Mmmmmm, thought Blurtso, the food here is very good. And these chocolate-chip muffins are excellent! “Isn’t the COOP a great bookstore?” said a co-ed at a neighboring table. Bookstore? thought Blurtso. Is this a bookstore?
Tag: images
“Blurtso raps”
Blurtso comes… Blurtso goes…
you can see him coming…
when you see his nose…
Blurtso comes… Blurtso goes…
he’s one with nature…
he wears no clothes…
Blurtso comes… Blurtso goes…
cloven-hoofed, dulce-toothed…
suave-duro, burro-puro…
Blurtso comes… Blurtso goes…
everything he thinks, everybody knows…
backward… forward…
take an inch… take a mile…
everything he does, does it with a smile…
Blurtso comes… Blurtso goes…
papi-fresco, don-juan-es-co…
Blurtso comes… Blurtso goes…
everything he thinks, everybody knows…
backward… forward…
take an inch… take a mile…
everything he does, does it with a smile…
Blurtso comes… Blurtso goes…
coming… going…
you’ll know it by his nose…
Blurtso comes… Blurtso goes…
burro-puro, suave-duro…
poco inocente, muy maduro…
Blurtso comes… Blurtso goes…
Blurtso comes… Blurtso goes…
Blurtso comes… Blurtso goes…
everything he thinks, everybody knows…
“Blurtso considers ontology”
I am what I do,
and I do what the universe does.
“Bonny and Ditto share some quality time” (XII)
When painting a portrait… you should place your subject
in a posture that has ongoing implications.
Excellent! said Bonny.
“Alex gets political”
What? said Blurtso. That cloud, said Alex, it looks like a human. Where? said Blurtso. There, said Alex, can’t you see? That’s its head, and those are its eyes, and those are its ears, and that’s its body and arms and legs… Of course, said Blurtso. And what’s the big dark cloud that looks like an outhouse? That? said Alex. That’s Dick Cheney.
“Blurtso loses track” (II)
What are you looking at? said Harlan. There’s a knot in one of the roof boards, said Blurtso. Yes there is, said Harlan. I wonder how it grew that way? said Blurtso. I don’t know, said Harlan, the wood around it is smooth and symmetrical. A whirlpool in the stream, said Blurtso. Yes, said Harlan. I wonder if the roof is weaker or stronger where there is a knot? said Blurtso. I believe it’s weaker, said Harlan, because when the wood gets dry the knots can pop out. Yes, said Blurtso, now that you mention it, I’ve seen old boards with holes where the knots had been. I guess there’s no good reason, said Harlan, for a knot to remain in a board after it has already asserted its independence by going against the grain. Maybe this one, said Blurtso, asserted its independence by staying.
“Blurtso becomes a barometer”
I wonder if there’s a storm coming? A change in the barometer always makes me restless. Then I have to do something to feel better…
That’s better…
“Blurtso speaks Greek” (II)
Are you a student? said the professor. Yes, said Blurtso. What’s your major? I don’t have one, said Blurtso. Maybe you should take my class on Greek drama, said the professor. We’re going to stage “Oedipus Rex” in October, the quintessential story of blindness and self-discovery. Blindness and self-discovery, said Blurtso, isn’t that an oxymoron? Have you ever done any acting? said the professor. Yes, said Blurtso, I did some barnyard Shakespeare last year, but I ad libbed most of the dialogue. Well, said the professor, this will be a formal production, with a paying public, but the students in my class will be given walk-on roles. Hmm, said Blurtso, “Oedipus Rex.” Are there any elephants and ducks in the play?
“Blurtso speaks Greek” (I)
Doo dee doo dee doo, sang Blurtso, skipping across campus.
Ananta, katanta, paranta…
Pardon me, said the professor, what did you say? I don’t know, said Blurtso. You said “ananta katanta paranta,” where did you learn that? It’s just something I say, said Blurtso. It’s from the 23rd book of Homer’s Illiad, said the professor. Really? said Blurtso. Yes, said the professor, from the scene where the donkeys and mules are being driven into the hills to gather firewood. Loosely translated it means, “upalong, downalong, sidealong,” and is famous for the way the Greek syllables—ananta, katanta, paranta—simulate the clippety clop of the animals’ hooves. Wow, said Blurtso, my hooves speak Greek!
“Blurtseau Lundif – Corsaire Extraordinaire” (XII)
“Another day,” thought Blurtseau, “and another night. The king is dead, and those who killed the king are dead, and Napoleon consolidates his power while those who would kill him wait in the wings. And the once-full moon that illuminated my vainglorious victory now wanes with a warbling light. Tomorrow the fighting will begin anew, the British, French, Spanish, Dutch, German, Italian, Sardinian, Greek generals… and all the world spins with the bones of the living and the bones of the dead, so many dead, those who pursued a borrowed or inherited dream, white bones in the soil, white bones in the surf of the sea, bones as white as the flickering tail of the waning moon, sparking and submerging among the breakers, flickering water reflection of fleeting sun echoed upon half-eaten moon, half-eaten moon half-eclipsed by the globe it now reflects down upon… half-eaten glow that grows dimmer each day… until the moon, the day, the night, and all our blood-urgent exploits fall dark upon the darkness of the sea, and vanish in the low laving sound of the waves eating the rocks with their dance of disintegration.
“And when the moon goes black, the stars will mark my path to Montecristo where Echo, alone on her island, watches the same silver flicker on a different surface of the same sea. And the light that flickered in her heart? Has it fallen prey to the same dance of deterioration? Will I find the moon already extinguished in the sea of her breast? Eclipsed by the vainglorious sphere that was my haste to depart? The misguided course of this star-crossed corsaire pursuing a sinking star? Yesterday’s hero is the dark side of the earth facing the dark side of the moon, is darkness double, two-faced night’s faceless faces, an echo of existence which touches no ear, a shout across an infinite expanse, an unreciprocated smile, a source without destination, a word from the heart that never arrives.”
“My heart is an echo of the disintegration
of the heart of the universe
that penetrates and disintegrates my own heart.”