31 May 2006
The Ambassador of Narcissism
Peachfuzz Pulltab collected mirrors. She hung them in her house, eventually gathering so many that no part of her walls were visible. Peachfuzz always had multiple images of herself careening around the rooms as she went about her daily life. Still, Peachfuzz wasn’t satisfied. She bought more mirrors and began covering up her windows. Then her doors. Finally the ceiling and floors. Guests to her house fell in love with themselves. They saw themselves from above and below. They reflected on their place in the universe. They thanked Peachfuzz for the experience. Peachfuzz let them go back into the world.
30 May 2006
Being Mario Milosevic
He thinks he knows which one of us he is today but there are too many and he can’t keep track. He tries. We thwart him by offering deceptive clues. For instance, today he woke up in the man’s skin, but his thoughts were the dragonfly’s thoughts. Yesterday he dreamed as a granite stone dreams and thought he was being clever. He wasn’t. It was much more simple than than. He was a rock, briefly, and so had rock dreams. Now he waits for us to finish speaking. He listens closely, to write down the narrative of the next iteration.
29 May 2006
Data Mining
Rainmaker Thirdgear knew a lot. His personal store of information was so extensive that he had to get rid of some of it periodically, just to make room in his matrix for the everyday stuff like shoe tying and hair combing. Rainmaker’s favorite thinning method was to put on a yard sale once a year. He offered bargains on dodo recipes, treatises on the care and feeding of dinosaurs, UFO repair manuals, and other esoteric information. Whatever he couldn’t sell, Rainmaker burned in his backyard burn barrel. The neighbors complained about the smell. Rainmaker noted their displeasure for future reference.
28 May 2006
She Once Heard Death Was Supposed to Feel Something Like This
Coldkey Pianobones ate a generous serving of amnesia soup, which she made herself from a recipe she found in her grandmother’s favorite cookbook. As soon as she ate the soup she completely forgot everything about her childhood. That felt good. Coldkey ate another bowl. All memories of the rest of her life up to that point disappeared from her mind. She looked at the pot quietly simmering on her stove. Coldkey lifted the ladle and poured some of the soup into the bowl. She took a long breath, picked up a spoon, and prepared to dip it into the soup.
27 May 2006
Breakable
Slayride Foxprint loved to hunt deer, elk, moose, wolves, and duck. She gave birth to a son and named him Hunter. She took Hunter into the woods as soon as he was old enough to walk. Whenever she shot an animal, Hunter cried for days. After a few episodes of this behavior Slayride decided to leave Hunter at home when she went stalking her game. When Hunter was old enough to articulate his feelings, he told Slayride that he could read the thoughts of animals. As they died he felt their deaths. Slayride’s heart did not mend for many years.
26 May 2006
Daily Service
Ringfinger Bloodstain graduated from cooking school and immediately opened what she called the church of nourishment. She invited worshippers from all faiths to come indulge in the sacred power of well prepared food. Within a month Ringfinger’s establishment was packed with diners every night, most of them happy to eat what she served, but unaware they were in a church. They thought they had stumbled onto an eccentrically designed restaurant. A local food reviewer gave Ringfinger an exceptionally good notice. You’ll think you died and went to heaven, he wrote. Everything I ate at this unique establishment is simply divine.
25 May 2006
A Short History of Dust
Year 1: The vacuum cleaner doesn’t reach all the corners, especially under the couch. Year 10: The dust clumps grow at an alarming rate we cannot suppress. Year 100: The first stirrings of consciousness snake through the dust clumps like puffy networks. Year 1,000: Psychics channel the thoughts of the dust clumps. Year 10,000: We name the clumps after various species of rabbit. Year 100,000: The clumps migrate to remote locations in the Australian outback where they build shelters and provide for their offspring. Year 1,000,000: We visit the clumps. We respect their society. We want to emulate their happiness.
Labels: Short history
24 May 2006
A Short History of the Past
Year 1: All our histories are intact. Year -10: Our memories have a few frayed edges. Year -100: Serious decay sets in. We question reports from the frontiers of cognition. Year -1,000: We find it necessary to suppress all our inner voices. The voices leave us and form their own robust society. Year -10,000: We see rock, smoke, rain, and lightning. We prefer to close our eyes. Year -100,000: No one can say how many of us there are. We await the ability to count. Year -1,000,000: We construct a web for the future. We have nothing, but want everything.
Labels: Short history
23 May 2006
A Short History of Smokestacks
Year 1: We burn wood. The smoke stings our eyes. Year 10: We burn coal. The smoke stings our eyes. Year 100: We burn oil. The smoke stings our eyes. Year 1,000: We build a stove to burn stuff in. The smoke stings the sky. Year 10,000: We dig up chunks of the earth and roast them until they melt. Smoke rises. Year 100,000: We put up tall metal and concrete tubes and snake smoke through them. The smoke flowers at the top and spreads out like petals in wind. Year 1,000,000: We burn garbage. The smoke stings our eyes.
Labels: Short history
22 May 2006
The Final (For Now) Short History of Time Travel
Year 1: We find the device will not go in the other direction. We are filled with despair. Year 1: We are resigned to our fate. Year 1: We observe wars and pestilence. Year 1: We collect timepieces at each stop. Year 1: We are greeted as great explorers in a world we stumble upon completely by accident. We meet some of our ancestors. Year 1: We anticipate a not so pleasant final stop at the big bang. Year 1: We find plans for a tachyonic transportation device among the effects of our recently deceased grandfather. We build the device.
Labels: Short history
21 May 2006
Yet Another Short History of Time Travel
Year 1,000,000: We find plans for a tachyonic transportation device among the effects of our recently deceased grandfather. We build the device. Year 1: We anticipate a not so pleasant final stop at the big bang. Year 100,000: We are greeted as great explorers in a world we stumble upon completely by accident. We meet some of our ancestors. Year 10: We collect timepieces at each stop. Year 10,000: We observe wars and pestilence. Year 100: We are resigned to our fate. Year 1,000: We find the device will not go in the other direction. We are filled with despair.
Labels: Short history
20 May 2006
Another Short History of Time Travel
Year 1: We anticipate a not so pleasant final stop at the big bang. Year 10: We collect timepieces at each stop. Year 100: We are resigned to our fate. Year 1,000: We find the device will not go in the other direction. We are filled with despair. Year 10,000: We observe wars and pestilence. Year 100,000: We are greeted as great explorers in a world we stumble upon completely by accident. We meet some of our ancestors. Year 1,000,000: We find plans for a tachyonic transportation device among the effects of our recently deceased grandfather. We build the device.
Labels: Short history
19 May 2006
A Short History of Gardening
Year 1: There is no soil. The world is made of two realms, the yin of water, and the yang of rock. Year 10: Some algae creeps up from the ocean to the rock. Year 100: A few simple creatures follow. Year 1,000: The algae dies and becomes soil for moss, grass, flowers, shrubs, and trees. Year 10,000: Land creatures imitate plants, becoming numerous and varied. Year 100,000: The creatures with the mutated brains discover a peculiar and deep ancestral joy from watching plants grow. Year 1,000,000: They create a thriving market in watering cans, seeds, and bags of soil.
Labels: Short history
18 May 2006
A Short History of Division
Year 1: We stumble onto a knife blade. We are cut and require numerous stitches. Year 0.1: While recovering we watch The Incredible Shrinking Man and are moved to tears by his circumstances. Year 0.01: We buy ice cream and divide it equally among us. Year 0.001: We discover our method of apportioning the ice cream is seriously flawed. Some got less than others. Year 0.0001: We are running out of room in which to think and mull over alternatives. Year 0.00001: The ants loom above us, threatening to divide our bodies into little chewy bits. Year 0.000001: We are fascinated by the concept of proton decay. Year 0.0000001: Unity frightens us. We are all for one.
Labels: Short history
17 May 2006
A Short History of Time Travel
Year 1,000,000: We find plans for a tachyonic transportation device among the effects of our recently deceased grandfather. We build the device. Year 100,000: We are greeted as great explorers in a world we stumble upon completely by accident. We meet some of our ancestors. Year 10,000: We observe wars and pestilence. Year 1,000: We find the device will not go in the other direction. We are filled with despair. Year 100: We are resigned to our fate. Year 10: We collect timepieces at each stop. Year 1: We anticipate a not so pleasant final stop at the big bang.
Labels: Short history
16 May 2006
A Short History of Windows
Year 1: We stitch banana leaves into panes. Installation is relatively easy, but it’s hard to look through. Year 10: We leave our windows unpaned. The breeze is nice. Year 100: Someone invents glass. Year 1,000: We build numerous frames and fill them with sheets of glass. Our alarmists warn of an impending epidemic of cuts. Year 10,000: A baseball crashes through a window. Year 100,000: We sit behind large picture windows and imagine what it might be like to live in the world. Year 1,000,000: The art of graffiti beckons. We spray paint all the windows of the world.
Labels: Short history
15 May 2006
A Short History of Doubt
Year 1: We refuse to believe our eyes. Year 10: We refuse to believe our ears. Year 100: We are, however, pretty comfortable with our noses, fingers, and tongues, though some of us just don’t want to believe anything. We begin producing pamphlets denouncing both science and religion as superstitious claptrap undeserving of our respect. Year 1,000: Skepticism is universally recognized as a sign of health. Year 10,000: We criticize our governments. Year 100,000: We read our history books and do not believe a word. Year 1,000,000: We see every vision. We hear all music. The universe mistrusts our existence.
Labels: Short history
14 May 2006
A Short History of Waves
Year 1: We raise our hands in fear of being eaten by wild beasts. Year 10: The beasts are tamed. They lie down whenever we spread our hands. Year 100: We observe sea water and imitate its motion by undulating our hands. Year 1,000: We sit in vehicles in parades and rock our arms like metronomes. Year 10,000: Arthritis arrives. We hold our hands flat, supported by our other hand. Year 100,000: We meet our ancestors returning from the dead and are too shocked to wave. Year 1,000,000: Our hands curl into permanent fists. We recall the lapping of water.
Labels: Short history
13 May 2006
A Short History of Traffic Jams
Year 1: We are stopped by a herd of sheep. Year 10: We invent public parking. No one finds a free space without offering a substantial bribe to the parking czar. Year 100: We collide with another vehicle. Heated words are exchanged. Year 1,000: We arrive home from our evening commute an hour after we need to leave for our morning commute. Year 10,000: Benevolent worms explain the rudiments of living in one another’s laps. Year 100,000: We abandon our vehicles and pick flowers. Year 1,000,000: Crazy people invent a car. We incarcerate them in a house for the insane.
Labels: Short history
12 May 2006
Critics
An abandoned eagle’s nest fell out of a tree next to the creek behind our property. The ingenious arrangement of thick interlocking twigs had us mesmerized. It was not held together by any kind of mortaring agent, yet it was as tightly constructed as any stone wall. We entered the nest in a local art show, listing the artist as Anne Eagle. The juror for the show rejected the piece. There’s nothing new here, he said. There are thousands just like this one. We took the nest home and put it on our coffee table. Eagles swooped by our window.
11 May 2006
Creation Myths
The stork brought you. Matter comes from empty space. There is nothing new under the sun. Your country was made by heroes. You were forged in the core of a star. Bees make honey. You need inspiration to create art. Life begins at forty. We are the reincarnation of previous lives. The Earth is the creator’s teardrop. Inventors suffer. The big bang started it all. You were found under a cabbage leaf. Comets seeded the planets. The world is a centipede’s dream. We evolved from single-celled organisms. You make your own reality. We invented language to make lies more plausible.
10 May 2006
The Dismaying Truth About Schoolyards
You can adhere to your pacifist values for weeks or months, politely asking the bully to please refrain from taunting you, poking at you, slapping your head, punching your shoulder, and goading you with incessant indignities. But you won’t get any respect until you finally seize the bothersome pip-squeak and spin him around and release him flying through the air to come down tumbling in a heap on the hard ground. He will be mostly unhurt but he will not be picking at you anymore and classmates will look at you with renewed interest, wanting you to join their club.
09 May 2006
How to Nurture a Recovery
When I was a kid I knew a neighborhood alcoholic. He attended AA meetings and once discovered Christ and another time spoke ominously about a drug he was on that would kill him if had a single drop of booze. I was too young to understand, but I remember his basement garden where he had banks of fluorescent lights suspended over hundreds of plants: herbs, flowers, succulents. Most days he spent hours in his artificial jungle tending to soil and seed. I’d sit with him sometimes, shielding my eyes from the glare, watching him drink in the damp life-stained air.
08 May 2006
Time Capsule
Plastic wrap; hair; DVDs; something radioactive; money; illicit drugs; remote control; digital watch; pond water; leash; bar code; light bulb; someone’s wallet; someone’s purse; credit card; deodorant; power suit; big mac; handmade quilt; microwave oven; embalmers tools; tv guide; world almanac; sea water; comic book; feather; disposable camera; child’s christmas wish list; seeds; tap water; barbed wire; pay check; credit card; movie tickets; T-shirt; house key; pen; socks; telescope; head phones; election ballot; postmarked mail; twig; homemade preserves; supermarket receipt; pair of jeans; deck of cards; restaurant menu; binoculars; cigarettes; land deed; grass; platform shoes; concrete; fossil fuel; bubble gum.
07 May 2006
A Memoir From the Age of Wrinkles
It was a great leveler, I’ll say that for it. Everyone looked old. Really old. Some scientist types theorized the wrinkles were some kind of quantum effect working on the elasticity covalence of skin cells. Sounded like a crock to me, but what did I know? My personal view was that we were living years ahead of our time. The wrinkles were an artifact of the future. My four year old daughter had different ideas. She believed it was so we would feel more friendly toward the animals. Under all that fur, she said, they got wrinkles just like us.
Labels: Memoirs from the ages
06 May 2006
A Memoir From the Age of Snores
We heard everyone else snore, but never ourselves. Many mystics claimed all the snorers of the world were channeling ancient spirits. This pleased some people until the mystics added that these were less than savory ancient spirits. These were the ancient spirits that got their jollies from knowing they were going to annoy a great many future generations. A lot of snorers found this unacceptable. They decided they would annoy past generations. To that end we decided we wouldn’t sleep anymore. We had a lot of time on our hands and quickly grew bored. Sometimes we heard the spirits laughing.
Labels: Memoirs from the ages
05 May 2006
A Memoir From the Age of Giggles
We were breathless for long periods of time. This was terribly distressing. We rented the saddest movies we could find. It didn’t help. In fact, it only made life more unbearable because even the most manipulative tear jerkers made us convulse with laughter. Newspapers were the worst. Stories of death, disaster, depravity, and so on, were only occasions for guffaws and uncontrollable tee hees. It wasn’t our fault that everything seemed like a joke. Everything was a joke. A leaky pen was satirical. The sun in the sky was a tired sitcom. We all just wanted to sleep.
Labels: Memoirs from the ages
04 May 2006
A Memoir From the Age of Farts
Anosmia temporarily became a much prized ailment. Elevator companies had to lay off employees because people began avoiding their products. I noticed a liberating sense of freedom infected people everywhere. It was like our secrets were no longer secret. Tension lines began to slide off the faces of strangers. The liberating power of expelled gases changed everything. Houses of worship went empty. Schools were abandoned. No one wanted to go to work. The natural world in all its glory beckoned. We answered the call and lived as our ancestors once lived: close to the land. We loved our animal selves.
Labels: Memoirs from the ages
03 May 2006
A Memoir From the Age of Coughs
We were all hacks then. Even the ones who took the suppressant medications. No one was safe and nothing worked. Some scholars attempted studies of the meaning of coughs. I was one of them. I created an alphabet and tossed around the semantics of throat clearing in several papers which were published, but, somehow, were not well received. Must have been ahead of my time. I left the institute to conduct my own research on my own terms. Ended up on a remote island. The inhabitants coughed my language. I abandoned my research and lived among them as an equal.
Labels: Memoirs from the ages
02 May 2006
A Memoir From the Age of Hums
Well, I’m sure you don’t want to hear anymore jokes about how none of us knew the words back then. I won’t bore you with any of those. But the humming era was much richer than the popular histories have been letting on. We knew how to harmonize and counterpoint. Our melodies were inspired. Even the ones we stole from old songs. Everyone hummed. It was glorious. You only had to step out of your house and walk down the sidewalk at any time of day or night to hear a symphony. TV sales were at an all time low.
Labels: Memoirs from the ages
01 May 2006
A Memoir From the Age of Kisses
Yes, of course it sounds wonderful. Who wouldn’t want to live in a world of constant kisses? But it was a compulsion, don’t you see. Everyone kissing everyone else all the time. It grew very unpleasant in a very short time. You got so you’d keep your mouth clamped tightly shut just so the kisser could do their kiss quickly and move on. You never wanted any tongue, that was for sure. There were people who said it made the human race more intimate. Most of us were just glad when it was over. We preferred hand shakes and smiles.
Labels: Memoirs from the ages
