Desk

The philosopher couldn't get his mind clear, and hadn't even started thinking about the puzzle yet. All day he'd only thought about solving it (how happy he would be if he solved it, how he might be congragulated for solving it, and how long it might take) and about much else (when he should do laundry, should he now get some coffee). His thinking had been disorganized like this for weeks, and he had only faintly been aware at how cloudy and undirected he was.

He stood up, stepped away from his chair and cluttered desk. He turned around, walked a few moments, and sat down on another chair in front of another, empty desk. This was his special desk. The philosopher had been brilliant in his youth, and when the university hired him, he had negotiated for this desk in his contract. The desk was vast and empty, and he had hoped that by sitting at it, and staring out across its massive surface, eventually his mind might clear, and seemingly intractible puzzles might become clearer.

He was looking out across the desk, and his mind cleared. He stopped thinking of laundry and coffee, and stopped imagining himself working on the puzzle. His sight was filled with the gigantic desk, so huge that he could not see where it ended. He stared at it, but he could not even begin to work on the puzzle. "How strange", he thought, "this desk is really gigantic. I don't even know where it ends!" He sat staring some more, and then climbed up onto the desk. He took the first few steps uncertainly, but then sped up to a good pace, walking quickly to discover just where his desk ended.

Greatest Barrista in the World

was at some coffee shop that was attached to a hotel (we think) right near Powell Station in Union Square, San Fransisco. He would defeat all contenders in the World's Greatest Barrista Championships, and he single handedly outperformed a standard team of four starbucks workers when we ordered coffee

He is in his early 50s, the outfit has a lot of red in it, he appears to take his time, and is cheerful at all moments. He is alone behind the counter. There is a line and you are part of it, but you cannot be annoyed. The barrista takes his time without seeming slow, and the couple in front of you is getting the best coffee ordering service they ever will, and so the same is in store for you.

(The coffee was good too.)

World Famous Bushman (Bush man?)

You are walking along fisherman's wharf in San Fransisco (yes it is very touristy, but here you are walking), and suddenly you jump back in alarm -- some bush by the sidewalk just jumped out at you... You look back and see that there was no bush in front of that garbage can really... It was a bunch of dense bush branches held up bythis guy who is crouching down and hiding behind these branches. He is disguised as a bush, and when a person walks by they don't see him until... he pushes the bush branches out at the person and gruffly utters "bbaaahhaah!" or some guttural noise. And so the victim jumps aside, scared, and then looking back starts laughing upon realizing that it was just this strange guy pretending to be a bush. (We'd have been bushman victims except we were walking a bit behind someone else it happened to, and so we knew what to expect).

Once you get past the bushman, though, there are people trying to look inconspicious while watching, or videotaping, new victims walking into his trap.

Go to:
http://www.anvari.org/photos/200311h/Bush_Man.html

for a picture, but the picture doesn't show how effective he is in not being noticed by those passing by.

The Stone Soup Variations - II

In a different version of the story, the visitor asked that the townspeople fill a large pot with water, and set it to boil over a fire. They eagerly did so, and then he said "I will place this stone in our soup, what will each of you add?" He placed the stone in the water, and waited for the townspeople to respond.

One villager scratched his head, and suddenly ran home, returning with some rusty worn bolts, and he added these to the soup. Someone else had been collecting bits of wire for a few years, but she volunteered them into the soup. Another villager had some pens that had run out of ink and through them in. And so it went.

All day long the soup boiled and boiled. The visitor looked a little puzzled, though no one knew why. That night the pleased townspeople gathered to eat the soup. But the visitor looked ill and said that would go. He picked up his satchel and continued down the road.

The Stone Soup Variations - I

There was this poor village and everyone was desperately hungry. Some guy came by and saw the town's plight. "I know just the thing!" he said and everyone took note. "We'll make a soup!"

The townspeople gathered round, encouraged somewhat, but some muttered, "We are too poor! We don't even have enough food to make soup."

"Nonsense" said the visitor, "We have this" and from his large bag he pulled out a huge, old-looking pig's head. The villagers gave him a pot, water, a fire, and he boiled the pig's head for hours, and there was soup for all.

The massive field

There were a bunch of people who were on a mass migration or journey. They were walking across a gigantic field for years on end. Often the things they saw were very beautiful and usually the weather was pretty good. But sometimes someone would get too sick to continue, or someone would get bit by a scorpion or snake, or be struck by lightening. The rest would be sad but would have no choice but to continue on their journey.

Mirror maze

the CNE was many things, and one was a carnival. I don't know if its still like that. One time they had a hall or house of mirrors, and my brother and I went in. (The only time I can recall having entered one). We ran around, excited and a bit confused, screaming, and constantly running into mirrors. When we got out I was completely exhilerated, but maybe bruised from running into mirrors, and I think my mom was embarassed at how loud we'd been yelling while inside.

Magic tunnel

is where you can go for a long walk underground. Too bad after half an hour you start getting really hungry, and then you start wondering: how is it that I can see in here. That's magic tunnel, which you are still walking through, and now you are really hungry, and the question bears asking: when will this thing ever end. And you keep going along, and it can never be boring in magical tunnel because every step is deeper in, and further along, and greater discovery.

Blue lobster

is no contradiction. I have seen it myself, and so can you, just use google.

Open lots

sometimes with nothing in them, but straggling plants growing sparsely about, affording a view of the soil. These lots left unused, undeveloped. I remember looking at ants in one when I was a kid, finding a tin can full of bees in another causing me to quickly pull back, passing others on walks.

Glimpse into the future, 30 years from now. I'll set myself some project. A person might work on in an empty place. The project will not be sensible, will accomplish nothing (the goal involves somehow transforming or altering a tin can (not the one with the bees)), but hopefully can be pursued seriously and diligently.

The terminal terminal

is the last station on the line, and the furthest outpost. I grew up just beyond a terminal terminal, a 20 minute walk from the northernmost subway station in Toronto, which isn't really very far out at all.

Imaginary adventure: seek the terminal terminal of an asiatic train line, the furthest outpost. Consider, the train system has become rundown, and the further out one goes the less reliable. It might take luck to get out to the final stop. I think something of this might happen in a story by Bruno Schultz that I didn't finish reading. It also has an element of the Yellow Arrow by Pelevin (?!?).

You never know

I remember going to some sort-of-punk party in Toronto back when I was 19 or 20. It wasn't really a party because it was really just about 10 people there at someone's house at the most, and they might not even have been punks so much as goths, or some related sub-culture (they all seemed blended to me in Toronto at the time, but maybe that's because I didn't really get it). As happens, people started giving each other haircuts in the house bathtub, and I sort of remember just enjoying being there, and also perusing the contents of a bookshelf in the living room. I didn't get my hair cut that night, but some weeks later that summer, I had my head shaved by my friend's current shortlived girlfriend, who was older, from England, and had a bat tattooed on her head.

The nightclub

was devised as a place to house new forms of entertainment. The owner and management felt that there were limits on what was currently available--drinking, dancing, talking, bowling, pool, darts, karaoke, and so on. Nightlife needed to be expanded.

The new form of entertainment: firecrackers and small explosives were attached to various items, including small toys, pieces of meat, bunches of dry noodles, and these were exploded behind a plexiglass window to the pleasure of the patrons.

Something unexpected

happens every once in a while. What will it be next?

Science Center

Going to the Science Center, or even Chucky Cheese, as a kid would sometime prompt exploration dreams later in the night. In these I dreams, I would find myself in some new dream-place where the overall mood was, all of this is strange and unknown, and I have got to explore it. Strange buildings with slides to climb up, instead of stairs, long cooridoors, and so on. Other people weren't really a factor, and I don't have many details to report, maybe I've never been a very vivid dreamer. The content of the dream was in large part an emotion--that of exploration. Very very rarely I'll still have one of these dreams, and its like they are all one (or two) recurring dream, it really feels that way, as if this other shadowy world were there waiting to be explored.

I really like going on long walks, especially in new places, and its not that the dreams explain this, as much as both might involve, to some degree, the same feeling.

Possum

We were walking along in lower Allston at night, and a sound came from the left. We looked over and up, and suddenly we had jumped into the street. We'd been walking alongside a chainlink fence, and perched atop it, a bit above our heads, was a possum. The sound must have been its tail jangling against the fence. The possum is a terrifying and ugly animal. We stared at it and it looked back still calmly and ominously sitting atop the fence.

In a few moments we walked along, continuing our walk. A guy crossed paths with us. We realized that in a minute or so he would pass by the possum. We waited, looking after him, and suddenly saw him jump to the street and start running, not even looking back I think.

The sub-basement

Is the basment beneath the basement, the level beneath the lowest you know. Its one of those coveted places, the value of which is that you haven't found it yet.

The boat voyage

The boat voyage will have to happen at some point. I've had minor contact with the sea or boats. Some canoes, rowboats, rafts, and a kayak. Also roundtrip by ferry between England and Holland, another overnight ferry from Maine to Nova Scotia or some other Maritime province.

But one day it will have to be a longer trip and I think the boat will need to go through at least some cold air. It would be a definitive trip, the real thing, if the length of the trip was indeterminate -- we may be gone a month, or maybe two, or maybe longer. That sort of trip requires a purpose for the boat, where the achievement cannot be guaranteed within a certain amount of time.

I don't think this boat trip will be anytime soon.

A quote

from a obituary for architect Philip Johnson, that was in the NY Times:

"To a restless mind, a long life is going to mean a number of incarnations".

Coronet at Dawn

In my memory the title of the movie is "Coronet at Dawn", though the internet assures me that it was really called "Cornet at Night" and based on a short story of the same name by one Sinclair Ross (who can now be joined with Upton Sinclair and Sinclair Lewis, in my always confused 'Sinclair file'). For some reason I really want to see this short movie again, even though I remember little about it, and haven't seen it since I was in elementary school. It, along with a few other movies like "Paddle to the Sea" and "The Red Balloon" were repeatedly shown to us during my Canadian Elementary school years.

Memory says that the movie is about a young boy who is supposed to hire a farm hand to help out on his family's farm. The boy is intimidated by the sight of the real farmhands and so he hires this soft looking guy instead. This would-be farmhand is unable to hande the farm work but endearingly plays his trumpet every night. I do not remember if there is some scene in which he proves his worthiness as a farmhand, but I guess I expect there was.

Viewing of this movie may explain why even today I have a lazy desire to hear a solo trumpet song, though I don't know of any such music.