At Best and Menta, looking for shorts:
Maria Goyri: Do you have any very small beach shorts, for less than two euro?
Assistant: Why yes! I'm sure we do.
(she flicks through the racks of second hand children's clothing).
Assistant: How about these?
Belle: How lovely! Do you like them, baby?
Baby: I want ones with tigers, or skulls.
Assistant: These have cute little geckos, all different colours. See? Pink, yellow and blue.
Baby: Pink ones! That's girly.
Marie: For goodness sake. He's young to be so opinionated!
Belle: But look, baby, the background is blue. And Sweezus loves geckoes.
Baby: No he doesn't.
Maria Goyri: Come on. We don't have all day. Get that nappy off.
Baby (outraged): It's not a nappy. And it doesn't come off.
Maria Goyri: Pull them on over the top then.
( you can see she's a mother)
Baby (now wearing the blue shorts with pink and yellow geckoes): I look like a girl.
Maria Goyri: What does that matter? How much are they?
Assistant: One euro ninety nine.
Maria Goyri: We'll take them.
Assistant: Anything else I can help you with?
Baby: Any stinky yellow bandages?
Assistant: Err, no.
At Cafe-Bar Bicicleta, the philosophers are hard at it.
Vello: And you call yourself a pragmatist!
George Santayana: I do. There's a difference between practical and philosophical pragmatism.
Vello: Do tell.
George Santayana: Maria Goyri is a practical person, whereas I am a thinker.
Vello: And what do you think about, as a pragmatist?
George Santayana: I think about the practical effects of the object of my conception.
Vello: Let's say the object of your conception is baby Terence. What are his practical effects?
Fortuitously, at this moment, in comes baby Terence, sporting his new gecko shorts. He is in the arms of the redoubtable Maria Goyri. She plops him down.
Sweezus: Woah! Radical shorts, man! Love the lizards.
Baby Terence: They're geckos.
Sweezus: Yeah geckos, whatever.
David: Very nice. And I suppose he'll grow into them.
Baby Terence: I knew they were too big. I'm taking them off!
(he starts pulling them off).
Belle (inspirationally): No! Roll them up. Show your knees, like the big boys.
( she does it for him )
Baby Terence: Good. Now for my haircut.....
Sweezus: Chill out, Terence.
Baby Terence: Did I hear that? Did you call me Terence?
Saturday, August 30, 2014
Friday, August 29, 2014
Nothing Human Is Alien
In Bar-Cafe Bicicleta, half an hour later:
Vello: What a wonderful lunch. I think we've had more than we ordered.
Maria Goyri: Don't worry. We'll pay.
(she glares at the waiter)
David: We'll only pay for what we ordered.
Waiter: Zen non' eatzo mucho.
Schopenhauer: Tut! it doesn't matter I'll get the bill. I must say, I'm enjoying this conference.
George Santayana: I too. It's been pleasant to meet some young people.
Baby: And a baby, from a palace.
George Santayana: Yes, even a baby. I count myself a pragmatist, after all.
Baby: No one else has said anything nice. Will you take me shopping?
George Santayana (alarmed): Goodness. What for?
Sweezus: Oh balls! I forgot. He wants to go shopping for board shorts.
Maria Goyri: He appears to be dreadfully spoilt. Give him to me.
She picks up the baby and walks out of the cafe, without looking back.
Sweezus: Shit! Where's she going? If anything happens to him.....
Arthur: I thought you'd gone off him.
Sweezus: Yeah but like.. what if she drops him or something?
Belle: She's a mother. She won't drop him. Marie and I will go after her, if you're worried.
They get up and go out of the cafe.
They catch up with Maria Goyri.
Baby: Where are we going?
Maria Goyri: Best and Menta.
Baby (aghast): The second hand shop! No way!
Back in Bar-Cafe Bicicleta:
Vello: It's peaceful without that baby.
David: What was his name?
Sweezus: Let me think. Dunno. Did he even have one?
José Ortega y Gasset: Let us give him a name.
George Santayana: I vote for Terence.
Sweezus: That's cool!
Arthur: Good name for an alien.
Schopenhauer: Who's for another?
He hails the bad waiter, who comes.
Vello: What a wonderful lunch. I think we've had more than we ordered.
Maria Goyri: Don't worry. We'll pay.
(she glares at the waiter)
David: We'll only pay for what we ordered.
Waiter: Zen non' eatzo mucho.
Schopenhauer: Tut! it doesn't matter I'll get the bill. I must say, I'm enjoying this conference.
George Santayana: I too. It's been pleasant to meet some young people.
Baby: And a baby, from a palace.
George Santayana: Yes, even a baby. I count myself a pragmatist, after all.
Baby: No one else has said anything nice. Will you take me shopping?
George Santayana (alarmed): Goodness. What for?
Sweezus: Oh balls! I forgot. He wants to go shopping for board shorts.
Maria Goyri: He appears to be dreadfully spoilt. Give him to me.
She picks up the baby and walks out of the cafe, without looking back.
Sweezus: Shit! Where's she going? If anything happens to him.....
Arthur: I thought you'd gone off him.
Sweezus: Yeah but like.. what if she drops him or something?
Belle: She's a mother. She won't drop him. Marie and I will go after her, if you're worried.
They get up and go out of the cafe.
They catch up with Maria Goyri.
Baby: Where are we going?
Maria Goyri: Best and Menta.
Baby (aghast): The second hand shop! No way!
Back in Bar-Cafe Bicicleta:
Vello: It's peaceful without that baby.
David: What was his name?
Sweezus: Let me think. Dunno. Did he even have one?
José Ortega y Gasset: Let us give him a name.
George Santayana: I vote for Terence.
Sweezus: That's cool!
Arthur: Good name for an alien.
Schopenhauer: Who's for another?
He hails the bad waiter, who comes.
There's The Baby To Think Of
At Bar-Cafe Bicicleta, Vello orders drinks, while they wait for their friends.
The waiter brings ten drinks.
Scusi, says Vello, Vouz avez broucto plus multo boito. We are septe, non diz.
Papa, says Belle. Not a single word of that was Spanish.
I'll tell him, says Maria Goyri.
She speaks to the waiter in Spanish: We are seven, not ten. You have brought us too many drinks.
This is what the gentleman ordered, says the waiter, also in Spanish. So you must pay for ten drinks.
You are a scoundrel, says Maria Goyri.
The waiter shimmies away.
José, George, Sweezus and the baby enter Bar-Cafe Bicicleta.
Hola! says José. What a fine choice of venue for cyclists.
Sweezie! cries Belle. Who's this?
This is.... says Sweezus. This is....... a baby.
How adorable, says Belle. Let me have him.
She stands up to reach for the baby. Takes the baby. Sits down.
Ouch, she has sat on a safety pin! The one Maria Goyri lent her.
She lets go of the baby.
The baby tumbles to the ground.
Are you a demon? asks the baby.
Of course not, says Belle. I sat on a safety pin. It's popped open. Sorry baby, come here.
No, says the baby. You only get one chance with me.
The baby spots Arthur.
Arthur wears Brave Soul Paisley Skull shorts. He has yellow stained bandages wrapped loosely round both knees. And a backpack.
Guess who I am, says the baby, to Arthur.
Probably no one, says Arthur. But.... you look familiar.
If I had some beach shorts, says the baby, and a haircut......who would I look like?
Me, says Arthur. Or him.
I don't understand it, says Maria Goyri. You can't kidnap a baby. Where did he come from?
Schopenhauer yawns. Fancy bringing a baby!
Sweezus picks up the baby.
He fell off his palace, says Sweezus. He was replaced by a parrot. I'm his future. He's me.
Impossible, says David.
Yeah that's what I reckon, says Sweezus. Maybe I'm still delusional.
Maybe he is. But there is the baby to think of.
The waiter brings ten drinks.
Scusi, says Vello, Vouz avez broucto plus multo boito. We are septe, non diz.
Papa, says Belle. Not a single word of that was Spanish.
I'll tell him, says Maria Goyri.
She speaks to the waiter in Spanish: We are seven, not ten. You have brought us too many drinks.
This is what the gentleman ordered, says the waiter, also in Spanish. So you must pay for ten drinks.
You are a scoundrel, says Maria Goyri.
The waiter shimmies away.
José, George, Sweezus and the baby enter Bar-Cafe Bicicleta.
Hola! says José. What a fine choice of venue for cyclists.
Sweezie! cries Belle. Who's this?
This is.... says Sweezus. This is....... a baby.
How adorable, says Belle. Let me have him.
She stands up to reach for the baby. Takes the baby. Sits down.
Ouch, she has sat on a safety pin! The one Maria Goyri lent her.
She lets go of the baby.
The baby tumbles to the ground.
Are you a demon? asks the baby.
Of course not, says Belle. I sat on a safety pin. It's popped open. Sorry baby, come here.
No, says the baby. You only get one chance with me.
The baby spots Arthur.
Arthur wears Brave Soul Paisley Skull shorts. He has yellow stained bandages wrapped loosely round both knees. And a backpack.
Guess who I am, says the baby, to Arthur.
Probably no one, says Arthur. But.... you look familiar.
If I had some beach shorts, says the baby, and a haircut......who would I look like?
Me, says Arthur. Or him.
I don't understand it, says Maria Goyri. You can't kidnap a baby. Where did he come from?
Schopenhauer yawns. Fancy bringing a baby!
Sweezus picks up the baby.
He fell off his palace, says Sweezus. He was replaced by a parrot. I'm his future. He's me.
Impossible, says David.
Yeah that's what I reckon, says Sweezus. Maybe I'm still delusional.
Maybe he is. But there is the baby to think of.
Thursday, August 28, 2014
The Child Is The Father Of Man
I've got it, says Sweezus. The parrot must do something bad in the future.
It's not a parrot, says Ortega y Gasset.
It's already done something bad, says the baby.
What? says Sweezus.
An impersonation, says the baby. Come on, let's go.
Sweezus looks up at the Holy Family. Saint Joseph with his nails and his hammer, looming over the Virgin, being gulled by a pigeon.
Where to? says Sweezus.
The shops, says the baby.
Not the shops! says George Santayana. We have a lunch date.
So we do, says Ortega y Gasset. It's almost twelve thirty.
Sweezus looks at his watch.
Where did the time go?
He has already picked up the baby.
Goodbye palace, says the baby.
It's not a palace, says George Santayana.
It's my palace, says the baby. Look at the spokes.
George rolls his eyes.
He's a baby , says Sweezus. He thinks they're spokes. Like he thinks a pigeon's a parrot.
I never had any children, says George Santayana.
You still don't, says the baby.
He snuggles up to Sweezus.
Hey! says Sweezus. Cut that out.
Shops, says the baby.
Lunch, says George Santayana.
Come on, says Sweezus to the baby. You always liked lunch.
Ha! Gotcha. The baby has always liked lunch.
But after, says the baby. I want to get board shorts like you wear. With tigers.
These are big person shorts, says Sweezus.
How come he knows how to speak to a baby?
Orange and black tigers, says the baby.
We'll see.
Meanwhile they are walking to the place where they have arranged to meet David, Vello and Schopenhauer, and Maria Goyri.
Bar-Cafe Bicicleta. It's not far away.
It's not a parrot, says Ortega y Gasset.
It's already done something bad, says the baby.
What? says Sweezus.
An impersonation, says the baby. Come on, let's go.
Sweezus looks up at the Holy Family. Saint Joseph with his nails and his hammer, looming over the Virgin, being gulled by a pigeon.
Where to? says Sweezus.
The shops, says the baby.
Not the shops! says George Santayana. We have a lunch date.
So we do, says Ortega y Gasset. It's almost twelve thirty.
Sweezus looks at his watch.
Where did the time go?
He has already picked up the baby.
Goodbye palace, says the baby.
It's not a palace, says George Santayana.
It's my palace, says the baby. Look at the spokes.
George rolls his eyes.
He's a baby , says Sweezus. He thinks they're spokes. Like he thinks a pigeon's a parrot.
I never had any children, says George Santayana.
You still don't, says the baby.
He snuggles up to Sweezus.
Hey! says Sweezus. Cut that out.
Shops, says the baby.
Lunch, says George Santayana.
Come on, says Sweezus to the baby. You always liked lunch.
Ha! Gotcha. The baby has always liked lunch.
But after, says the baby. I want to get board shorts like you wear. With tigers.
These are big person shorts, says Sweezus.
How come he knows how to speak to a baby?
Orange and black tigers, says the baby.
We'll see.
Meanwhile they are walking to the place where they have arranged to meet David, Vello and Schopenhauer, and Maria Goyri.
Bar-Cafe Bicicleta. It's not far away.
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
The Paraclete And The Hammer
Pick me up, says the baby.
No, says Sweezus. I need thinking time. There are movies about this kind of thing....
Waah! wails the baby.
Pick him up, says Ortega y Gasset. What's the problem?
He's met himself in the future, says Sweezus. Can't happen.
Too late! says the baby.
Too early, says Sweezus. How old are you?
Two thousand and twenty six, says the baby, pulling numbers out of the air.
A snort is heard overhead, and a vague tutting.
No one looks up.
How old? says Ortega y Gasset.
Three, says the baby.
You are not three, says Ortega y Gasset.
One, then, says the baby. Pick me up, NOW!
Sweezus thinks: Man, this is cosmic!
He pokes at the baby.
Nothing.
I want to be like you, says the baby. I want those shorts and that haircut.
Get back up here this minute! snarls Saint Joseph. Or I'll come down there with my hammer.
A pigeon alights on the lap of the Virgin.
She folds it to her bosom.
It's all right dear, says the Virgin.
The baby looks up at the pigeon, which has taken his place.
That's my parrot, says the baby.
As long as it doesn't come near me, says Sweezus. I hate birds. I never could stand them.
Wrong, says the baby. You used to love all the birdies.
Sweezus is puzzled. How could this have happened?
No, says Sweezus. I need thinking time. There are movies about this kind of thing....
Waah! wails the baby.
Pick him up, says Ortega y Gasset. What's the problem?
He's met himself in the future, says Sweezus. Can't happen.
Too late! says the baby.
Too early, says Sweezus. How old are you?
Two thousand and twenty six, says the baby, pulling numbers out of the air.
A snort is heard overhead, and a vague tutting.
No one looks up.
How old? says Ortega y Gasset.
Three, says the baby.
You are not three, says Ortega y Gasset.
One, then, says the baby. Pick me up, NOW!
Sweezus thinks: Man, this is cosmic!
He pokes at the baby.
Nothing.
I want to be like you, says the baby. I want those shorts and that haircut.
Get back up here this minute! snarls Saint Joseph. Or I'll come down there with my hammer.
A pigeon alights on the lap of the Virgin.
She folds it to her bosom.
It's all right dear, says the Virgin.
The baby looks up at the pigeon, which has taken his place.
That's my parrot, says the baby.
As long as it doesn't come near me, says Sweezus. I hate birds. I never could stand them.
Wrong, says the baby. You used to love all the birdies.
Sweezus is puzzled. How could this have happened?
Monday, August 25, 2014
The Holy Family
Sweezus looks at his watch for the twelfth time.
Ten forty two.
When will José and George stop talking?
They drone on about the architect Antoni Gaudi. And about how freaking long ......
Sweezus stares up at the Sagrada Familia.
Saint Joseph looks down. His lip curls when he sees Sweezus.
He nudges the Virgin.
Look down there, honey.
She looks.What a ridiculous hairstyle! What comical shorts. Bender Mash, if she knows her beach shorts. She smiles a watery smile and tries to avert the eyes of her baby.
The baby's eyes won't be averted. No, mama! I want to look at the funny....waaah! daddy! mama hit me!
.........be finished by 2026, says George Santayana.
Or possibly later, says José Ortega y Gasset.
Woah, says Sweezus. How come you you guys know so much about buildings?
We are intellectuals, says José Ortega y Gasset. We have intellectual curiosity.
Awesome, says Sweezus. I'm into that. I mean yeah. Not that exactly. Not buildings.
Nihil humanum mihi alienum est, says George Santayana.
Aliens, says Sweezus. Now you're talking.
Not that exactly, says José Ortega y Gasset. It's Terence.
Oh, says Sweezus. He looks at his watch.
Ten fifty. Nowhere near lunch time.
Crash!
The baby has squirmed from the arms of his mama, and dropped to the ground in front of the man in the beach shorts. Naturally, the baby's not broken. Not even chipped. He holds up his chubby little arms.
Sweezus wonders what will happen when he picks up the baby.
Ten forty two.
When will José and George stop talking?
They drone on about the architect Antoni Gaudi. And about how freaking long ......
Sweezus stares up at the Sagrada Familia.
Saint Joseph looks down. His lip curls when he sees Sweezus.
He nudges the Virgin.
Look down there, honey.
She looks.What a ridiculous hairstyle! What comical shorts. Bender Mash, if she knows her beach shorts. She smiles a watery smile and tries to avert the eyes of her baby.
The baby's eyes won't be averted. No, mama! I want to look at the funny....waaah! daddy! mama hit me!
.........be finished by 2026, says George Santayana.
Or possibly later, says José Ortega y Gasset.
Woah, says Sweezus. How come you you guys know so much about buildings?
We are intellectuals, says José Ortega y Gasset. We have intellectual curiosity.
Awesome, says Sweezus. I'm into that. I mean yeah. Not that exactly. Not buildings.
Nihil humanum mihi alienum est, says George Santayana.
Aliens, says Sweezus. Now you're talking.
Not that exactly, says José Ortega y Gasset. It's Terence.
Oh, says Sweezus. He looks at his watch.
Ten fifty. Nowhere near lunch time.
Crash!
The baby has squirmed from the arms of his mama, and dropped to the ground in front of the man in the beach shorts. Naturally, the baby's not broken. Not even chipped. He holds up his chubby little arms.
Sweezus wonders what will happen when he picks up the baby.
The Eyes Of A Woman
Arthur rides behind Belle on the scooter. The green tulle of her skirt blows up over his face
They pass the Museu de l'Erotica without stopping. Why would they?
Through a mist of green tulle Arthur thinks he sees something familiar. His bicycle, locked up to a railing.
Beating down the tulle, to see clearly, he lets go of Belle.
And rolls off the back of the scooter and into the road.
Belle! shouts Arthur.
Electric scooters are silent. When your passenger falls off the back, you can hear them call out.
Belle stops. Marie stops too.
Are you all right, Arthur? says Belle. Your knees are bleeding!
That's my bicycle, says Arthur.
It isn't, says Belle. Your bike is different.
No, says Arthur. It's mine. I lent it to Maria Goyri. She wanted to take Vello and David and Schopenhauer on a tour of Las Ramblas.
I don't believe it! says Belle They must be in the Museu de l'Erotica! How funny!
Let's go in, says Marie. How much is it?
Free, says Arthur. If you come in with me.
Arthur limps into the Museu de l'Erotica and up to the counter.
Oh Dios mio! says the woman behind it. Estas herido?
Fell off a scooter, says Arthur. Mind if I sit here?
Si, si! says the woman. Por favor, sientate.
And these are my friends, says Arthur. They will sit with me.
The woman disappears into a back room, to find a first aid kit.
Let's go, says Arthur.
But you're dripping, says Belle. At least wait for a bandage.
Arthur whips two yellow strips from his pocket. They smell faintly of oranges.
He ties them round his knees so he looks like a pirate.
They go through to the exhibition.
Eew, this is disgusting, says Belle.
Close your eyes then, says Marie. Ugh! Don't look at that horrible chair!
Arthur looks at the drawings, posters, sculptures and exhibits through his own eyes. Lame, in his judgement.
Then he tries to view the drawings, posters and exhibits through the eyes of a woman. Even more lame.
More lame? What sort of woman has he looked through the eyes of? Not a real one.
They go through to the coffee shop, where Maria Goyri, Vello, David and Schopenhauer are having coffee and cakes, and Maria Goyri is talking.
So you see the gender imbalance, says Maria Goyri.
Yes, says David, munching a pastry.
And the objectification of women, says Maria Goyri,
Yes, says Vello, chomping a cake.
Schopenhauer is wondering what he will have to agree to, when he spots Arthur, Belle and Marie.
Hello! says Schopenhauer. Fancy seeing you here!
Belle! says Vello. Marie! I don't think you've met Maria Goyri.
Maria Goyri turns her face towards Belle and Marie.
So these are the famous girls, says Maria Goyri.
Marie and Belle like the title. Belle picks up her skirt and performs an ironical curtsey, followed by a graceful pirouette.
Oh, your pretty green dress is torn at the back, dear, says Maria Goyri. Come here. My goodness. They look like teeth marks.
Teeth marks! TEETH MARKS! It can only be Arthur.
Where is Arthur?
Gone off to find some more cakes.
They pass the Museu de l'Erotica without stopping. Why would they?
Through a mist of green tulle Arthur thinks he sees something familiar. His bicycle, locked up to a railing.
Beating down the tulle, to see clearly, he lets go of Belle.
And rolls off the back of the scooter and into the road.
Belle! shouts Arthur.
Electric scooters are silent. When your passenger falls off the back, you can hear them call out.
Belle stops. Marie stops too.
Are you all right, Arthur? says Belle. Your knees are bleeding!
That's my bicycle, says Arthur.
It isn't, says Belle. Your bike is different.
No, says Arthur. It's mine. I lent it to Maria Goyri. She wanted to take Vello and David and Schopenhauer on a tour of Las Ramblas.
I don't believe it! says Belle They must be in the Museu de l'Erotica! How funny!
Let's go in, says Marie. How much is it?
Free, says Arthur. If you come in with me.
Arthur limps into the Museu de l'Erotica and up to the counter.
Oh Dios mio! says the woman behind it. Estas herido?
Fell off a scooter, says Arthur. Mind if I sit here?
Si, si! says the woman. Por favor, sientate.
And these are my friends, says Arthur. They will sit with me.
The woman disappears into a back room, to find a first aid kit.
Let's go, says Arthur.
But you're dripping, says Belle. At least wait for a bandage.
Arthur whips two yellow strips from his pocket. They smell faintly of oranges.
He ties them round his knees so he looks like a pirate.
They go through to the exhibition.
Eew, this is disgusting, says Belle.
Close your eyes then, says Marie. Ugh! Don't look at that horrible chair!
Arthur looks at the drawings, posters, sculptures and exhibits through his own eyes. Lame, in his judgement.
Then he tries to view the drawings, posters and exhibits through the eyes of a woman. Even more lame.
More lame? What sort of woman has he looked through the eyes of? Not a real one.
They go through to the coffee shop, where Maria Goyri, Vello, David and Schopenhauer are having coffee and cakes, and Maria Goyri is talking.
So you see the gender imbalance, says Maria Goyri.
Yes, says David, munching a pastry.
And the objectification of women, says Maria Goyri,
Yes, says Vello, chomping a cake.
Schopenhauer is wondering what he will have to agree to, when he spots Arthur, Belle and Marie.
Hello! says Schopenhauer. Fancy seeing you here!
Belle! says Vello. Marie! I don't think you've met Maria Goyri.
Maria Goyri turns her face towards Belle and Marie.
So these are the famous girls, says Maria Goyri.
Marie and Belle like the title. Belle picks up her skirt and performs an ironical curtsey, followed by a graceful pirouette.
Oh, your pretty green dress is torn at the back, dear, says Maria Goyri. Come here. My goodness. They look like teeth marks.
Teeth marks! TEETH MARKS! It can only be Arthur.
Where is Arthur?
Gone off to find some more cakes.
Saturday, August 23, 2014
The Sublime The Ridiculous And The Erotic
Next morning, in Barcelona:
Ramon is at home with the children.
Maria Goyri is cycling to a predetermined location.
She is on Arthur's bike.
Vello, Schopenhauer and David are heading for the same pre-determined location.
José Ortega y Gasset and George Santayana are standing in front of the Sagrada Familia with Sweezus.
Sweezus is in a bad mood today. Understandably.
Cheer up, says George. They'll be back by lunch time.
Arthur, Belle and Marie have hired two Green Electric Motos and are about to set off on a tour.
The Green Motos are one hundred percent eco-friendly, and, being electric, are silent. They also have GPS.
Before you get on behind me, says Belle to Arthur, here are the rules. Firstly, no.....
I didn't bring it, says Arthur.
What? says Belle.
Nothing, says Arthur. Because in his pocket, he does have the knife.
No funny business, says Belle. Hands on my waist. And if my dress blows up into your face....
Yes? says Arthur.
You must tell me, says Belle. I'll slow down.
Ready, says Marie. Here we go. First stop Las Ramblas.
...........
Ramon is making playdough for the children.
Where did mama go? says one.
Out, says Ramon shortly. she'll be home at lunch time.
It would not be good for the children to know where their mother has gone with the three foreign gentlemen.
Maria Goyri stops outside the Museu de l'Erotica, and looks for somewhere to lock up the bike.
How kind of that young poet to lend it. Such a quality bike it is too.
Here come David and Schopenhauer, with Vello lagging behind. He must have made quite a night of it.
Hello, says Maria Goyri. Ready for an education?
It's nine euros to enter. The Museum is small.
There are old fashioned erotic prints and drawings on the walls, and a video, looping.
David peers at the prints.
Schopenhauer becomes aware for the first time that one of his boots squeaks.
Vello hears a young woman tell her friend. There were no light in the toilets. And I had to share them with a giant penis.
Cool, says her friend.
Maria Goyri says: Let's go into the courtyard for a free coffee. It's getting stuffy in here.
......
José and George are explaining the Sagrada Familia to Sweezus.
This is the Nativity Facade, says George. It's Spanish Late Gothic. That is the Tree of Life above the Door of Jesus. Note the tortoises under the columns, and chameleons, over there. Gaudi wished all the statues to be painted bright colours.
Sweezus looks at his watch. Half past ten.
Ramon is at home with the children.
Maria Goyri is cycling to a predetermined location.
She is on Arthur's bike.
Vello, Schopenhauer and David are heading for the same pre-determined location.
José Ortega y Gasset and George Santayana are standing in front of the Sagrada Familia with Sweezus.
Sweezus is in a bad mood today. Understandably.
Cheer up, says George. They'll be back by lunch time.
Arthur, Belle and Marie have hired two Green Electric Motos and are about to set off on a tour.
The Green Motos are one hundred percent eco-friendly, and, being electric, are silent. They also have GPS.
Before you get on behind me, says Belle to Arthur, here are the rules. Firstly, no.....
I didn't bring it, says Arthur.
What? says Belle.
Nothing, says Arthur. Because in his pocket, he does have the knife.
No funny business, says Belle. Hands on my waist. And if my dress blows up into your face....
Yes? says Arthur.
You must tell me, says Belle. I'll slow down.
Ready, says Marie. Here we go. First stop Las Ramblas.
...........
Ramon is making playdough for the children.
Where did mama go? says one.
Out, says Ramon shortly. she'll be home at lunch time.
It would not be good for the children to know where their mother has gone with the three foreign gentlemen.
Maria Goyri stops outside the Museu de l'Erotica, and looks for somewhere to lock up the bike.
How kind of that young poet to lend it. Such a quality bike it is too.
Here come David and Schopenhauer, with Vello lagging behind. He must have made quite a night of it.
Hello, says Maria Goyri. Ready for an education?
It's nine euros to enter. The Museum is small.
There are old fashioned erotic prints and drawings on the walls, and a video, looping.
David peers at the prints.
Schopenhauer becomes aware for the first time that one of his boots squeaks.
Vello hears a young woman tell her friend. There were no light in the toilets. And I had to share them with a giant penis.
Cool, says her friend.
Maria Goyri says: Let's go into the courtyard for a free coffee. It's getting stuffy in here.
......
José and George are explaining the Sagrada Familia to Sweezus.
This is the Nativity Facade, says George. It's Spanish Late Gothic. That is the Tree of Life above the Door of Jesus. Note the tortoises under the columns, and chameleons, over there. Gaudi wished all the statues to be painted bright colours.
Sweezus looks at his watch. Half past ten.
Green Dress Barcelona
It's them, says Belle and Bonne. I knew it!
She shakes Vello and moves Arthur with her foot.
She pokes Sweezus.
Mwuur, says Sweezus. Little green faireeey....
You like it? says Belle. No of course not, you're all cross-eyed. Wake up!
Vello opens his eyes. Stares at the table. Who ate all the tapas?
Arthur moans as his boat rolls with a massive green wave....
Marie picks him up from the floor and sits him back at the table.
This is nice, says Marie. We just popped our head round the door of this bar, and we found you.
Very nice, says Vello. Where have you.....oh yes I remember, you went to Pineda de Mar. Did you ride the banana?
No, the donut, says Belle. Our dates wimped out. Where are they? And where's David, and Schopenhauer? Why aren't you together?
Too hard, says Vello, holding his head. Too many people talking about poetry and oranges. Schopenhauer bought some ridiculous boots.....
What sort of boots? says Marie.
Cowboy boots, says Sweezus. Awesome cowboy boots. From Corbeto's Boots. Spanish leather with hand stitching....
Marie looks at Belle, who suppresses a giggle.
Cowboy boots, says Marie. Tell me, how does he wear them? Trousers tucked in?
Tucked in would crush them, says Belle. He wouldn't.
He tucks them in, says Vello. You don't cover up boots like that.
Arthur moans again. Opens his eyes.
Arthur, says Belle. Do you know what happened to José and George?
They went to look for a chemist, says Arthur, remembering that much.
Ages ago, says Sweezus. Ages and ages. They needed new bandages.
Thank goodness for that. For a moment they had visions of condoms.....
Well, says Belle, we have plans for tomorrow. We won't see them.
What plans ? says Vello. I have plans.
Our plan is to hire scooters from Green Electric Moto, says Marie. And tour Barcelona.
Excellent , says Vello. And I suppose I must wind up the conference.
How did it go? asks Marie. Who else came?
Maria Goyri and Ramon Menendez de Pidal, says Vello. Lightweights.
Sweezus looks at the tip of his nose. Lightweights?
They knew about manga, carbon fibre bike frames, El Cid.
Astroboy, says Arthur. Orange pips. Feminism. Sand. I like that green dress, Belle et Bonne.
You're such a sweetheart, says Belle. Would you like to come with us tomorrow?
Yes, says Arthur. I'd love to.
Hardly anyone, ever, has told Arthur they think he's a sweetheart.
She shakes Vello and moves Arthur with her foot.
She pokes Sweezus.
Mwuur, says Sweezus. Little green faireeey....
You like it? says Belle. No of course not, you're all cross-eyed. Wake up!
Vello opens his eyes. Stares at the table. Who ate all the tapas?
Arthur moans as his boat rolls with a massive green wave....
Marie picks him up from the floor and sits him back at the table.
This is nice, says Marie. We just popped our head round the door of this bar, and we found you.
Very nice, says Vello. Where have you.....oh yes I remember, you went to Pineda de Mar. Did you ride the banana?
No, the donut, says Belle. Our dates wimped out. Where are they? And where's David, and Schopenhauer? Why aren't you together?
Too hard, says Vello, holding his head. Too many people talking about poetry and oranges. Schopenhauer bought some ridiculous boots.....
What sort of boots? says Marie.
Cowboy boots, says Sweezus. Awesome cowboy boots. From Corbeto's Boots. Spanish leather with hand stitching....
Marie looks at Belle, who suppresses a giggle.
Cowboy boots, says Marie. Tell me, how does he wear them? Trousers tucked in?
Tucked in would crush them, says Belle. He wouldn't.
He tucks them in, says Vello. You don't cover up boots like that.
Arthur moans again. Opens his eyes.
Arthur, says Belle. Do you know what happened to José and George?
They went to look for a chemist, says Arthur, remembering that much.
Ages ago, says Sweezus. Ages and ages. They needed new bandages.
Thank goodness for that. For a moment they had visions of condoms.....
Well, says Belle, we have plans for tomorrow. We won't see them.
What plans ? says Vello. I have plans.
Our plan is to hire scooters from Green Electric Moto, says Marie. And tour Barcelona.
Excellent , says Vello. And I suppose I must wind up the conference.
How did it go? asks Marie. Who else came?
Maria Goyri and Ramon Menendez de Pidal, says Vello. Lightweights.
Sweezus looks at the tip of his nose. Lightweights?
They knew about manga, carbon fibre bike frames, El Cid.
Astroboy, says Arthur. Orange pips. Feminism. Sand. I like that green dress, Belle et Bonne.
You're such a sweetheart, says Belle. Would you like to come with us tomorrow?
Yes, says Arthur. I'd love to.
Hardly anyone, ever, has told Arthur they think he's a sweetheart.
Thursday, August 21, 2014
Why You Shouldn't Drink Absinthe.
An hour later, in Bar Absenta, the bottle of absinthe is finished.
Sweezus is asleep on the sofa, dreaming convoluted green dreams.
He is riding the Vuelta a Espana, on an elastic bicycle - wee-ahh-wee-ahh - the bicycle stretches and pings - in front of him on a green rocket flies Alberto Contador - and the road rises behind him - ach ach.
It's better than being awake.
Arthur and Vello are awake.
Gargoyles, says Arthur.
Vello stares at where he is looking. A woman yawns. Yes she looks like a gargoyle.
This absence, says Vello....
Absinthe, says Arthur.
Is good, says Vello. When I was a youngster there wasn't ......
Rubbish, says Arthur. It dates back....
Does it? says Vello. Dates back... does it? Sorry.....had you finished?
No, says Arthur.
But he has. A sudden sleepiness overtakes Arthur. Head down on the table, he dreams.
A drunken boat, tossed in a maelstrom, spinning, sucked into a whirlpool, black as a hole, with green astral bodies singing at the rim.....
Vello looks at Arthur asleep. Young people. Who knows what they're dreaming?
He goes over to the bar and orders a plate of mixed tapas.
When he comes back Sweezus is awake.
Far out! says Sweezus. I'm the only one awake.
I'm awake, says Vello. And all these gargoyles.
But Sweezus ignores him. He pokes Arthur.
Arthur falls to the floor.
The plate of tapas arrives.
Sweezus eats all the tapas.
Yum, says Sweezus. That was awesome tapas.
Vello's phone rings.
I better answer it, mutters Sweezus. He's out like a light.
He picks up the phone.
Vello, says Sweezus. I mean, Vello's phone. I'm answering. Sweezus.
Like I couldn't tell it was you, says Belle et Bonne.
Belle! says Sweezus. Where are you?
Right behind you, says Belle. I'm dressed like a little green fairy.
Far out, says Sweezus, turning around and around.
Sweezus is asleep on the sofa, dreaming convoluted green dreams.
He is riding the Vuelta a Espana, on an elastic bicycle - wee-ahh-wee-ahh - the bicycle stretches and pings - in front of him on a green rocket flies Alberto Contador - and the road rises behind him - ach ach.
It's better than being awake.
Arthur and Vello are awake.
Gargoyles, says Arthur.
Vello stares at where he is looking. A woman yawns. Yes she looks like a gargoyle.
This absence, says Vello....
Absinthe, says Arthur.
Is good, says Vello. When I was a youngster there wasn't ......
Rubbish, says Arthur. It dates back....
Does it? says Vello. Dates back... does it? Sorry.....had you finished?
No, says Arthur.
But he has. A sudden sleepiness overtakes Arthur. Head down on the table, he dreams.
A drunken boat, tossed in a maelstrom, spinning, sucked into a whirlpool, black as a hole, with green astral bodies singing at the rim.....
Vello looks at Arthur asleep. Young people. Who knows what they're dreaming?
He goes over to the bar and orders a plate of mixed tapas.
When he comes back Sweezus is awake.
Far out! says Sweezus. I'm the only one awake.
I'm awake, says Vello. And all these gargoyles.
But Sweezus ignores him. He pokes Arthur.
Arthur falls to the floor.
The plate of tapas arrives.
Sweezus eats all the tapas.
Yum, says Sweezus. That was awesome tapas.
Vello's phone rings.
I better answer it, mutters Sweezus. He's out like a light.
He picks up the phone.
Vello, says Sweezus. I mean, Vello's phone. I'm answering. Sweezus.
Like I couldn't tell it was you, says Belle et Bonne.
Belle! says Sweezus. Where are you?
Right behind you, says Belle. I'm dressed like a little green fairy.
Far out, says Sweezus, turning around and around.
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
What Is The Meaning Of Hiccups?
Perhaps we should alter the question, says David. We may find it helpful.
Cheating is usually helpful, says Schopenhauer.
Many people find it easier to think about life's purpose, says David. As opposed to its meaning.
You see, dear, says Ramon de Menendez Pidal to Maria Goyri. You have asked the wrong question.
Ridiculous, says Maria Goyri. How can a question be wrong?
The manager, Coki, comes up to the table, and overhears the question.
In a bar, many questions are wrong, says Coki. Is it the snails?
That is the wrong question, says David. What do you think is the purpose of life?
No purpose, says Coki. But a meaning! Life, she has a meaning! And what if we should ask another question: What is the meaning of death?
Very good, says Schopenhauer. I like that. I often think life is a sort of mistake. Death and dissolution are proof that the will to live is ineffective. Existence is pointless.
No no! says Coki. That is not what I mean.
But it is too late now, Coki.
Pandora's box has been opened.
What is the meaning of sleep? asks Ramon de Menendez Pidal.
And the meaning of hiccups? laughs his wife.
Coki turns away, to check out the needs of his less philosophical customers.
..........
Meanwhile, as we will remember, Arthur, Sweezus and Vello have gone looking for something to eat.
There are many bars in Barceloneta. But Arthur likes the look of Bar Absenta. So they go inside.
Now we shall see why he likes it.
Vello goes up to the bar.
It seems they make their own absinthe.
He goes back to their table.
Who likes absinthe? says Vello. The green drink of madness.
I do, says Arthur.
Yeah, says Sweezus. Absinthe, and food.
Never mind the food, says Arthur.
No way man, says Sweezus. I need food.
I'll order tapas, says Vello.
He goes back to the bar. He orders three glasses, and a bottle of absinthe. He is distracted by a display of absinthe paraphernalia. Old bottles, old spoons. Art depicting evil green eyed possession.........
He forgets to order the food.
Hilarious.
Let's see what happens next. It may take a while though.
Cheating is usually helpful, says Schopenhauer.
Many people find it easier to think about life's purpose, says David. As opposed to its meaning.
You see, dear, says Ramon de Menendez Pidal to Maria Goyri. You have asked the wrong question.
Ridiculous, says Maria Goyri. How can a question be wrong?
The manager, Coki, comes up to the table, and overhears the question.
In a bar, many questions are wrong, says Coki. Is it the snails?
That is the wrong question, says David. What do you think is the purpose of life?
No purpose, says Coki. But a meaning! Life, she has a meaning! And what if we should ask another question: What is the meaning of death?
Very good, says Schopenhauer. I like that. I often think life is a sort of mistake. Death and dissolution are proof that the will to live is ineffective. Existence is pointless.
No no! says Coki. That is not what I mean.
But it is too late now, Coki.
Pandora's box has been opened.
What is the meaning of sleep? asks Ramon de Menendez Pidal.
And the meaning of hiccups? laughs his wife.
Coki turns away, to check out the needs of his less philosophical customers.
..........
Meanwhile, as we will remember, Arthur, Sweezus and Vello have gone looking for something to eat.
There are many bars in Barceloneta. But Arthur likes the look of Bar Absenta. So they go inside.
Now we shall see why he likes it.
Vello goes up to the bar.
It seems they make their own absinthe.
He goes back to their table.
Who likes absinthe? says Vello. The green drink of madness.
I do, says Arthur.
Yeah, says Sweezus. Absinthe, and food.
Never mind the food, says Arthur.
No way man, says Sweezus. I need food.
I'll order tapas, says Vello.
He goes back to the bar. He orders three glasses, and a bottle of absinthe. He is distracted by a display of absinthe paraphernalia. Old bottles, old spoons. Art depicting evil green eyed possession.........
He forgets to order the food.
Hilarious.
Let's see what happens next. It may take a while though.
The Meaning Means What It Means.
We should not expect to learn the meaning of life from an orange. Let alone five discarded pips.
Yet we have learned something. Pips have a sense of entitlement, and may be disappointed.
We would do better to follow the philosophers to Bar Electricitat.
David Hume, Schopenhauer, Maria Goyri and Ramon de Menendez Pidal have found a table, and ordered sea snails with tomato-smeared bread.
Perhaps this will get them talking about things that matter.
I have never had sea snails, says David. Land snails, yes.
Sea snails are nicer, says Maria Goyri. No slime.
That is because in the ocean they don't need it, says Ramon de Menendez. Land snails produce slime to enable them to move easily.
You would get on well with our old friend Gaius, says David. He is a natural historian. Gaius Plinius Secundus.
Is he here for the conference? asks Maria Goyri.
No, says Schopenhauer. When the Tour de France finished he went home with Baby Pierre.
His son? asks Maria Goyri.
No, Baby Pierre is a pebble, says Schopenhauer.
An inanimate object, says Ramon. With a child's name. That is fascinating.
He is not inanimate, says David. He was the bane of the Tour. With his silly little green bicycle.
I remember now, says Maria Goyri. Ramon, do you remember? There was talk of an animate pebble. The Green Flash. Of course we didn't believe it.
Of course we didn't, says Ramon. Do you mean to say you actually saw it?
We certainly did, says Schopenhauer. And so did the riders who crashed.
Not Alberto, says Maria Goyri.
Even Alberto, says David.
You shock me, says Maria Goyri. But I must believe you, as fellow philosophers. It begs the question:
WHAT IS THE MEANING OF LIFE?
At last!
The sea snails are brought to the table, in bowls of hot steaming liquid.
And next, a plate of tomato smeared bread.
Indeed, says David. But first we must examine the meaning of the question. What does meaning mean?
It means what one means, says Ramon.
David looks doubtful. It's not the usual answer.
He stabs at a snail with a toothpick.
Yet we have learned something. Pips have a sense of entitlement, and may be disappointed.
We would do better to follow the philosophers to Bar Electricitat.
David Hume, Schopenhauer, Maria Goyri and Ramon de Menendez Pidal have found a table, and ordered sea snails with tomato-smeared bread.
Perhaps this will get them talking about things that matter.
I have never had sea snails, says David. Land snails, yes.
Sea snails are nicer, says Maria Goyri. No slime.
That is because in the ocean they don't need it, says Ramon de Menendez. Land snails produce slime to enable them to move easily.
You would get on well with our old friend Gaius, says David. He is a natural historian. Gaius Plinius Secundus.
Is he here for the conference? asks Maria Goyri.
No, says Schopenhauer. When the Tour de France finished he went home with Baby Pierre.
His son? asks Maria Goyri.
No, Baby Pierre is a pebble, says Schopenhauer.
An inanimate object, says Ramon. With a child's name. That is fascinating.
He is not inanimate, says David. He was the bane of the Tour. With his silly little green bicycle.
I remember now, says Maria Goyri. Ramon, do you remember? There was talk of an animate pebble. The Green Flash. Of course we didn't believe it.
Of course we didn't, says Ramon. Do you mean to say you actually saw it?
We certainly did, says Schopenhauer. And so did the riders who crashed.
Not Alberto, says Maria Goyri.
Even Alberto, says David.
You shock me, says Maria Goyri. But I must believe you, as fellow philosophers. It begs the question:
WHAT IS THE MEANING OF LIFE?
At last!
The sea snails are brought to the table, in bowls of hot steaming liquid.
And next, a plate of tomato smeared bread.
It means what one means, says Ramon.
David looks doubtful. It's not the usual answer.
He stabs at a snail with a toothpick.
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
The Meaning Of Life Until We Dry Out Completely
George Santayana and José Ortega y Gasset are down at the water's edge, washing the juice from the cuts in their fingers.
Mierda! It stings.
Salt water is good for cuts, says George Santayana.
It must be, says José Ortega y Gasset. It hurts even more than the orange juice.
Let us walk up the beach, now, says George Santayana. While we let our hands dry. Then let us find a chemist.
Good, that's them out of the way.
The sun is low in the sky. The water turns glassy.
Sweezus and Arthur are hungry. They stand up to go.
I'll come with you, says Vello.
They go.
That leaves David and Schopenhauer with Maria Goyri and Ramon Menendez de Pidal.
Someone must speak first.
It's Ramon. He says: Seeing we are the only ones left of the party, shall we repair to a bar?
Wonderful idea, says David. Which one shall we go to?
Bar Electricitat, says Ramon. It's not far.
Maria Goyri picks up two towels, and shakes them. Orange pips scatter in the sand.
They lie there. Por desgracia.
And contemplate, until they dry out completely, the meaning of life.
Would we like to go to Bar Electricitat? It has good reviews. The owner is a bear of a man who likes to give bear hugs.
He will show us how to pluck sea snails from their shells if we ask him.
The noise level is loud.
We can eat Catalonian omelettes with tomato-smeared bread, pickled fish, cured meats, crab salad, fried potatoes and meatballs.
Or, we can stay on the beach a little longer and tune in to the pips.
Let's do that.
There are five pips, including the first one, the one Arthur spat out.
El Pip#1: As the sun goes we die more slowly, and yet still we die.
El Pip#2: So what is the meaning of life?
El Pip#3: Estupido!
El Pip#4: No, it's a legitimate question. What was the point?
El Pip#5: pip.....pip
(He was bitten in half by Ramon)
El Pip#1: I used to think, that one day, I would be the Father of Oranges.
El Pip#2: But you are like our father.
El Pip#1: Me? You flatter me. I thank you.
El Pip#2: No, I meant, we are all alike.
El Pip#3: One minute we're inside an orange.......
El Pip#4: All sweet and cosy, and then.......
El Pip#5: pip.....pip
Mierda! It stings.
Salt water is good for cuts, says George Santayana.
It must be, says José Ortega y Gasset. It hurts even more than the orange juice.
Let us walk up the beach, now, says George Santayana. While we let our hands dry. Then let us find a chemist.
Good, that's them out of the way.
The sun is low in the sky. The water turns glassy.
Sweezus and Arthur are hungry. They stand up to go.
I'll come with you, says Vello.
They go.
That leaves David and Schopenhauer with Maria Goyri and Ramon Menendez de Pidal.
Someone must speak first.
It's Ramon. He says: Seeing we are the only ones left of the party, shall we repair to a bar?
Wonderful idea, says David. Which one shall we go to?
Bar Electricitat, says Ramon. It's not far.
Maria Goyri picks up two towels, and shakes them. Orange pips scatter in the sand.
They lie there. Por desgracia.
And contemplate, until they dry out completely, the meaning of life.
Would we like to go to Bar Electricitat? It has good reviews. The owner is a bear of a man who likes to give bear hugs.
He will show us how to pluck sea snails from their shells if we ask him.
The noise level is loud.
We can eat Catalonian omelettes with tomato-smeared bread, pickled fish, cured meats, crab salad, fried potatoes and meatballs.
Or, we can stay on the beach a little longer and tune in to the pips.
Let's do that.
There are five pips, including the first one, the one Arthur spat out.
El Pip#1: As the sun goes we die more slowly, and yet still we die.
El Pip#2: So what is the meaning of life?
El Pip#3: Estupido!
El Pip#4: No, it's a legitimate question. What was the point?
El Pip#5: pip.....pip
(He was bitten in half by Ramon)
El Pip#1: I used to think, that one day, I would be the Father of Oranges.
El Pip#2: But you are like our father.
El Pip#1: Me? You flatter me. I thank you.
El Pip#2: No, I meant, we are all alike.
El Pip#3: One minute we're inside an orange.......
El Pip#4: All sweet and cosy, and then.......
El Pip#5: pip.....pip
Monday, August 18, 2014
Peace And Justice After Conflict
We're back. Where are you? says George Santayana.
At the beach, replies Vello. Come on down.
Um.. ah.. says George Santayana. All right then. We'll just get our towels.
Five minutes later he and José Ortega y Gasset join the beach party.
Their fingers are bandaged with dazzling white bandages.
They are not too pleased to see Arthur.
Sit down, says Vello, we were just discussing which is more important, peace, justice or rocket boots.
Ha ha, ever the comic, laughs George Santayana, sitting down without using his hands.
Do take care, says Maria Goyri. You mustn't get sand in your cuts. Would you and your friend like an orange?
Ramon knits his brows momentarily. She is being very free with her oranges. He hasn't had one.
Rocket boots, says Sweezus.
What? says George Santayana. This can't be a serious question?
I thought it was, says Sweezus, but I'm not a philosopher.
George bites into his orange. Eeuw! The skin tastes bitter. You might think he would know that.
Like to borrow my knife? says Arthur.
Thank you, says George Santayana. He takes the knife, peels his orange and offers the knife to José.
This is awesome, says Sweezus. We're the living example.
What on earth is he talking about? The living example.
What of? asks David. Oh, I know. Peace and justice.
Excellent, says Vello. There has been conflict, in some cases violent conflict. Yet here we are now sharing oranges.
May I point out you and I are not eating oranges, says Schopenhauer.
Nor I, says Ramon.
Maria Goyri hastily hands her husband an orange.
Nevertheless, says Vello, peace and justice are served by Arthur lending his knife for a peacable purpose, that is, the peeling of oranges. The very knife he used previously to cut the fingers of those doing the peeling. Well done Arthur.
Arthur thinks to himself: But it was an accident.
George and José drop their oranges into the sand saying Ouch! simultaneously.
You would laugh, if it wasn't so awful.
The juice has soaked through their bandages and got into the cuts on their fingers. Their clean white bandages have turned yellow.
Next minute, they'll rip off their bandages and run down to the water.
This will be good news for Arthur, who has been down two bandages ever since he lent them the ones that turned their cuts septic.
So justice is served. ( You might want to debate that ).
At the beach, replies Vello. Come on down.
Um.. ah.. says George Santayana. All right then. We'll just get our towels.
Five minutes later he and José Ortega y Gasset join the beach party.
Their fingers are bandaged with dazzling white bandages.
They are not too pleased to see Arthur.
Sit down, says Vello, we were just discussing which is more important, peace, justice or rocket boots.
Ha ha, ever the comic, laughs George Santayana, sitting down without using his hands.
Do take care, says Maria Goyri. You mustn't get sand in your cuts. Would you and your friend like an orange?
Ramon knits his brows momentarily. She is being very free with her oranges. He hasn't had one.
Rocket boots, says Sweezus.
What? says George Santayana. This can't be a serious question?
I thought it was, says Sweezus, but I'm not a philosopher.
George bites into his orange. Eeuw! The skin tastes bitter. You might think he would know that.
Like to borrow my knife? says Arthur.
Thank you, says George Santayana. He takes the knife, peels his orange and offers the knife to José.
This is awesome, says Sweezus. We're the living example.
What on earth is he talking about? The living example.
What of? asks David. Oh, I know. Peace and justice.
Excellent, says Vello. There has been conflict, in some cases violent conflict. Yet here we are now sharing oranges.
May I point out you and I are not eating oranges, says Schopenhauer.
Nor I, says Ramon.
Maria Goyri hastily hands her husband an orange.
Nevertheless, says Vello, peace and justice are served by Arthur lending his knife for a peacable purpose, that is, the peeling of oranges. The very knife he used previously to cut the fingers of those doing the peeling. Well done Arthur.
Arthur thinks to himself: But it was an accident.
George and José drop their oranges into the sand saying Ouch! simultaneously.
You would laugh, if it wasn't so awful.
The juice has soaked through their bandages and got into the cuts on their fingers. Their clean white bandages have turned yellow.
Next minute, they'll rip off their bandages and run down to the water.
This will be good news for Arthur, who has been down two bandages ever since he lent them the ones that turned their cuts septic.
So justice is served. ( You might want to debate that ).
Sunday, August 17, 2014
Like A Dead Spanish Hero
Sweezus develops a cramp. He comes out of the water.
Uhh, says Sweezus. Got a cramp.
Sit down, says Maria Goyri. You are a young person and we are speaking of contemporary things.
Sick, says Sweezus. I'm thirty three. What contemporary things?
Peace and justice, says Maria Goyri. The importance of family.
Rocket boots, adds Vello.
How good would they be! says Sweezus.
Useless, says David.
Peace and justice, or rocket boots? says Vello.
He is pleased with this question.
Maria Goyri is not. She thinks it a French sort of question.
What has happened to the other philosophers? she asks. You mentioned Santayana, and Ortega y Gasset.
Those guys! says Sweezus. We met them, back in Pineda de Mar.
Did you indeed? says Schopenhauer. How were they doing?
Okay, says Sweezus, until Arthur knifed them by accident. Don't know where they went after that. It was one of those crazy nights. I slept on the beach. Arthur went off with some guy to get given a present.
Arthur cut them! says Schopenhauer, not listening to the rest of the story.
Accidentally, says Sweezus. They were defending the girls.
My girls? From Arthur? says Vello.
If I remember correctly, says David, Sweezus gave Arthur the knife.
Everyone looks severely at Sweezus.
Arthur comes up, dripping salt water.
Anything to eat? says Arthur.
I have some oranges, says Maria Goyri. Sit down beside me, and I'll give you the best one.
Thanks, says Arthur, sitting down beside Maria Goyri.
I hear you are a poet, says Maria Goyri. Ramon and I, we have a great love for our language. We spent our lives collecting and translating the great Spanish Ballads.
Where's my orange? says Arthur.
She gives him her best one. Arthur cuts off the skin with his knife.
Spanish Ballads, says Arthur, breaking his orange into segments. What are they like?
Intense and dramatic, says Maria Goyri.
Arthur spits out a pip. Thwoot!
It lies in the sand,
Glistening and furry,
Like a dead Spanish hero,
Who, por desgracia!
Has tragically fallen
From his horse.
Uhh, says Sweezus. Got a cramp.
Sit down, says Maria Goyri. You are a young person and we are speaking of contemporary things.
Sick, says Sweezus. I'm thirty three. What contemporary things?
Peace and justice, says Maria Goyri. The importance of family.
Rocket boots, adds Vello.
How good would they be! says Sweezus.
Useless, says David.
Peace and justice, or rocket boots? says Vello.
He is pleased with this question.
Maria Goyri is not. She thinks it a French sort of question.
What has happened to the other philosophers? she asks. You mentioned Santayana, and Ortega y Gasset.
Those guys! says Sweezus. We met them, back in Pineda de Mar.
Did you indeed? says Schopenhauer. How were they doing?
Okay, says Sweezus, until Arthur knifed them by accident. Don't know where they went after that. It was one of those crazy nights. I slept on the beach. Arthur went off with some guy to get given a present.
Arthur cut them! says Schopenhauer, not listening to the rest of the story.
Accidentally, says Sweezus. They were defending the girls.
My girls? From Arthur? says Vello.
If I remember correctly, says David, Sweezus gave Arthur the knife.
Everyone looks severely at Sweezus.
Arthur comes up, dripping salt water.
Anything to eat? says Arthur.
I have some oranges, says Maria Goyri. Sit down beside me, and I'll give you the best one.
Thanks, says Arthur, sitting down beside Maria Goyri.
I hear you are a poet, says Maria Goyri. Ramon and I, we have a great love for our language. We spent our lives collecting and translating the great Spanish Ballads.
Where's my orange? says Arthur.
She gives him her best one. Arthur cuts off the skin with his knife.
Spanish Ballads, says Arthur, breaking his orange into segments. What are they like?
Intense and dramatic, says Maria Goyri.
Arthur spits out a pip. Thwoot!
It lies in the sand,
Glistening and furry,
Like a dead Spanish hero,
Who, por desgracia!
Has tragically fallen
From his horse.
Friday, August 15, 2014
Contemporary Subjects - Shifting Light
Ramon Menendez Pidal adjusts his metal rimmed glasses. They flash in the sun.
He peers at the Astroboy toy.
The surface of Astroboy, shiny and plastic, glints in the sun.
Arthur surfaces momentarily, from the water.
Blinks, shakes a few drops from his hair and dives under again.
Ramon says: Do you know the story?
David says: No.
Maria Goyri says: Tell it Ramon. But first, let me say that this little superhero is unique among superheroes, in that he fights for peace, not for justice.
Admirable, says Vello, without thinking.
Not really so admirable, says Schopenhauer.
No, of course not, says Vello, as he calls to mind various tyrants.
He is a robot, says Ramon. He has special powers. Rockets in his boots. Super hearing.
(The Astroboy toy does not have super hearing. He is only a toy).
After he escaped from the circus, says Ramon. He returned to the Ministry of Science where he was mentored by the kindly Dr Elefun. Dr Elefun provided him with a robot family.
A doting mother and father, says Maria Goyri. And a younger sister, Arun.
With special powers? asks David, getting into the spirit.
Originally yes, says Maria, She could split in two. But after an accident she was repaired by Dr Elefun and she lost this special power. As you no doubt understand, this is a metaphor.
David nods. It is not up to him to question a woman's metaphor.
The Astroboy toy remembers things differently.
His father. That was Juan Redón, the collector. His brother is Arthur Rimbaud.
Never never has he had a mother, or a sister.
He smiles his fixed smile. The sun gleams on his rockets, and shines on the place in his backside where a machine gun would be hidden, if he were the real Astroboy.
If he could refocus his eyes, he would scan the beach for his brother.
He peers at the Astroboy toy.
The surface of Astroboy, shiny and plastic, glints in the sun.
Arthur surfaces momentarily, from the water.
Blinks, shakes a few drops from his hair and dives under again.
Ramon says: Do you know the story?
David says: No.
Maria Goyri says: Tell it Ramon. But first, let me say that this little superhero is unique among superheroes, in that he fights for peace, not for justice.
Admirable, says Vello, without thinking.
Not really so admirable, says Schopenhauer.
No, of course not, says Vello, as he calls to mind various tyrants.
He is a robot, says Ramon. He has special powers. Rockets in his boots. Super hearing.
(The Astroboy toy does not have super hearing. He is only a toy).
After he escaped from the circus, says Ramon. He returned to the Ministry of Science where he was mentored by the kindly Dr Elefun. Dr Elefun provided him with a robot family.
A doting mother and father, says Maria Goyri. And a younger sister, Arun.
With special powers? asks David, getting into the spirit.
Originally yes, says Maria, She could split in two. But after an accident she was repaired by Dr Elefun and she lost this special power. As you no doubt understand, this is a metaphor.
David nods. It is not up to him to question a woman's metaphor.
The Astroboy toy remembers things differently.
His father. That was Juan Redón, the collector. His brother is Arthur Rimbaud.
Never never has he had a mother, or a sister.
He smiles his fixed smile. The sun gleams on his rockets, and shines on the place in his backside where a machine gun would be hidden, if he were the real Astroboy.
If he could refocus his eyes, he would scan the beach for his brother.
Thursday, August 14, 2014
A Tour De Force Of Plotting
Arthur and Sweezus have arrived in Barcelona, locked up their bikes, headed straight for the beach and dropped their backpacks on the sand.
Thwuck. Thwuck.
Race you, says Sweezus.
Arthur starts running. Then he stops. Sweezus isn't coming. He's on his mobile.
Arthur goes back. Now what?
Yeah, says Sweezus. Yeah, yeah, where? Awesome! Okay.
He stares down the beach past sunshades, umbrellas and people. Yes, there they are!
Come on, Arthur, says Sweezus.
.....
Brill, says Sweezus. We found you.
Excuse me? says Vello.
It's us! says Sweezus.
Oh yes, says Vello. Turned up at last. And with comical haircuts.
Undercuts, says Sweezus. The top can be either slick, diagonal or messy, depending on how you comb it. It's probably kinda messy at the moment....
Yes it is, says Schopenhauer. Messy. Yours too, Arthur. Don't you have combs?
Course we do, says Sweezus. This is our stuff here. Can we leave it with you guys while we go for a swim?
Certainly, says David. On this beach one should watch one's belongings.
Sweezus and Arthur race down to the water and belly flop, with identical splashes.
Look! says Vello. That thing sticking out of Arthur's back pack. What is it?
Some sort of doll, says Schopenhauer, pulling out Arthur's Art Toy.
It's Astroboy, says Maria Goyri.
So it is, says Ramon Menendez Pidal. A very nice example.
What are the Pidals doing here? Wasn't it time for siesta?
Ah yes, but that was before Ramon found that his wife had encountered a group of philosophers who knew of his fame and his research. He has decided to forgo his siesta.
They have been sitting on the beach under an orange and yellow umbrella, while Ramon recounts the exploits of El Cid.
It's a long story.
El Cid fights Moors. Changes sides. He fights Christians. He is captured. He escapes. He leads an army of both Moors and Christians. He is a hero. He dies. In death, he leads an army of one thousand knights in a final victory over the Saracens......
I fail to see how that was possible, says David.
His body was embalmed, says Ramon, and dressed in a coat of mail, a sword placed in his hand. He was mounted on his favourite horse. At midnight, he was borne outside the gates of Valencia at the head of his army.
Impossible, says David. He would have fallen straight off.
Have you ever ridden a horse? says Maria Goyri, hotly.
So you see it had been going quite well, and now it was going quite badly.
What a godsend that Vello had just at that moment called Sweezus, and Sweezus had answered, and been within one hundred metres and needed someone to look after his backpack (and Arthur's) and that when he and Arthur had belly flopped into the water (with identical splashes) Arthur's Astroboy had been spotted and removed from the backpack after which it became evident that Maria Goyri and Ramon Menendez Pidal were experts not only in the Cantar de Mio Cid , but Japanese Manga as well, and this had served admirably to:
change the subject to something contemporary.
Thwuck. Thwuck.
Race you, says Sweezus.
Arthur starts running. Then he stops. Sweezus isn't coming. He's on his mobile.
Arthur goes back. Now what?
Yeah, says Sweezus. Yeah, yeah, where? Awesome! Okay.
He stares down the beach past sunshades, umbrellas and people. Yes, there they are!
Come on, Arthur, says Sweezus.
.....
Brill, says Sweezus. We found you.
Excuse me? says Vello.
It's us! says Sweezus.
Oh yes, says Vello. Turned up at last. And with comical haircuts.
Undercuts, says Sweezus. The top can be either slick, diagonal or messy, depending on how you comb it. It's probably kinda messy at the moment....
Yes it is, says Schopenhauer. Messy. Yours too, Arthur. Don't you have combs?
Course we do, says Sweezus. This is our stuff here. Can we leave it with you guys while we go for a swim?
Certainly, says David. On this beach one should watch one's belongings.
Sweezus and Arthur race down to the water and belly flop, with identical splashes.
Look! says Vello. That thing sticking out of Arthur's back pack. What is it?
Some sort of doll, says Schopenhauer, pulling out Arthur's Art Toy.
It's Astroboy, says Maria Goyri.
So it is, says Ramon Menendez Pidal. A very nice example.
What are the Pidals doing here? Wasn't it time for siesta?
Ah yes, but that was before Ramon found that his wife had encountered a group of philosophers who knew of his fame and his research. He has decided to forgo his siesta.
They have been sitting on the beach under an orange and yellow umbrella, while Ramon recounts the exploits of El Cid.
It's a long story.
El Cid fights Moors. Changes sides. He fights Christians. He is captured. He escapes. He leads an army of both Moors and Christians. He is a hero. He dies. In death, he leads an army of one thousand knights in a final victory over the Saracens......
I fail to see how that was possible, says David.
His body was embalmed, says Ramon, and dressed in a coat of mail, a sword placed in his hand. He was mounted on his favourite horse. At midnight, he was borne outside the gates of Valencia at the head of his army.
Impossible, says David. He would have fallen straight off.
Have you ever ridden a horse? says Maria Goyri, hotly.
So you see it had been going quite well, and now it was going quite badly.
What a godsend that Vello had just at that moment called Sweezus, and Sweezus had answered, and been within one hundred metres and needed someone to look after his backpack (and Arthur's) and that when he and Arthur had belly flopped into the water (with identical splashes) Arthur's Astroboy had been spotted and removed from the backpack after which it became evident that Maria Goyri and Ramon Menendez Pidal were experts not only in the Cantar de Mio Cid , but Japanese Manga as well, and this had served admirably to:
change the subject to something contemporary.
Post Feminist Rumblings
Maria Goyri feels more comfortable now, having established her credentials.
She orders another mojito.
Not many of you, are there? she observes. And not one of you Spanish.
José Ortega y Gasset and George Santayana were here yesterday, says David. But they've gone to Pineda de Mar.
Not back yet? says Schopenhauer. Didn't they go with the girls?
Maria Goyri looks up from her cool mojito. How old are these girls?
I see you are raising an eyebrow, says David. Don't worry. The girls can look after themselves. They are not strictly girls either, he adds, by way of closing the subject.
Are these so-called girls who are not strictly girls and therefore fully grown women, philosophers too? asks Maria Goyri.
Belle et Bonne is my adopted daughter, says Vello. I could not do without her. Marie is my ...ahem... niece.
Hum, says Maria Goyri. You have avoided answering my question. I must assume they are not.
Not what? says David, who has been thinking stray thoughts, and not paying attention.
Not philosophers, says Marie Goyri. Of course, that is not to say....
Of course not, says Vello. If you don't mind me saying so, you seem rather jumpy.
I can't forget what happened to me, says Maria Goyri, when I was a student at the University of Madrid in 1892.
Tell us your story, says Vello. We'd like to hear it, wouldn't we boys?
Schopenhauer looks up from waggling his new cowboy boots, as the smell of the fine Spanish leather wafts up to his nose.
David sniffs vaguely, smelling it too.
I received permission to attend classes, says Maria Goyri, on the condition that I did not wait in the corridor beforehand and distract my fellow students.
Were you some sort of performer? asks David.
I was a nineteen year old woman, says Maria Goyri. And they were young men.
Of course, says David. I see that now. How awkward. How did you get in?
I had to wait in the professor's office until it was time for the lecture, says Maria Goyri. And then he escorted me to a seat at the front near to him.
And after? asks Vello.
The reverse, says Maria Goyri. Straight back to his office.
She swallows the dregs of her mojito. But don't worry boys, I grew up to become the most dangerous woman in Spain according to Franco. I had strong feminist views. During the Spanish Civil War I and my husband were spied on, by our own side.
But you survived, says Vello. Well done. And then what?
We spent our time researching ancient Spanish Ballads, says Maria Goyri. El Cid and all that. Ramon and I loved it.
Ramon Menendez Pidal! says David. He is your husband?
Ramon Menendez Pidal! echoes Schopenhauer. Of course. He is famous. His work on the Ballads became one of the National Treasures of Spain.
Does Maria look pleased at this assessment?
We shall never know.
Before she composes her expression into one of pride in her husband or something quite different, Ramon Menendez Pidal enters the cafe, seeking his wife.
It appears it is time for siesta.
She orders another mojito.
Not many of you, are there? she observes. And not one of you Spanish.
José Ortega y Gasset and George Santayana were here yesterday, says David. But they've gone to Pineda de Mar.
Not back yet? says Schopenhauer. Didn't they go with the girls?
Maria Goyri looks up from her cool mojito. How old are these girls?
I see you are raising an eyebrow, says David. Don't worry. The girls can look after themselves. They are not strictly girls either, he adds, by way of closing the subject.
Are these so-called girls who are not strictly girls and therefore fully grown women, philosophers too? asks Maria Goyri.
Belle et Bonne is my adopted daughter, says Vello. I could not do without her. Marie is my ...ahem... niece.
Hum, says Maria Goyri. You have avoided answering my question. I must assume they are not.
Not what? says David, who has been thinking stray thoughts, and not paying attention.
Not philosophers, says Marie Goyri. Of course, that is not to say....
Of course not, says Vello. If you don't mind me saying so, you seem rather jumpy.
I can't forget what happened to me, says Maria Goyri, when I was a student at the University of Madrid in 1892.
Tell us your story, says Vello. We'd like to hear it, wouldn't we boys?
Schopenhauer looks up from waggling his new cowboy boots, as the smell of the fine Spanish leather wafts up to his nose.
David sniffs vaguely, smelling it too.
I received permission to attend classes, says Maria Goyri, on the condition that I did not wait in the corridor beforehand and distract my fellow students.
Were you some sort of performer? asks David.
I was a nineteen year old woman, says Maria Goyri. And they were young men.
Of course, says David. I see that now. How awkward. How did you get in?
I had to wait in the professor's office until it was time for the lecture, says Maria Goyri. And then he escorted me to a seat at the front near to him.
And after? asks Vello.
The reverse, says Maria Goyri. Straight back to his office.
She swallows the dregs of her mojito. But don't worry boys, I grew up to become the most dangerous woman in Spain according to Franco. I had strong feminist views. During the Spanish Civil War I and my husband were spied on, by our own side.
But you survived, says Vello. Well done. And then what?
We spent our time researching ancient Spanish Ballads, says Maria Goyri. El Cid and all that. Ramon and I loved it.
Ramon Menendez Pidal! says David. He is your husband?
Ramon Menendez Pidal! echoes Schopenhauer. Of course. He is famous. His work on the Ballads became one of the National Treasures of Spain.
Does Maria look pleased at this assessment?
We shall never know.
Before she composes her expression into one of pride in her husband or something quite different, Ramon Menendez Pidal enters the cafe, seeking his wife.
It appears it is time for siesta.
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
She Has An Opinion On Everything
A fellow philosopher! says Vello. Did you meet while you were out shopping?
Why suggest that? asks Maria Goyri de Menendez Pidal, looking fierce and combative.
Only because our friend Schopenhauer has been shopping, says Vello smoothly. And when he left us he was not attached to a woman.
Typical, says Maria Goyri de Menendez Pidal, looking only slightly mollified.
Did you find what you were looking for? asks David, thinking he is changing the subject.
Maria Goyri turns red.
Yes, says Schopenhauer, assuming correctly that David means not a female philosopher, but cowboy boots.
Schopenhauer sits down at their table. He lifts up his feet.
Corbeto's Boots, says Schopenhauer. Finest Spanish leather. Hand tooled. Maria was there, looking for a holster.
Maria Goyri looks happy at this.
The first thing that has been said which has not, in her opinion, been sexist.
A holster? says David.
Maria Goyri looks angry again.
Sit down Maria, says Schopenhauer. Have a mojito.
Yes yes, indeed, says David. Are you, like us, here for the Spanish philosophers' conference?
So you are philosophers too, says Maria Goyri de Menendez Pidal. What field do you work in?
These days David and I publish an online magazine, says Vello. You may have heard of Velosophy?
Oh yes, says Maria Goyri. I have a doctorate in Philosophy and Letters. So I have a natural interest in popular culture. I admire your magazine. I particularly enjoyed your latest article on Marine Philosophy. Although I'm damned if I could find a single concrete reference to a bicycle anywhere in it.
Ah madam, you are very perceptive , says Vello. That article, wondrous as it is, slipped though the cracks while David and I were busy with this conference. There is no reference to a bicycle in it.
I thought, says Maria Goyri, that perhaps the moon and the whirlpool.....? Metaphorically speaking.
It is evident that your consciousness is Spanish, says David. That's just what George and José said. We contested it hotly of course.
Schopenhauer is not pleased with the lack of attention he is receiving.
He waggles his boots.
He tinkles his nail on the glass of his mojito. Ding ding ding ding.
He says loudly. Bicycles eh?
Not what they used to be, are they, says Maria Goyri. As our poor dear Alberto Contador found out. They are so light nowadays. Carbon fibre doesn't bend in a crash, often it shatters, hurling riders to the road and increasing the severity of their injuries.
Hah! Let them realise. Maria Goyri de Menendez Pidal is no lightweight and has an opinion on everything.
Why suggest that? asks Maria Goyri de Menendez Pidal, looking fierce and combative.
Only because our friend Schopenhauer has been shopping, says Vello smoothly. And when he left us he was not attached to a woman.
Typical, says Maria Goyri de Menendez Pidal, looking only slightly mollified.
Did you find what you were looking for? asks David, thinking he is changing the subject.
Maria Goyri turns red.
Yes, says Schopenhauer, assuming correctly that David means not a female philosopher, but cowboy boots.
Schopenhauer sits down at their table. He lifts up his feet.
Corbeto's Boots, says Schopenhauer. Finest Spanish leather. Hand tooled. Maria was there, looking for a holster.
Maria Goyri looks happy at this.
The first thing that has been said which has not, in her opinion, been sexist.
A holster? says David.
Maria Goyri looks angry again.
Sit down Maria, says Schopenhauer. Have a mojito.
Yes yes, indeed, says David. Are you, like us, here for the Spanish philosophers' conference?
So you are philosophers too, says Maria Goyri de Menendez Pidal. What field do you work in?
These days David and I publish an online magazine, says Vello. You may have heard of Velosophy?
Oh yes, says Maria Goyri. I have a doctorate in Philosophy and Letters. So I have a natural interest in popular culture. I admire your magazine. I particularly enjoyed your latest article on Marine Philosophy. Although I'm damned if I could find a single concrete reference to a bicycle anywhere in it.
Ah madam, you are very perceptive , says Vello. That article, wondrous as it is, slipped though the cracks while David and I were busy with this conference. There is no reference to a bicycle in it.
I thought, says Maria Goyri, that perhaps the moon and the whirlpool.....? Metaphorically speaking.
It is evident that your consciousness is Spanish, says David. That's just what George and José said. We contested it hotly of course.
Schopenhauer is not pleased with the lack of attention he is receiving.
He waggles his boots.
He tinkles his nail on the glass of his mojito. Ding ding ding ding.
He says loudly. Bicycles eh?
Not what they used to be, are they, says Maria Goyri. As our poor dear Alberto Contador found out. They are so light nowadays. Carbon fibre doesn't bend in a crash, often it shatters, hurling riders to the road and increasing the severity of their injuries.
Hah! Let them realise. Maria Goyri de Menendez Pidal is no lightweight and has an opinion on everything.
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
The Great Chain Of Swapping
Arthur explains how he came by the bike.
My bike was missing, says Arthur. So I took another one.
That is actually stealing, says Sweezus.
It's the Great Chain of Swapping, says Arthur. Someone's got mine.
But not the same person, says Sweezus.
Why does it matter? says Arthur.
Because, says Sweezus. There's someone without one.
And that's bad? says Arthur.
Yes, says Sweezus. That's bad.
I was that person, says Arthur. The person without one. Now what are you thinking?
I'm thinking, says Sweezus, that radical freedom underpins human existence.
I knew you'd come round, says Arthur.
Yeah, says Sweezus, Sartre knew something. The human condition means we're free to invent ourselves. As opposed to the unproblematic world of things.
Arthur thinks about the unproblematic world of things.
The sand and the sea and the sky. The bicycle. The bamboo stick in his pocket. ( How did that get there?). His new Astroboy.
What about Astroboy, says Arthur?
What about him? says Sweezus.
Is his world unproblematic? says Arthur.
Sweezus looks at the toy. Cute little robot. Wide eyes. Glossy black geometric hair. Red jet-propelled boots.
Sure, Astroboy had his problems. Created by Dr Tenmu to replace his son Tobio who was killed in a car crash. But rejected because he never got older and couldn't express human emotions. Later he was sold to a circus.
But hey.
Yes, says Sweezus. He's a toy. Not the real cartoon one.
Arthur shoves Astroboy back into his back pack.
Astroboy smiles his fixed smile. His world is so complex you wouldn't believe. Layer on layer of sadness and misunderstanding.
.........
Meanwhile, back in Barcelona, Vello and David are in a cafe, waiting for Schopenhauer, who has been shopping.
Here he comes now, with a lady.
Hello chaps, says Schopenhauer. Sorry I 'm late. Meet Maria Goyri de Menendez Pidal, a fellow philosopher. Now then, don't look so surprised.
Had they looked surprised?
Maria didn't think so. But now she has been alerted, and her feminist hackles are up.
My bike was missing, says Arthur. So I took another one.
That is actually stealing, says Sweezus.
It's the Great Chain of Swapping, says Arthur. Someone's got mine.
But not the same person, says Sweezus.
Why does it matter? says Arthur.
Because, says Sweezus. There's someone without one.
And that's bad? says Arthur.
Yes, says Sweezus. That's bad.
I was that person, says Arthur. The person without one. Now what are you thinking?
I'm thinking, says Sweezus, that radical freedom underpins human existence.
I knew you'd come round, says Arthur.
Yeah, says Sweezus, Sartre knew something. The human condition means we're free to invent ourselves. As opposed to the unproblematic world of things.
Arthur thinks about the unproblematic world of things.
The sand and the sea and the sky. The bicycle. The bamboo stick in his pocket. ( How did that get there?). His new Astroboy.
What about Astroboy, says Arthur?
What about him? says Sweezus.
Is his world unproblematic? says Arthur.
Sweezus looks at the toy. Cute little robot. Wide eyes. Glossy black geometric hair. Red jet-propelled boots.
Sure, Astroboy had his problems. Created by Dr Tenmu to replace his son Tobio who was killed in a car crash. But rejected because he never got older and couldn't express human emotions. Later he was sold to a circus.
But hey.
Yes, says Sweezus. He's a toy. Not the real cartoon one.
Arthur shoves Astroboy back into his back pack.
Astroboy smiles his fixed smile. His world is so complex you wouldn't believe. Layer on layer of sadness and misunderstanding.
.........
Meanwhile, back in Barcelona, Vello and David are in a cafe, waiting for Schopenhauer, who has been shopping.
Here he comes now, with a lady.
Hello chaps, says Schopenhauer. Sorry I 'm late. Meet Maria Goyri de Menendez Pidal, a fellow philosopher. Now then, don't look so surprised.
Had they looked surprised?
Maria didn't think so. But now she has been alerted, and her feminist hackles are up.
Monday, August 11, 2014
Being And Nothingness
Nothing has happened as expected. Belle and Marie wake up alone.
They try and remember what happened.
George Santayana and José Ortega y Gasset had left the bar to look for a clinic. Their fingers were hurting.
Arthur had gone off with Juan.
Sweezus had muttered something about Sartrean existentialism and the problem of being and nothingness, then run out to check on his bike.
The girls therefore decide to hire a Donut, since there are only the two of them.
After lunch they wander down to the beach in their swimsuits.
..........
It's mid morning. Arthur is walking along the esplanade wheeling his bicycle.
As he gets closer, we can see that it's not his bicycle, but a similar bicycle.
(If we're into distinguishing bicycles).
Arthur is looking for Sweezus. He wants to show him the Art Toy that Juan Redón gave him.
Astroboy. Shiny and round.
.......
Sweezus is brushing the sand from his shorts, having spent four hours slumped on the beach.
......
George Santayana and José Ortega y Gasset are coming out of the clinic.
That's better, says George. Those bandages were disgusting. I was quite embarrassed.
So was I, says José Ortega y Gasset. And I don't feel like banana boating now. What say we go back to Barcelona and rejoin the conference?
Yes, let's, says George Santayana. I feel I have more to contribute.
As do I, says José Ortega y Gasset. I had hardly got started.
They head for the station.
.........
Arthur has found Sweezus on the beach. He shows him the toy.
Woah! says Sweezus. Astroboy! My favourite character. How'd you get that?
That collector, says Arthur. He had a collection. He had a whole collection of collections.
Awesome! says Sweezus. I wish I had ......no I don't. I don't wish for anything
He looks seriously serious. His new haircut helps.
You look serious, says Arthur.
Think intellectual, says Sweezus.
I always do, says Arthur.
Did you nick that bike? says Sweezus.
Not exactly, says Arthur.
They try and remember what happened.
George Santayana and José Ortega y Gasset had left the bar to look for a clinic. Their fingers were hurting.
Arthur had gone off with Juan.
Sweezus had muttered something about Sartrean existentialism and the problem of being and nothingness, then run out to check on his bike.
The girls therefore decide to hire a Donut, since there are only the two of them.
After lunch they wander down to the beach in their swimsuits.
..........
It's mid morning. Arthur is walking along the esplanade wheeling his bicycle.
As he gets closer, we can see that it's not his bicycle, but a similar bicycle.
(If we're into distinguishing bicycles).
Arthur is looking for Sweezus. He wants to show him the Art Toy that Juan Redón gave him.
Astroboy. Shiny and round.
.......
Sweezus is brushing the sand from his shorts, having spent four hours slumped on the beach.
......
George Santayana and José Ortega y Gasset are coming out of the clinic.
That's better, says George. Those bandages were disgusting. I was quite embarrassed.
So was I, says José Ortega y Gasset. And I don't feel like banana boating now. What say we go back to Barcelona and rejoin the conference?
Yes, let's, says George Santayana. I feel I have more to contribute.
As do I, says José Ortega y Gasset. I had hardly got started.
They head for the station.
.........
Arthur has found Sweezus on the beach. He shows him the toy.
Woah! says Sweezus. Astroboy! My favourite character. How'd you get that?
That collector, says Arthur. He had a collection. He had a whole collection of collections.
Awesome! says Sweezus. I wish I had ......no I don't. I don't wish for anything
He looks seriously serious. His new haircut helps.
You look serious, says Arthur.
Think intellectual, says Sweezus.
I always do, says Arthur.
Did you nick that bike? says Sweezus.
Not exactly, says Arthur.
Saturday, August 9, 2014
Towed Crazily This Way And That
Arthur has courteously lent the Spanish philosophers his two dirtiest bandages.
The two parties are now introduced.
George, José, this is Sweezus and Arthur, says Belle. They rode in the Tour de France last month. I was their manager. Arthur's also a poet and Sweezie edits for papa. He's.....
I'm an entrepreneur, says Sweezus.
Yes, an entrepreneur, says Belle. He makes cuttlefish burgers.
When he can find any cuttlefish, says Marie.
The Spanish philosophers are delighted ( they say ).
And George and José are philosophers says Belle. They were in Barcelona for the conference.
Awesome! says Sweezus. And you all came here. Where's the boss?
Papa and David are still in Barcelona, says Marie. We came for the banana boats.
Wicked! says Sweezus. Is that them?
He points to several yellow banana boats out on the water mounted by squealing riders being towed crazily by jet skis and power boats this way and that.
It is, says Ortega y Gasset. We look forward to tomorrow.
Tomorrow? says Sweezus.
Overnight package, says Marie.
Sweezus is not always quick on the uptake, but this time he is.
It's an old guy date thing. Far out. Go Belle and Marie.
Okay, says Sweezus. Well yeah....maybe we'll see you tomorrow.
No no, says George Santayana, we must not part this way, on the beach after a wounding. Let us all meet again after the siesta and dine together in the fine Spanish way.
He looks sideways at the young poet. What will be his opinion? But Arthur is looking out to sea.
........
Later, they meet at a bar. It's already nine thirty. In the fine Spanish tradition.
Red wine and tapas. Endless tapas. Endless red wine.
George Santayana sits on a high bar stool next to Arthur, speaking of poetry.
I too write poetry, says George.
Let me guess, says Arthur. It's depressive.
True, sighs George. I have lived a solitary life. World War One found me in England. It was there I......
What a chatterbox. Arthur is bored.
José Ortega y Gasset is talking to Sweezus. He senses that under the hipster haircut lurks a head that is troubled.
And what does your father do? probes Ortega y Gasset.
This is a sore point with Sweezus.
He refuses to answer. He orders a beer.
You shouldn't mix drinks, says Ortga y Gasset. Red wine and beer. You'll be sorry.
You're not my father, says Sweezus.
Of course not, says Ortgea y Gasset. But I have always tried to foster young poets and intellectuals.
Sweezus perks up. He's no poet, so he must be coming across as a young intellectual. Coolio!
Yeah, says Sweezus. Yeah.....
He tries to think of something really intellectual. What was that thing Vello said once?
If god didn't exist, it would be necessary........SHIT NO! not that one!
........
Belle and Marie are fed up by this time.
Ignored by the blokes.
They move to the other end of the bar and mingle with the cool Spanish crowd.
Cool Spanish hipsters. Gerard Estadella takes their photo, as they pose with their tongues out. How hilarious! The photos will go on his website icanteachyouhowtodoit.
Mar del Hoyo, a beautiful actress.
I see you were with those distinguished old men earlier, says Mar del Hoyo.
And then those young men take the attention, she adds.
Life can be like that sometimes, she finishes.
Come and meet Juan.
She introduces Belle and Marie to Juan Redón.
He is a portly and loquacious Art Toyz collector.
He is more than happy to explain his love for toys and their social significance.....
What time is it? Crikey! Three a.m. and no sign of anyone flaking.
And it's banana boating tomorrow! In Spain life is full on.
The two parties are now introduced.
George, José, this is Sweezus and Arthur, says Belle. They rode in the Tour de France last month. I was their manager. Arthur's also a poet and Sweezie edits for papa. He's.....
I'm an entrepreneur, says Sweezus.
Yes, an entrepreneur, says Belle. He makes cuttlefish burgers.
When he can find any cuttlefish, says Marie.
The Spanish philosophers are delighted ( they say ).
And George and José are philosophers says Belle. They were in Barcelona for the conference.
Awesome! says Sweezus. And you all came here. Where's the boss?
Papa and David are still in Barcelona, says Marie. We came for the banana boats.
Wicked! says Sweezus. Is that them?
He points to several yellow banana boats out on the water mounted by squealing riders being towed crazily by jet skis and power boats this way and that.
It is, says Ortega y Gasset. We look forward to tomorrow.
Tomorrow? says Sweezus.
Overnight package, says Marie.
Sweezus is not always quick on the uptake, but this time he is.
It's an old guy date thing. Far out. Go Belle and Marie.
Okay, says Sweezus. Well yeah....maybe we'll see you tomorrow.
No no, says George Santayana, we must not part this way, on the beach after a wounding. Let us all meet again after the siesta and dine together in the fine Spanish way.
He looks sideways at the young poet. What will be his opinion? But Arthur is looking out to sea.
........
Later, they meet at a bar. It's already nine thirty. In the fine Spanish tradition.
Red wine and tapas. Endless tapas. Endless red wine.
George Santayana sits on a high bar stool next to Arthur, speaking of poetry.
I too write poetry, says George.
Let me guess, says Arthur. It's depressive.
True, sighs George. I have lived a solitary life. World War One found me in England. It was there I......
What a chatterbox. Arthur is bored.
José Ortega y Gasset is talking to Sweezus. He senses that under the hipster haircut lurks a head that is troubled.
And what does your father do? probes Ortega y Gasset.
This is a sore point with Sweezus.
He refuses to answer. He orders a beer.
You shouldn't mix drinks, says Ortga y Gasset. Red wine and beer. You'll be sorry.
You're not my father, says Sweezus.
Of course not, says Ortgea y Gasset. But I have always tried to foster young poets and intellectuals.
Sweezus perks up. He's no poet, so he must be coming across as a young intellectual. Coolio!
Yeah, says Sweezus. Yeah.....
He tries to think of something really intellectual. What was that thing Vello said once?
If god didn't exist, it would be necessary........SHIT NO! not that one!
........
Belle and Marie are fed up by this time.
Ignored by the blokes.
They move to the other end of the bar and mingle with the cool Spanish crowd.
Cool Spanish hipsters. Gerard Estadella takes their photo, as they pose with their tongues out. How hilarious! The photos will go on his website icanteachyouhowtodoit.
Mar del Hoyo, a beautiful actress.
I see you were with those distinguished old men earlier, says Mar del Hoyo.
And then those young men take the attention, she adds.
Life can be like that sometimes, she finishes.
Come and meet Juan.
She introduces Belle and Marie to Juan Redón.
He is a portly and loquacious Art Toyz collector.
He is more than happy to explain his love for toys and their social significance.....
What time is it? Crikey! Three a.m. and no sign of anyone flaking.
And it's banana boating tomorrow! In Spain life is full on.
Friday, August 8, 2014
Beach Culture: Taut Rope Trembling String
Sweezus turns. Belle and Marie, in Pineda de Mar! That's awesome.
And to the left, a man shouts something at Arthur. Tonto de culo! That's bad
The man steps forward. Arthur sprints off down the beach. Sweezus follows.
What's going on? Belle starts running. So does Marie.
The man shrugs and steps back to examine his beach shade. Hmm, the ropes look okay. Next the kite strings. Bueno! The kite is not flying away. The balloon of his child is still tied to the handle of his picnic basket. The striped beach holdall of his wife dangles intact from a rib of their orange umbrella. He sits down again to enjoy the warm afternoon sun.
José Ortega y Gasset and George Santayana have a short conversation.
José: Should we follow them, George?
George: Let's stroll in their general direction
José: How will that help? They're all running.
George: It's stroll or nothing, amigo.
José: Okay let's go.
They start strolling.
Belle and Marie catch up to Sweezus and Arthur.
What did you run away for? says Belle. And why was that man shouting?
Ask Arthur, says Sweezus.
Do you like our new haircuts? says Arthur.
You both look amazing, says Marie. But don't change the subject.
It's kind of funny, says Sweezus. Arthur's got this cool knife.
Which you gave him, says Belle.
Which I gave him, says Sweezus. And he keeps ......you tell them, Arthur.
No, says Arthur. I haven't done anything.
Cutting people's ropes, says Belle severely. Why is that funny?
He makes it look like he has, says Sweezus. Whips out the knife. Schwoof! You'd swear he'd cut something. And he hasn't. But yeah, people get shitty.
Arthur whips out the knife. Schwoof! Schwoof! ....
....just as José Ortega y Gasset and George Santayana stroll by.
Ay! The young hooligan! He is threatening the girls!
They step forward gallantly.
.........
You guys! says Belle If only you'd stayed back where you were. Then this wouldn't have happened.
We weren't to know, says George Santayana.
José Ortega y Gasset and George Santayana are nursing cut fingers.
It was an accident, says Belle. And Sweezie gave Arthur the knife.
She looks at Sweezus reproachfully.
Heavy, says Sweezus. Yeah I guess it was my fault.
No no, says José Ortega y Gasset. That is like saying .....
Everyone stops to think what that is like saying.
Philosophers can't help doing that.
Even Arthur who is a poet and not a philosopher doesn't think you should blame the party who gave you the weapon.
He blames the beach culture.
So much taut rope. So much trembling string.
And to the left, a man shouts something at Arthur. Tonto de culo! That's bad
The man steps forward. Arthur sprints off down the beach. Sweezus follows.
What's going on? Belle starts running. So does Marie.
The man shrugs and steps back to examine his beach shade. Hmm, the ropes look okay. Next the kite strings. Bueno! The kite is not flying away. The balloon of his child is still tied to the handle of his picnic basket. The striped beach holdall of his wife dangles intact from a rib of their orange umbrella. He sits down again to enjoy the warm afternoon sun.
José Ortega y Gasset and George Santayana have a short conversation.
José: Should we follow them, George?
George: Let's stroll in their general direction
José: How will that help? They're all running.
George: It's stroll or nothing, amigo.
José: Okay let's go.
They start strolling.
Belle and Marie catch up to Sweezus and Arthur.
What did you run away for? says Belle. And why was that man shouting?
Ask Arthur, says Sweezus.
Do you like our new haircuts? says Arthur.
You both look amazing, says Marie. But don't change the subject.
It's kind of funny, says Sweezus. Arthur's got this cool knife.
Which you gave him, says Belle.
Which I gave him, says Sweezus. And he keeps ......you tell them, Arthur.
No, says Arthur. I haven't done anything.
Cutting people's ropes, says Belle severely. Why is that funny?
He makes it look like he has, says Sweezus. Whips out the knife. Schwoof! You'd swear he'd cut something. And he hasn't. But yeah, people get shitty.
Arthur whips out the knife. Schwoof! Schwoof! ....
....just as José Ortega y Gasset and George Santayana stroll by.
Ay! The young hooligan! He is threatening the girls!
They step forward gallantly.
.........
You guys! says Belle If only you'd stayed back where you were. Then this wouldn't have happened.
We weren't to know, says George Santayana.
José Ortega y Gasset and George Santayana are nursing cut fingers.
It was an accident, says Belle. And Sweezie gave Arthur the knife.
She looks at Sweezus reproachfully.
Heavy, says Sweezus. Yeah I guess it was my fault.
No no, says José Ortega y Gasset. That is like saying .....
Everyone stops to think what that is like saying.
Philosophers can't help doing that.
Even Arthur who is a poet and not a philosopher doesn't think you should blame the party who gave you the weapon.
He blames the beach culture.
So much taut rope. So much trembling string.
How To Recognise Friends In Strange Places
Still at Pineda de Mar.
The two with the cool hipster haircuts walk down to the foreshore.
One or two people turn. Are they someone?
No, lots of guys here look like them.
........
Belle et Bonne, Marie, George Santayana and José Ortega y Gasset are checking out the Banana Boats for tomorrow.
Oh wow! says Belle et Bonne. Do we want the Banana? There's Flyfish and Donut as well!
No, let's go Banana, says Marie. That's what we came for. What's your opinion, José?
José Ortega y Gasset is thinking : My legs are too thin for this caper.
But he is a proud Spaniard. He will not say this. He refocuses, to consider the merits of Banana versus Flyfish and Donut.
A Banana takes ten riders. Whereas a Flyfish accommodates six, and a Donut just two.
I'm seriously considering two Donuts, says José Ortega y Gasset.
So am I, says George Santayana ( the legs issue). Two Donuts. But if we do that who will go on with whom?
Us two and you two, says Belle.
Is she teasing?
On the other hand, says José Ortega y Gasset, it might be more amusing to go on a Flyfish.
That's only two extra people, says Belle. It might be awkward. I still favour Banana. The more people the more fun we'll have. Look out there at those guys! Woah! They're all going under!
She laughs with sheer joy at the sight of them all going under.
.........
Is it Sweezus and Arthur, or isn't it?
And where are they, relative to their friends?
Belle and Marie are standing at the edge of the water, laughing at the misfortune of others.
José Ortega y Gasset and George Santayana are a little further up the sand, discussing the feasibility of riding the banana boat in long trousers.
José: It's not vanity
George: Just the opposite.
José: No need to go that far.
George: Do you wish you were younger?
José: Like those two over there?
George: What ridiculous haircuts the young have these days!
José: Yes and the shorts that they wear. Purple, with skulls on.
Aha ! Now we know that one of the hipsters could be Arthur.
Shall we look in his pocket? Does fiction allow?
Absolutely. Here we are at the top of the pocket, peering down into it. What are we looking at?
Erk! Several sticky old half-eaten churros, a bamboo stick ( where did that come from?) two dirty bandages, and..... a couteau nontron!
A hand reaches into the pocket and whips out the couteau nontron.
Schwp! A cutting sound happens.
The couteau nontron is replaced.
A voice is heard saying:
Fuck, Arthur. Man! Wha'd ya do that for?
Then a girlish tone:
Sweezie! It's you!
The two with the cool hipster haircuts walk down to the foreshore.
One or two people turn. Are they someone?
No, lots of guys here look like them.
........
Belle et Bonne, Marie, George Santayana and José Ortega y Gasset are checking out the Banana Boats for tomorrow.
Oh wow! says Belle et Bonne. Do we want the Banana? There's Flyfish and Donut as well!
No, let's go Banana, says Marie. That's what we came for. What's your opinion, José?
José Ortega y Gasset is thinking : My legs are too thin for this caper.
But he is a proud Spaniard. He will not say this. He refocuses, to consider the merits of Banana versus Flyfish and Donut.
A Banana takes ten riders. Whereas a Flyfish accommodates six, and a Donut just two.
I'm seriously considering two Donuts, says José Ortega y Gasset.
So am I, says George Santayana ( the legs issue). Two Donuts. But if we do that who will go on with whom?
Us two and you two, says Belle.
Is she teasing?
On the other hand, says José Ortega y Gasset, it might be more amusing to go on a Flyfish.
That's only two extra people, says Belle. It might be awkward. I still favour Banana. The more people the more fun we'll have. Look out there at those guys! Woah! They're all going under!
She laughs with sheer joy at the sight of them all going under.
.........
Is it Sweezus and Arthur, or isn't it?
And where are they, relative to their friends?
Belle and Marie are standing at the edge of the water, laughing at the misfortune of others.
José Ortega y Gasset and George Santayana are a little further up the sand, discussing the feasibility of riding the banana boat in long trousers.
José: It's not vanity
George: Just the opposite.
José: No need to go that far.
George: Do you wish you were younger?
José: Like those two over there?
George: What ridiculous haircuts the young have these days!
José: Yes and the shorts that they wear. Purple, with skulls on.
Aha ! Now we know that one of the hipsters could be Arthur.
Shall we look in his pocket? Does fiction allow?
Absolutely. Here we are at the top of the pocket, peering down into it. What are we looking at?
Erk! Several sticky old half-eaten churros, a bamboo stick ( where did that come from?) two dirty bandages, and..... a couteau nontron!
A hand reaches into the pocket and whips out the couteau nontron.
Schwp! A cutting sound happens.
The couteau nontron is replaced.
A voice is heard saying:
Fuck, Arthur. Man! Wha'd ya do that for?
Then a girlish tone:
Sweezie! It's you!
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
I Would I Might Forget That I Am I
On the bus to Pineda de Mar:
Belle et Bonne: Papa was put out, did you think so?
Marie: Yes, piqued. But, let him find his own fun.
José Ortega y Gasset: Is he your father?
Belle et Bonne: No, I'm sort of adopted.
Marie: And he's kind of my uncle.
George Santayana: Dios! No wonder he was put out.
Marie: He'll get over it. He has other things to worry about. Such as Ageless.
José Ortega y Gasset: Ageless, the poet! He was impressive. Young people today, they all wish to be poets but this one.....
George Santayana: Is he a friend of yours? I should like to meet him.
Belle et Bonne: Before you go any further, I should tell you, he's just this weird lobster.
Marie: And I wouldn't be surprised if he had help.
Belle et Bonne: Yes! From Captain Louttit!
George Santayana: Captain Louttit. Is he a real poet?
Belle et Bonne: Another lobster. A sailor.
José Ortega y Gasset: George was a poet.
Marie: Were you? What did you write?
George Santayana: Oh.....I Would I Might Forget That I am I, Slow And Reluctant Was The Long Descent.
Belle et Bonne: How depressing. Are you sure you want to go banana boating?
George Santayana: Absolutely!
The bus arrives at Pineda de Mar.
They pile off, and look around for the banana boat station. There it is over there.
Um. It seems you have to buy a whole package and stay overnight.
While they are deciding what to next ( as if there is any question ), let's go down to the beach proper.
It is crowded with people of course.
Who are those two? If they didn't have hipster haircuts they might be Sweezus and Arthur. Their shorts are the same.
Let's think now. Is it possible? Or a shameful fictive coincidence......
No, it's perfectly possible. Let's say Sweezus and Arthur had been on the train from Paris to Barcelona, but they had decided to get off at Perpignan, and cycle the rest of the way.
Had they really?
Well wait on, we're not sure it's them.
They had cycled along the coast to Girona, discussing the problem of hair styles.
Sweezus: Yeah but once we get there .....
Arthur: Barcelona is bigger.
Sweezus: I really want to look hot.
Arthur: You look all right.
Sweezus: You look all right. I look like a hippy.
Arthur: That's you though.
Sweezus : No more, man. Big changes a'comin'.
And they had stopped in Girona and got (Spanish) hipster haircuts.
So that when they arrived at Pineda de Mar they looked different.
What do you reckon?
Belle et Bonne: Papa was put out, did you think so?
Marie: Yes, piqued. But, let him find his own fun.
José Ortega y Gasset: Is he your father?
Belle et Bonne: No, I'm sort of adopted.
Marie: And he's kind of my uncle.
George Santayana: Dios! No wonder he was put out.
Marie: He'll get over it. He has other things to worry about. Such as Ageless.
José Ortega y Gasset: Ageless, the poet! He was impressive. Young people today, they all wish to be poets but this one.....
George Santayana: Is he a friend of yours? I should like to meet him.
Belle et Bonne: Before you go any further, I should tell you, he's just this weird lobster.
Marie: And I wouldn't be surprised if he had help.
Belle et Bonne: Yes! From Captain Louttit!
George Santayana: Captain Louttit. Is he a real poet?
Belle et Bonne: Another lobster. A sailor.
José Ortega y Gasset: George was a poet.
Marie: Were you? What did you write?
George Santayana: Oh.....I Would I Might Forget That I am I, Slow And Reluctant Was The Long Descent.
Belle et Bonne: How depressing. Are you sure you want to go banana boating?
George Santayana: Absolutely!
The bus arrives at Pineda de Mar.
They pile off, and look around for the banana boat station. There it is over there.
Um. It seems you have to buy a whole package and stay overnight.
While they are deciding what to next ( as if there is any question ), let's go down to the beach proper.
It is crowded with people of course.
Who are those two? If they didn't have hipster haircuts they might be Sweezus and Arthur. Their shorts are the same.
Let's think now. Is it possible? Or a shameful fictive coincidence......
No, it's perfectly possible. Let's say Sweezus and Arthur had been on the train from Paris to Barcelona, but they had decided to get off at Perpignan, and cycle the rest of the way.
Had they really?
Well wait on, we're not sure it's them.
They had cycled along the coast to Girona, discussing the problem of hair styles.
Sweezus: Yeah but once we get there .....
Arthur: Barcelona is bigger.
Sweezus: I really want to look hot.
Arthur: You look all right.
Sweezus: You look all right. I look like a hippy.
Arthur: That's you though.
Sweezus : No more, man. Big changes a'comin'.
And they had stopped in Girona and got (Spanish) hipster haircuts.
So that when they arrived at Pineda de Mar they looked different.
What do you reckon?
Tuesday, August 5, 2014
New Directions In Philosophy: Legs To Banana
George Santayana lies on a beach towel, facing the water.
Looking at legs.
Some legs walk this way, some that. Some run into the sea.
This is Spain not America. But these days what's the difference? Everywhere you see legs.
Can you be sure though? That what you are seeing is real?
He stares hard at the legs until they join at the horizon, a gigantic blue centipede, paddling.
He sits up in a panic.
Four female legs have loomed up before him.
Belle et Bonne! cries Vello. And Marie!
Hi! says Belle et Bonne. Is this the Spanish Philosophers' Conference?
Yes, says Vello. This is José Ortega y Gasett and George Santayana.
How's it going? asks Marie. Come to any conclusions? New directions?
We have been neglecting philosophy, says Vello. Due to a contretemps with Ageless. He has let us down badly.
I knew it! says Belle. He didn't write anything.
He wrote wonderful things, says Ortega y Gasset, remembering the moon and the whirlpool. He conflated a bicycle through the magical medium of metaphor.
He did NOT! says David quite sharply. You are far too Spanish.
Then I too am too Spanish, says George Santayana hotly. I also detected the bicycle.
Marie looks at the two Spanish philosophers. In identical hats. Suave-looking, with interesting moustaches. High foreheads. Retaining a discernible degree of old-man-style Spanish hotness.
How would you guys like to come down the coast for some banana boating? asks Marie, on an impulse.
Yes, says Belle et Bonne. Sounds like you've done enough conferencing. Would you?
Vello and David wonder if they are included in the invitation. It rather depends on the circunstancia.
Banana boating, says George. This is new to me. Is it a boat for carrying bananas or some sort of metaphor?
It's pulled by a jet ski, says Belle. You sit on it. It's inflatable. It's long and yellow, and super fun.
Who could resist such a metaphor? An inflatable super fun banana
Vello plucks at the shorts of Marie. (He is sitting on a towel, she is standing. It's what anyone would do, in the circumstances, even your uncle).
What? says Marie.
He wants to know if it's a date thing, says Belle et Bonne.
A date thing, says Vello. That is not quite how I would have put it, but is it a date thing?
Marie looks at George Santayana and José Ortega y Gasset, to see whether it is date thing.
And yes! There is evidence to show that it is.
Looking at legs.
Some legs walk this way, some that. Some run into the sea.
This is Spain not America. But these days what's the difference? Everywhere you see legs.
Can you be sure though? That what you are seeing is real?
He stares hard at the legs until they join at the horizon, a gigantic blue centipede, paddling.
He sits up in a panic.
Four female legs have loomed up before him.
Belle et Bonne! cries Vello. And Marie!
Hi! says Belle et Bonne. Is this the Spanish Philosophers' Conference?
Yes, says Vello. This is José Ortega y Gasett and George Santayana.
How's it going? asks Marie. Come to any conclusions? New directions?
We have been neglecting philosophy, says Vello. Due to a contretemps with Ageless. He has let us down badly.
I knew it! says Belle. He didn't write anything.
He wrote wonderful things, says Ortega y Gasset, remembering the moon and the whirlpool. He conflated a bicycle through the magical medium of metaphor.
He did NOT! says David quite sharply. You are far too Spanish.
Then I too am too Spanish, says George Santayana hotly. I also detected the bicycle.
Marie looks at the two Spanish philosophers. In identical hats. Suave-looking, with interesting moustaches. High foreheads. Retaining a discernible degree of old-man-style Spanish hotness.
How would you guys like to come down the coast for some banana boating? asks Marie, on an impulse.
Yes, says Belle et Bonne. Sounds like you've done enough conferencing. Would you?
Vello and David wonder if they are included in the invitation. It rather depends on the circunstancia.
Banana boating, says George. This is new to me. Is it a boat for carrying bananas or some sort of metaphor?
It's pulled by a jet ski, says Belle. You sit on it. It's inflatable. It's long and yellow, and super fun.
Who could resist such a metaphor? An inflatable super fun banana
Vello plucks at the shorts of Marie. (He is sitting on a towel, she is standing. It's what anyone would do, in the circumstances, even your uncle).
What? says Marie.
He wants to know if it's a date thing, says Belle et Bonne.
A date thing, says Vello. That is not quite how I would have put it, but is it a date thing?
Marie looks at George Santayana and José Ortega y Gasset, to see whether it is date thing.
And yes! There is evidence to show that it is.
A Moon And a Whirlpool
The philosophers like Barceloneta Beach so much they return the next day.
They sit down on colourful towels, red, green, blue and yellow.
They watch as young people frolic in the water while the sun shines benignly.
This is pleasant, says Vello, stretching his toes.
Indeed it is, says David, adjusting his sun hat.
But you must watch your possessions, says Ortega y Gasset.
Watch your possessions. A sensible warning. Vello picks up his phone.
He sees that he has a new message.
Ah! says Vello. The new edition of Velosophy is out. Let's see what Ageless has come up with.
He follows the link and starts reading.
Hmm... hmm... hmm... marine philosophy... winning battles... that's honest ... and then he... what?... the Ancient Mariner... o priceless!
What is it? says David. Give it to me.
How about letting us in on it, if it's so damn funny, says George Santayana.
Ageless thinks it's a metaphor, says Vello. The Ancient Mariner is God. And the spirit-who-bideth, the bird, and the man who shot the bird are three buddies.
Who is this Ageless? asks George Santayana. It seems he knows nothing of maths.
I agree, says Ortega y Gasset. There are not enough characters, unless the Mariner is twofold.
What's this? says Vello. He can't be two things at once? What about the Trinity?
David has finished his reading. He looks grave.
Something important is missing, says David.
Logic, says Vello.
A bicycle, says David.
O heaven! cries Vello. It's our fault. We didn't remind him!
Ortega y Gasset looks dismally at George Santayana.
George shakes his head.
These non-Spanish, says George Santayana. It is clear they think differently. As for me, I think the whole thing is nonsense from start to finish. From now on I'm looking at girls.
He rolls over on his belly facing the shoreline and stares at the legs of the girls.
Ortega y Gasset makes one more attempt to contribute.
Metaphor is the most fruitful power of man, says Ortega y Gasset. As a tool it verges on magic.
Humph! says David. Perhaps you can suggest what in this article might serve as a metaphor for a bicycle?
Let me see, says Ortega y Gasset. He peruses the text.
All in vain.
He finds nothing but a moon and a whirlpool.
They sit down on colourful towels, red, green, blue and yellow.
They watch as young people frolic in the water while the sun shines benignly.
This is pleasant, says Vello, stretching his toes.
Indeed it is, says David, adjusting his sun hat.
But you must watch your possessions, says Ortega y Gasset.
Watch your possessions. A sensible warning. Vello picks up his phone.
He sees that he has a new message.
Ah! says Vello. The new edition of Velosophy is out. Let's see what Ageless has come up with.
He follows the link and starts reading.
Hmm... hmm... hmm... marine philosophy... winning battles... that's honest ... and then he... what?... the Ancient Mariner... o priceless!
What is it? says David. Give it to me.
How about letting us in on it, if it's so damn funny, says George Santayana.
Ageless thinks it's a metaphor, says Vello. The Ancient Mariner is God. And the spirit-who-bideth, the bird, and the man who shot the bird are three buddies.
Who is this Ageless? asks George Santayana. It seems he knows nothing of maths.
I agree, says Ortega y Gasset. There are not enough characters, unless the Mariner is twofold.
What's this? says Vello. He can't be two things at once? What about the Trinity?
David has finished his reading. He looks grave.
Something important is missing, says David.
Logic, says Vello.
A bicycle, says David.
O heaven! cries Vello. It's our fault. We didn't remind him!
Ortega y Gasset looks dismally at George Santayana.
George shakes his head.
These non-Spanish, says George Santayana. It is clear they think differently. As for me, I think the whole thing is nonsense from start to finish. From now on I'm looking at girls.
He rolls over on his belly facing the shoreline and stares at the legs of the girls.
Ortega y Gasset makes one more attempt to contribute.
Metaphor is the most fruitful power of man, says Ortega y Gasset. As a tool it verges on magic.
Humph! says David. Perhaps you can suggest what in this article might serve as a metaphor for a bicycle?
Let me see, says Ortega y Gasset. He peruses the text.
All in vain.
He finds nothing but a moon and a whirlpool.
Monday, August 4, 2014
Pragmatism: David Hume's Useful Pencil
Ageless nudges Louttit awake.
This is a heavy responsibility, says Ageless. I'm not up to it.
What, what? says Captain Louttit groggily.
Ageless shows him the poem. The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. Louttit starts reading.
When he gets to the shooting of the Albatross with the cross bow, he stops.
He opens a drawer to look for a notepad and pencil.
Ah! David's notebook. David's pencil.
You know it's David's. David has done that thing where you get a razor blade and scrape a small wedge of wood from the end of the pencil. Then you write your name on it. DAVID HUME.
Of course to do that, you need another pencil.
I'll make some notes, says Louttit.
While Louttit makes notes, Ageless passes the time thinking up ethical reasons for killing an Albatross which the crew think is lucky. To show it isn't? No, that would be barmy.
I've got it, says Louttit. It's tricky. The answer is this. The Ancient Mariner is God.
Why? asks Ageless.
No reason, says Captain Louttit.
No reason? says Ageless. Why are you writing notes then?
No no, I mean because he kills the Albatross for no reason, says Captain Louttit.
You may be onto something, says Ageless. But then who's the spirit who bideth by himself in ice and snow?
Huh? says Captain Louttit.
He loved the bird that loved the man who shot him with his bow, quotes Ageless.
Captain Louttit ponders.
They'll be three buddies, says Captain Louttit.
Ageless winks at Louttit. Louttit grins.
We've nailed it, says Ageless. I was worried about the ethical aspect, but you've got it sorted.
Yup, says Louttit. A complete Marine Philosophy with all the isms. Perspectivism, pragmatism, vitalism, historism, existentialism........
And an irrational God, says Ageless, looking through the window.
The night sky is streaked with black and grey and purple. A spot of golden light flares suddenly and disappears, for no apparent reason.
This is a heavy responsibility, says Ageless. I'm not up to it.
What, what? says Captain Louttit groggily.
Ageless shows him the poem. The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. Louttit starts reading.
When he gets to the shooting of the Albatross with the cross bow, he stops.
He opens a drawer to look for a notepad and pencil.
Ah! David's notebook. David's pencil.
You know it's David's. David has done that thing where you get a razor blade and scrape a small wedge of wood from the end of the pencil. Then you write your name on it. DAVID HUME.
Of course to do that, you need another pencil.
I'll make some notes, says Louttit.
While Louttit makes notes, Ageless passes the time thinking up ethical reasons for killing an Albatross which the crew think is lucky. To show it isn't? No, that would be barmy.
I've got it, says Louttit. It's tricky. The answer is this. The Ancient Mariner is God.
Why? asks Ageless.
No reason, says Captain Louttit.
No reason? says Ageless. Why are you writing notes then?
No no, I mean because he kills the Albatross for no reason, says Captain Louttit.
You may be onto something, says Ageless. But then who's the spirit who bideth by himself in ice and snow?
Huh? says Captain Louttit.
He loved the bird that loved the man who shot him with his bow, quotes Ageless.
Captain Louttit ponders.
They'll be three buddies, says Captain Louttit.
Ageless winks at Louttit. Louttit grins.
We've nailed it, says Ageless. I was worried about the ethical aspect, but you've got it sorted.
Yup, says Louttit. A complete Marine Philosophy with all the isms. Perspectivism, pragmatism, vitalism, historism, existentialism........
And an irrational God, says Ageless, looking through the window.
The night sky is streaked with black and grey and purple. A spot of golden light flares suddenly and disappears, for no apparent reason.
Saturday, August 2, 2014
The Hazards Of Choosing A Victim
Ageless reads through Louttit's version of Marine Philosphy.
Die for your buddies?
No way.
But he doesn't wish to upset Captain Louttit, who may yet be useful.
Very good, says Ageless. I'll just flesh it out. Now you get some shut-eye.
Sure buddy, says Captain Louttit.
Louttit vacates the chair and lies down in the corner. Soon he is dreaming of :
Creating good citizens and WINNING BATTLES.
Ageless scratches his head? What to do? Should he ask Kobo?
He writes her an email:
dear excellent kobo ( my own!!!!!!!) o kobo,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,no one can help me but you ,,,,,,,,,,you are a reader,,,,,,,,,, what do you know of marine philosophy???? please answer i value your input,,,, ageless lobster,,,,,cliklik,,,,, Send.
On receipt of the email Kobo is flattered. Yes, she is a reader. Marine philosophy. Mmmm. Yes, Coleridge, will do nicely......
She replies immediately:
dear ageless i suggest you read the rime of the ancient mmmariner if your intellect is up to it......by the way it was needlessly cruel of you to mmake mme believe freud was dying........love kobo......
He replies immediately:
beloved,,,,,,thanks for the advice,,,,, what is it,,,,,,,a poetry????,,,,,,,,what about me? i was dying,,,,,did you care a squids arse,,,,,,, no i think not,,,,!!.
She replies immediately:
yes ageless yes
Which is highly ambiguous.
Ageless begins searching online for the Rime of The Ancient Mariner.
Captain Louttit stirs in his warlike meanderings. He creates model citizens of enemy children by giving them sweets........
Ageless locates the Rime and reads in growing puzzlement:
"God save thee ancient Mariner
From the fiends that plague thee thus.
Why look'st thou so?" - With my cross-bow
I shot the ALBATROSS
Ageless ploughs on, hoping to find out the answer to the universal question: WHY DID THE ANCIENT MARINER SHOOT THE ALBATROSS?
Mean Kobo. The poem is tricky and the answer never comes.
Die for your buddies?
No way.
But he doesn't wish to upset Captain Louttit, who may yet be useful.
Very good, says Ageless. I'll just flesh it out. Now you get some shut-eye.
Sure buddy, says Captain Louttit.
Louttit vacates the chair and lies down in the corner. Soon he is dreaming of :
Creating good citizens and WINNING BATTLES.
Ageless scratches his head? What to do? Should he ask Kobo?
He writes her an email:
dear excellent kobo ( my own!!!!!!!) o kobo,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,no one can help me but you ,,,,,,,,,,you are a reader,,,,,,,,,, what do you know of marine philosophy???? please answer i value your input,,,, ageless lobster,,,,,cliklik,,,,, Send.
On receipt of the email Kobo is flattered. Yes, she is a reader. Marine philosophy. Mmmm. Yes, Coleridge, will do nicely......
She replies immediately:
dear ageless i suggest you read the rime of the ancient mmmariner if your intellect is up to it......by the way it was needlessly cruel of you to mmake mme believe freud was dying........love kobo......
He replies immediately:
beloved,,,,,,thanks for the advice,,,,, what is it,,,,,,,a poetry????,,,,,,,,what about me? i was dying,,,,,did you care a squids arse,,,,,,, no i think not,,,,!!.
She replies immediately:
yes ageless yes
Which is highly ambiguous.
Ageless begins searching online for the Rime of The Ancient Mariner.
Captain Louttit stirs in his warlike meanderings. He creates model citizens of enemy children by giving them sweets........
Ageless locates the Rime and reads in growing puzzlement:
"God save thee ancient Mariner
From the fiends that plague thee thus.
Why look'st thou so?" - With my cross-bow
I shot the ALBATROSS
Ageless ploughs on, hoping to find out the answer to the universal question: WHY DID THE ANCIENT MARINER SHOOT THE ALBATROSS?
Mean Kobo. The poem is tricky and the answer never comes.
Marine Philosophy
While Ageless is dreaming up a lazy-style version of marine philosophy, Captain Louttit is hard at work.
How lucky for Ageless.
Captain Louttit has turned on the office computer and started typing.
Notes Towards Marine Philosophy: The Philosophy of Maneuver Warfare.
( an American influence? )
Priorities: Making good marines, developing quality citizens, WINNING BATTLES.
Qualities: Boldness, creativity, intelligence and the WARRIOR SPIRIT.
Aims: AT ALL COSTS, accomplish the mission.
FIGHT FOR YOUR COUNTRY BUT DIE FOR YOUR BUDDIES.
Captain Louttit stops typing.
He looks over at Ageless. He looks at the clock on the wall.
He blows a reveille! Dadadadadada-dadadadadada-dadada-dadada-dadadadadadah!
Without even using a bugle.
Ageless wakes up.
Wahha! What the doodah!!!
Done! says Captain Louttit. Marine philosophy. You just need to flesh it out.
Ageless stares at the screen.
Maneuver?
.........
Back in Barcelona, Schopenhauer sucks on the pebble of Ortega y Gasset.
It's amazing. His tongue is healed, and his mouth is full of fine German spittle.
It is the next morning, and the philosophers are down at Barceleta Beach.
They are still discussing technology.
Even a pebble can be considered technology, says Ortega y Gasset.
It depends on the function, says Santayana. Not every pebble can be considered technology.
This pebble can be, says Schopenhauer. It's function has been to cure my sore tongue and it's secondary function has been to quell my pangs of hunger. I've not had breakfast and I don't feel hungry.
Peasants use pebbles in that way, says Vello. I mean, they used to.
I need more evidence before I believe it, says David.
Of what? says Schopenhauer. Want to look at my tongue?
No thank you, says David, but I shall shortly perform an experiment.
Let me see this pebble, says Vello. Is it a special one?
No, says Ortega y Gasset. I just like picking up pebbles. I am that type of person.
Oh I say, says Schopenhauer. Now you tell me. It may have been dirty.
Take it out, says Vello.
Schopenhauer spits out the pebble, which is dark grey and slimy with spittle, but perfectly clean.
That proves nothing, says Schopenhauer.
Very true, says David. Now excuse me everyone. I'll be back in a minute.
David walks over the sand to a beach side café and comes back with a massive paella.
O heaven! Delicious! says Schopenhauer.
David smirks.
So much for the secondary function.
Friday, August 1, 2014
The Clash Of Philosophies
Evening in Barcelona. Let's have a lively night out.
The philosophers are in the Raval, a once seedy district, looking for a nightclub.
Here it is, says George Santayana. La Bata de Boatiné.
They go in. The clientele all seem friendly. The music is loud.
Schopenhauer joins them.
George Santayana and José Ortega y Gasset, meet our friend Schopenhauer, shouts David, over the music.
Encantado, says Ortega y Gasset. Welcome to Spain.
Did you find a dry cleaner? asks David.
Yes, says Schopenhauer. I found a dry cleaner. And a wonderful sweet shop, Papabubble. What a sight! Mustachioed young men spreading sugar......! Here, try a candy.
Papa-BOOB-lay, says Ortega y Gasset, choosing a passionfruit candy.
Pardon my German, says Schopenhauer.
Not at all, says Ortega y Gasset. I was once in Germany. It was there I met Heidegger.
Ha ha, laughs Santayana.
It's not at all amusing, says Ortega y Gasset. In fact we got on quite well.
It is crowded in La Bata de Boatiné. It is getting a little too friendly. Someone has pinched David's bottom.
That has not happened to me in a long time, says David.
No, not since the duchess, says Vello.
Time to leave.
They walk through the district known as the Eixample, block upon block of modernista-style buildings.
Life is not a spectacle or a feast, says Santayana, waxing philosophical in the Spanish night air. Life's a predicament.
Which is why man invented technology, says Ortega y Gasset.
Schopenhauer sucks on a tart candy. Oh-ah! He feels a small crack in his tongue.
Technology can't prevent suffering, says Schopenhauer.
Technology separates man from nature, says Ortega y Gasset.
I heard you were modern, says Schopenhauer, sticking his tongue out. But what do you say about this?
Iah! It's bleeding! says Ortega y Gasset. Have something better to suck on.
He takes a small round stone from his pocket.
As if he thinks that will work.
........
Marie and Belle are eating a late dinner at cafe Cal Pep.
Fried whitebait, squid rings, shrimps and wedge clams.
I love how everyone stays up so late here, says Marie.
Me too, says Belle et Bonne.
This is brilliant seafood, says Marie.
Which reminds me, says Belle. I wonder how Ageless is going?
Ageless? says Marie. How should he be going?
Don't you know? says Belle et Bonne. Papa put him in charge of the office. He's the only one there.
Crikey! says Marie. What's he meant to be doing?
Marine philosophy or something, says Belle. Yes, I know. With Ageless, it's risky.
Marie looks at her plate. Marine philosophy . What even is it? She stares into the black hole of a squid ring but nothing comes out.
......
Ageless is in the office, with his feet up, his eyes closed, dreaming of writing the ultimate exposition of marine philosophy.
....sleep-drift-eat-grow-moult-grow-eat-roll-with-the-tide-defecate-prrrp-ahhh....click....sleep-drift....
The philosophers are in the Raval, a once seedy district, looking for a nightclub.
Here it is, says George Santayana. La Bata de Boatiné.
They go in. The clientele all seem friendly. The music is loud.
Schopenhauer joins them.
George Santayana and José Ortega y Gasset, meet our friend Schopenhauer, shouts David, over the music.
Encantado, says Ortega y Gasset. Welcome to Spain.
Did you find a dry cleaner? asks David.
Yes, says Schopenhauer. I found a dry cleaner. And a wonderful sweet shop, Papabubble. What a sight! Mustachioed young men spreading sugar......! Here, try a candy.
Papa-BOOB-lay, says Ortega y Gasset, choosing a passionfruit candy.
Pardon my German, says Schopenhauer.
Not at all, says Ortega y Gasset. I was once in Germany. It was there I met Heidegger.
Ha ha, laughs Santayana.
It's not at all amusing, says Ortega y Gasset. In fact we got on quite well.
It is crowded in La Bata de Boatiné. It is getting a little too friendly. Someone has pinched David's bottom.
That has not happened to me in a long time, says David.
No, not since the duchess, says Vello.
Time to leave.
They walk through the district known as the Eixample, block upon block of modernista-style buildings.
Life is not a spectacle or a feast, says Santayana, waxing philosophical in the Spanish night air. Life's a predicament.
Which is why man invented technology, says Ortega y Gasset.
Schopenhauer sucks on a tart candy. Oh-ah! He feels a small crack in his tongue.
Technology can't prevent suffering, says Schopenhauer.
Technology separates man from nature, says Ortega y Gasset.
I heard you were modern, says Schopenhauer, sticking his tongue out. But what do you say about this?
Iah! It's bleeding! says Ortega y Gasset. Have something better to suck on.
He takes a small round stone from his pocket.
As if he thinks that will work.
........
Marie and Belle are eating a late dinner at cafe Cal Pep.
Fried whitebait, squid rings, shrimps and wedge clams.
I love how everyone stays up so late here, says Marie.
Me too, says Belle et Bonne.
This is brilliant seafood, says Marie.
Which reminds me, says Belle. I wonder how Ageless is going?
Ageless? says Marie. How should he be going?
Don't you know? says Belle et Bonne. Papa put him in charge of the office. He's the only one there.
Crikey! says Marie. What's he meant to be doing?
Marine philosophy or something, says Belle. Yes, I know. With Ageless, it's risky.
Marie looks at her plate. Marine philosophy . What even is it? She stares into the black hole of a squid ring but nothing comes out.
......
Ageless is in the office, with his feet up, his eyes closed, dreaming of writing the ultimate exposition of marine philosophy.
....sleep-drift-eat-grow-moult-grow-eat-roll-with-the-tide-defecate-prrrp-ahhh....click....sleep-drift....
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