The less I am me, the more I am what I see and hear. Perhaps the moment I become nothing, I will become everything.
Tag: humor
“Morton’s Pond” (XXIV)
“Thoughts” – It’s hard to believe Thoreau became famous for doing this. Living in these woods and writing down his thoughts. I guess a lot of people say they would like to live in the woods, but almost none of them do it. Maybe that’s why he became famous—because people can continue to live in their big houses in the city and can read about living in a cabin. They can experience it without doing it. Maybe that’s what humans are looking for in life, to experience things without really doing them. That would explain all the televisions and computers and iPhones.
“Morton’s Pond” (XXIII)
“Thoughts” – I don’t think I was bitten by a deer tick today. Maybe knowledge is power.
“Morton’s Pond” (XXI)
“Tastes” – The grass didn’t taste as sweet this morning. I think it is because of last night’s pie. I suppose flavors eat each other like one sound eats another. I wonder if a donkey doesn’t taste as good to a deer tick after a deer tick has tasted a deer?
“Morton’s Pond” (XX)
“Smells” – Bonny and Pablo made a pumpkin pie. I could smell it from the other side of the lake. I walked to their cabin to tell them I could smell the pie, and they offered me a slice.
“Ditto finds a pencil” (III)
Where’s your pencil? said Virginia. I left it at home, said Ditto. What about the museum, said Virginia, and the tourists and audio phones? I’m not going to do it, said Ditto. Why? said Virginia. I like Concord the way it is. Yes, said Virginia, the library, the cemetery, the inn, and the friendly people at the Main Street Café—it’s a nice town, and more traffic might spoil it. Yes, said Ditto, and encourage someone to put a stop light on Main Street.
“Morton’s Pond” (XVII)
“Tastes” – Thinking about eating. Me eating grass. Clouds eating colors. Sounds eating sounds and ticks eating me… even thoughts eating thoughts. Everything a big circle of eating.
“Morton’s Pond” (XVI)
“Sounds” – My breath. Panting as I propped up the walls of my shelter. I didn’t even hear the train to Concord because I was so focused on building. You can only hear what you happen to be listening to, or else the sound of building ate up the sound of the train.
“Morton’s Pond” (XIV)
“Smells” – Rain on the wind. Another storm approaching. And something I don’t recognize. Possibly the smell of a deer tick. But I’ve never smelled a deer tick before, so I can’t be sure. I suppose you can’t be sure of what you’re smelling until you are.
“Ditto finds a pencil” (II)
Well, said Virginia, no one in Concord is missing a pencil. No, said Ditto, they looked at us like we were crazy. I guess people don’t use pencils anymore, said Virginia. No, said Ditto, I guess not. What’ll we do with it? said Virginia. If we save it, said Ditto, it might become an antique. An antique? said Virginia. Yes, said Ditto, like putt putt boats, cassette tapes, and common courtesy. And people would travel for miles to see it? said Virginia. Yes, said Ditto, and we’d keep it behind glass, and rent headphones to explain its history. So the tourists would know what to think? said Virginia. Yes, said Ditto, and realize how important it is, and not complain about the admission fee. Visitors would come to Concord from all over the world! said Virginia. Yes, said Ditto, they would.