes, thank you.” 20211009. A man with a beard.
A woman with a scarf.
Or should it be a combination of the two?
What does it matter?
Very soon, all the naughty little children will be aged.
And find out whether their grandparents.
Existed or were just figments of rumor.
Behold me and you may possibly.
Come to very near enough to understand.
Why all this LOUDNESS IS SO MUCH BETTER THAN ANYBODY CAN.
(This final note came from the loudspeaker in his house.) 20211105. The windows of the warehouse were supercilious and glumptious. There was no furniture or pictures on the walls, only a whole lot of boxes piled up on the floor. It was a chaotic scene, and most of the people working there didn’t know what to do or where.
But I could see now that the warehouse was actually a great club. All the furniture, the pictures, the TV screens, the chairs, the tables, the lamps, the door knobs and the hinges were all in one fell swoop, piled up in the warehouse in what appeared to be a gigantic heap upon the floor. 20211116. Inside the large building, the shelves were stacked with the usual supplies:
fifty trumpets,
ten banjos,
ten wooden stools,
ten tricks,
forty dollars,
a ball of string,
a bunch of poetry,
and countless other things. 20211204. Plants with green leaves cover the wooden floor of his shack.
And there, surely, in the very center of the whole.
Story, there will always be a single room.
Till all the dreams and frustrations.
Of your life seem to have a rest.
We’re going to need a plane.
To whisk us away.
Or you might be lucky.
To find a bed, a chair, a pillow.
And plenty of warm food in the fridge.
Oh, what a lovely country this is!
And we soon shall forget all about it.
The more excited I am, the faster we'll all go.
And where, for months on end.
And so, every day, on his way home. 20211005. The boy's smile turned the color of a ripe orange. “You are a liar, madam!” he shouted, glaring at the Queen. “A repulsive, boring, ungrateful little pig!” The Queen lifted her head and looked at the son. “You are kind of off your rocker,” she said.
“Now, Now, Now,” the Long-armed Lady shouted back, icily. “Stop teasing!”
“Not now, you understand,” the Prince murmured.
“Then tell me,” the Queen said.
“Well,” the Prince went on, “it seemed like a really pretty cloudy hell during the first part of this week. And Thomas, well—not exactly a shining example of chivalry he was, I’ll be bound. But he was really mild and gentle. He was understanding. He was nice. He was helpful. I’ve gotten him into the army. We’re giving him the best schools in the army.”
“Nice school, he told himself. Very nice indeed.” 20211117. Everything in the bedroom was pure white and sparkling. And when I turned my head in, I was looking into a space that was as big as a marvelous looking cathedral. There was an infinity of little bouquets and dozens of different and wonderful things going on in there, and when I turned to the door, I could see the magic was still going on.
This whole place, I thought, was everything. The walls, the ceiling, the floor, everything was made of shining white and there was a radiant and heavenly feeling in the air. The whole place was alive with magical happenings. 20211107. The two people sitting at the table nearest to me were my parents.
My parents were generous with each other, and I have to admit to myself that I felt closer to them than anyone could be. They touched me beyond words; they took me seriously; and they were very kind to me, too.
When I needed anything, they would gather round me and pour it into my smile-box and I would give them a big hug and a kiss.
“Good-bye” my parents would say. And then out we would go in our separate ways. 20211103. From the bed in my room, I could see through the large window to the trees beyond, and I could hear the beaches rustling and sighing just over the side of the valley.
I went to the door of my room and opened it quietly, with my precious secret in my hand.
Dear Diary,
All this talk of the woods and the valleys and the woods gave me the lovely idea that tonight I would go forth and visit all the above mentioned places myself. I will undertake to go into as many of them as I please, and I will visit the woods and I will visit the valleys and I will visit the empty houses all standing still. 20211105. A pile of black metal chairs.
From the back there came a triangle of metal rods.
Immediately behind the rods there was a row of small white rubber lips.
It was a pretty sight to see.
The whole of this fearsome creature’s face minus the nose-holes.
And all the tubes going upward from head to toe.
And those gums going sticky, rich, brown.
And tastes that should frighten the daylights out.
The Giant from the land of the midnight sun.
And his ravenous hunger drove us insane.
We fought to the death and in the end.
(I always look for chairs when I go into a shop). 20211109. A brown cabinet.
A white shelf.
A black light.
A window seat.
A little island.
A rocking horse.
A summer's garden.
A sewing-machine.
A bucket.
Basics, to be found in the back of the room.
Explosives, for example, Petrochemistry, Sodium-POP! 20211023. A black and white picture on the wall in front of the fireplace showed the silhouette of a person, usually a gentleman, but always with a jaunty hat on his head.
“Here is the picture for which you inquired, you see?”
“Yes, but what do you want him to look like?”
“Ah,” he patiently answered, “that’s the main thing.”
“Jaunty, isn’t he?”
“Became famous, yes.”
“Terrific chap,” he said. “He’s a genius. Can’t you see him?”
“Of course I can see him,” I said, “I’m absolutely certain he’s a genius.” 20211022. Four women at a table.
A picture on the wall.
A glass of wine.
And sometimes the ladies would withdraw the bottle of Beaujolais, and enjoy instead some sumptuous sherry.
This bottle was something that she displayed, almost as much as any other collector would display her collections.
She would stroll about holding forth some bottle of choice, and inquire after about some interesting double or triple.
Some wine indeed and a good book to read. 20211105. In the large glass building, scenes of the city and white clouds in a blue sky loomed large. I peered through the window at the clouds, and everything looked different. The lighting was better, the colors paler, the shadows more vibrant, the quality was closer to the surface. This was a city I lived in, and all the nights were wonderful nights in which the rim of the sky was something like white wine in a bottle.
Panchromatic: The colors come from machines. The software engineers spent six years preparing a method for producing panchromatic photographs. The photographs were then processed with special scanners and analyzed with sophisticated software. The resulting photographs were of a precisely circular shape. The literature on color says that a photograph is a photographic effect that must not be confused with the real thing. Photographs were also invented to serve other purposes. 20211106. Above the fireplace, the picture on the wall shows three people standing in front of a building. Each one of them was holding something out in front of them, and it is clear that whoever was doing the talking, wasn’t speaking to any of the others in the room.
“What on earth are they doing?”
“Who are they?”
“Ssshh!”
“Listen!”
“Listen!”
“What are they doing?”
“Ssshh-sshh-sshh!”
“Who are they?”
“Ssshh-sshh-sshh!”
“Where do they come from?”
“Ssshh-sshh-sshh!”
“Strangers!”
“Oh no!” 20211215. In the mirror on the wall, a woman was standing only a few yards away from me, and the woman was holding a bottle in one hand and a walking-stick in the other. Both were white, and so were the hills reflected in the distance.
“I don’t want to go out,” she was saying, “unless you promise you’ll come back again.”
The walking-stick was still in the basket.
“You can come back again,” I said. “You promised.”
She took the stick out of the bag and held it up to me.
“I am about to put the bottle on you,” she said. “But first I must ask you a very special thing.”
I was speechless. 20211130. A large display of multi-colored glass blocks was set up in the middle of the room, and guests could gaze up at it with anything from gentle to vigorous headaches.
“Maybe it’s the dose,” I thought. “I never dose anyone.”
“It’s the ticket,” said the Doctor. “But I doubt very much whether it’s much more than the normal amount.”
“Oh hell no!” I cried. 'How can this job ever be done properly! How can the government force this insane thing to be sold to a person?”
“Well,” said the Doctor, stroking his beard and gazing thoughtfully at the ceiling, “there’s really no knowing what might happen to your head if you swallow just a tiny extra dose of this.'
“Drunkenness is no fun,” I said. “It’s loathed very much,” I went on. “Illegal highs like kites and cannons are all but unknown. Look here, Doctor, you take this little sip and you shall see the future.”
“Would you want to see the future?” said the doctor. “Good heavens, it’s even worse than drunkness!” 20211229. Beneath the wooden stairs.
Through the gaps in the treads.
Ohmigosh! The vibrations!
She threw the first set of legs.
And beat the world record!
She did it in four hours.
She is now the most dreadful and dangerous woman.
Everyday, baaadly lounging.
So please, biby, buckle up, get on with it.
And while we do this.
We looch at her up all night.
Until wee light comes at last.
(Click here to see a larger and more pristine picture.)
And wee bones are beginning to weigh.
The word is truly loving and gracious.
(Click here to see a poem.) 20211229. Beneath the black couch, a dog is laying on the floor.
It isn’t the litter that he is looking for. It is the small white dog, fine, sweet and surrounded by loving people.
I always thought a white dog was the most beautiful color. The pure white of the Irish sea, the pure white of the Dover-London road, the white of the blackberry trees of Kent, the black of the Harzog between Beychevelle and Beychevelle, the flat white of the Haut-Brionne region, the tuxedoed beluga of Bordeaux.
I miss my Grandma. 20211230. In front of the door, a large mirror was mounted, and a voice came out of it. “On my instructions,” the voice said, “you may now remove your mask, open your mouth, and test for yourself whether you are indeed hypochondriacs or not. Is everything all right? Do you experience any peculiar symptoms?”
“Well . . .”
“Precisely,” the voice said. “And now tell me if these pills work and whether you are suffering. These symptoms are far more dangerous. Therefore, unless otherwise indicated, all hypochondriacs should be extremely cautious when taking these pills.”
“And who will be responsible for ensuring that they are not poisonous? Who will be the guinea pig?”
“I will.” 20211229. A kitchen table.
A bowl of food.
A bottle of wine.
A plate, perhaps.
It was a lovely house.
But the night was ominous.
The great plans were unravelling.
But nobody could see it with naked eyes.
She was at last successful.
She had devised a fascinating machine.
And in the middle of it all.
There was a little button.
Curious, rather brilliant.
Some sort of a camera.
A kind of life-extension.
Then all hell broke loose. 20211218. A man with black hair stands on the wooden floor of the theatre and cracks a bottle. He licks the bottle and returns to his chair. He is disturbed at being caught. “What’s wrong with being caught?” he says, and he glances at me. “I’m absolutely tickled.” He is then caught and thrown over the balcony into the theatre, where he sits on a chair in front of a roaring sea of blue dancers.
When he speaks again, it was in a voice that filled my head from head to toe and left me speechless. “You are the only monarch in the world who has a treble tonic. Pirates,” he says, “are not dangerous to the naked eye.” 20211222. All the colorful books on the shelf, the children’s books, the nursery rhymes, the geography books, popular culture — everything was swimming around and spilling out into the little room.
“Hello,” the voice was saying. “Hello hello hello!”
It was alive. The room was alive, and it was breathing.
And a fish was also alive. The dolphin was walking about, flapping its great water-bottomed tail around viciously in front of its face. The wolf was curled up asleep on the loose-backed skull, while the whale and the walrus hung upside down on their great shoulders, both motionless, respectively, the head on top, the arms out sideways, like a pair of swimming gloves.