Sometimes I want nothing more… than to be buried in whiteness.
Category: Philosophy
“Blurtso hears a whisper” (VI)
Harlan? said Blurtso. Yes? said Harlan. Are you awake? Yes, said Harlan. What are you thinking about? Mortality, said Harlan. Mortality? said Blurtso. Yes, said Harlan, do you believe in reincarnation? I’m not sure, said Blurtso, what’s reincarnation? That’s when your soul comes back as a different animal. After you die? said Blurtso. Yes, said Harlan, if you live a good life you come back as a higher one, and if you live a bad life you come back as a lower one. A lower animal? said Blurtso. Yes, said Harlan. Like a human? said Blurtso.
“Blurtso considers teaching”
I’ll teach you what I know, and by teaching,
learn what you know.
“Blurtso looks at the snow” (XI)
I wonder how many snowfalls I’ve seen… and how many more I’ll see. I suppose there are those who watched the last one last year, who won’t watch this one this year—those who won’t ever watch one again. I suppose it’s up to me… to do the watching for them.
“Blurtso hears a whisper” (V)
Harlan? said Blurtso. Yes? said Harlan. Are you awake? Yes, said Harlan. What are you thinking of? Einstein’s theory of time, said Harlan. What? said Blurtso. You know, said Harlan, the discovery that time passes more slowly the faster you move. Is that true? said Blurtso. Yes, said Harlan. So I would live longer, said Blurtso, if I moved more quickly? Yes, said Harlan. And if I ran in my sleep, said Blurtso, I would get more sleep?
“Blurtso thinks about the future”
I wonder what I should be when I grow up? I can’t be a student forever. Unless I go to grad school. But grad students look terrible. They have rings under their eyes like they’ve been living in a cave. I guess they’re worried about their grades. And when they graduate they worry about getting a job. And when they get a job they worry about getting promoted. And when they get promoted they worry about retirement. All because they can’t eat grass.
“Blurtso looks at the snow” (VIII)
The snow is collecting on my nose faster than before. My nose must be getting cold. Pretty soon the snow will blur my features, and I’ll become a rounded version of myself. A more-rounded version. Then I’ll become a swollen lump. Then even that will smooth over, and vanish without a trace.
“Blurtso meets the academic counselor”
Hello, said Blurtso. Hello, said the counselor, have you decided on a major? No, said Blurtso. Well, said the counselor, maybe I can help. What do you like? I like everything, said Blurtso. Everything? said the counselor. You can’t major in everything. Why not? said Blurtso. Because you have to specialize. Why? said Blurtso. So you can graduate. Why do I have to graduate? So you can get a job. A job? said Blurtso. Yes, said the counselor, in your specialization. Hmm, said Blurtso. Can I avoid all that… if I major in logic?
“Blurtso begins to fit in”
Un, deux, trois… plié, fondu, developé.
“Blurtso enjoys things that fall”
There goes another snowflake, said Blurtso. I like to watch things that fall—leaves, feathers, snowflakes—things just a little heavier than air. There’s something relaxing in watching them let go, something soothing in their acceptance and lack of direction, their trust in the cycle… of soil and stars.