It was quite late, but it was important because her sadness was apparent and of a mood to erupt once more. Still, I made to try and thought: “Perhaps there will be time to intervene with the cooperation of those who know her best”; so I attempted the necessary; to consult some who could separate and observe these from various angles; we could then huddle and grunt and uncover a solution; this being the plan, but my conspirators in their various oranges and grays had other minds; I didn’t know them well enough to understand their peculiar manner of expression, so my imagination had to supply for much of the gaps my understanding lacked. Read the rest of this entry »


I Met Banksy

I met Banksy on the street. He had been nonchalantly spraying paint over some cut-up discarded plastic as I walked past eating a meat pie. He stopped his activity and looked at me; I looked back—first at him, then at what he had been painting. The moment was strangely anachronistic; abstract expressionist in a world that had rejected manifestos, and yet here he was making up one his own in contrast to all that he had done before.

As we stood there—he with his spray can and I with my pie—everything turned suddenly dark with thought and history—as if an injustice was depending on us to cause its solution.

Banksy seemed to care and so did I. Whatever he was working on, it now had a scope and significance beyond just another project to be photographed, while I had my own share of trivial work impatiently waiting. With that understanding, the light returned and we went our separate ways, but something would be done now, and the world seemed to understand this more than we did.

Mythical Pets

The pestering being given into, I finally conceded that a pet would be a welcome addition to the home. Unfortunately, after various options were considered, four legged and feathered, we somehow decided on both. Now, let me tell you that hippogryphs are a bit too interesting to be considered proper pets. Ours had an endearing character and would caw-neigh loudly from the roof, fly down and gently accept scraps of meat mixed with hay from my hands, then fly off in a flurry of clattering hooves and wing beats. Everything seemed fine until one day, my next door neighbor came around with a suspicious look asking if I’d seen his Labradors and “What happened to my wife’s Gardenias?” I swore to him I knew nothing of this but I had my suspicions and our relationship became strained. He finally took matters into his own hands by acquiring his own hippogryph, a mare-hen to match our cock-stallion and as soon as she came into season the pair galloped then flew off to mate (we assumed) and were neither seen nor heard from again.

The issue of pet ownership still nagging, we decided to get a manticore instead. These beasts are somewhat more manageable, being mammals, albeit the disconcerting human head. Ours always greeted me cheerfully upon arriving home from a busy day; heart wrenching tears of joy watering his face down to a neatly trimmed beard while wagging a spiked tail against, and demolishing, our furniture. He also had a habit of using the garage door as a scratching post; just as well we kept nothing of value in the garage so it was a good joke on the burglars. I loved him though as he would often rest his head on my shoulder as I would sit on the arm chair; his eyes mimicking my own rolling past each line of verse from The Inferno or The Waste Land; either of which was what our home was in danger of becoming when we discovered a second mortgage was calculated on to pay for replacing furniture more frequently than our bath towels. So we enticed our manticore into the trailer one sad morning to bring him to the zoo. The keepers were only too happy to own a mythical creature since the pandas were no longer drawing the crowds like they used to. I left him there and we kissed each other on the lips and I saw those disconcerting tears, now of sorrow, for the last time.

In desperation, we finally decided on a more manageable pet so we bought a cat. Now our problems really started…

– sebastian 2007

The Fable of Macaw and Jaguar

It was one of those usual wet and dark days deep within the Rain Forest. Now you might imagine that most days within such a forest would be so, and you would be right.

It was on such a day that Jaguar decided to climb a tree she knew Macaw frequented. She didn’t have any evil purpose for this (one Capybara less you see) but was always an admirer of Macaw’s wonderful plumage; he had blue feathers on his body and a bright red head and bits of green and yellow flashed here and there, a mighty beak for puncturing even the hardest of fruits. Jaguar felt she should go up and speak to Macaw to understand him better and to admire his plumage.

So up the tree Jaguar went, a bit difficult for she was not the best of climbers, and finally with some struggle she came near the top, and there was Macaw among a field of blossoming orchids. She hadn’t know about orchids before, because you have to get to near the top of the Rain Forest canopy to see them well.

“Oh! What a lovely sight!” Jaguar exclaimed.

“Hello! And Thank You!” replied Macaw, who was something of a narcissist with his bright plumage and all. In case you don’t know what a narcissist is, it’s someone who thinks too highly of themselves so that they can sometimes forget what others see. Yes it’s a problem for them.

“Oh! Macaw, I didn’t mean you!” said Jaguar, “I meant all these lovely flowers!”

“What flowers?” replied Macaw.

“Why all these, what are they called? Orchids! I think?”

“Oh! Why they’re alright I suppose. I hadn’t really noticed them.”

“Not noticed them? Why up ’til now I thought the most beautiful thing in the Rain Forest was you and now I realize I’d been mistaken.”

“No you aren’t mistaken. I’m still the most beautiful thing. All these flowers bloom only once in awhile. You were just lucky to see them today. I’m always beautiful.”

“So I’m lucky then, I searched for you, and I saw something new that few others see. I suppose I should thank you for that, for even though I still think you are beautiful, you are less beautiful now than I used to think. Your pride in yourself cannot match the shy beauty of these flowers. I’ll
come down from the tree now. Good bye.” said Jaguar as she started to climb down.

“Hello? Were you still there?” said Macaw, a little more dimly than usual.