The Overland Express stops at Horsham.
Gaius looks up from his frog notes.
I suppose we'll be moving seats again, says Gaius.
We may not have to, says Arthur.
I might just sit here, says Gaius.
Up to you, says Arthur. But I'm going to walk down the train.
Some people get off at Horsham. Some people get on. No one sits down next to Gaius.
Arthur comes back with a sandwich.
Did you get me one? asks Gaius.
No, says Arthur. They only had tomato.
Tch! says Gaius. I've a mind to complain.
No, don't do that, says Arthur. Have a bite of this one.
But is it tomato? asks Gaius.
No, says Arthur. It's ham.
Gaius takes a bite of Arthur's ham sandwich.
The train pulls out of Horsham.
Arthur takes an envelope out of his pocket. It's open. He pulls out a sheet of blue notepaper closely written in Chinese characters.
He already knows what it says:
He has failed each day to keep his word.
Had I thought how regular the tide is
I might rather have chosen a river boy.
That from Shu? asks Gaius.
Yes, says Arthur. He should be home by now.
A puzzle of a man, says Gaius. Bit slow on the uptake. But you must put him behind you.
I already have, says Arthur. I like travelling. There may be snow on the plateau.
Snow on the plateau? says Gaius. Do you know something I don't?
That would be remarkable, says Arthur. It's there in your notes. The Baw Baw Plateau is an extremely cold high altitude habitat.
My goodness, says Gaius. What month is it?
June, says Arthur. Winter.
That is inconvenient, says Gaius. I must send you out to buy us warm jackets in Melbourne.
Arthur thinks of the $158 in his pocket, saved from the Overland fare.
And now, money for jackets.
The Overland rolls east towards Melbourne.
Meanwhile on the cold Baw Baw Plateau snow is falling.
One more Baw Baw Frog succumbs to the cruel chytrid fungus.
The remaining two hundred and forty eight Baw Baw frogs are preparing to become inactive.
Tuesday, May 31, 2016
Monday, May 30, 2016
All Day To Get Lucky
How will you get there? asks Belle.
Dunno. Post an ad on the Gumtree, says Sweezus. Find some dudes driving to Melbourne.
Did someone say Melbourne? says Katherine.
Sweezus is going, says Belle.
Would you like a lift, dear? asks Katherine. I'm thinking of going over to visit an old school friend.
Oh, er, thanks, but I wouldn't want .......mumbles Sweezus.
You ought to, says Belle. It will be nicer for Terence.
Am I going? says Terence. Yippee! Can we visit Grandpa?
Who's your Grandpa? asks the Elegant Parrot. No don't tell me. Let me guess.
Grandpa Marx, says Terence.
The Elegant Parrot is not used to being fore-answered. She has spent most of her life in the Coorong. She forges ahead.
Grandpa Marx, says the Elegant Parrot. I can just see him.
What does he look like? asks Terence.
A big head, and grey hair sprouting from it. A red beret.
Wow, says Terence. That's him. Except for the beret.
How come I have to take Terence? says Sweezus.
I've had him for ages, says Belle. And Katherine is going to Melbourne. Just accept it.
Okay, says Sweezus. Thanks, Katherine. When are you leaving?
I could leave this afternoon, says Katherine. Will you be ready?
No worries, says Sweezus. He heads for the door.
Got some things to do first. Buy some wrapping paper.
Well, Mr Nietzsche, says Belle, that just leaves you and me.
And us, says Ageless. Me and Catcher.
She ignores them.
Just you and me, says Belle. Perhaps you'd like to show me what you've written so far?
It's all in my head at the moment, says Nietzsche. I shall reference the Catcher, and thereby incorporate the requisite bicycle.
How FASCINATING, says Belle. Let's go out for lunch and workshop it together.
Yes, let's do that, says Nietzsche.
O the shining moment, the glorious uncertainty, the mysterious flux of life.....
Dunno. Post an ad on the Gumtree, says Sweezus. Find some dudes driving to Melbourne.
Did someone say Melbourne? says Katherine.
Sweezus is going, says Belle.
Would you like a lift, dear? asks Katherine. I'm thinking of going over to visit an old school friend.
Oh, er, thanks, but I wouldn't want .......mumbles Sweezus.
You ought to, says Belle. It will be nicer for Terence.
Am I going? says Terence. Yippee! Can we visit Grandpa?
Who's your Grandpa? asks the Elegant Parrot. No don't tell me. Let me guess.
Grandpa Marx, says Terence.
The Elegant Parrot is not used to being fore-answered. She has spent most of her life in the Coorong. She forges ahead.
Grandpa Marx, says the Elegant Parrot. I can just see him.
What does he look like? asks Terence.
A big head, and grey hair sprouting from it. A red beret.
Wow, says Terence. That's him. Except for the beret.
How come I have to take Terence? says Sweezus.
I've had him for ages, says Belle. And Katherine is going to Melbourne. Just accept it.
Okay, says Sweezus. Thanks, Katherine. When are you leaving?
I could leave this afternoon, says Katherine. Will you be ready?
No worries, says Sweezus. He heads for the door.
Got some things to do first. Buy some wrapping paper.
Well, Mr Nietzsche, says Belle, that just leaves you and me.
And us, says Ageless. Me and Catcher.
She ignores them.
Just you and me, says Belle. Perhaps you'd like to show me what you've written so far?
It's all in my head at the moment, says Nietzsche. I shall reference the Catcher, and thereby incorporate the requisite bicycle.
How FASCINATING, says Belle. Let's go out for lunch and workshop it together.
Yes, let's do that, says Nietzsche.
O the shining moment, the glorious uncertainty, the mysterious flux of life.....
Sunday, May 29, 2016
Ritual Humiliation
Terence runs forward to embrace his new parrot.
My new parrot! cries Terence.
I thought you would have a blue face, says the Elegant Parrot. My mistake.
I had a blue face, says Terence.
What happened? asks the Elegant Parrot. No don't tell me. Let me....
Paint ball, says Terence.
Was it an Indian paint ball? asks the Elegant Parrot.
No, says Terence. What about you?
I was born olive gold with a blue frontal band, says the Elegant Parrot.
I used to live in a palace, says Terence. Over the door. With the Virgin.
How divine, says the Elegant Parrot.
You need a wash, says Terence. There's little brown seeds on your bottom.
He reaches for Nietzsche's glass of water.
Nietzsche stops him. The glass tips over. Water spreads all over the desk.
Sit in that for two minutes, says Terence.
The Elegant Parrot has no choice but to comply with what seems like a ritual humiliation.
Tissue? says Belle.
Oh thanks.
Terence, thank Sweezus for the parrot, says Belle.
Thank you, says Terence.
That's okay, says Sweezus. You should really thank the Catcher.
The Catcher has emerged from the back pack, followed by Ageless.
Will Terence thank him? Will he forget the rock parrot, and how the Catcher accidentally ate him? Will he love the Catcher again?
It is a pivotal moment, spoilt by a mobile phone ringing.
Ring ring. (Sweezus has a pedestrian ring tone).
Yep? says Sweezus. Arthur! he yelps. Where are you? How come you've got charge in your phone? Shit yeah. Melbourne. Okay, yeah no worries. When? Cool.
What was that about? asks Belle. Is Arthur all right?
Yeah, says Sweezus. He and Gaius wimped out and caught the Overland at Murray Bridge. They'll be in Melbourne at seven this evening.
That'll be expensive, says Belle. The Overland. Hundreds of dollars.
No, says Sweezus. Arthur reckons it didn't cost anything.
Arthur does seem to lead a charmed life, says Belle.
Nietzsche looks up from his spilled glass of water.
By the way Mr Nietzsche, have you written that article for us? Papa has been asking.
It's coming along nicely, replies Nietzsche.
Awesome, says Sweezus. My job is done. I'm heading to Melbourne.
My new parrot! cries Terence.
I thought you would have a blue face, says the Elegant Parrot. My mistake.
I had a blue face, says Terence.
What happened? asks the Elegant Parrot. No don't tell me. Let me....
Paint ball, says Terence.
Was it an Indian paint ball? asks the Elegant Parrot.
No, says Terence. What about you?
I was born olive gold with a blue frontal band, says the Elegant Parrot.
I used to live in a palace, says Terence. Over the door. With the Virgin.
How divine, says the Elegant Parrot.
You need a wash, says Terence. There's little brown seeds on your bottom.
He reaches for Nietzsche's glass of water.
Nietzsche stops him. The glass tips over. Water spreads all over the desk.
Sit in that for two minutes, says Terence.
The Elegant Parrot has no choice but to comply with what seems like a ritual humiliation.
Tissue? says Belle.
Oh thanks.
Terence, thank Sweezus for the parrot, says Belle.
Thank you, says Terence.
That's okay, says Sweezus. You should really thank the Catcher.
The Catcher has emerged from the back pack, followed by Ageless.
Will Terence thank him? Will he forget the rock parrot, and how the Catcher accidentally ate him? Will he love the Catcher again?
It is a pivotal moment, spoilt by a mobile phone ringing.
Ring ring. (Sweezus has a pedestrian ring tone).
Yep? says Sweezus. Arthur! he yelps. Where are you? How come you've got charge in your phone? Shit yeah. Melbourne. Okay, yeah no worries. When? Cool.
What was that about? asks Belle. Is Arthur all right?
Yeah, says Sweezus. He and Gaius wimped out and caught the Overland at Murray Bridge. They'll be in Melbourne at seven this evening.
That'll be expensive, says Belle. The Overland. Hundreds of dollars.
No, says Sweezus. Arthur reckons it didn't cost anything.
Arthur does seem to lead a charmed life, says Belle.
Nietzsche looks up from his spilled glass of water.
By the way Mr Nietzsche, have you written that article for us? Papa has been asking.
It's coming along nicely, replies Nietzsche.
Awesome, says Sweezus. My job is done. I'm heading to Melbourne.
Saturday, May 28, 2016
Other Than That He Is Perfect
Shit, says Sweezus.
What? asks Nietzsche.
(They are still in Marino).
Arthur's gone to Victoria with Gaius, says Sweezus. And we need to practice.
Has he gone by bicycle? asks Nietzsche. If he has, he'll be getting plenty of practice.
True, says Sweezus. But Belle reckons he didn't want to go.
We sometimes have to do things we don't want to, says Nietzsche.
Not Arthur, says Sweezus.
What's this Baw Baw they're going for? asks Nietzsche. A frog, is it?
The Catcher rises minimally from the open back pack.
What's this? They've left to search for the Baw Baw?
Yeah I know, says Sweezus. You were meant to be going. I feel bad now.
Woe! says the Catcher. I would have been excellent at catching a Baw Baw.
He sinks down into the fig poo at the base of the back pack.
Ageless is heard to say: Remember, brother, winter is coming. You wouldn't want to go to Victoria
Nietzsche looks up. The sky has a wintry look, pale blue, laced with bare branches.
Ageless is right. Winter is coming.
Come on, says Sweezus. He starts pedalling faster than ever, towards Adelaide.
Nietzsche follows. Thank goodness his surf rash is better.
Correction, thanks to Lauren........
......
Sweezus heads straight for the Velosophy office.
Nietzsche lags a few metres behind him.
For a perfectly good reason. He hasn't yet written the article he promised.
Luckily, only Belle is in the office.
Belle! says Sweezus. I'm back!
Lovely, says Belle. Would you like a cup of tea and a biscuit? What about you, Mr Nietzsche?
Water is fine, says Nietzsche.
When did they leave? asks Sweezus.
Arthur and Gaius? Last night, says Belle. Silly boys. It was raining.
On bicycles? asks Nietzsche.
Yes, says Belle. It's madness. Sweezie, what's that down your top?
Sweezus puts his hand down the front of his tee shirt and brings out the Elegant Parrot.
Ahh, says Belle. Is that Terence's present?
The Elegant Parrot looks dazed. Her olive gold and blue feathers are ruffled. There is fig poo on her bottom. But no signs of haemolytic anaemia.
Hello, pretty lady, says the Elegant Parrot. I could do with a biscuit. What kind are they? No....let me guess. Perhaps you made them yourself in a pre-dawn rush of baking enthusiasm. Never happens to me, I can't cook for toffee but you look like a domestic goddess if ever......
Sweezus squeezes the Elegant Parrot by the throat tightly. Shut up.
She's imaginative, says Sweezus. Sorry. Where's Terence?
Katherine took him to the toilet, says Belle. They'll be here in a minute.
Sure enough, there is a clatter on the stairs. The door opens and:
Terence beholds the Elegant Parrot. Bliss!
The Elegant Parrot beholds him.
His face is not blue like an Indian god, but other than that he is PERFECT!
What? asks Nietzsche.
(They are still in Marino).
Arthur's gone to Victoria with Gaius, says Sweezus. And we need to practice.
Has he gone by bicycle? asks Nietzsche. If he has, he'll be getting plenty of practice.
True, says Sweezus. But Belle reckons he didn't want to go.
We sometimes have to do things we don't want to, says Nietzsche.
Not Arthur, says Sweezus.
What's this Baw Baw they're going for? asks Nietzsche. A frog, is it?
The Catcher rises minimally from the open back pack.
What's this? They've left to search for the Baw Baw?
Yeah I know, says Sweezus. You were meant to be going. I feel bad now.
Woe! says the Catcher. I would have been excellent at catching a Baw Baw.
He sinks down into the fig poo at the base of the back pack.
Ageless is heard to say: Remember, brother, winter is coming. You wouldn't want to go to Victoria
Nietzsche looks up. The sky has a wintry look, pale blue, laced with bare branches.
Ageless is right. Winter is coming.
Come on, says Sweezus. He starts pedalling faster than ever, towards Adelaide.
Nietzsche follows. Thank goodness his surf rash is better.
Correction, thanks to Lauren........
......
Sweezus heads straight for the Velosophy office.
Nietzsche lags a few metres behind him.
For a perfectly good reason. He hasn't yet written the article he promised.
Luckily, only Belle is in the office.
Belle! says Sweezus. I'm back!
Lovely, says Belle. Would you like a cup of tea and a biscuit? What about you, Mr Nietzsche?
Water is fine, says Nietzsche.
When did they leave? asks Sweezus.
Arthur and Gaius? Last night, says Belle. Silly boys. It was raining.
On bicycles? asks Nietzsche.
Yes, says Belle. It's madness. Sweezie, what's that down your top?
Sweezus puts his hand down the front of his tee shirt and brings out the Elegant Parrot.
Ahh, says Belle. Is that Terence's present?
The Elegant Parrot looks dazed. Her olive gold and blue feathers are ruffled. There is fig poo on her bottom. But no signs of haemolytic anaemia.
Hello, pretty lady, says the Elegant Parrot. I could do with a biscuit. What kind are they? No....let me guess. Perhaps you made them yourself in a pre-dawn rush of baking enthusiasm. Never happens to me, I can't cook for toffee but you look like a domestic goddess if ever......
Sweezus squeezes the Elegant Parrot by the throat tightly. Shut up.
She's imaginative, says Sweezus. Sorry. Where's Terence?
Katherine took him to the toilet, says Belle. They'll be here in a minute.
Sure enough, there is a clatter on the stairs. The door opens and:
Terence beholds the Elegant Parrot. Bliss!
The Elegant Parrot beholds him.
His face is not blue like an Indian god, but other than that he is PERFECT!
Friday, May 27, 2016
But It Seems Like Forever
Sweezus lifts the Elegant Parrot out of the Nietzsche's Hello Kitty back pack.
Huuuurrh! sighs the Elegant Parrot. Her breath smells of garlic.
Haemolytic anaemia, says Sweezus. What the fuck's that?
It's what parrots get when they eat onions or garlic, says the Elegant Parrot. Mainly garlic, she adds, breathing upwards and sniffing.
So, don't do it, says Sweezus.
Quite right, says the Elegant Parrot. I know that. Didn't mean to. It was the figs on the pizza.
What's wrong with the parrot? asks Nietzsche.
Figs on the pizza last night, says Sweezus.
Ah, figs will do it, says Nietzsche.
It's the sulphur compounds in the onions and garlic, they rupture our red blood cells, says the Elegant Parrot.
You hardly had any, says Sweezus.
True, says the Elegant Parrot, but I'm an imaginative creature. That's how I got chosen.
Come on, says Sweezus. Let's get going.
He shoves the Elegant Parrot down the front of his tee shirt, and pedals off, followed by Nietzsche.
Now that the back pack is open, Nietzsche can hear what Ageless and the Catcher are saying.
Ageless: Happy now?
The Catcher: What d' you mean?
Ageless: Sick parrot.
The Catcher: She was faking. You even thought so.
Ageless: What's this then?
The Catcher: Yuck. Looks like fig poo!
Ageless: And we're sitting in it.
Nietzsche pedals faster, and starts humming.
The wheels of Schopenhauer's bicycle spin in eternal circles.
No! no! I don't think that way!
Sweezus stops at Marino.
Just going to make a phone call.
Ring ring
Hey Belle, whereabouts are you?
In the city, says Belle. Having coffee with Katherine. Terence is here too. Want to say hi?
No, says Sweezus. But tell him he's getting a present.
Belle says something to Terence. Probably: Sweezus has got you a present.
There follows a yippee of excitement, then:
Terence wants to know if it's a parrot?
Might be, says Sweezus. But that's not the reason I'm calling. Where's Arthur?
Gone to Victoria with Gaius, says Belle. To look for a Baw Baw. He didn't want to.
Baw Baw? says Sweezus. That frog? I thought the Catcher was supposed to be going?
Gaius couldn't wait, says Belle. So he made Arthur go.
We've only been away two days, says Sweezus.
Yeah, but it seems like FOREVER, says Belle.
Huuuurrh! sighs the Elegant Parrot. Her breath smells of garlic.
Haemolytic anaemia, says Sweezus. What the fuck's that?
It's what parrots get when they eat onions or garlic, says the Elegant Parrot. Mainly garlic, she adds, breathing upwards and sniffing.
So, don't do it, says Sweezus.
Quite right, says the Elegant Parrot. I know that. Didn't mean to. It was the figs on the pizza.
What's wrong with the parrot? asks Nietzsche.
Figs on the pizza last night, says Sweezus.
Ah, figs will do it, says Nietzsche.
It's the sulphur compounds in the onions and garlic, they rupture our red blood cells, says the Elegant Parrot.
You hardly had any, says Sweezus.
True, says the Elegant Parrot, but I'm an imaginative creature. That's how I got chosen.
Come on, says Sweezus. Let's get going.
He shoves the Elegant Parrot down the front of his tee shirt, and pedals off, followed by Nietzsche.
Now that the back pack is open, Nietzsche can hear what Ageless and the Catcher are saying.
Ageless: Happy now?
The Catcher: What d' you mean?
Ageless: Sick parrot.
The Catcher: She was faking. You even thought so.
Ageless: What's this then?
The Catcher: Yuck. Looks like fig poo!
Ageless: And we're sitting in it.
Nietzsche pedals faster, and starts humming.
The wheels of Schopenhauer's bicycle spin in eternal circles.
No! no! I don't think that way!
Sweezus stops at Marino.
Just going to make a phone call.
Ring ring
Hey Belle, whereabouts are you?
In the city, says Belle. Having coffee with Katherine. Terence is here too. Want to say hi?
No, says Sweezus. But tell him he's getting a present.
Belle says something to Terence. Probably: Sweezus has got you a present.
There follows a yippee of excitement, then:
Terence wants to know if it's a parrot?
Might be, says Sweezus. But that's not the reason I'm calling. Where's Arthur?
Gone to Victoria with Gaius, says Belle. To look for a Baw Baw. He didn't want to.
Baw Baw? says Sweezus. That frog? I thought the Catcher was supposed to be going?
Gaius couldn't wait, says Belle. So he made Arthur go.
We've only been away two days, says Sweezus.
Yeah, but it seems like FOREVER, says Belle.
Thursday, May 26, 2016
Not After The Incident
The next morning, after breakfast, Sweezus and Nietzsche are ready to leave Port Noarlunga.
Thank you for everything, Lauren, says Nietzsche. I shall always remember....
I will too, Friedy, says Lauren. And here's a little memento.
She hands him a delicately woven string and bead bracelet.
A friendship bracelet, from her gift shop, on Beach Road.
I make them myself, says Lauren.
Very nice, says Nietzsche, shoving it into his pocket.
No, Friedy, says Lauren. You must put it on.
She ties it on for him.
I'm afraid I have nothing to give you, says Nietzsche. Except, perhaps, would you value this tissue?
Tissue? says Lauren. I don't know. What was it used for?
He hands her the tissue on which he had scribbled his thoughts on pessimism and its opposite ideal.
It is ripped where he pressed hard with the pen, and contains various dots and expletives.
She looks undecided.
Give her the carapace hat, suggests Sweezus.
Brilliant!
He takes from his pocket the carapace hat, and presents it to Lauren.
Oh, Friedy, sniffs Lauren. I WILL treasure this carapace hat, once it's been disinfected.
Ready to go? asks Sweezus.
Yes, says Nietzsche.
He picks up the back pack which is strangely heavy, and still.
Surfing-With-Whales is outside, sanding his surfboard.
Going? says Surfing-With-Whales.
Yep, says Sweezus. See you, bro. Hey by the way, you got a start in the TDF this year?
Nup, says Surfing-With-Whales. Nibali doesn't want me.
Too bad, says Sweezus. There's always a place in Team Condor.
Thanks mate, says Surfing-With-Whales. Oh yeah, mum gave me this to give you. Don't take it the wrong way. Wasn't my idea. Ditch it if you want to.
He hands him a brown paper package.
Thanks dude, says Sweezus. What is it, the boardies?
Reckon, says Surfing-With-Whales. She washed 'em.
Cool, says Sweezus. I'm totally into recycling.
Onya bro, says Surfing-With-Whales.
He was never going to wear those Melted Lo Tides again in his lifetime. Not after the Incident.
Bye guys! calls Lauren, blowing a kiss towards Nietzsche.
Nietzsche waves back. Goodbye to the best thing that has happened to him for ages.
Sweezus and Nietzsche pedal up the road towards Old Noarlunga, to access the Coast to Vines cycle trail.
Want me to take Ageless, or the Catcher? asks Sweezus, seeing the back pack on Nietzsche's back bouncing heavily.
Nietzsche stops. Yes please. Either one. Or maybe the Parrot.
Sweezus comes up alongside, unzips the top of the back pack. And is met by a shocking surprise.
The Elegant Parrot is lying stiff on the bottom, eyes wide open.
Ageless and the Catcher are taking turns at performing CPR.
At LAST, says Ageless. Somebody thinks to check on the wildlife.
What's up? asks Sweezus.
Probably all in her head, says Ageless.
Haemolytic anaemia, says the Elegant Parrot, in a stronger voice than might be expected.
Thank you for everything, Lauren, says Nietzsche. I shall always remember....
I will too, Friedy, says Lauren. And here's a little memento.
She hands him a delicately woven string and bead bracelet.
A friendship bracelet, from her gift shop, on Beach Road.
I make them myself, says Lauren.
Very nice, says Nietzsche, shoving it into his pocket.
No, Friedy, says Lauren. You must put it on.
She ties it on for him.
I'm afraid I have nothing to give you, says Nietzsche. Except, perhaps, would you value this tissue?
Tissue? says Lauren. I don't know. What was it used for?
He hands her the tissue on which he had scribbled his thoughts on pessimism and its opposite ideal.
It is ripped where he pressed hard with the pen, and contains various dots and expletives.
She looks undecided.
Give her the carapace hat, suggests Sweezus.
Brilliant!
He takes from his pocket the carapace hat, and presents it to Lauren.
Oh, Friedy, sniffs Lauren. I WILL treasure this carapace hat, once it's been disinfected.
Ready to go? asks Sweezus.
Yes, says Nietzsche.
He picks up the back pack which is strangely heavy, and still.
Surfing-With-Whales is outside, sanding his surfboard.
Going? says Surfing-With-Whales.
Yep, says Sweezus. See you, bro. Hey by the way, you got a start in the TDF this year?
Nup, says Surfing-With-Whales. Nibali doesn't want me.
Too bad, says Sweezus. There's always a place in Team Condor.
Thanks mate, says Surfing-With-Whales. Oh yeah, mum gave me this to give you. Don't take it the wrong way. Wasn't my idea. Ditch it if you want to.
He hands him a brown paper package.
Thanks dude, says Sweezus. What is it, the boardies?
Reckon, says Surfing-With-Whales. She washed 'em.
Cool, says Sweezus. I'm totally into recycling.
Onya bro, says Surfing-With-Whales.
He was never going to wear those Melted Lo Tides again in his lifetime. Not after the Incident.
Bye guys! calls Lauren, blowing a kiss towards Nietzsche.
Nietzsche waves back. Goodbye to the best thing that has happened to him for ages.
Sweezus and Nietzsche pedal up the road towards Old Noarlunga, to access the Coast to Vines cycle trail.
Want me to take Ageless, or the Catcher? asks Sweezus, seeing the back pack on Nietzsche's back bouncing heavily.
Nietzsche stops. Yes please. Either one. Or maybe the Parrot.
Sweezus comes up alongside, unzips the top of the back pack. And is met by a shocking surprise.
The Elegant Parrot is lying stiff on the bottom, eyes wide open.
Ageless and the Catcher are taking turns at performing CPR.
At LAST, says Ageless. Somebody thinks to check on the wildlife.
What's up? asks Sweezus.
Probably all in her head, says Ageless.
Haemolytic anaemia, says the Elegant Parrot, in a stronger voice than might be expected.
Wednesday, May 25, 2016
Pizza Repeated Throughout Eternity
Lauren and Nietzsche emerge from the bedroom.
Nietszche is doing up the top of his trousers.
Surfing-With-Whales tries to pretend not to notice.
And fails.
Oven on! says Lauren briskly. Two twenty degrees.
Can I do anything? asks Nietzsche.
Open this jar, says Lauren. It's my own chilli jam.
Nietzsche sits at the table and applies normal, then superhuman pressure to the lid which is sticking, because Lauren failed to wipe the rim of the jar when she was making the jam.
What other pizza toppings are we doing, mum? asks Surfing-With-Whales.
I thought we'd have Chicken, Sticky Onion and Cranberry Relish, says Lauren. And Eggs Florentine with Bacon, Spinach and Grape Tomatoes.
Eggs on a pizza! says Sweezus.
You'll love it, says Lauren, brushing past Nietzsche.
Nietzsche gives an extra hard twist to the chilli jam lid.
Squiiiirk! the lid suddenly loosens. Chilli jam nearly pours out onto his trousers, but he tips the jar up just in time.
It is all going well, until....
Excuse me, says the Elegant Parrot. There are certain things parrots can't eat.
That's right, says Ageless lobster.
What do you know about it? asks the Catcher.
What can't you eat? asks Lauren. Maybe we can make you a special one.
Onion, tomato, garlic, says the Elegant Parrot.
The oven is hot now. The first pizza goes in.
The kitchen fills with the delicious scent of fig, chilli and prosciutto, and hot pizza dough.
.....
An hour later, everyone is replete.
Sweezus leans back in the kitchen chair.
Egg on pizza is freakin' awesome. You rock, Lauren!
Surfing-With-Wales has almost forgiven his mother.
Nietzsche wishes that pizza might be repeated throughout all eternity
( Be careful what you wish for ).
Ageless is considering how he might send Kobo the recipe....
....and how she would receive it.
The Catcher is watching the Elegant Parrot, his prize.
The Elegant Parrot has innocently eaten several fig halves, and imagines them now, flying around in her tummy. Buzz-buzz-ping!
Little seeds, like little pink motors. Ping-waark!
The Elegant Parrot is unaware, as no one has thought to tell her, that the chilli jam, with which the fig halves were drizzled, contains onions and garlic.
Maybe they thought she could tell.
Nietszche is doing up the top of his trousers.
Surfing-With-Whales tries to pretend not to notice.
And fails.
Oven on! says Lauren briskly. Two twenty degrees.
Can I do anything? asks Nietzsche.
Open this jar, says Lauren. It's my own chilli jam.
Nietzsche sits at the table and applies normal, then superhuman pressure to the lid which is sticking, because Lauren failed to wipe the rim of the jar when she was making the jam.
What other pizza toppings are we doing, mum? asks Surfing-With-Whales.
I thought we'd have Chicken, Sticky Onion and Cranberry Relish, says Lauren. And Eggs Florentine with Bacon, Spinach and Grape Tomatoes.
Eggs on a pizza! says Sweezus.
You'll love it, says Lauren, brushing past Nietzsche.
Nietzsche gives an extra hard twist to the chilli jam lid.
Squiiiirk! the lid suddenly loosens. Chilli jam nearly pours out onto his trousers, but he tips the jar up just in time.
It is all going well, until....
Excuse me, says the Elegant Parrot. There are certain things parrots can't eat.
That's right, says Ageless lobster.
What do you know about it? asks the Catcher.
What can't you eat? asks Lauren. Maybe we can make you a special one.
Onion, tomato, garlic, says the Elegant Parrot.
The oven is hot now. The first pizza goes in.
The kitchen fills with the delicious scent of fig, chilli and prosciutto, and hot pizza dough.
.....
An hour later, everyone is replete.
Sweezus leans back in the kitchen chair.
Egg on pizza is freakin' awesome. You rock, Lauren!
Surfing-With-Wales has almost forgiven his mother.
Nietzsche wishes that pizza might be repeated throughout all eternity
( Be careful what you wish for ).
Ageless is considering how he might send Kobo the recipe....
....and how she would receive it.
The Catcher is watching the Elegant Parrot, his prize.
The Elegant Parrot has innocently eaten several fig halves, and imagines them now, flying around in her tummy. Buzz-buzz-ping!
Little seeds, like little pink motors. Ping-waark!
The Elegant Parrot is unaware, as no one has thought to tell her, that the chilli jam, with which the fig halves were drizzled, contains onions and garlic.
Maybe they thought she could tell.
Tuesday, May 24, 2016
What Woman Would Not Be Excited?
It is early evening.
Back at Lauren's house, in Port Noarlunga, the pizza bases are already defrosting.
Surfing-With-Whales and Sweezus have been given tasks to do in the kitchen.
Sweezus is cutting up figs and onions.
Surfing-With-Whales is slicing prosciutto.
Is Lauren a Buddhist? asks Sweezus.
Nah, says Surfing-With-Whales. Mum eats anything. Why?
Prosciutto, says Sweezus.
That's Jews, says Surfing-With-Whales. Buddhists can eat pork, fish or chicken as long as it wasn't killed specially for them.
That's mental, says Sweezus.
Makes sense to me, says the Elegant Parrot, who is perched on the table. So it's not your fault if you get eaten.
Wrong end of the stick as usual, says Ageless lobster. This is all about the EATER.
That's your fig he's cutting up, says the Catcher.
Is it? says the Elegant Parrot, edging closer. Can I try it?
Not yet, says Sweezus. It's not ready.
Sensitive little fig, says the Elegant Parrot, poking its beak as close to the open-cut fig as is avianly possible.
Off! commands Sweezus.
And where are Lauren and Nietzsche?
They are in Lauren's room. He has taken off his trousers.
She is rubbing aloe vera on his surf rash (inner thigh), and wishing it was after dinner.
This is because of something he has said.
Having rejected Buddhism completely (thus differing from Schopenhauer), his eyes have been opened to the ideal of the most high-spirited, alive and world affirming human being who has learned to get along with whatever was and is, and who wants to have what was and is repeated into all eternity.
What woman would not be excited?
But damn it all, she still has to turn on the oven, and assemble the pizzas.
Back at Lauren's house, in Port Noarlunga, the pizza bases are already defrosting.
Surfing-With-Whales and Sweezus have been given tasks to do in the kitchen.
Sweezus is cutting up figs and onions.
Surfing-With-Whales is slicing prosciutto.
Is Lauren a Buddhist? asks Sweezus.
Nah, says Surfing-With-Whales. Mum eats anything. Why?
Prosciutto, says Sweezus.
That's Jews, says Surfing-With-Whales. Buddhists can eat pork, fish or chicken as long as it wasn't killed specially for them.
That's mental, says Sweezus.
Makes sense to me, says the Elegant Parrot, who is perched on the table. So it's not your fault if you get eaten.
Wrong end of the stick as usual, says Ageless lobster. This is all about the EATER.
That's your fig he's cutting up, says the Catcher.
Is it? says the Elegant Parrot, edging closer. Can I try it?
Not yet, says Sweezus. It's not ready.
Sensitive little fig, says the Elegant Parrot, poking its beak as close to the open-cut fig as is avianly possible.
Off! commands Sweezus.
And where are Lauren and Nietzsche?
They are in Lauren's room. He has taken off his trousers.
She is rubbing aloe vera on his surf rash (inner thigh), and wishing it was after dinner.
This is because of something he has said.
Having rejected Buddhism completely (thus differing from Schopenhauer), his eyes have been opened to the ideal of the most high-spirited, alive and world affirming human being who has learned to get along with whatever was and is, and who wants to have what was and is repeated into all eternity.
What woman would not be excited?
But damn it all, she still has to turn on the oven, and assemble the pizzas.
The Best Philosophers Fly
So, Sweezus is in the back seat with Lauren, and the back pack. Nietzsche is in the front with Surfing-With-Whales.
It's a forty five minute drive to Port Noarlunga.
Nietzsche starts scribbling again, on the tissue.
Don't let me put you off, says Surfing-with-Whales. But tissues make really crap paper.
Sweezus sniggers. Crap paper. Tissues. Tissues make really crap paper. Good one bro!
Why, what's he doing? asks Lauren. Is he writing?
Yep, says Surfing-With-Whales. Stuff about pessimism and thinking it through to the depths.
Oh dear, thinks Lauren. The sooner we get home and I start those pizzas the better.
She leans forward. Are you okay, Friedy?
Perfectly, says Nietzsche. Just writing down a few thoughts.
That's awesome, says Sweezus. Just a quick question. Any bicycles in it?
No, says Nietzsche surprised. I'm about to condemn Buddhism.
Are you? says Lauren. I always though it was lovely. Don't tread on ants. I try not to.
It is the most world-denying of all possible ways of thinking, says Nietzsche.
In your humble opinion, says Surfing-With-Whales.
Nietzsche ignores him. He does not have, nor has he ever had, a humble opinion.
Because, says Sweezus, I reckon I might've forgotten to tell you this but.... it kind of..... has to have bicycles in it.
What does? asks Nietzsche.
What you're writing, says Sweezus. Article for Velosophy you promised.
Oh THAT, says Nietzsche. This isn't it. Bicycles, you say?
Did someone mention bicycles? pipes up the Catcher.
No, says the Elegant Parrot. I didn't.
Yes, says Ageless. Philosophy, and that goes with bicycles.
Oh yes of course, says the Elegant Parrot. All the best philosophers flew about on bicycles. Faster to reach their home bases.
Don't talk to me about bicycles, says the Catcher. I nearly died pedalling.
That was different, says Ageless. It was pedalling. There was NO BIKE.
The heron didn't know that, says the Catcher.
Back to first principles! says Ageless.
Speaking of which, says the Elegant Parrot. Do they make pizza with bird seed topping?
Lauren has overheard the question.
Do you like figs? asks Lauren. Figs have little seeds in.
I might, says the Elegant Parrot.
Are we having Fig Pizza, mum? asks Surfing-With-Whales. The one with prosciutto and chilli jam?
Yes dear, says Lauren. I made new chilli jam last Friday.
Everyone in the van falls into a delightful pizzerian reverie.
It's a forty five minute drive to Port Noarlunga.
Nietzsche starts scribbling again, on the tissue.
Don't let me put you off, says Surfing-with-Whales. But tissues make really crap paper.
Sweezus sniggers. Crap paper. Tissues. Tissues make really crap paper. Good one bro!
Why, what's he doing? asks Lauren. Is he writing?
Yep, says Surfing-With-Whales. Stuff about pessimism and thinking it through to the depths.
Oh dear, thinks Lauren. The sooner we get home and I start those pizzas the better.
She leans forward. Are you okay, Friedy?
Perfectly, says Nietzsche. Just writing down a few thoughts.
That's awesome, says Sweezus. Just a quick question. Any bicycles in it?
No, says Nietzsche surprised. I'm about to condemn Buddhism.
Are you? says Lauren. I always though it was lovely. Don't tread on ants. I try not to.
It is the most world-denying of all possible ways of thinking, says Nietzsche.
In your humble opinion, says Surfing-With-Whales.
Nietzsche ignores him. He does not have, nor has he ever had, a humble opinion.
Because, says Sweezus, I reckon I might've forgotten to tell you this but.... it kind of..... has to have bicycles in it.
What does? asks Nietzsche.
What you're writing, says Sweezus. Article for Velosophy you promised.
Oh THAT, says Nietzsche. This isn't it. Bicycles, you say?
Did someone mention bicycles? pipes up the Catcher.
No, says the Elegant Parrot. I didn't.
Yes, says Ageless. Philosophy, and that goes with bicycles.
Oh yes of course, says the Elegant Parrot. All the best philosophers flew about on bicycles. Faster to reach their home bases.
Don't talk to me about bicycles, says the Catcher. I nearly died pedalling.
That was different, says Ageless. It was pedalling. There was NO BIKE.
The heron didn't know that, says the Catcher.
Back to first principles! says Ageless.
Speaking of which, says the Elegant Parrot. Do they make pizza with bird seed topping?
Lauren has overheard the question.
Do you like figs? asks Lauren. Figs have little seeds in.
I might, says the Elegant Parrot.
Are we having Fig Pizza, mum? asks Surfing-With-Whales. The one with prosciutto and chilli jam?
Yes dear, says Lauren. I made new chilli jam last Friday.
Everyone in the van falls into a delightful pizzerian reverie.
Sunday, May 22, 2016
Thinking Pessimism Through
Surfing-With-Whales walks up the ramp, dripping, and dragging his surfboard.
Well! How did that go? says Lauren.
He looks at her darkly.
Uh-oh! He knows!
Where'd you go? he glowers.
You won't believe this, dear, says Lauren. We left Ageless and the Catcher behind at Café Bombora, and when we went back to find them they'd gone off on a tour of the Coorong. So we had to....
Yeah right, mum, says Surfing-With-Whales. And I suppose Mr Chino Pants went too.
Please don't call him Mr Chino Pants, says Lauren. He's a serious person.
Surfing-With-Whales brushes past her and throws open the van doors. Chucks his surf board in.
Bro! says Sweezus, who is already in the back seat with the back pack. When are we eating?
Dunno, says Surfing-With-Whales. Everywhere closes at five.
Shit, says Sweezus.
Never mind, says Lauren. Come back to our place for pizza.
Cool, says Sweezus. Awesome. Thanks Lauren.
You too, Friedy, says Lauren.
Pi-zz-a? says Nietzsche, like a person who has never had pizza.
Yeah PIZZA, says Surfing-With-Whales. I s'pose you've never had it.
No, says Nietzsche. But I know what it is. Will it have pineapple on it?
It will have whatever you like on it, says Lauren. Anchovies, sun-dried tomato, goat's cheese. Come on then, load your bikes in. Let's go.
Surfing-With-Whales gets into the driver's seat, beside Nietzsche.
He waits for Nietzsche to get out and sit in the back seat. But Nietzsche doesn't.
Oh man! The guy's scribbling, on a tissue. One from the glove box. And yeah, the glove box is open. Fuck. It'll never shut now. What's the stupid dude writing?
He glances across without turning his head much.
Whoever has endeavoured, as I have, to think pessimism through to its depths....rip.... and liberate it from...rip....damn.....half-christian half-german narrowness and simplicity......
Hey, that's kind of .....good.
And then there's a squiggle. It looks like a back view of his mother. Gross! But, it may not be.
Surfing-With-Whales turns the key in the ignition. The van roars off in the direction of Port Noarlunga, which is where his mum lives, as does he, in the whale-spotting season.
Well! How did that go? says Lauren.
He looks at her darkly.
Uh-oh! He knows!
Where'd you go? he glowers.
You won't believe this, dear, says Lauren. We left Ageless and the Catcher behind at Café Bombora, and when we went back to find them they'd gone off on a tour of the Coorong. So we had to....
Yeah right, mum, says Surfing-With-Whales. And I suppose Mr Chino Pants went too.
Please don't call him Mr Chino Pants, says Lauren. He's a serious person.
Surfing-With-Whales brushes past her and throws open the van doors. Chucks his surf board in.
Bro! says Sweezus, who is already in the back seat with the back pack. When are we eating?
Dunno, says Surfing-With-Whales. Everywhere closes at five.
Shit, says Sweezus.
Never mind, says Lauren. Come back to our place for pizza.
Cool, says Sweezus. Awesome. Thanks Lauren.
You too, Friedy, says Lauren.
Pi-zz-a? says Nietzsche, like a person who has never had pizza.
Yeah PIZZA, says Surfing-With-Whales. I s'pose you've never had it.
No, says Nietzsche. But I know what it is. Will it have pineapple on it?
It will have whatever you like on it, says Lauren. Anchovies, sun-dried tomato, goat's cheese. Come on then, load your bikes in. Let's go.
Surfing-With-Whales gets into the driver's seat, beside Nietzsche.
He waits for Nietzsche to get out and sit in the back seat. But Nietzsche doesn't.
Oh man! The guy's scribbling, on a tissue. One from the glove box. And yeah, the glove box is open. Fuck. It'll never shut now. What's the stupid dude writing?
He glances across without turning his head much.
Whoever has endeavoured, as I have, to think pessimism through to its depths....rip.... and liberate it from...rip....damn.....half-christian half-german narrowness and simplicity......
Hey, that's kind of .....good.
And then there's a squiggle. It looks like a back view of his mother. Gross! But, it may not be.
Surfing-With-Whales turns the key in the ignition. The van roars off in the direction of Port Noarlunga, which is where his mum lives, as does he, in the whale-spotting season.
Saturday, May 21, 2016
Not One Drop Of Blood Running Through Him
It's a short drive from Goolwa Wharf to Goolwa Beach, where, Lauren hopes, Bob and Sweezus will still be surfing.
The van rattles and lurches.
What time is it? asks Lauren.
Nietzsche doesn't know.
The van squeals to a halt in the car park above Goolwa Beach.
Lauren gets out and goes across to the railing. Eyes squinting, scanning the ocean.
Nietzsche sits in the passenger seat, gazing at the back view of Lauren.
If he had a notebook and pencil, he would write down his conclusions, (or doodle her outline).
On the seat behind him, the back pack is open.
He hears the Catcher and Ageless climb out. Creak-creak.
Then the Elegant Parrot. Ssh-roosh.
Is this where the Infant resides? asks the Elegant Parrot.
No, says the Catcher. It's a stop on the way. We are here to meet Sweezus.
Don't tell me, says the Elegant Parrot. Let me guess.
He did tell you, says Ageless.
I mean let me guess things about her, says the Elegant Parrot.
You've got it wrong already, says the Catcher.
Oh. About him then, says the Elegant Parrot. I imagine he's a surfer.
Idiot, says Ageless. Cretin.
Steady on, says the Catcher.
Anyone could get that right, says Ageless.
I haven't finished, says the Elegant Parrot. A surfer called Sweezus. Unusual name. Is he connected to the Infant?
Pffft! says Ageless.
Yes! says the Catcher. They are brothers.
Brothers! scoffs Ageless.
I imagine they are connected by blood, says the Elegant Parrot.
Ageless can stand it no longer.
He will tell the truth as he knows it.
The so-called Infant, says Ageless, has not one drop of blood running through him.
You don't say! says the Elegant Parrot, impressed.
Doesn't he? says the Catcher. I hadn't thought of that. I guess he doesn't.
The back seat is quiet for a moment.
Nietzsche opens the glove box to look for a pen.
It falls open easily, the way old glove boxes do.
It probably won't close again.
Ah. A pen. He extracts it. Any paper?
Yes, an ancient and venerable box of old tissues.
Is seems Surfing-With-Whales is prepared for any eventuality.
Nietzsche starts writing things down. It is difficult, to write on a tissue.
By the way, says the Catcher. Our journey will continue by bicycle.
The Elegant Parrot's blue frontal band rises several notches. Bicycle?
Sweezus's face appears at the window.
Where the fuck have you guys been? asks Sweezus. I had this MASSIVE cramp and I would've appreciated some place to lie down.
Apologies, says Nietzsche. We tried to do the tour of the Coorong as fast as we could. But there was no hurrying the captain.
It's the closest he has got to a joke in a long while.
Lauren might have laughed, but the comical aspect is wasted on Sweezus.
The van rattles and lurches.
What time is it? asks Lauren.
Nietzsche doesn't know.
The van squeals to a halt in the car park above Goolwa Beach.
Lauren gets out and goes across to the railing. Eyes squinting, scanning the ocean.
Nietzsche sits in the passenger seat, gazing at the back view of Lauren.
If he had a notebook and pencil, he would write down his conclusions, (or doodle her outline).
On the seat behind him, the back pack is open.
He hears the Catcher and Ageless climb out. Creak-creak.
Then the Elegant Parrot. Ssh-roosh.
Is this where the Infant resides? asks the Elegant Parrot.
No, says the Catcher. It's a stop on the way. We are here to meet Sweezus.
Don't tell me, says the Elegant Parrot. Let me guess.
He did tell you, says Ageless.
I mean let me guess things about her, says the Elegant Parrot.
You've got it wrong already, says the Catcher.
Oh. About him then, says the Elegant Parrot. I imagine he's a surfer.
Idiot, says Ageless. Cretin.
Steady on, says the Catcher.
Anyone could get that right, says Ageless.
I haven't finished, says the Elegant Parrot. A surfer called Sweezus. Unusual name. Is he connected to the Infant?
Pffft! says Ageless.
Yes! says the Catcher. They are brothers.
Brothers! scoffs Ageless.
I imagine they are connected by blood, says the Elegant Parrot.
Ageless can stand it no longer.
He will tell the truth as he knows it.
The so-called Infant, says Ageless, has not one drop of blood running through him.
You don't say! says the Elegant Parrot, impressed.
Doesn't he? says the Catcher. I hadn't thought of that. I guess he doesn't.
The back seat is quiet for a moment.
Nietzsche opens the glove box to look for a pen.
It falls open easily, the way old glove boxes do.
It probably won't close again.
Ah. A pen. He extracts it. Any paper?
Yes, an ancient and venerable box of old tissues.
Is seems Surfing-With-Whales is prepared for any eventuality.
Nietzsche starts writing things down. It is difficult, to write on a tissue.
By the way, says the Catcher. Our journey will continue by bicycle.
The Elegant Parrot's blue frontal band rises several notches. Bicycle?
Sweezus's face appears at the window.
Where the fuck have you guys been? asks Sweezus. I had this MASSIVE cramp and I would've appreciated some place to lie down.
Apologies, says Nietzsche. We tried to do the tour of the Coorong as fast as we could. But there was no hurrying the captain.
It's the closest he has got to a joke in a long while.
Lauren might have laughed, but the comical aspect is wasted on Sweezus.
Friday, May 20, 2016
The Flying Imagination
The Spirit of the Coorong has docked at the Goolwa Wharf, in its usual position.
The passengers line up to disembark.
Captain Bain is standing at the end of the gangplank.
Thank you, Captain Bain, says Edith. It was a lovely cruise. And we learned so much about barrages.
Thank you, says Irma. And we met Mr Nitcher.
Yes, says Emma. We did him in school.
Nietzsche is right behind them.
And how did you enjoy our cruise? asks Captain Bain.
Very well, says Nietzsche. I reached several conclusions.
This is not the answer Captain Bain had expected.
But there is no time to pursue it.
Next comes Lauren, with the Hello Kitty back pack.
Oho, says Captain Bain, sniffing the air surreptitiously. Now YOU have the crab and the lobster.
Along with an Elegant Parrot, says Lauren.
Hold on, says Captain Bain. Do you mean to tell me that you have captured an Elegant Parrot, whilst on board my vessel?
Not captured, says Lauren. It decided to come.
That's not what it looks like, says Captain Bain.
What does it look like? asks Lauren.
It looks like unauthorised taking of native wildlife, says Captain Bain. I'm sorry, but I can't allow it.
For goodness sake, says Lauren. We're in a hurry.
There is a solution, says Captain Bain.
Is there a problem? says the back pack (or so it would seem to a casual listener).
Lauren opens the back pack.
The Elegant Parrot hops out.
Hah! says Captain Bain.
You can't get off the boat, says Lauren to the Elegant Parrot.
The banked-up passengers look at one another ironically.
Captain Bain realises the absurdity of the situation.
I guess it can go where it likes, says Captain Bain.
Thank you, says Lauren.
Thank you, captain, says the Elegant Parrot. You won't regret this. I'm on my way to work for the Infant. I know little about him, but I imagine he has supernatural powers and a blue face, like one of the Indian gods. No doubt in the next life you will be rewarded.
Shut up, before you embarrass yourself, croaks a voice from the depths of the back pack.
Sorry, that's just the way I am, says the Elegant Parrot. Great imagination. It's how I got the job in the first place...
Come ON, says Lauren.
She swings the smelly back pack over her shoulder, grabs Nietzsche's hand and marches off down the wharf to Bob's van in the car park, followed by the Elegant Parrot and her flying imagination.......
The passengers line up to disembark.
Captain Bain is standing at the end of the gangplank.
Thank you, Captain Bain, says Edith. It was a lovely cruise. And we learned so much about barrages.
Thank you, says Irma. And we met Mr Nitcher.
Yes, says Emma. We did him in school.
Nietzsche is right behind them.
And how did you enjoy our cruise? asks Captain Bain.
Very well, says Nietzsche. I reached several conclusions.
This is not the answer Captain Bain had expected.
But there is no time to pursue it.
Next comes Lauren, with the Hello Kitty back pack.
Oho, says Captain Bain, sniffing the air surreptitiously. Now YOU have the crab and the lobster.
Along with an Elegant Parrot, says Lauren.
Hold on, says Captain Bain. Do you mean to tell me that you have captured an Elegant Parrot, whilst on board my vessel?
Not captured, says Lauren. It decided to come.
That's not what it looks like, says Captain Bain.
What does it look like? asks Lauren.
It looks like unauthorised taking of native wildlife, says Captain Bain. I'm sorry, but I can't allow it.
For goodness sake, says Lauren. We're in a hurry.
There is a solution, says Captain Bain.
Is there a problem? says the back pack (or so it would seem to a casual listener).
Lauren opens the back pack.
The Elegant Parrot hops out.
Hah! says Captain Bain.
You can't get off the boat, says Lauren to the Elegant Parrot.
The banked-up passengers look at one another ironically.
Captain Bain realises the absurdity of the situation.
I guess it can go where it likes, says Captain Bain.
Thank you, says Lauren.
Thank you, captain, says the Elegant Parrot. You won't regret this. I'm on my way to work for the Infant. I know little about him, but I imagine he has supernatural powers and a blue face, like one of the Indian gods. No doubt in the next life you will be rewarded.
Shut up, before you embarrass yourself, croaks a voice from the depths of the back pack.
Sorry, that's just the way I am, says the Elegant Parrot. Great imagination. It's how I got the job in the first place...
Come ON, says Lauren.
She swings the smelly back pack over her shoulder, grabs Nietzsche's hand and marches off down the wharf to Bob's van in the car park, followed by the Elegant Parrot and her flying imagination.......
Thursday, May 19, 2016
Mindfulness Or Being In The Moment
The upper deck of the Spirit of the Coorong is abuzz with passengers discussing the Elegant Parrot.
Passenger: Did you see that?
Second passenger: Did you HEAR that?
Passenger: Yes, I heard that. What an imagination that Elegant Parrot has.
Second passenger: Yes. Pity to disabuse it.
Passenger: What do you mean?
Second passenger: John Gould was the son of a gardener.
Passenger: So you're saying.....?
Second passenger: I'm saying that it's unlikely John Gould's mother would have come up to kiss him goodnight in the nursery before going out to a ball or important dinner.
Passenger: Unless she was the cook or something.
Second passenger: Good point. But would a cook have gone off to work dressed in olive gold and blue plumage?
Passenger: It might have been some sort of apron.
Second passenger: What? Oh. Ha ha. But it's not very likely.
Captain Bain's voice crackles over the intercom: We'll be docking at Goolwa Wharf at four thirty. Please make sure you have all your.....
Nietzsche: Hmhmmm.... with its yellow swans and golden pears....hmm....no wait, that's wrong....
Lauren: Good, we'll be back at four thirty. Bob may not have realised we've gone.
Nietzsche: ......with its yellow pears and wild roses everywhere ... that's it.
Lauren: That's what?
Nietzsche: ...the shore hangs into the lake. Holderlin, my favourite poet.
Lauren: I get the feeling you're not always present.
Nietzsche: I am always present.
Lauren: No you're not. Tell me, what just happened?
Nietzsche. We had afternoon tea.
Lauren: And after that, at the barrage?
Nietzsche: I recall there were some birds on the barrage.
Lauren: Is that all you were aware of? Yes, I believe it was. You know Friedy, you could do with some training in mindfulness.
Nietzsche: As long as it doesn't involve commentary or banter.
Lauren: I did a lovely course on mindfulness. Before I became a level two Reiki practitioner.
Edith: Oh Lauren, there you are. Would you like Irma's back pack? She doesn't want it. Says it's too smelly.
Lauren: Why would I want it?
Edith: I assume you'll be taking back the crab and the lobster, as well as that Elegant Parrot which seems to have attached itself to them.
Lauren: Hells bells! I'd totally forgotten. Thanks Edith. Oh.... pooh, yes! It is smelly.
Nietzsche: I made the right choice then.
Edith: What choice was that?
Nietzsche: To wear that back pack or a discarded carapace on my head as a protection from the sun's rays.
Lauren: Honestly! Can you believe him!
Edith: At least he is sun-smart.
Passenger: Did you see that?
Second passenger: Did you HEAR that?
Passenger: Yes, I heard that. What an imagination that Elegant Parrot has.
Second passenger: Yes. Pity to disabuse it.
Passenger: What do you mean?
Second passenger: John Gould was the son of a gardener.
Passenger: So you're saying.....?
Second passenger: I'm saying that it's unlikely John Gould's mother would have come up to kiss him goodnight in the nursery before going out to a ball or important dinner.
Passenger: Unless she was the cook or something.
Second passenger: Good point. But would a cook have gone off to work dressed in olive gold and blue plumage?
Passenger: It might have been some sort of apron.
Second passenger: What? Oh. Ha ha. But it's not very likely.
Captain Bain's voice crackles over the intercom: We'll be docking at Goolwa Wharf at four thirty. Please make sure you have all your.....
Nietzsche: Hmhmmm.... with its yellow swans and golden pears....hmm....no wait, that's wrong....
Lauren: Good, we'll be back at four thirty. Bob may not have realised we've gone.
Nietzsche: ......with its yellow pears and wild roses everywhere ... that's it.
Lauren: That's what?
Nietzsche: ...the shore hangs into the lake. Holderlin, my favourite poet.
Lauren: I get the feeling you're not always present.
Nietzsche: I am always present.
Lauren: No you're not. Tell me, what just happened?
Nietzsche. We had afternoon tea.
Lauren: And after that, at the barrage?
Nietzsche: I recall there were some birds on the barrage.
Lauren: Is that all you were aware of? Yes, I believe it was. You know Friedy, you could do with some training in mindfulness.
Nietzsche: As long as it doesn't involve commentary or banter.
Lauren: I did a lovely course on mindfulness. Before I became a level two Reiki practitioner.
Edith: Oh Lauren, there you are. Would you like Irma's back pack? She doesn't want it. Says it's too smelly.
Lauren: Why would I want it?
Edith: I assume you'll be taking back the crab and the lobster, as well as that Elegant Parrot which seems to have attached itself to them.
Lauren: Hells bells! I'd totally forgotten. Thanks Edith. Oh.... pooh, yes! It is smelly.
Nietzsche: I made the right choice then.
Edith: What choice was that?
Nietzsche: To wear that back pack or a discarded carapace on my head as a protection from the sun's rays.
Lauren: Honestly! Can you believe him!
Edith: At least he is sun-smart.
Wednesday, May 18, 2016
Soon This Will All Be Forgotten
The cruise boat stops for the tourists to look at the barrage while the captain drones on.....
.....( crackle).....but removing the barrages would not reinstate the original ecosystems......
Too right says Reg, who has come onto the upper deck with Edith.
Look mum, says Emma. On the barrage.
Elegant Parrots! says Edith. A whole row of them. Don't they look determined!
Positively Hitchcockian, says Reg.
It's started, says Ageless.
Who said that? asks Edith.
What has? asks the Catcher.
Oh it's you, says Edith. How are your stab wounds?
Getting better, says the Catcher. Something's started.
What? asks Edith.
I don't know, says the Catcher.
The job applications, says Ageless. Just watch..... they'll be fluttering over.
Sure enough, the first of the Elegant Parrots rises up from the barrage and flutters over, landing on the railing near to Nietzsche and Lauren.
Oh look, Friedrich, says Lauren. It's come for the coconut crumbs.
But nothing is further from the mind of the Elegant Parrot than coconut crumbs.
I seek the Catcher, says the first Elegant Parrot.
That's you, cackles Ageless.
I know, says the Catcher.
He stands up with difficulty.
Ouch! The sticking plasters grip his flesh tightly.
I am the Catcher, says the Catcher.
A Blue Swimmer! says the Elegant Parrot, looking somewhat surprised.
The Heron had not mentioned a particular species.
No, says the Catcher. My full name is Rock Parrot Catcher. But do not fear, parrot. I learned from my mistake when I eliminated the first one.
Err... well.... I'm not certain I want to continue, says the Elegant Parrot.
Nonsense, says the Catcher. Tell me about yourself. What is elegant about you?
Can you not see? asks the Elegant Parrot. I exhibit a beauty that combines effectiveness and simplicity.
Not to me, says the Catcher.
To John Gould, who named me, says the Elegant Parrot.
Ooh. A win for the Elegant Parrot!
Go on, says the Catcher. I am intrigued now.
The Elegant Parrot is encouraged.
I have always thought that John Gould must have associated olive gold and blue with an outfit of his mother's, says the Elegant Parrot. Perhaps he saw her but rarely. She may have come up to the nursery one evening, before she left for a ball or an important dinner, dressed in olive gold trimmed with blue feathers to kiss the young John Gould goodnight. Pure speculation of course, but I have a romantic imagination.
Say no more, says the Catcher. You have the position. Terence will love you.
Terence is the Infant? asks the Elegant Parrot.
Yes, Terence is the Infant, replies the Catcher.
The Elegant Parrot hops onto the deck of the Spirit of the Coorong, to sign up to her new position in the employ of the Catcher.
The Spirit of the Coorong turns in the water and moves away from the barrage in the direction of Goolwa.
The second, third, fourth and fifth Elegant Parrots fly away.
Soon this will all be forgotten.
.....( crackle).....but removing the barrages would not reinstate the original ecosystems......
Too right says Reg, who has come onto the upper deck with Edith.
Look mum, says Emma. On the barrage.
Elegant Parrots! says Edith. A whole row of them. Don't they look determined!
Positively Hitchcockian, says Reg.
It's started, says Ageless.
Who said that? asks Edith.
What has? asks the Catcher.
Oh it's you, says Edith. How are your stab wounds?
Getting better, says the Catcher. Something's started.
What? asks Edith.
I don't know, says the Catcher.
The job applications, says Ageless. Just watch..... they'll be fluttering over.
Sure enough, the first of the Elegant Parrots rises up from the barrage and flutters over, landing on the railing near to Nietzsche and Lauren.
Oh look, Friedrich, says Lauren. It's come for the coconut crumbs.
But nothing is further from the mind of the Elegant Parrot than coconut crumbs.
I seek the Catcher, says the first Elegant Parrot.
That's you, cackles Ageless.
I know, says the Catcher.
He stands up with difficulty.
Ouch! The sticking plasters grip his flesh tightly.
I am the Catcher, says the Catcher.
A Blue Swimmer! says the Elegant Parrot, looking somewhat surprised.
The Heron had not mentioned a particular species.
No, says the Catcher. My full name is Rock Parrot Catcher. But do not fear, parrot. I learned from my mistake when I eliminated the first one.
Err... well.... I'm not certain I want to continue, says the Elegant Parrot.
Nonsense, says the Catcher. Tell me about yourself. What is elegant about you?
Can you not see? asks the Elegant Parrot. I exhibit a beauty that combines effectiveness and simplicity.
Not to me, says the Catcher.
To John Gould, who named me, says the Elegant Parrot.
Ooh. A win for the Elegant Parrot!
Go on, says the Catcher. I am intrigued now.
The Elegant Parrot is encouraged.
I have always thought that John Gould must have associated olive gold and blue with an outfit of his mother's, says the Elegant Parrot. Perhaps he saw her but rarely. She may have come up to the nursery one evening, before she left for a ball or an important dinner, dressed in olive gold trimmed with blue feathers to kiss the young John Gould goodnight. Pure speculation of course, but I have a romantic imagination.
Say no more, says the Catcher. You have the position. Terence will love you.
Terence is the Infant? asks the Elegant Parrot.
Yes, Terence is the Infant, replies the Catcher.
The Elegant Parrot hops onto the deck of the Spirit of the Coorong, to sign up to her new position in the employ of the Catcher.
The Spirit of the Coorong turns in the water and moves away from the barrage in the direction of Goolwa.
The second, third, fourth and fifth Elegant Parrots fly away.
Soon this will all be forgotten.
Tuesday, May 17, 2016
The Gods Breathe Without Any Plan
The Catcher has returned from his encounter with the first aid box.
Sticking plaster, says Ageless. Ha ha.
While I'm not blaming you, says the Catcher, you could be more sympathetic.
I am sympathetic, says Ageless. Who are you blaming? The Heron?
Nietzsche, says the Catcher. But don't tell him.
My orifices are sealed, says Ageless.
Where is the Heron? asks the Catcher.
Flew off, says Ageless. Nothing for him to do here. But don't be surprised if you get an influx of applications. News travels fast in the bird world.
Hadn't thought of that, admits the Catcher.
Emma and Irma have finished their afternoon tea.
We're going upstairs, mum, says Emma.
Good idea, says Edith. Let me know when we get near the barrage. Put your hats on. And don't pester Lauren and Mr Nitcher.
The twins dash upstairs to the upper deck of the Spirit of the Coorong.
Lauren and Nietzsche are sitting close together near the railing, surrounded by coconut crumbs.
Captain Bain's voice crackles through the airwaves:
...soon approaching one of the barrages separating the Coorong from Lake Alexandrina....
Nietzsche has started to hum.
What's that you're humming? asks Lauren.
A song from my favourite poet, says Nietzsche.
What are the words? asks Lauren.
The gods breathe without any plan, replies Nietzsche.
That's a bit negative, says Lauren.
Not at all, says Nietzsche. It's reassuring.
Lauren elbows him in the ribs and then plants a kiss on his forehead.
Did you see that? asks Emma.
Yuck, says Irma. Take no notice.
What happened to the Catcher? asks Emma.
I left him up here with Ageless, says Irma.
Was he okay? asks Emma.
He's got sticking plasters over his stab wounds, says Irma.
...crackle...( it's the captain)... there is some debate in the community over whether the barrages should be removed. However this is a complex issue....on the one hand.....
Look! says Irma. On the barrage! A whole row of parrots!
And indeed, on the Ewe Island Barrage sits a row of olive gold Elegant Parrots.
Should we be surprised? On the one hand, they are listed as common. On the other, why do their eyes gleam with an unswerving purpose?
Sticking plaster, says Ageless. Ha ha.
While I'm not blaming you, says the Catcher, you could be more sympathetic.
I am sympathetic, says Ageless. Who are you blaming? The Heron?
Nietzsche, says the Catcher. But don't tell him.
My orifices are sealed, says Ageless.
Where is the Heron? asks the Catcher.
Flew off, says Ageless. Nothing for him to do here. But don't be surprised if you get an influx of applications. News travels fast in the bird world.
Hadn't thought of that, admits the Catcher.
Emma and Irma have finished their afternoon tea.
We're going upstairs, mum, says Emma.
Good idea, says Edith. Let me know when we get near the barrage. Put your hats on. And don't pester Lauren and Mr Nitcher.
The twins dash upstairs to the upper deck of the Spirit of the Coorong.
Lauren and Nietzsche are sitting close together near the railing, surrounded by coconut crumbs.
Captain Bain's voice crackles through the airwaves:
...soon approaching one of the barrages separating the Coorong from Lake Alexandrina....
Nietzsche has started to hum.
What's that you're humming? asks Lauren.
A song from my favourite poet, says Nietzsche.
What are the words? asks Lauren.
The gods breathe without any plan, replies Nietzsche.
That's a bit negative, says Lauren.
Not at all, says Nietzsche. It's reassuring.
Lauren elbows him in the ribs and then plants a kiss on his forehead.
Did you see that? asks Emma.
Yuck, says Irma. Take no notice.
What happened to the Catcher? asks Emma.
I left him up here with Ageless, says Irma.
Was he okay? asks Emma.
He's got sticking plasters over his stab wounds, says Irma.
...crackle...( it's the captain)... there is some debate in the community over whether the barrages should be removed. However this is a complex issue....on the one hand.....
Look! says Irma. On the barrage! A whole row of parrots!
And indeed, on the Ewe Island Barrage sits a row of olive gold Elegant Parrots.
Should we be surprised? On the one hand, they are listed as common. On the other, why do their eyes gleam with an unswerving purpose?
Monday, May 16, 2016
Position What Position?
All aboard! says Captain Bain.
Dad's not back yet, says Emma.
Here he comes now, says Irma. Look, there's a heron!
Reg makes his way up the gang plank.
Cutting it fine there, says Captain Bain.
Sorry, says Reg. There was a heron.
So I see, says Captain Bain.
No, you don't see, says Reg. There WAS a heron.
There still is, dad, says Emma. It's followed you here.
I know, says Reg. But it's .....
The eyes of the Catcher rise up from the depths of the back pack.
Send it away! croaks the Catcher.
Oh brilliant, says the Heron. First you offer me a position, then you ask them to send me away.
Position what position? says the Catcher.
Elegant Parrot, says the Heron.
Did he offer you a position as an Elegant Parrot? asks Emma.
He did, says the Heron. It's why I stopped viciously stabbing him before swallowing him whole.
Mum, what does an Elegant Parrot look like? asks Emma.
Why dear? asks Edith. Do you think you've seen one?
No, says Emma.
Not yet, says the Heron.
Has it gone yet? asks the Catcher. I'm oozing fluids.
Come here, says Irma. Captain Bain, is there a first aid kit?
Of course, says Captain Bain. But we have to get going, it's nearly afternoon tea time.
Is it? says Reg. I hope there won't be a mix up with mine. I asked for gluten free lunch.
Did you also ask for a gluten free afternoon tea? asks Captain Bain.
I didn't realise I had to, says Reg.
I did, says Edith. Don't worry dear. Now....let me think..... Elegant Parrot.
Yes? says the Heron.
Edith gets her phone out.
The Elegant Parrot is golden olive in colour with a dark blue frontal band line above and light blue below. Its wings are predominantly olive, its outer feathers dark blue. A yellow edged tail, with shades of olive and blue. Bill and legs grey. Eyes dark brown, Average length, 23 centimetres.
That rules you out, says the Catcher.
Pshaw! says the Heron.
Toot! The Spirit of the Coorong begins moving further into the Coorong, towards another of the barrages.
Afternoon tea is served.
Tea, coffee and jammy coconut slices.
A gluten free date slice for Reg, very chewy.
Lauren is feeding jammy coconut slice chunks to Nietzsche, on the upper deck.
The trouble with me is I'm too impetuous, says Lauren. Bob will spit chips.
He won't even realise we've gone, says Nietzsche. When we get back he'll still be out surfing. He strikes me as that sort of fellow.
More jammy slice? asks Lauren. Oh look, you've got coconut all through your lovely moustache!
She playfully flicks it.
He doesn't mind at all.
He breathes calmly, rejecting self consciousness. It's good for him.
Dad's not back yet, says Emma.
Here he comes now, says Irma. Look, there's a heron!
Reg makes his way up the gang plank.
Cutting it fine there, says Captain Bain.
Sorry, says Reg. There was a heron.
So I see, says Captain Bain.
No, you don't see, says Reg. There WAS a heron.
There still is, dad, says Emma. It's followed you here.
I know, says Reg. But it's .....
The eyes of the Catcher rise up from the depths of the back pack.
Send it away! croaks the Catcher.
Oh brilliant, says the Heron. First you offer me a position, then you ask them to send me away.
Position what position? says the Catcher.
Elegant Parrot, says the Heron.
Did he offer you a position as an Elegant Parrot? asks Emma.
He did, says the Heron. It's why I stopped viciously stabbing him before swallowing him whole.
Mum, what does an Elegant Parrot look like? asks Emma.
Why dear? asks Edith. Do you think you've seen one?
No, says Emma.
Not yet, says the Heron.
Has it gone yet? asks the Catcher. I'm oozing fluids.
Come here, says Irma. Captain Bain, is there a first aid kit?
Of course, says Captain Bain. But we have to get going, it's nearly afternoon tea time.
Is it? says Reg. I hope there won't be a mix up with mine. I asked for gluten free lunch.
Did you also ask for a gluten free afternoon tea? asks Captain Bain.
I didn't realise I had to, says Reg.
I did, says Edith. Don't worry dear. Now....let me think..... Elegant Parrot.
Yes? says the Heron.
Edith gets her phone out.
The Elegant Parrot is golden olive in colour with a dark blue frontal band line above and light blue below. Its wings are predominantly olive, its outer feathers dark blue. A yellow edged tail, with shades of olive and blue. Bill and legs grey. Eyes dark brown, Average length, 23 centimetres.
That rules you out, says the Catcher.
Pshaw! says the Heron.
Toot! The Spirit of the Coorong begins moving further into the Coorong, towards another of the barrages.
Afternoon tea is served.
Tea, coffee and jammy coconut slices.
A gluten free date slice for Reg, very chewy.
Lauren is feeding jammy coconut slice chunks to Nietzsche, on the upper deck.
The trouble with me is I'm too impetuous, says Lauren. Bob will spit chips.
He won't even realise we've gone, says Nietzsche. When we get back he'll still be out surfing. He strikes me as that sort of fellow.
More jammy slice? asks Lauren. Oh look, you've got coconut all through your lovely moustache!
She playfully flicks it.
He doesn't mind at all.
He breathes calmly, rejecting self consciousness. It's good for him.
Sunday, May 15, 2016
Brief History Of A Stalled Stabbing
Nietzsche must make a decision.
Go back for the Catcher. Or leave him to fend for himself, and go back to the boat with the others, for afternoon tea.
What would Zarathustra do?
Not dither, that much is certain.
What's the matter? asks Lauren.
I've abandoned the Catcher, says Nietzsche.
He's only a crab, after all, says Lauren. Plenty more in the sea.
If only, says Edith. I love crab, don't you?
Mum, I've forgotten my back pack, says Irma.
Reg, can you run back and get it? says Edith.
Okay, says Reg.
He turns and runs back to the spot at the edge of the Great Southern Ocean where the Heron is stabbing the Catcher.
Stab! Stab! With its large beak. That's what herons do.
But the Catcher is new. Unknown to the Heron world is the Catcher.
The Catcher speaks to the Heron.
Catcher: Do you ever dream?
Heron (stabbing viciously): I dream of eating as many fat crabs as I like.
Catcher: Have you ever dreamed of, say, being a parrot?
Heron: Why would I dream of being a parrot?
Catcher: It depends.
Heron: On what? What sort of parrot?
Catcher: Yes. An Elegant Parrot for example.
Heron: I think you misunderstood what I was asking.
Catcher: I see you are superbly intelligent.
Heron: I do pride myself.
Catcher: But you are not very attractive. And your black throat spots give you away.
Heron: What does an Elegant Parrot look like?
Catcher: That's just it. Who can say what is elegant?
Heron: I see. Is there anything in it for me though?
Catcher: Certainly. I have a contact. Admittedly, he is an infant.
Heron: Tell me more.
It is at this point that Reg appears. Too late to save the Catcher, had the Catcher not stayed his own execution.
But Reg may be useful.
As he picks up his daughter's back pack he cannot help but notice the Catcher, and the Heron.
Reg! says the Catcher. Mind giving us a lift in the back pack?
You, yes, says Reg. But no way I'm lifting a heron. Who knows if it isn't protected?
I may be transitioning, says the Heron. So I'll be unprotected. I'm in the midst of negotiations.
Too bad, says Reg. You're still the same size.
I'll fly behind you, says the Heron.
I wouldn't advise it, says Reg.
Above and behind you, says the Heron.
And perhaps to one side, says Reg.
All right, says the Heron
Reg thinks: Who knew that a Heron could be so accommodating?
He breaks wind gently, shoulders the back pack and heads for the sand dunes.
Go back for the Catcher. Or leave him to fend for himself, and go back to the boat with the others, for afternoon tea.
What would Zarathustra do?
Not dither, that much is certain.
What's the matter? asks Lauren.
I've abandoned the Catcher, says Nietzsche.
He's only a crab, after all, says Lauren. Plenty more in the sea.
If only, says Edith. I love crab, don't you?
Mum, I've forgotten my back pack, says Irma.
Reg, can you run back and get it? says Edith.
Okay, says Reg.
He turns and runs back to the spot at the edge of the Great Southern Ocean where the Heron is stabbing the Catcher.
Stab! Stab! With its large beak. That's what herons do.
But the Catcher is new. Unknown to the Heron world is the Catcher.
The Catcher speaks to the Heron.
Catcher: Do you ever dream?
Heron (stabbing viciously): I dream of eating as many fat crabs as I like.
Catcher: Have you ever dreamed of, say, being a parrot?
Heron: Why would I dream of being a parrot?
Catcher: It depends.
Heron: On what? What sort of parrot?
Catcher: Yes. An Elegant Parrot for example.
Heron: I think you misunderstood what I was asking.
Catcher: I see you are superbly intelligent.
Heron: I do pride myself.
Catcher: But you are not very attractive. And your black throat spots give you away.
Heron: What does an Elegant Parrot look like?
Catcher: That's just it. Who can say what is elegant?
Heron: I see. Is there anything in it for me though?
Catcher: Certainly. I have a contact. Admittedly, he is an infant.
Heron: Tell me more.
It is at this point that Reg appears. Too late to save the Catcher, had the Catcher not stayed his own execution.
But Reg may be useful.
As he picks up his daughter's back pack he cannot help but notice the Catcher, and the Heron.
Reg! says the Catcher. Mind giving us a lift in the back pack?
You, yes, says Reg. But no way I'm lifting a heron. Who knows if it isn't protected?
I may be transitioning, says the Heron. So I'll be unprotected. I'm in the midst of negotiations.
Too bad, says Reg. You're still the same size.
I'll fly behind you, says the Heron.
I wouldn't advise it, says Reg.
Above and behind you, says the Heron.
And perhaps to one side, says Reg.
All right, says the Heron
Reg thinks: Who knew that a Heron could be so accommodating?
He breaks wind gently, shoulders the back pack and heads for the sand dunes.
Saturday, May 14, 2016
That May Seem Unnecessary
Mr Nitcher saw a heron, says Emma.
What kind was it? asks Irma.
Err-mm, says Nietzsche. What sort are there?
He's not sure, says Emma.
Well, there's one, says Irma, pointing to a heron nearby. Was it like that one?
The heron in question tries to look inconspicuous, while keeping an eye on the Catcher.
Yes, says Nietzsche, perhaps a little too quickly.
That's a White Necked Heron, says Irma. They're shy.
Everyone looks at the heron, including the captain.
Yes, that is a White Necked Heron, says Captain Bain. Well spotted, young lady. They are not all that common in tidal areas. See the distinctive black spots on its foreneck and throat. Those black spots are only visible on non-breeding individuals....
How embarrassing. The Heron considers flying away.
But no. Wait. The group is leaving. And they seem to have forgotten the Catcher.
The Catcher is no longer engaged in muscular pedalling. There he lies, on his back in the sand.
He has not even noticed the Heron. He is engaged in concocting a fantasy in which he captures an Elegant Parrot and rather than eating it, brings it home in triumph to Terence. And Terence loves him again.
The White Necked Heron approaches the Catcher.
Easy pickings, he thinks....
The guided tour group has almost reached the sand dunes.
Will no one turn back, for a last look at the Great Southern Ocean?
Yes. Lauren turns back to look at the Great Southern Ocean. So noisy, so deep and profound. And her son Bob is somewhere in it, surfing with the whales, what a world, that such things ...but oh FUDGE! Bob! She and Nietzsche have driven off in his van without telling him. And just when that nice Sweezus may have been getting a cramp.....
She turns back to the dunes without seeing the confrontation between the Heron and the Catcher.
Friedrich, says Lauren, I don't think we ought to have come on this day trip.
Why not, Lauren? asks Nietzsche. There is no shame in learning things that may seem unnecessary.
Is that a philosophy? asks Emma. Or a philology?
I just made it up, says Nietzsche. Call it what you like.
I guess learning about Diogenes Laertes was unnecessary, says Emma.
Yes, as it turned out, says Nietzsche. How was I to know nothing was definitively known of his life, and that even the precise form of his name was uncertain?
Oh, Friederich, says Lauren. You are singular!
Nietzsche is pleased that Lauren thinks him singular.
Yes, and he has other fine qualities as well.
For example, his empathy with animals.
That time he threw his arms round the neck of a horse that was being mistreated......
Hah! Let Mrs Bottle try and find fault with THAT!
Suddenly, Nietzsche remembers the Catcher.
What kind was it? asks Irma.
Err-mm, says Nietzsche. What sort are there?
He's not sure, says Emma.
Well, there's one, says Irma, pointing to a heron nearby. Was it like that one?
The heron in question tries to look inconspicuous, while keeping an eye on the Catcher.
Yes, says Nietzsche, perhaps a little too quickly.
That's a White Necked Heron, says Irma. They're shy.
Everyone looks at the heron, including the captain.
Yes, that is a White Necked Heron, says Captain Bain. Well spotted, young lady. They are not all that common in tidal areas. See the distinctive black spots on its foreneck and throat. Those black spots are only visible on non-breeding individuals....
How embarrassing. The Heron considers flying away.
But no. Wait. The group is leaving. And they seem to have forgotten the Catcher.
The Catcher is no longer engaged in muscular pedalling. There he lies, on his back in the sand.
He has not even noticed the Heron. He is engaged in concocting a fantasy in which he captures an Elegant Parrot and rather than eating it, brings it home in triumph to Terence. And Terence loves him again.
The White Necked Heron approaches the Catcher.
Easy pickings, he thinks....
The guided tour group has almost reached the sand dunes.
Will no one turn back, for a last look at the Great Southern Ocean?
Yes. Lauren turns back to look at the Great Southern Ocean. So noisy, so deep and profound. And her son Bob is somewhere in it, surfing with the whales, what a world, that such things ...but oh FUDGE! Bob! She and Nietzsche have driven off in his van without telling him. And just when that nice Sweezus may have been getting a cramp.....
She turns back to the dunes without seeing the confrontation between the Heron and the Catcher.
Friedrich, says Lauren, I don't think we ought to have come on this day trip.
Why not, Lauren? asks Nietzsche. There is no shame in learning things that may seem unnecessary.
Is that a philosophy? asks Emma. Or a philology?
I just made it up, says Nietzsche. Call it what you like.
I guess learning about Diogenes Laertes was unnecessary, says Emma.
Yes, as it turned out, says Nietzsche. How was I to know nothing was definitively known of his life, and that even the precise form of his name was uncertain?
Oh, Friederich, says Lauren. You are singular!
Nietzsche is pleased that Lauren thinks him singular.
Yes, and he has other fine qualities as well.
For example, his empathy with animals.
That time he threw his arms round the neck of a horse that was being mistreated......
Hah! Let Mrs Bottle try and find fault with THAT!
Suddenly, Nietzsche remembers the Catcher.
Friday, May 13, 2016
The Lie Of The Heron
Classical Philology, repeats Emma. All the more reason.
For what? asks Nietzsche, adjusting his carapace hat.
For knowing bird names, says Emma. You should actually know them in Latin.
I gave up Classical Philology, says Nietzsche.
I thought you were a professor, says Emma. You must have taught something. What did you do?
My doctoral thesis was to be on the Sources of Diogenes Laertes, says Nietzsche. But it was never presented. I switched to Philosophy.
So you know nothing, says Emma.
Nothing? says Nietzsche.
Nothing useful about birds. You see a bird, and you can't identify it.
I beat it to the carapace, says Nietzsche. That's all I need to know.
No it isn't, says Emma. And you do know something. Think for a minute.
Nietzsche wonders where this is going.
You know it was a crab eater, says Emma. Not all coastal birds eat crabs. That narrows it down a bit. Was it a heron?
Yes, says Nietzsche. It was a heron.
What a lie. He has no idea if it was a heron.
Ageless lobster struts up.
He is looking for the Catcher.
Seen the Catcher? he asks.
He's in the back pack, says Nietzsche. He was having trouble walking in a straight line.
Come out, brother! says Ageless. You need to do strengthening exercises.
The Catcher comes out, and with him a whiff of banana.
Sit, says Ageless. Now which leg is it?
This one, says the Catcher.
All right. Lie back. No, turn over. Now lie back, says Ageless. Legs in the air. Now PEDAL!
The Catcher obeys the instructions.
Cycling is good for muscle building, says Ageless.
You'd know, says Emma. Ageless rode in the Tour down Under, she tells Nietzsche.
There's not much I don't know about cycling, says Ageless.
I had no idea, says Nietzsche. Tell me, what do you do with your superfluous legs?
Bind them, says Ageless. I find it gives me added impetus.
He didn't win though, says Emma.
Irma comes over.
We're all heading back to the boat now, says Irma.
I only just got here, says Nietzsche.
You missed out on seeing a whole heap of birds, says Irma. We saw a Black Fronted Dotterel, a Great Crested Grebe and a Japanese Snipe. Oh yes, and an Elegant Parrot.
Parrot! the Catcher stops pedalling.
On his back, legs in the air. Vulnerable. A heron might think so.
For what? asks Nietzsche, adjusting his carapace hat.
For knowing bird names, says Emma. You should actually know them in Latin.
I gave up Classical Philology, says Nietzsche.
I thought you were a professor, says Emma. You must have taught something. What did you do?
My doctoral thesis was to be on the Sources of Diogenes Laertes, says Nietzsche. But it was never presented. I switched to Philosophy.
So you know nothing, says Emma.
Nothing? says Nietzsche.
Nothing useful about birds. You see a bird, and you can't identify it.
I beat it to the carapace, says Nietzsche. That's all I need to know.
No it isn't, says Emma. And you do know something. Think for a minute.
Nietzsche wonders where this is going.
You know it was a crab eater, says Emma. Not all coastal birds eat crabs. That narrows it down a bit. Was it a heron?
Yes, says Nietzsche. It was a heron.
What a lie. He has no idea if it was a heron.
Ageless lobster struts up.
He is looking for the Catcher.
Seen the Catcher? he asks.
He's in the back pack, says Nietzsche. He was having trouble walking in a straight line.
Come out, brother! says Ageless. You need to do strengthening exercises.
The Catcher comes out, and with him a whiff of banana.
Sit, says Ageless. Now which leg is it?
This one, says the Catcher.
All right. Lie back. No, turn over. Now lie back, says Ageless. Legs in the air. Now PEDAL!
The Catcher obeys the instructions.
Cycling is good for muscle building, says Ageless.
You'd know, says Emma. Ageless rode in the Tour down Under, she tells Nietzsche.
There's not much I don't know about cycling, says Ageless.
I had no idea, says Nietzsche. Tell me, what do you do with your superfluous legs?
Bind them, says Ageless. I find it gives me added impetus.
He didn't win though, says Emma.
Irma comes over.
We're all heading back to the boat now, says Irma.
I only just got here, says Nietzsche.
You missed out on seeing a whole heap of birds, says Irma. We saw a Black Fronted Dotterel, a Great Crested Grebe and a Japanese Snipe. Oh yes, and an Elegant Parrot.
Parrot! the Catcher stops pedalling.
On his back, legs in the air. Vulnerable. A heron might think so.
Regret Doesn't Work With Geometry
The roar of the Great Southern Ocean increases.
ROAR!
Nietzsche is confident he is going in the right direction.
The Catcher is veering away.
It's this way, says Nietzsche. I'm certain.
I agree, says the Catcher. I just can't help veering away.
It's a matter of simple geometry, says Nietzsche.
It's a matter of having a short swimming leg, says the Catcher. I regret fighting Ageless now.
Regret nothing, says Nietzsche. That's what I say.
Ha ha, says the Catcher. That doesn't work with geometry.
You may be right, says Nietzsche.
WHAT? shouts the Catcher.
You may be right, says Nietzsche.
The Catcher stops. Nietzsche stops too.
Nietzsche walks across to the Catcher.
Four metres.
You do the geometry
I only came on this cruise for your sake, says Nietzsche. It's not like me to admit it, but I do quite admire you.
Understandable, says the Catcher. I have ambition.
You are the crab on the tightrope, over the abyss, says Nietzsche. Half way between yourself and something better.
Except for this leg, says the Catcher. But I appreciate your comment.
Sit a while, says Nietzsche. I imagine there's no hurry. The others will be sporting on the beach.
In your dreams, says the Catcher. No, there'll be a strict schedule. Walk through the dunes. See the sea. Walk back. Get back on board. Afternoon tea. Look at another barrage.
How do you know so much about it? asks Nietzsche.
Not everyone hums while the captain is talking, says the Catcher.
Get in, says Nietzsche, holding open the back pack. The Catcher gets in.
Nietzsche increases his pace through the dunes. Squeak-squeak, his shoes squeak.
Swursh-swursh. Ooh! Uh! His surf rash flares up.
At last he emerges onto a white sandy beach of the Great Southern Ocean.
There is the guided tour group, standing around Captain Bain, who is explaining something.
Emma spots Nietzsche, and runs over.
There you are! cries Emma. What happened? You look heaps funny.
Nietzsche has forgotten his carapace hat.
Now he remembers.
I beat a bird to it, says Nietzsche. How do you like it?
What kind of bird was it? asks Emma.
I don't know, says Nietzsche.
It's no use if you don't know the name, says Emma.
I don't suppose the bird knows it, says Nietzsche.
But this smart-arse answer doesn't wash with Emma.
Mrs Bottle told us you were a Professor of Philology, says Emma.
CLASSICAL Philology, says Nietzsche.
ROAR!
Nietzsche is confident he is going in the right direction.
The Catcher is veering away.
It's this way, says Nietzsche. I'm certain.
I agree, says the Catcher. I just can't help veering away.
It's a matter of simple geometry, says Nietzsche.
It's a matter of having a short swimming leg, says the Catcher. I regret fighting Ageless now.
Regret nothing, says Nietzsche. That's what I say.
Ha ha, says the Catcher. That doesn't work with geometry.
You may be right, says Nietzsche.
WHAT? shouts the Catcher.
You may be right, says Nietzsche.
The Catcher stops. Nietzsche stops too.
Nietzsche walks across to the Catcher.
Four metres.
You do the geometry
I only came on this cruise for your sake, says Nietzsche. It's not like me to admit it, but I do quite admire you.
Understandable, says the Catcher. I have ambition.
You are the crab on the tightrope, over the abyss, says Nietzsche. Half way between yourself and something better.
Except for this leg, says the Catcher. But I appreciate your comment.
Sit a while, says Nietzsche. I imagine there's no hurry. The others will be sporting on the beach.
In your dreams, says the Catcher. No, there'll be a strict schedule. Walk through the dunes. See the sea. Walk back. Get back on board. Afternoon tea. Look at another barrage.
How do you know so much about it? asks Nietzsche.
Not everyone hums while the captain is talking, says the Catcher.
Get in, says Nietzsche, holding open the back pack. The Catcher gets in.
Nietzsche increases his pace through the dunes. Squeak-squeak, his shoes squeak.
Swursh-swursh. Ooh! Uh! His surf rash flares up.
At last he emerges onto a white sandy beach of the Great Southern Ocean.
There is the guided tour group, standing around Captain Bain, who is explaining something.
Emma spots Nietzsche, and runs over.
There you are! cries Emma. What happened? You look heaps funny.
Nietzsche has forgotten his carapace hat.
Now he remembers.
I beat a bird to it, says Nietzsche. How do you like it?
What kind of bird was it? asks Emma.
I don't know, says Nietzsche.
It's no use if you don't know the name, says Emma.
I don't suppose the bird knows it, says Nietzsche.
But this smart-arse answer doesn't wash with Emma.
Mrs Bottle told us you were a Professor of Philology, says Emma.
CLASSICAL Philology, says Nietzsche.
Wednesday, May 11, 2016
At That Time It Contained A Banana
Do I smell banana? asks the Catcher.
No one answers.
Nietzsche is searching around for a hat.
Faint Outline finds the question ridiculous.
Do I smell banana? What could have triggered the question? Only the smell of banana.
She waits for the Catcher to come to a similar conclusion.
Nietzsche's head has withdrawn from the back pack, in order to look for a hat.
A bird flies overhead, looking downwards.
The discarded carapaces attract its attention. The bird lands a short distance away.
The Catcher has already entered the back pack.
Old banana skin! says the Catcher, on finding the source of the smell.
You were here earlier, says Faint Outline.
What is that supposed to mean? asks the Catcher.
The banana skin was here as well. At that time it contained a banana.
I don't remember that, says the Catcher.
You were moulting, says Faint Outline.
Who ate the banana? asks the Catcher.
Faint Outline decides she won't tell.
The Catcher intuits (wrongly) that Nietzsche has eaten the banana.
He backs out of the back pack, intending to ask him....
.....and is confronted by a contortion.
Nietzsche is slowly leaning sideways.
A bird is focussed on Nietzsche's hand.
The hand is approaching one of the discarded carapaces. The Catcher's.
The bird wants it too.
But Nietzsche is a fighter.
His hand gets to the carapace first.
The bird flies off, towards the Great Southern Ocean.
Aha, says the Catcher. Good choice.
Nietzsche has placed the carapace on top of his fine head of hair. Now his head is protected.
He wonders what sort of bird it was, that he bested.
What to do now? Follow the others? Which way?
He can hear the roar of the ocean. He supposes that's the way forward.
He picks up the back pack, which still smells of banana.
It occurs to him that the back pack, without the banana, would have given him better protection from the sun's burning rays.
No one answers.
Nietzsche is searching around for a hat.
Faint Outline finds the question ridiculous.
Do I smell banana? What could have triggered the question? Only the smell of banana.
She waits for the Catcher to come to a similar conclusion.
Nietzsche's head has withdrawn from the back pack, in order to look for a hat.
A bird flies overhead, looking downwards.
The discarded carapaces attract its attention. The bird lands a short distance away.
The Catcher has already entered the back pack.
Old banana skin! says the Catcher, on finding the source of the smell.
You were here earlier, says Faint Outline.
What is that supposed to mean? asks the Catcher.
The banana skin was here as well. At that time it contained a banana.
I don't remember that, says the Catcher.
You were moulting, says Faint Outline.
Who ate the banana? asks the Catcher.
Faint Outline decides she won't tell.
The Catcher intuits (wrongly) that Nietzsche has eaten the banana.
He backs out of the back pack, intending to ask him....
.....and is confronted by a contortion.
Nietzsche is slowly leaning sideways.
A bird is focussed on Nietzsche's hand.
The hand is approaching one of the discarded carapaces. The Catcher's.
The bird wants it too.
But Nietzsche is a fighter.
His hand gets to the carapace first.
The bird flies off, towards the Great Southern Ocean.
Aha, says the Catcher. Good choice.
Nietzsche has placed the carapace on top of his fine head of hair. Now his head is protected.
He wonders what sort of bird it was, that he bested.
He can hear the roar of the ocean. He supposes that's the way forward.
He picks up the back pack, which still smells of banana.
It occurs to him that the back pack, without the banana, would have given him better protection from the sun's burning rays.
Tuesday, May 10, 2016
You Should Be Anxious
Nietzsche the investigative scientist. It's not his thing. At school he came top in religion and German.
However.
Sitting on the sand dune in the Coorong, hatless, in the hot sun, he is determined to get to the bottom of the back pack.
ZZZip.
He opens the top.
That's one mystery solved. The rattle.
It was the rattle of the sloughed-off shells of Ageless lobster and the Catcher.
Nietzsche discards them.
They lie unwanted, in the warm sand.
The drumming has ceased.
Nietzsche stares into the void.
What else is in there?
A long shrivelled up black thing.
Not touching that.
Nietzsche is tempted to put his head in.
Will he? Won't he?
He weighs it up. As a philosopher will.
Will I/ Won't I.
What the devil? He sticks his head in.
At last he sees Faint Outline.
Hello, says Faint Outline. I've been waiting for you to stick your head in.
Have you? says Nietzsche, surprised.
I have one thing to ask you, says Faint Outline. In return, you may ask me something.
May I go first? asks Nietzsche.
Go ahead, says Faint Outline.
Nietzsche hopes it's not cheating to ask a double barrelled question:
Does the accelerated moulting of Ageless lobster and the Catcher have anything to do with the drumming?
Good question, says Faint Outline. The answer is yes.
Is that all? asks Nietzsche.
My turn! says Faint Outline. Will you please remove this banana skin from my premises?
That's hardly a question, says Nietzsche.
He does nothing.
When? asks Faint Outline.
When you explain, says Nietzsche.
Oh all right, sighs Faint Outline. This banana skin is a case in point. It was an unripe banana this morning. A GREEN one.
Nietzsche is quick on the uptake. The drumming causes time to speed up. Things ripen quickly. Or moult in a hurry. But who does the drumming?
Who does the drumming? asks Nietzsche, risking a rebuff.
Anyone who is anxious, says Faint Outline. I detect you are anxious.
I am not anxious, says Nietzsche.
You should be, says .......who is this....? The Catcher!
The Catcher has completed his arc and fetched up at the sand dune, drawn by the scent of banana.
Tch! All alone in the sand dunes with no hat on, says the Catcher. You could die here.
It is only now Nietzsche realises the gravity of his situation.
However.
Sitting on the sand dune in the Coorong, hatless, in the hot sun, he is determined to get to the bottom of the back pack.
ZZZip.
He opens the top.
That's one mystery solved. The rattle.
It was the rattle of the sloughed-off shells of Ageless lobster and the Catcher.
Nietzsche discards them.
They lie unwanted, in the warm sand.
The drumming has ceased.
Nietzsche stares into the void.
What else is in there?
A long shrivelled up black thing.
Not touching that.
Nietzsche is tempted to put his head in.
Will he? Won't he?
He weighs it up. As a philosopher will.
Will I/ Won't I.
What the devil? He sticks his head in.
At last he sees Faint Outline.
Hello, says Faint Outline. I've been waiting for you to stick your head in.
Have you? says Nietzsche, surprised.
I have one thing to ask you, says Faint Outline. In return, you may ask me something.
May I go first? asks Nietzsche.
Go ahead, says Faint Outline.
Nietzsche hopes it's not cheating to ask a double barrelled question:
Does the accelerated moulting of Ageless lobster and the Catcher have anything to do with the drumming?
Good question, says Faint Outline. The answer is yes.
Is that all? asks Nietzsche.
My turn! says Faint Outline. Will you please remove this banana skin from my premises?
That's hardly a question, says Nietzsche.
He does nothing.
When? asks Faint Outline.
When you explain, says Nietzsche.
Oh all right, sighs Faint Outline. This banana skin is a case in point. It was an unripe banana this morning. A GREEN one.
Nietzsche is quick on the uptake. The drumming causes time to speed up. Things ripen quickly. Or moult in a hurry. But who does the drumming?
Who does the drumming? asks Nietzsche, risking a rebuff.
Anyone who is anxious, says Faint Outline. I detect you are anxious.
I am not anxious, says Nietzsche.
You should be, says .......who is this....? The Catcher!
The Catcher has completed his arc and fetched up at the sand dune, drawn by the scent of banana.
Tch! All alone in the sand dunes with no hat on, says the Catcher. You could die here.
It is only now Nietzsche realises the gravity of his situation.
Monday, May 9, 2016
Don't Walk Behind Him
All ashore who are going ashore! says Captain Bain.
Edith and Lauren disembark, followed by Reg who is looking uncomfortable.
Next down the plank are Emma and Irma.
What's this here? asks Captain Bain. A crab and a lobster? I don't remember them coming on board.
They came on in my back pack, says Irma. They were moulting.
Well, they look jolly good now, says Captain Bain. Watch out, or someone might make a fine dinner. Ah. Mr Nietzsche! Are you coming with us?
I am, says Nietzsche. But don't expect me to remain within earshot.
I DO expect you to remain within earshot, says Captain Bain.
Come on Mr Nitcher, says Emma.
Yes, come on, Friedrich, says Lauren. Is your surf rash any better?
Yes, much better, says Nietzsche.
Poor Reg, says Lauren. He got the wrong lunch. He was enjoying his bread roll and didn't realise it was made out of wheat flour. Don't walk behind him.
Come on girls, calls Edith. Hats on!
At last the guided tour group is ready. About twenty people start the long plod through the dunes.
Captain Bain is explaining how aboriginal people once lived in the area. They caught food using nets and in dams. Yabbies, crayfish, mussels and Murray cod. Of course it wasn't called Murray cod in those days, but Goodoo.
What else did they eat? asks a tourist.
Bulrush roots, pigface berries, black swans, cormorants, pelicans and ducks, says Captain Bain.
How knowledgeable Captain Bain is.
Plod plod.
It's quite warm this afternoon. Have you brought your binoculars?
Yes. I have.
Look there's a..... oh my! A rare bird indeed. A Blue Bonnet parrot.
Lucky the Catcher's not listening.
He is getting further and further away from the party.
He is walking in a sort of an arc. He can't help it.
Nietzsche is feeling the heat. He is sweating. His eyes are fixed on the back pack that Emma is carrying.
The drumming gets louder. Can anyone else hear it?
Emma! calls Nietzsche. May I borrow the back pack?
It's Irma's says Emma. But yes, you can have it. It's annoying.
Is it? asks Nietzsche. In what way annoying?
It's rattling, says Emma. Here.
At last Nietzsche has possession of the Hello Kitty back pack.
He sits down on a dune, not caring that he is now out of Captain Bain's earshot, and looks inside.
Edith and Lauren disembark, followed by Reg who is looking uncomfortable.
Next down the plank are Emma and Irma.
What's this here? asks Captain Bain. A crab and a lobster? I don't remember them coming on board.
They came on in my back pack, says Irma. They were moulting.
Well, they look jolly good now, says Captain Bain. Watch out, or someone might make a fine dinner. Ah. Mr Nietzsche! Are you coming with us?
I am, says Nietzsche. But don't expect me to remain within earshot.
I DO expect you to remain within earshot, says Captain Bain.
Come on Mr Nitcher, says Emma.
Yes, come on, Friedrich, says Lauren. Is your surf rash any better?
Yes, much better, says Nietzsche.
Poor Reg, says Lauren. He got the wrong lunch. He was enjoying his bread roll and didn't realise it was made out of wheat flour. Don't walk behind him.
Come on girls, calls Edith. Hats on!
At last the guided tour group is ready. About twenty people start the long plod through the dunes.
Captain Bain is explaining how aboriginal people once lived in the area. They caught food using nets and in dams. Yabbies, crayfish, mussels and Murray cod. Of course it wasn't called Murray cod in those days, but Goodoo.
What else did they eat? asks a tourist.
Bulrush roots, pigface berries, black swans, cormorants, pelicans and ducks, says Captain Bain.
How knowledgeable Captain Bain is.
Plod plod.
It's quite warm this afternoon. Have you brought your binoculars?
Yes. I have.
Look there's a..... oh my! A rare bird indeed. A Blue Bonnet parrot.
Lucky the Catcher's not listening.
He is getting further and further away from the party.
He is walking in a sort of an arc. He can't help it.
Nietzsche is feeling the heat. He is sweating. His eyes are fixed on the back pack that Emma is carrying.
The drumming gets louder. Can anyone else hear it?
Emma! calls Nietzsche. May I borrow the back pack?
It's Irma's says Emma. But yes, you can have it. It's annoying.
Is it? asks Nietzsche. In what way annoying?
It's rattling, says Emma. Here.
At last Nietzsche has possession of the Hello Kitty back pack.
He sits down on a dune, not caring that he is now out of Captain Bain's earshot, and looks inside.
Time Stretches Out To Complexity
It must be remembered that these events happened some days ago.
That's why the weather is still fine, and the twins still on holiday.
Today they would be labouring in the classroom, under Mrs Bottle, and it would be raining.
But it is the nature of time that some days stretch out to infinity.
I only mention it, because Ageless and the Catcher have moulted so fast.
Here they are now at the feet of Nietzsche, who had remained on the upper deck, pondering Chance. A dance floor for divine accidents. Hmm. That's a good one. Must write it down.
And Emma has just brought his lunch up.
What's in it?
Cold meat and salad, and a hard yellow roll with black spots.
Thank you, Emma, says Nietzsche.
He prises the lid off. Bites into the roll. Ach! It's worse than a pebble.
Emma has spotted the new Ageless and the new Catcher, beaming and gleaming.
That was FAST! says Emma. (You see, she has noticed it too).
How do I look? enquires Ageless.
You've got a new rostrum, says Emma, and a new antennule.
I expected that, says Ageless. Are they bigger?
No, about the same.
What about my new swimming leg? says the Catcher, holding his leg up.
I didn't expect this, says Nietzsche.
Nor did I, says the Catcher.
Corn? says Nietzsche.
Oops, says Emma, you must've got Dad's one.
Too bad, I've eaten it now, says Nietzsche. I have very good teeth, it won't hurt me.
But dad will get wind, says Emma. He's got yours.
Ageless sniffs the wind.
Yes, his antennule is working.
The Catcher does a turn of the upper deck on his new swimming leg.
Brilliant, says the Catcher.
Don't forget, says Ageless, that the deck is circular.
But the Catcher does not register the importance of the deck being circular.
Are you coming on the guided tour? asks Emma. Now that you're better?
What's on offer? asks Ageless.
A commentary, says Emma.
I like a good commentary, says Ageless.
Dune flora and fauna, bird spotting, says Emma. Mum says we might see some rare ones. Are you coming, Mr Nitcher?
Nietzsche is unsure. He would really like to look into the back pack to determine the source of the drumming.
But Emma picks it up. Looks like she's going to take it.
That determines his course of action.
I must go. I am going.
The Will is complex. It unpacks into parts. Commanding and obeying.
He has always known this.
But he should write it down.
That's why the weather is still fine, and the twins still on holiday.
Today they would be labouring in the classroom, under Mrs Bottle, and it would be raining.
But it is the nature of time that some days stretch out to infinity.
I only mention it, because Ageless and the Catcher have moulted so fast.
Here they are now at the feet of Nietzsche, who had remained on the upper deck, pondering Chance. A dance floor for divine accidents. Hmm. That's a good one. Must write it down.
And Emma has just brought his lunch up.
What's in it?
Cold meat and salad, and a hard yellow roll with black spots.
Thank you, Emma, says Nietzsche.
He prises the lid off. Bites into the roll. Ach! It's worse than a pebble.
Emma has spotted the new Ageless and the new Catcher, beaming and gleaming.
That was FAST! says Emma. (You see, she has noticed it too).
How do I look? enquires Ageless.
You've got a new rostrum, says Emma, and a new antennule.
I expected that, says Ageless. Are they bigger?
No, about the same.
What about my new swimming leg? says the Catcher, holding his leg up.
I didn't expect this, says Nietzsche.
Nor did I, says the Catcher.
Corn? says Nietzsche.
Oops, says Emma, you must've got Dad's one.
Too bad, I've eaten it now, says Nietzsche. I have very good teeth, it won't hurt me.
But dad will get wind, says Emma. He's got yours.
Ageless sniffs the wind.
Yes, his antennule is working.
The Catcher does a turn of the upper deck on his new swimming leg.
Brilliant, says the Catcher.
Don't forget, says Ageless, that the deck is circular.
But the Catcher does not register the importance of the deck being circular.
Are you coming on the guided tour? asks Emma. Now that you're better?
What's on offer? asks Ageless.
A commentary, says Emma.
I like a good commentary, says Ageless.
Dune flora and fauna, bird spotting, says Emma. Mum says we might see some rare ones. Are you coming, Mr Nitcher?
Nietzsche is unsure. He would really like to look into the back pack to determine the source of the drumming.
But Emma picks it up. Looks like she's going to take it.
That determines his course of action.
I must go. I am going.
The Will is complex. It unpacks into parts. Commanding and obeying.
He has always known this.
But he should write it down.
Sunday, May 8, 2016
Fighting The Giant Chance
Nietzsche is pleased to have beaten Mrs Bottle, one-nil.
And it's close to lunch time.
Captain Bain has already announced it.
Crackle....(this is Captain Bain) I hope you're all enjoying the magnificent sights and (ahem) smells of the Coorong. Shortly we shall be stopping for a healthy lunch. Those of you who have ordered gluten free or have other dietary requirements will be.........
Shall we go down? says Edith.
Yes, says Reg. Did you remember to tell them?
Of course I did, dear, says Edith.
Coming, Friedrich? asks Lauren.
Nietzsche stands up, knocking over the Hello Kitty back pack.
Look out! says Irma. You stepped on my back pack.
A sharp groan is heard from the depths of the back pack. Followed by a drumming.
Open it, quick! says Emma.
Irma opens the back pack.
SHUT IT! snaps Ageless from the depths. We're .... just SHUT IT!
Hells bells! says Irma. Sorr-eee!
What's up? says Emma.
They're moulting heaps quickly, says Irma. Half in and half out, both of them.
What was the drumming? asks Nietzsche.
Don't know, says Irma. I've not heard it before.
She stands the back pack upright and wedges it under a seat.
The drumming continues.
Nietzsche's rash starts to tingle.
On second thoughts, I'll stay up here, says Nietzsche. Will one of you bring my lunch up?
Sure, I will, says Emma.
Nietzsche sits with his legs apart, listening to the drumming.
Captain Bain is crackling again.
In ten minutes time (crackles Captain Bain) we will disembark for a guided walk through the dunes of the Younghusband Peninsula to the white sandy beaches of the Great Southern Ocean. Please make sure you all have sunscreen on, and hats, and proper footwear, and those of you who are bird spotters will be.... blah blah crackle.
Nietzsche wonders what exactly will be in his lunch box. What do the cruise organisers think of as healthy? Will he be obliged to disembark? Sigh. How did he get here? He is still fighting step by step the giant Chance. It seems the senseless, the meaningless, still rules over mankind.....
Crarrrk! The back pack at his feet splits asunder!
A new Ageless lobster and a new Catcher burst out, just as Emma brings his lunch up.
And it's close to lunch time.
Captain Bain has already announced it.
Crackle....(this is Captain Bain) I hope you're all enjoying the magnificent sights and (ahem) smells of the Coorong. Shortly we shall be stopping for a healthy lunch. Those of you who have ordered gluten free or have other dietary requirements will be.........
Shall we go down? says Edith.
Yes, says Reg. Did you remember to tell them?
Of course I did, dear, says Edith.
Coming, Friedrich? asks Lauren.
Nietzsche stands up, knocking over the Hello Kitty back pack.
Look out! says Irma. You stepped on my back pack.
A sharp groan is heard from the depths of the back pack. Followed by a drumming.
Open it, quick! says Emma.
Irma opens the back pack.
SHUT IT! snaps Ageless from the depths. We're .... just SHUT IT!
Hells bells! says Irma. Sorr-eee!
What's up? says Emma.
They're moulting heaps quickly, says Irma. Half in and half out, both of them.
What was the drumming? asks Nietzsche.
Don't know, says Irma. I've not heard it before.
She stands the back pack upright and wedges it under a seat.
The drumming continues.
Nietzsche's rash starts to tingle.
On second thoughts, I'll stay up here, says Nietzsche. Will one of you bring my lunch up?
Sure, I will, says Emma.
Nietzsche sits with his legs apart, listening to the drumming.
Captain Bain is crackling again.
In ten minutes time (crackles Captain Bain) we will disembark for a guided walk through the dunes of the Younghusband Peninsula to the white sandy beaches of the Great Southern Ocean. Please make sure you all have sunscreen on, and hats, and proper footwear, and those of you who are bird spotters will be.... blah blah crackle.
Nietzsche wonders what exactly will be in his lunch box. What do the cruise organisers think of as healthy? Will he be obliged to disembark? Sigh. How did he get here? He is still fighting step by step the giant Chance. It seems the senseless, the meaningless, still rules over mankind.....
Crarrrk! The back pack at his feet splits asunder!
A new Ageless lobster and a new Catcher burst out, just as Emma brings his lunch up.
Friday, May 6, 2016
Ha Ha! The Bid To Increase His Own Power
Irma shares out the sultanas.
Nietzsche takes one. Rolls it around in his fingers. Picks it open. Squeezes out the inside.
Don't you like sultanas? asks Irma.
Nietzsche pretends to examine the contents of the sultana.
He doesn't, says Emma. Don't give him another one.
I'll have some, Irma, says Reg.
He takes a big handful and eats them.
That's the end of the short sultana story.
We're now entering the pristine waters of the Coorong National Park, crackles the voice of Captain Bain. We'll be passing spectacular white sand dunes and magnificent bird life. Those of you who have binoculars....
Edith and Lauren come up the steps.
Binoculars anyone? asks Edith.
She has a pair of binoculars, but no takers.
Well all right then, says Edith, I'll use them myself.
Through the binoculars she sees the second pelican of the afternoon. (Nietzsche saw the first one).
Irma, Edith, Reg and Nietzsche can see it as well. But Edith's pelican is bigger.
On the other hand, her pelican shimmers with rainbow edges and is spatially unstable.
This is always the trouble with binoculars.
Emma turns to Nietzsche who is thoughtfully licking his fingers.
What's the best bit of philosophy you ever thought of? asks Emma.
What a good question, says Nietzsche. Probably it would have to be: All human action is motivated by the desire for power.
Even squeezing a sultana? says Emma.
Maybe not that, says Nietzsche.
Mrs Bottle says..... begins Emma.
Nietzsche has no wish to hear another of the gender based critcisms of Mrs Bottle.
He starts humming. Hmm. Hmm. Hmm. Diddly-hmm.
Emma continues.
Mrs Bottle says if you want to understand a philosopher, first find out what he's afraid of.
What HE'S afraid of! snorts Nietzsche.
What are you afraid of? asks Emma.
What does the redoubtable Mrs Bottle think I'm afraid of? asks Nietzsche.
At least this conversation is better than listening to Captain Bain.
Captain Bain is now crackling on about the early cockling industry. Lord save us.
She says you're afraid of looking weak, says Emma. She says you're scared of women. And you can't make friends easily so you.....
That's enough, says Nietzsche. Your Mrs Bottle has just affirmed my best bit of philosophy.
How? says Emma.
By trying to undermine me in a bid to increase her own power, says Nietzsche.
Ha ha, laughs Edith who has put down her binoculars and is gazing at a less shimmery pelican (or wait, is it an ibis?).
Ha ha! One, Nitcher; nil, Mrs Bottle.
Nietzsche takes one. Rolls it around in his fingers. Picks it open. Squeezes out the inside.
Don't you like sultanas? asks Irma.
Nietzsche pretends to examine the contents of the sultana.
He doesn't, says Emma. Don't give him another one.
I'll have some, Irma, says Reg.
He takes a big handful and eats them.
That's the end of the short sultana story.
We're now entering the pristine waters of the Coorong National Park, crackles the voice of Captain Bain. We'll be passing spectacular white sand dunes and magnificent bird life. Those of you who have binoculars....
Edith and Lauren come up the steps.
Binoculars anyone? asks Edith.
She has a pair of binoculars, but no takers.
Well all right then, says Edith, I'll use them myself.
Through the binoculars she sees the second pelican of the afternoon. (Nietzsche saw the first one).
Irma, Edith, Reg and Nietzsche can see it as well. But Edith's pelican is bigger.
On the other hand, her pelican shimmers with rainbow edges and is spatially unstable.
This is always the trouble with binoculars.
Emma turns to Nietzsche who is thoughtfully licking his fingers.
What's the best bit of philosophy you ever thought of? asks Emma.
What a good question, says Nietzsche. Probably it would have to be: All human action is motivated by the desire for power.
Even squeezing a sultana? says Emma.
Maybe not that, says Nietzsche.
Mrs Bottle says..... begins Emma.
Nietzsche has no wish to hear another of the gender based critcisms of Mrs Bottle.
He starts humming. Hmm. Hmm. Hmm. Diddly-hmm.
Emma continues.
Mrs Bottle says if you want to understand a philosopher, first find out what he's afraid of.
What HE'S afraid of! snorts Nietzsche.
What are you afraid of? asks Emma.
What does the redoubtable Mrs Bottle think I'm afraid of? asks Nietzsche.
At least this conversation is better than listening to Captain Bain.
Captain Bain is now crackling on about the early cockling industry. Lord save us.
She says you're afraid of looking weak, says Emma. She says you're scared of women. And you can't make friends easily so you.....
That's enough, says Nietzsche. Your Mrs Bottle has just affirmed my best bit of philosophy.
How? says Emma.
By trying to undermine me in a bid to increase her own power, says Nietzsche.
Ha ha, laughs Edith who has put down her binoculars and is gazing at a less shimmery pelican (or wait, is it an ibis?).
Ha ha! One, Nitcher; nil, Mrs Bottle.
Thursday, May 5, 2016
The Message Of The Drums
Some time elapses before Ageless thinks to ask the faint outline of Hello Kitty what her real name is.
What is your real name? asks Ageless.
Faint Outline, replies the faint outline.
Hardly worth asking, observes the Catcher.
But you did ask, says Faint Outline.
We're at the Barrage, says the Catcher. Can you see anything?
No, says Faint Outline. Would you like to know why?
We're not busy, says Ageless.
Because I face inwards, says Faint Outline. You may think I'm just a faint outline of Hello Kitty....
Hence your name, says the Catcher.
But I'm independent, says Faint Outline.
You look alike, says Ageless.
True, says Faint Outline. Her height is five apples. So is mine. Her weight is three apples.
So is yours, says the Catcher.
No, it isn't, says Faint Outline. And I'm not bright and kind hearted, and I don't like apple pie. Nor do I like to collect things.
What do you like? asks Ageless.
Yes, what do you like? asks the Catcher.
Drums, says Faint Outline.
What made her say that?
Perhaps the faint drumming on the outside of the Hello Kitty back pack.
It's Nietzsche's foot. He is becoming impatient. It's taking a long time to pass through the Barrage.
Toot! At last. The Spirit of the Coorong passes through the lock and makes its way to the Mouth of the Murray.
Nietzsche's tummy is grumbling.
Reg hears it.
I wonder when lunch is? says Reg.
Probably when we get to the Coorong, says Irma. That's ages. I've got some snacks in my back pack.
You've got Ageless and the Catcher in your back pack, says Emma. And they smell bad.
Irma opens the back pack.
A crustaceous smell wafts out.
She reaches into the bottom of the back pack.
Yes. A Tupperware container. She draws it out.
Opens the Tupperware container.
Inside are sultanas, which don't smell the least bit crustaceous, because Tupperware is reliable.
What is your real name? asks Ageless.
Faint Outline, replies the faint outline.
Hardly worth asking, observes the Catcher.
But you did ask, says Faint Outline.
We're at the Barrage, says the Catcher. Can you see anything?
No, says Faint Outline. Would you like to know why?
We're not busy, says Ageless.
Because I face inwards, says Faint Outline. You may think I'm just a faint outline of Hello Kitty....
Hence your name, says the Catcher.
But I'm independent, says Faint Outline.
You look alike, says Ageless.
True, says Faint Outline. Her height is five apples. So is mine. Her weight is three apples.
So is yours, says the Catcher.
No, it isn't, says Faint Outline. And I'm not bright and kind hearted, and I don't like apple pie. Nor do I like to collect things.
What do you like? asks Ageless.
Yes, what do you like? asks the Catcher.
Drums, says Faint Outline.
What made her say that?
Perhaps the faint drumming on the outside of the Hello Kitty back pack.
It's Nietzsche's foot. He is becoming impatient. It's taking a long time to pass through the Barrage.
Toot! At last. The Spirit of the Coorong passes through the lock and makes its way to the Mouth of the Murray.
Nietzsche's tummy is grumbling.
Reg hears it.
I wonder when lunch is? says Reg.
Probably when we get to the Coorong, says Irma. That's ages. I've got some snacks in my back pack.
You've got Ageless and the Catcher in your back pack, says Emma. And they smell bad.
Irma opens the back pack.
A crustaceous smell wafts out.
She reaches into the bottom of the back pack.
Yes. A Tupperware container. She draws it out.
Opens the Tupperware container.
Inside are sultanas, which don't smell the least bit crustaceous, because Tupperware is reliable.
Tuesday, May 3, 2016
You Will Get A New Eye
On the open air upper deck of the Spirit of the Coorong, not everyone has a good view.
Inside Irma's Hello Kitty back pack, which has been dumped on the floor beside Nietzsche, Ageless lobster and the Catcher are feeling unwell.
Ageless: Ooeughghhh!
The Catcher: Shut up!
Ageless: I'm trying.
The Catcher: Try harder. I'm listening.
Ageless: Ooeugh-heh! Moult! Moult-faster! Unch!
The Catcher: That never works. Ayew! But I feel a tingling.
Ageless: Good for you.
The Catcher: Where are we?
Ageless: Inside a back pack with the faint outline of a kitten.
The Catcher: She's waving.
Ageless: Not at us.
The Catcher: I meant the bigger picture.
Ageless: So did I.
The Catcher: Stop talking. Listen. We might get a clue.
The Intercom: The Barrage is six hundred and thirty two metres long.......
The Catcher: We're at the Barrage!
Ageless: What use is that?
The Intercom: Constructed in 1934 to maintain the freshness of the River Murray as far as Wellington, and prevent the ingress of saltwater during periods of low river.......
The Catcher: Prevent ingress of salt water. Did you ever?
Ageless: I wonder.....
The Catcher: What?
Ageless: If I'll ever get my sight back in this eye. The one that you injured.
The Catcher: I'll get a new swimming leg, but it'll be smaller.
Ageless: Is that your answer?
The Catcher: Take from it what you will. If it's a metaphor, you'll get a new eye but it'll be smaller.
Ageless: I don't think that's a proper use of a metaphor.
The Catcher: What would you know?
Ageless: I know Kobo. She knows all there is to know about metaphors
The Catcher: Ah. The delectable Kobo. Cause of our squabbles.
Ageless: Don't START, brother! Calm. Calm. Look at the kitten.
The Catcher: Me?
Ageless: No me.
The Catcher: It's a Hello Kitty kitten. Japanese. Designed to be loved by pre-adolescent girls.
Ageless: What's it called?
The Catcher: Hello Kitty,
Faint outline of Hello Kitty: Oh no, boys. That's not my real name.
Inside Irma's Hello Kitty back pack, which has been dumped on the floor beside Nietzsche, Ageless lobster and the Catcher are feeling unwell.
Ageless: Ooeughghhh!
The Catcher: Shut up!
Ageless: I'm trying.
The Catcher: Try harder. I'm listening.
Ageless: Ooeugh-heh! Moult! Moult-faster! Unch!
The Catcher: That never works. Ayew! But I feel a tingling.
Ageless: Good for you.
The Catcher: Where are we?
Ageless: Inside a back pack with the faint outline of a kitten.
The Catcher: She's waving.
Ageless: Not at us.
The Catcher: I meant the bigger picture.
Ageless: So did I.
The Catcher: Stop talking. Listen. We might get a clue.
The Intercom: The Barrage is six hundred and thirty two metres long.......
The Catcher: We're at the Barrage!
Ageless: What use is that?
The Intercom: Constructed in 1934 to maintain the freshness of the River Murray as far as Wellington, and prevent the ingress of saltwater during periods of low river.......
The Catcher: Prevent ingress of salt water. Did you ever?
Ageless: I wonder.....
The Catcher: What?
Ageless: If I'll ever get my sight back in this eye. The one that you injured.
The Catcher: I'll get a new swimming leg, but it'll be smaller.
Ageless: Is that your answer?
The Catcher: Take from it what you will. If it's a metaphor, you'll get a new eye but it'll be smaller.
Ageless: I don't think that's a proper use of a metaphor.
The Catcher: What would you know?
Ageless: I know Kobo. She knows all there is to know about metaphors
The Catcher: Ah. The delectable Kobo. Cause of our squabbles.
Ageless: Don't START, brother! Calm. Calm. Look at the kitten.
The Catcher: Me?
Ageless: No me.
The Catcher: It's a Hello Kitty kitten. Japanese. Designed to be loved by pre-adolescent girls.
Ageless: What's it called?
The Catcher: Hello Kitty,
Faint outline of Hello Kitty: Oh no, boys. That's not my real name.
A Sexist Nonsensical World
Nietzsche has found himself a place on the open air upper deck, hoping to avoid any commentary and banter.
The twins have sat down just behind him.
Reg, Edith and Lauren have found seats downstairs inside.
Toot! The Spirit of the Coorong draws away from the wharf and heads for the Barrage.
A stiff breeze is blowing.
Nietzsche takes some healthful deep breaths and takes in the scenery.
Riverbank, water, island, a few poky yachts, a pelican.
Can we come and sit next to you? asks Irma.
Nietzsche doesn't appear to have heard her.
His moustache is blocking his ears, says Emma, quite loudly.
I heard you, says Nietzsche. Come on then. Sit by me. You can both tell me what you learned about me in school.
Emma and Irma come forward and sit next to Nietzsche, one each side of him.
Irma dumps her Hello Kitty back pack on Nietzsche's foot.
Ach! Huh! Nietzsche makes a big deal of moving his foot.
Sorry, says Irma.
I should think so, says Nietzsche.
It was only because of the way you were sitting, says Emma. With your legs wide apart, like dad does.
I have a surf rash, says Nietzsche.
The twins take in the import of that.
Yuck! He has a rash so he has to sit with his legs apart. So disgusting!!
Who is your philosophy teacher? asks Nietzsche.
Mrs Bottle, says Irma.
Mrs Bottle, says Nietzsche. What does she say about me?
Mrs Bottle says you have four useful things to teach us, says Emma.
Only four, says Nietzsche. May I ask what they are?
Don't drink alcohol, says Irma. Don't be a Christian. God is dead. Don't drink alcohol.
You said that last one twice, says Emma.
What was the other one? says Irma.
Don't be a woman, says Emma.
What? says Nietzsche. I have never taught that! I never wrote that anywhere....
Mrs Bottle's meant you were sexist, says Irma. She says you were writing for men. She says you said a wife makes the world nonsensical.
I did say that, admits Nietzsche.
Just then Reg comes up to get some air on the upper deck and look out for the Barrage.
But mainly to get away from Edith and Lauren, who had been having the following conversation:
Edith: Your friend Nitcher seems nice.
Lauren: He is nice. Courageous too. He paddled out alone to rescue the Catcher.
Edith: That crab in Irma's back pack?
Lauren: Yes he admires it. He says it's halfway to being a super crab.
Edith: Ha ha. It doesn't look like half way to being super anything.
Lauren: Yes, well, he rescued it, but he got a concussion. I had to do Reiki on him.
Edith: You still do Reiki?
Lauren: I'm level two now. I do distance Reiki.
Edith: I never quite understood how that works.
Lauren: To be honest, it wasn't working at all until I opened his root chakra. That made a HUGE difference.
Edith: Ooh, Lauren.
Lauren; Ha ha. I KNOW.
Edith: Ha ha. Perhaps I should learn how to open Reg's root chakra
Reg: Nonsense, Edith! Well, I might go up top now, to get some fresh air.
The twins have sat down just behind him.
Reg, Edith and Lauren have found seats downstairs inside.
Toot! The Spirit of the Coorong draws away from the wharf and heads for the Barrage.
A stiff breeze is blowing.
Nietzsche takes some healthful deep breaths and takes in the scenery.
Riverbank, water, island, a few poky yachts, a pelican.
Can we come and sit next to you? asks Irma.
Nietzsche doesn't appear to have heard her.
His moustache is blocking his ears, says Emma, quite loudly.
I heard you, says Nietzsche. Come on then. Sit by me. You can both tell me what you learned about me in school.
Emma and Irma come forward and sit next to Nietzsche, one each side of him.
Irma dumps her Hello Kitty back pack on Nietzsche's foot.
Ach! Huh! Nietzsche makes a big deal of moving his foot.
Sorry, says Irma.
I should think so, says Nietzsche.
It was only because of the way you were sitting, says Emma. With your legs wide apart, like dad does.
I have a surf rash, says Nietzsche.
The twins take in the import of that.
Yuck! He has a rash so he has to sit with his legs apart. So disgusting!!
Who is your philosophy teacher? asks Nietzsche.
Mrs Bottle, says Irma.
Mrs Bottle, says Nietzsche. What does she say about me?
Mrs Bottle says you have four useful things to teach us, says Emma.
Only four, says Nietzsche. May I ask what they are?
Don't drink alcohol, says Irma. Don't be a Christian. God is dead. Don't drink alcohol.
You said that last one twice, says Emma.
What was the other one? says Irma.
Don't be a woman, says Emma.
What? says Nietzsche. I have never taught that! I never wrote that anywhere....
Mrs Bottle's meant you were sexist, says Irma. She says you were writing for men. She says you said a wife makes the world nonsensical.
I did say that, admits Nietzsche.
Just then Reg comes up to get some air on the upper deck and look out for the Barrage.
But mainly to get away from Edith and Lauren, who had been having the following conversation:
Edith: Your friend Nitcher seems nice.
Lauren: He is nice. Courageous too. He paddled out alone to rescue the Catcher.
Edith: That crab in Irma's back pack?
Lauren: Yes he admires it. He says it's halfway to being a super crab.
Edith: Ha ha. It doesn't look like half way to being super anything.
Lauren: Yes, well, he rescued it, but he got a concussion. I had to do Reiki on him.
Edith: You still do Reiki?
Lauren: I'm level two now. I do distance Reiki.
Edith: I never quite understood how that works.
Lauren: To be honest, it wasn't working at all until I opened his root chakra. That made a HUGE difference.
Edith: Ooh, Lauren.
Lauren; Ha ha. I KNOW.
Edith: Ha ha. Perhaps I should learn how to open Reg's root chakra
Reg: Nonsense, Edith! Well, I might go up top now, to get some fresh air.
Sunday, May 1, 2016
The Voice In Your Head Has A Point
Lauren races back to the surf van, followed by Nietzsche.
Get in, Friedrich, says Lauren.
Where are we going? asks Nietzsche.
He hopes the Platonic Ideal will be safe. Did he put the lock on?
Goolwa Wharf, says Lauren. I think the cruise leaves at one. If we hurry, we'll catch them!
Nietzsche tries to keep calm. What about Sweezus? Was he cramping? What about Surfing-With-Whales? It's his van. All his equipment.... Shouldn't we......
NO. THIS IS BEYOND GOOD AND EVIL. TAKE YOUR OWN ADVICE, FRIEDY!
(the voice in his head has a point there)
They arrive at the Wharf. Yes! A long queue of people wearing hats and sunnies, carrying bags and binoculars, cameras, extra jumpers, waiting to board the Spirit of the Coorong.
Lauren marches up to the head of the queue.
Good afternoon, madam, says Captain Bain. May I ask why you're jumping the queue?
A woman's voice calls out behind her.
Lauren Swales! What are you doing here? Are you cruising?
Mrs Whales! chorus twin voices.
(Ahem. Warning. A coincidence is about to happen).
It's Emma and Irma, the twins, with their mum and dad, Reg and Edith, going on the Coorong Discovery Cruise, one last treat before the school holidays are over.
Oh Edith, hello! says Lauren. How lovely to see you. No, we're not booked on the cruise. This is Friedrich Nietzsche. He's writing a new thing about.....what is it Friedrich?... ha ha, yes.....good and evil.
Beyond good and evil, says Nietzsche.
Nitcher! says Irma. We did you in school!
Don't say 'we did you', Irma, says Edith. Sorry about that, Mr Nitcher.
It's quite all right, says Nietzsche.
Would you mind moving out of the way, says Captain Bain. We're about to begin embarkation. Unless of course, you're planning on coming. We have a few places available...
No, we're not coming, says Lauren. We've lost Ageless lobster and a crab called the Catcher.
We have them! says Emma. They wanted to come. The Catcher's heaps funny. He's the world's biggest bullshitter. He reckons....
Emma! says Edith. Bullshitter?
.....he once caught a whale, finishes Emma.
Where is he? asks Lauren.
In there with Ageless, says Irma, pointing to her Hello Kitty backpack. They're both moulting. They stink. I'm going to need a new backpack before I go back to school, aren't I mum?
Yes dear, says Edith. Lauren, why don't you and Mr Nitcher join us? Have you visited the Coorong before, Mr Nitcher?
No, I haven't, says Nietzsche.
Well then? says Edith.
Well then, says Captain Bain. That's ninety five dollars each, unless he's a senior.
Humph! Nietzsche is in his late forties. He is no senior. He will pay the full price, thank you.
A healthy lunch is included, says Captain Bain, pocketing the money. Plus afternoon tea, and a guided tour with informative commentary and the usual banter.
The usual banter. Nietzsche does not enjoy banter. But it's probably too late now to ask for his money back.
He walks up the gangplank, carefully, like a man on a tightrope.
Get in, Friedrich, says Lauren.
Where are we going? asks Nietzsche.
He hopes the Platonic Ideal will be safe. Did he put the lock on?
Goolwa Wharf, says Lauren. I think the cruise leaves at one. If we hurry, we'll catch them!
Nietzsche tries to keep calm. What about Sweezus? Was he cramping? What about Surfing-With-Whales? It's his van. All his equipment.... Shouldn't we......
NO. THIS IS BEYOND GOOD AND EVIL. TAKE YOUR OWN ADVICE, FRIEDY!
(the voice in his head has a point there)
They arrive at the Wharf. Yes! A long queue of people wearing hats and sunnies, carrying bags and binoculars, cameras, extra jumpers, waiting to board the Spirit of the Coorong.
Lauren marches up to the head of the queue.
Good afternoon, madam, says Captain Bain. May I ask why you're jumping the queue?
A woman's voice calls out behind her.
Lauren Swales! What are you doing here? Are you cruising?
Mrs Whales! chorus twin voices.
(Ahem. Warning. A coincidence is about to happen).
It's Emma and Irma, the twins, with their mum and dad, Reg and Edith, going on the Coorong Discovery Cruise, one last treat before the school holidays are over.
Oh Edith, hello! says Lauren. How lovely to see you. No, we're not booked on the cruise. This is Friedrich Nietzsche. He's writing a new thing about.....what is it Friedrich?... ha ha, yes.....good and evil.
Beyond good and evil, says Nietzsche.
Nitcher! says Irma. We did you in school!
Don't say 'we did you', Irma, says Edith. Sorry about that, Mr Nitcher.
It's quite all right, says Nietzsche.
Would you mind moving out of the way, says Captain Bain. We're about to begin embarkation. Unless of course, you're planning on coming. We have a few places available...
No, we're not coming, says Lauren. We've lost Ageless lobster and a crab called the Catcher.
We have them! says Emma. They wanted to come. The Catcher's heaps funny. He's the world's biggest bullshitter. He reckons....
Emma! says Edith. Bullshitter?
.....he once caught a whale, finishes Emma.
Where is he? asks Lauren.
In there with Ageless, says Irma, pointing to her Hello Kitty backpack. They're both moulting. They stink. I'm going to need a new backpack before I go back to school, aren't I mum?
Yes dear, says Edith. Lauren, why don't you and Mr Nitcher join us? Have you visited the Coorong before, Mr Nitcher?
No, I haven't, says Nietzsche.
Well then? says Edith.
Well then, says Captain Bain. That's ninety five dollars each, unless he's a senior.
Humph! Nietzsche is in his late forties. He is no senior. He will pay the full price, thank you.
A healthy lunch is included, says Captain Bain, pocketing the money. Plus afternoon tea, and a guided tour with informative commentary and the usual banter.
The usual banter. Nietzsche does not enjoy banter. But it's probably too late now to ask for his money back.
He walks up the gangplank, carefully, like a man on a tightrope.
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