What is it in Venice that makes us feel we have been transported in time? Is it the ancient buildings and bridges, the palaces with their frescoes and the moss-lined canals? Is it the smooth-worn stones or the fountains of the piazze? Is it the stillness of the water and the echoing barcarole? No, it is rather the simple sound of voices and footsteps, heard, as if for the first time, in a city without engines, in a civilized world before the automobile.
To market, to market, to market I go,
with every sad smile and thought that I sow,
to market, to market, to market today,
to sell my poor self and see what they’ll pay.
Wow, thought Blurtso, today’s game decides the championship. I’ve never been a champion. I set a record in the ski jump, but was disqualified for being a donkey. That was a relief, because the paparazzi went away. There aren’t any paparazzi here. Or any fans. I guess they’re all at home, listening on the radio. I wonder who’s doing the broadcast? I’ll bet it’s Jerry Remy. I wonder if Jerry Remy played stickball? He grew up in Somerset, so he probably played baseball, on real grass. That would be distracting, playing on grass. As distracting as playing in a pumpkin pie factory. You don’t see many sporting events in pie factories, for just that reason. I wonder if the winners get a trophy? I’d love to have a trophy, tall and shiny, with an action figure on top. Maybe a donkey taking a Ruthian sing, or a donkey making an over-the-shoulder catch, or a donkey gunning down a runner from third. A trophy would look great in the barn, with a little straw around the base. I wonder if being a champion would go to my head? I wonder if I’d begin to stay out late, and go to nightclubs, and get in trouble with the law? The paparazzi would revel in my fall, encouraging the cracks in my character. And I have many cracks. I’m not a role model. I have too many vices… pumpkin pie, hot cocoa, whipped cream. I wouldn’t want anyone to imitate me. I would be a terrible champion. But I sure would like a trophy, tall and shiny, in the middle of the barn.
And they gathered and said,
“Speak to us of Jacques Derrida.”
And Blurtso replied:
“A koan is an utterance that is devoid of logic.”
And they gathered and said, “Speak to us of technology.”
And Blurtso replied:
“What does it serve us to become tools of our tools?”
As you shift to the left, said Blurtso, the upper hoof extends, lets go, and is replaced by the lower hoof which becomes the upper hoof as you shift to the right… the lower hoof is yin rising to yang… the upper is yang descending into yin… in the same way that all things come and go… cupboard full… cupboard empty… stomach full… stomach empty… see the pumpkin pie… see the empty tin… pumpkin pie… empty tin… pumpkin pie…
And they gathered and said, “Speak to us of busy-ness.”
And Blurtso replied:
Most people do what they don’t need to do
even when they don’t need to do it.
I suppose, thought Blurtso, this is what it’s like to become one with nature… I suppose this is what it’s like… to remember you are one with nature… I suppose this is what it’s like… not to think about what it’s like.
As you circle from side to side, said Blurtso, imagine your arms are a banner attached to a flag pole, a banner waving in a warm breeze, a banner on top of a pumpkin pie factory, announcing a pumpkin pie sale…
And they gathered and said, “Speak to us of quality time.”
And Blurtso replied:
Most of the people don’t spend much time
with most of the people they’re around most of the time.