The middle-aged lobster stopped. He glanced back at Baby Pierre and Frog.
It's closing time, boys, he said. Didn't you know?
Oh, said Baby Pierre, disappointed. We were hoping to look in a mirror.
Were you indeed? said the lobster. May I ask why?
My friend wants to monitor the progress of his ...umm... Baby Pierre trailed off.
Advancing decrepitude, said Frog. May as well say it.
You look like a perfectly ripe tomato to me, said the lobster. I wouldn't worry about it. Now boys, I'm going to an event across town. It's at the Royal Science Institution. There will be a discussion on the topic of Synthetic Biology, food, drink and best of all, clicker pads. Would you like to come along?
We don't have tickets, said Baby Pierre.
You can come in with me. You are both small. I could secrete you under my hat, said the middle aged lobster. And once inside, we can share the same seat.
What sort of hat is it? asked Baby Pierre, with mounting suspicion.
A red one, said the lobster.
And is your name Ageless? asked Baby Pierre.
I go by that name, admitted the lobster.
Wow! said Frog.
Showing posts with label mirror. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mirror. Show all posts
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Missing his Daddy
Oh look! said a woman sitting on the front row. Someone's left a couple of exhibits on these seats. Looks like... a Pacific Cultures stone amulet and... a shrunken head!
Baby Pierre looked at Frog.
Time to go, he said.
They slipped off their seats and hurried down the stairs, emerging on North Terrace under a darkening sky.
Hee hee, laughed Baby Pierre. She thought you were a shrunken head!
Why did she? said Frog, looking worried. Have I started to shrivel up?
Baby Pierre peered closely at the leathery skin of his friend.
Yes, he said. You have. But only a little. Don't worry.
I want to see, said Frog. I need a mirror.
There'll be a mirror at the Library, said Baby Pierre. Come on!
There won't, said Frog, glumly. There will only be books.
There will be toilets, said Baby Pierre, airily. And they always have mirrors.
Alright, said Frog, wondering how Baby Pierre had come by such knowledge.
They walked up North Terrace until they came at last to the State Library. The lights were on inside but a number of people were coming out, amongst them, a middle-aged lobster.
Look, said Frog. Perhaps that's your daddy!
No, said Baby Pierre. That can't be my daddy. He isn't red.
The lobster ambled past them, in a purposeful way.
Baby Pierre looked at Frog.
Time to go, he said.
They slipped off their seats and hurried down the stairs, emerging on North Terrace under a darkening sky.
Hee hee, laughed Baby Pierre. She thought you were a shrunken head!
Why did she? said Frog, looking worried. Have I started to shrivel up?
Baby Pierre peered closely at the leathery skin of his friend.
Yes, he said. You have. But only a little. Don't worry.
I want to see, said Frog. I need a mirror.
There'll be a mirror at the Library, said Baby Pierre. Come on!
There won't, said Frog, glumly. There will only be books.
There will be toilets, said Baby Pierre, airily. And they always have mirrors.
Alright, said Frog, wondering how Baby Pierre had come by such knowledge.
They walked up North Terrace until they came at last to the State Library. The lights were on inside but a number of people were coming out, amongst them, a middle-aged lobster.
Look, said Frog. Perhaps that's your daddy!
No, said Baby Pierre. That can't be my daddy. He isn't red.
The lobster ambled past them, in a purposeful way.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Puma In Puma Out
How fortunate that you keep a notebook in which to make sketches, said Pliny the Elder. But I am more intrigued to know why you were sketching a puma.
Oh, I said, it wasn't a real puma.
May I see? asked Pliny.
No, I don't want you to see, I replied. They're three increasingly bad attempts at drawing a puma.
What possessed you? asked Pliny.
I'd been to the Art Gallery, I said. In 2004. It was an installation. A stuffed puma. Oh, alright, you can see my pumas.
Goodness , said Pliny. You really have no idea of how to draw an animal. .
I know, I said. I would have done better if the puma was in front of me, but I tried to recollect it after I got home.
They really are very, very bad, said Pliny. You're right, each attempt is worse than the one before. Ha ha, look at the last one where you tried to draw it from behind! And tell me, was the puma leaping towards a mirror?
It was a long time ago, I said. I don't think it was a mirror but a picture of a puma in a cage. Or a video of a puma in a cage.
Puma In Puma Out, said Pliny.
What? I said.
Puma In Puma Out, he said. That's what you've written underneath. What does it mean?
It was the title of the installation, I said. It means one of the pumas is in, and one is out.
But they're both in, said Pliny. In the sense that one is in a cage, and the other is in the Art Gallery.
You could equally say they're both out, I replied. In the sense that one is out of a cage, and the other is out of the Art Gallery.
What an interesting discussion we're having, said Pliny. I do like modern art.
So do I, I said.
Oh, I said, it wasn't a real puma.
May I see? asked Pliny.
No, I don't want you to see, I replied. They're three increasingly bad attempts at drawing a puma.
What possessed you? asked Pliny.
I'd been to the Art Gallery, I said. In 2004. It was an installation. A stuffed puma. Oh, alright, you can see my pumas.
Goodness , said Pliny. You really have no idea of how to draw an animal. .
I know, I said. I would have done better if the puma was in front of me, but I tried to recollect it after I got home.
They really are very, very bad, said Pliny. You're right, each attempt is worse than the one before. Ha ha, look at the last one where you tried to draw it from behind! And tell me, was the puma leaping towards a mirror?
It was a long time ago, I said. I don't think it was a mirror but a picture of a puma in a cage. Or a video of a puma in a cage.
Puma In Puma Out, said Pliny.
What? I said.
Puma In Puma Out, he said. That's what you've written underneath. What does it mean?
It was the title of the installation, I said. It means one of the pumas is in, and one is out.
But they're both in, said Pliny. In the sense that one is in a cage, and the other is in the Art Gallery.
You could equally say they're both out, I replied. In the sense that one is out of a cage, and the other is out of the Art Gallery.
What an interesting discussion we're having, said Pliny. I do like modern art.
So do I, I said.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Rain Stream of Consciousness
It has rained nearly all day I woke up this morning pretty early and I heard a noise. At first I thought it wasn't rain but then I realised it was my eyes were shut they were stuck fast and I couldn't see the time on the radio clock. The later it was the more I didn't want it to be raining but I didn't know what time it was. It didn't matter what time it was then because later on when it was time to get up it was still raining.
It rained all morning and after lunch we wanted to go to the shops but it was raining although not very much we got ready to go but then I said no I don't want to go if it is raining. So we didn't go but ten minutes later ah! it stopped raining and the sun didn't exactly come out straight away but you could see that it was trying, if it makes sense to say that the sun can try.
So we were walking to the shops and it wasn't raining, it wasn't too bad and there were puddles on the ground and you could see reflections of the sky in the puddles they were of white clouds and blue streaks which were the blue bits of the sky. It was like these were the windows into another world underneath where we were walking and they had clouds and blue sky there as well but of course they were upside down and shiny like a mirror.
All the time we were out it wasn't raining but guess what when we got home it started raining straight away. That 's lucky I thought and then I thought it wasn't lucky there's nothing lucky about being inside when it's raining you're just inside that's all and some unlucky people might still be outside so you shouldn't gloat. And anyway I had to take out the bins and it was raining although it was lucky in a way because it wasn't raining hard.
It rained all morning and after lunch we wanted to go to the shops but it was raining although not very much we got ready to go but then I said no I don't want to go if it is raining. So we didn't go but ten minutes later ah! it stopped raining and the sun didn't exactly come out straight away but you could see that it was trying, if it makes sense to say that the sun can try.
So we were walking to the shops and it wasn't raining, it wasn't too bad and there were puddles on the ground and you could see reflections of the sky in the puddles they were of white clouds and blue streaks which were the blue bits of the sky. It was like these were the windows into another world underneath where we were walking and they had clouds and blue sky there as well but of course they were upside down and shiny like a mirror.
All the time we were out it wasn't raining but guess what when we got home it started raining straight away. That 's lucky I thought and then I thought it wasn't lucky there's nothing lucky about being inside when it's raining you're just inside that's all and some unlucky people might still be outside so you shouldn't gloat. And anyway I had to take out the bins and it was raining although it was lucky in a way because it wasn't raining hard.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Sophistry
The more I thought about what Pliny the Elder had said, the more I became convinced that he was using sophistry.
Pliny, I said, it isn't true our clothes are upside down when we look at them. It's not our clothes that are upside down, but our eyes.
Go on, said Pliny.
You see, if we were to turn around with our head still in the looking-down-at-our-clothes position, and looked into the mirror......yes I realise this would not be easy..... perhaps by crooking our arm and looking through the gap between arm and body, then we would see the clothes on the person in the mirror upside down as well.
I cannot argue with your logic, said Pliny. And the person in the mirror would be you, in that case.
You were easy to convince, Pliny!
I saw you trying it in front of the mirror, just now. It was a convincing proof.
I do enjoy philosophy, I said.
Yes indeed, agreed Pliny. We have acquitted ourselves well. Nor could we be accused of 'digesting without eating' as Iris Murdoch accused her male philosophers of doing.
Why not, Pliny?
Because all of this resulted from the eating of a muffin.
So it did!
If it was a muffin, he added.
Of course it was a muffin, I muttered under my breath.
Pliny, I said, it isn't true our clothes are upside down when we look at them. It's not our clothes that are upside down, but our eyes.
Go on, said Pliny.
You see, if we were to turn around with our head still in the looking-down-at-our-clothes position, and looked into the mirror......yes I realise this would not be easy..... perhaps by crooking our arm and looking through the gap between arm and body, then we would see the clothes on the person in the mirror upside down as well.
I cannot argue with your logic, said Pliny. And the person in the mirror would be you, in that case.
You were easy to convince, Pliny!
I saw you trying it in front of the mirror, just now. It was a convincing proof.
I do enjoy philosophy, I said.
Yes indeed, agreed Pliny. We have acquitted ourselves well. Nor could we be accused of 'digesting without eating' as Iris Murdoch accused her male philosophers of doing.
Why not, Pliny?
Because all of this resulted from the eating of a muffin.
So it did!
If it was a muffin, he added.
Of course it was a muffin, I muttered under my breath.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Spiders Flies Split Bugs and Mirrors
This is the weather for spiders and bugs and flies to come inside. This is the weather for putting off housework.
Therefore the carpet is littered with dead species, some in two parts.
The only way to be sure they are dead is to split them. This can be done by means of the human foot. It is advisable however for the foot to be clad in hard footwear.
After several passes of the footwear over the bug, it will split in two parts, or three. You can leave them in situ. Over time they will shrink into more acceptable deadbug pieces which look like cracked pepper. No one objects to cracked pepper on the carpet, and the pieces can stay there until the hot spell is over.
Of course you can't leave split flies hanging about. Little maggots might come out.
Spiders present another problem. But come to think of it I haven't seen one inside for ages. Except the daddy longlegs in the bathroom several weeks ago. I soon disposed of him and all the legs I could find.
Spiders are tricky. They hide. There is one living behind the outside mirror on the passenger side of our car. I know because there's a web over the mirror. It jiggles in the wind as we drive. It looks very dense because of the mirror. I wonder if this confuses the spider, especially as it's one of those mirrors that makes objects appear further away than they are.
Yes, this must confuse the spider. Coming back from a wander, it sees a double web, a double victim, and a tiny spider self. Ha!
Therefore the carpet is littered with dead species, some in two parts.
The only way to be sure they are dead is to split them. This can be done by means of the human foot. It is advisable however for the foot to be clad in hard footwear.
After several passes of the footwear over the bug, it will split in two parts, or three. You can leave them in situ. Over time they will shrink into more acceptable deadbug pieces which look like cracked pepper. No one objects to cracked pepper on the carpet, and the pieces can stay there until the hot spell is over.
Of course you can't leave split flies hanging about. Little maggots might come out.
Spiders present another problem. But come to think of it I haven't seen one inside for ages. Except the daddy longlegs in the bathroom several weeks ago. I soon disposed of him and all the legs I could find.
Spiders are tricky. They hide. There is one living behind the outside mirror on the passenger side of our car. I know because there's a web over the mirror. It jiggles in the wind as we drive. It looks very dense because of the mirror. I wonder if this confuses the spider, especially as it's one of those mirrors that makes objects appear further away than they are.
Yes, this must confuse the spider. Coming back from a wander, it sees a double web, a double victim, and a tiny spider self. Ha!
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
The Unexamined Life.
Pliny's right. There is no one who is not afraid of spells. And Socrates is right. The unexamined life is not worth living. Time to examine my life.
Have I ever used a spell to affect the life of another? Yes, if wishing is a kind of spell. Once I wished that someone would fall down the stairs. He was a prominent business man. He didn't fall down the stairs, but not for want of me wishing it very hard. Fourteen years later it was in the paper that he died. He was really old by then. I gave myself some credit, though.
Another time, I didn't like our neighbours. They were a working couple and at that time they didn't have any children. They'd invited us to dinner once and it had gone rather badly because they hadn't expected us to bring our children with us. After that, our relationship was rather frosty. It was embarrassing when we saw them in the garden. I wished that they would move away. After a few months they did move away, but only into a new house that they had built on an adjoining block. I counted this as a very weak success.
There was another neighbour though, that I wished away completely. He used to walk down along the side of his house in the mornings and stop and look into my bedroom window. Sometimes I would be at the window making use of the natural light to examine my face in a mirror. If he saw me, he would wave and grin. This was insupportable. Then one day I realised that I hadn't seen him for quite some time........
Have I ever used a spell to affect the life of another? Yes, if wishing is a kind of spell. Once I wished that someone would fall down the stairs. He was a prominent business man. He didn't fall down the stairs, but not for want of me wishing it very hard. Fourteen years later it was in the paper that he died. He was really old by then. I gave myself some credit, though.
Another time, I didn't like our neighbours. They were a working couple and at that time they didn't have any children. They'd invited us to dinner once and it had gone rather badly because they hadn't expected us to bring our children with us. After that, our relationship was rather frosty. It was embarrassing when we saw them in the garden. I wished that they would move away. After a few months they did move away, but only into a new house that they had built on an adjoining block. I counted this as a very weak success.
There was another neighbour though, that I wished away completely. He used to walk down along the side of his house in the mornings and stop and look into my bedroom window. Sometimes I would be at the window making use of the natural light to examine my face in a mirror. If he saw me, he would wave and grin. This was insupportable. Then one day I realised that I hadn't seen him for quite some time........
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Tour Eiffel en Construction 1888
Pliny had just changed into a clean pair of jeans. She was going out to a lecture on Snowball Earth, but not for 5 minutes. She thought she would relax. She launched herself backwards crosswise onto the bed, knees up and arms thrown back behind her head. At the same time her eye was arrested by the picture on the wall opposite. It was a framed photograph of the Eiffel Tower under construction in Paris in August 1888.
That, she thought, is an exact mirror of me.
Seconds later she couldn't quite reconcile her own uplifted knees and elbows with the singularity of the Eiffel Tower, which was half built and looked like knees or elbows but not both. Nevertheless she could not shake the feeling that it was the doubling effect that had provoked the metaphor, which had been instantaneous, and not constructed later at her leisure. It was, she decided, that both she and the Eiffel Tower appeared to be performing a backward somersault.
That, she thought, is an exact mirror of me.
Seconds later she couldn't quite reconcile her own uplifted knees and elbows with the singularity of the Eiffel Tower, which was half built and looked like knees or elbows but not both. Nevertheless she could not shake the feeling that it was the doubling effect that had provoked the metaphor, which had been instantaneous, and not constructed later at her leisure. It was, she decided, that both she and the Eiffel Tower appeared to be performing a backward somersault.
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