Category: Haste and leisure

June 12, 2016

“Frank visits Concord” (V)

Crows are messengers of the dead? said Ditto. Yes, said Virginia, that’s what my uncle said. Dead humans or dead donkeys? said Ditto. Dead humans, said Virginia. Hmm, said Ditto, I wonder which animals are messengers of dead crows?

June 11, 2016

“Blurtso considers the most difficult task”

    People value tasks that are difficult to perform,
but they don’t value the most difficult task of all…
         to not value what other people value.

June 10, 2016

“Frank visits Concord” (IV)

Is that your iPhone ringing? said Ditto.
No, said Virginia, I don’t have an iPhone.

June 7, 2016

“Morton’s Pond” (VII)

“Sounds” – Birds. More birds. And the sound of the wind. I don’t know how something you can’t see can make so much sound.

June 3, 2016

“Morton’s Pond” (IV)

“Sights” – Lots of trees. More trees. Sunlight through the trees. Shadows of the trees. Sometimes the shadows are blown around by the wind, but are never completely blown away.

June 2, 2016

“Morton’s Pond” (II)

“Sights” – Many trees. A lot of last year’s leaves. And oh yes, I saw a bug that might have been a deer tick. But since I’ve never seen a deer tick, I can’t be sure. I suppose you can’t be sure about something until you can.

June 1, 2016

“Morton’s Pond” (I)

Hello, said Pablo. Hello, said Morton. What are you doing at Walden Pond? I don’t know, said Morton. You don’t know? said Pablo. No, said Morton. Be careful you don’t get any deer ticks. Deer ticks? said Morton. Yes, said Pablo, spring is the season for deer ticks. Oh, said Morton. Where are the other students? said Pablo. Glouster is in Boston with the ducks at Longfellow bridge, Chelsea is at Emma Lou’s house, Frank is living in the Concord cemetery, and the moose just vanished. Do you have any plans for the summer? No, said Morton, I can’t figure out what to do since the semester ended. Maybe you should spend the summer here. Here? said Morton. Sure, said Pablo. What could I do here? said Morton. You could look at things, said Pablo, and listen to things, and write about what you see and hear. Really? said Morton. Sure, said Pablo, just like Thoreau. Who? said Morton. Henry David Thoreau, said Pablo, a man who didn’t know what to do after he graduated from college, so he moved to Walden and wrote about what he saw and heard. That doesn’t sound very interesting, said Morton. Actually, said Pablo, he became famous. Really? said Morton, just because he didn’t know what to do after college?

May 31, 2016

“Blurtso has a perfect day”

Occasionally, I free my mind to the day.
I feel the sounds, the colors, the breeze.
And I remember this day, which is every day, a lifetime.

May 25, 2016

“Blurtso learns a lesson”

Look at all that hay! I wonder if I can fit through the fence?

Oh, oh, my ears won’t go back… and I’m too fat to go forward.

I guess I’ll just have to stay here. Hmm… I can’t even reach the hay. That’s all right. I wasn’t hungry in the first place. I just wanted to stuff myself. I wonder how long I’ll be here? Someone is bound to come along. Someone with a super-modern high-tech donkey-saving tool. I don’t know why I wanted that hay, I wasn’t even hungry. But I’ll be hungry tomorrow. Then I’ll want that hay. But all I’ll have is the grass in front of me. I’d better be careful. I don’t want to eat it all. I’ve got to save enough grass for the next day, and the day after that. And I’ve got to leave enough on top so the roots don’t burn. Fortunately I’ve got a puddle of water, so I won’t die of thirst. Unless I have gas. I’ve heard that methane contributes to global warming, and if the temperature rises, the water will evaporate and the grass will burn. All because I wanted to stuff myself. And I wasn’t even hungry.

And so the days passed—night after day and day after night—and Blurtso tended his garden, eating only what was necessary to maintain his strength, and drinking only enough to slake his thirst. And from time to time it rained, and his puddle filled and his grass grew. And every day he looked at the hay, drying, splitting, and losing its fragrance, until one day when he was enjoying his morning snack… he slipped through the fence.