Somewhere beyond the city, maybe up north, in Maine, the warmth is thickening on the breeze, the mud is hardening underhoof, and voices are swelling on the branches. And a donkey with no place to go is losing himself, in the fragrance of needles and pine.
Hmm… I guess bucket lists are only for people
who aren’t already doing what they want to do.
Isn’t it amazing, said Blurtso, how people can spend so much time building something, then never look at it when they’re done? What do you mean? said Harlan. This treehouse, said Blurtso. Alex and I built it almost two years ago, and when we were building it we selected the boards with the greatest care, then measured and cut them, nailed and braced them, then raised the pole with the house on top, and then we climbed up and never really looked at it again. What’s this nick in the rail? said Harlan. That? said Blurtso, that’s where I dropped the skill saw when my ice cream fell out of its cone. There’s a nail missing here, said Harlan. Yes, said Blurtso, it kept poking out, so I removed it. What are these scratches? That’s from my screwdriver, said Blurtso, when I was screwing down the floor boards. And this stain? That’s the grape juice I spilled when I was using the nail gun. And this burned spot? That’s where I set down the circular sander with the power on. You do beautiful work, said Harlan. Thank you, said Blurtso.
An abject failiure? said Virginia. Yes, said Ditto, that’s what the teacher called me. I’ve never heard the word “abject”, said Virginia. “Abject”, said Ditto, refers to someone cast down in spirit, someone reduced to hopelessness and surrender. Really? said Virginia. Yes, said Ditto, at least that’s the way Thoreau uses it. Thoreau? said Virginia. Henry David Thoreau, said Ditto, a man who wrote a book called Walden—my parents have a copy and they let me read it. Was Thoreau abject? said Virginia. No, said Ditto, but near the end of the book when he’s talking about the importance of protecting your thoughts he says, “Sell your clothes and keep your thoughts… if I were confined to a corner of a garret all my days, like a spider, the world would be just as large to me while I had my thoughts… from an army of three divisions one can take away its general, and put it in disorder, but from the man the most abject and vulgar one cannot take away his thought.” How come you can read Walden, said Virginia, but can’t pass the Dibels? I don’t know, said Ditto, I guess Walden is a different kind of reading, or maybe Thoreau has been outlawed.
Will they kick me out of school, said Ditto, if I fail the Dibels test? No, said Virginia, they’ll put you in an intervention class an hour a day until you pass the test. What if I never pass? Then you’ll be in intervention forever, said Virginia. Isn’t there any way, said Ditto, I can get kicked out of school?
Hey, a dating site! Maybe I should fill out a profile.
Name: Blurtso
Age: I don’t know, I’ve never cut myself in half to count the rings
Height: I’m not as tall as I think I am
Weight: That’s not polite
Self summary: I’m a sphere whose center is everywhere and circumference is nowhere
I’m good at: Filling out profile questionnaires
The first thing that others notice about me: That I accidentally stepped on their foot
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, food:
books: Remembrance of Pies Past (Marcel Proust), A clean, well-lighted bakery (Hemingway), Where is Ralph Waldo? (Emerson), What’s that in the Attic? (Emily Dickenson), Donkey Hotey (Cervantes), The Idiot’s Guide to Animal Husbandry
music: You can’t roller skate in a buffalo herd (Roger Miller), L’apres midi d’une Trombone (Debussy), Bach’s concerto for trombone and cymbal in C flat minor seventh, Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata for Seventy-Six Trombones
movies and shows: Babbling Brook (ambient dvd), Ocean Waves (ambient dvd), Mountain Majesty (ambient dvd), The Jerry Remy Postgame Show
food: organic, sustainably grown, local, free-range, alfalfa-fed pumpkins (from Pablo’s garden)
I spend a lot of time thinking about:
Thermonuclear physics, string theory, the event
horizon, if Pluto is a planet, how many angels can fit on the head of a donkey, what that smell is
On a typical Friday night I am:
Wondering what night of the week it is
You should message me if: You need an empty pie tin, you found my wristwatch, you lost your Wi-Fi connection, you have an extra pumpkin pie
Profile Photo:
Hmmm, thought Blurtso, another paperclip. You go months and months without seeing one, then you see them everywhere you turn. I wonder if they’re being discarded as the world goes paperless? And soon they will only be a symbol, an icon for attachments, virtual clips attaching virtual expressions in a virtual world… like so many other forms of attachment.
This is a very nice barn, thought Blurtso. The roof doesn’t leak and there is plenty of hay. I can stand here all day if I want to. While the rest of the world runs frantically toward and away from things, I can stand here all day… I suppose we can put up with almost anything as long as we have a safe place to go.
Eulogy? said Bonny. Yes, I could say something… “Here lies a tree. It was a good tree. A tree that made use of what was offered, and offered what made use. It grew without haste, and it grew without malice. And when it fell, it made a sound.”
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