But in as much as we all
have one heart, matching limbs
and a brain-gut axis
aren't we all, to some degree
little c conservatives
who fight our corner,
move through space
and want, deep down, to know
what is for lunch;
starch and beans, a little
fat, that which unites us,
humanity, schmaltz.
Tuesday, 13 December 2016
Monday, 5 December 2016
do Do
Waldo
Donald was obsessed by geometry to the point where it impinged on his personal
life; he was unable to hold down a steady job or to have any meaningful
relationship with other humans, preferring the reassuring order of abstract and
idealized forms. Euclid and Onan
were his tutelary deities. To fund
his geometry habit he took to giving private lessons but always found it hard
to put up with his students’ obstinate stupidity. On one occasion he was hired by a rich eccentric who fancied
himself as a mathematician maudit.
After a week or so Waldo couldn’t contain himself and told his boss just
exactly what he thought about his grasp of solids. Stuart would surely have fired him on the spot had it not
been for the troupe of mythological characters he kept in a purpose-built
barn. They had taken a shine to
Waldo and the one thing that mattered more to Stuart than his own self-esteem
and egoistical conceit was his barn of gnomes and unicorns and fairies. He decided not to terminate Waldo’s
contract but in order to punish him for his insolence ordered that from
henceforth Waldo Donald, an inherently prosaic character with a tendency to
stammer, would be forced to declaim his lessons in perfectly scanned and
end-rhymed pentameters. Waldo,
terrified by his employer’s moods, agreed and has been at it ever since; so
solo lover’s verses explain planes to Stuart’s hurt self’s elves.
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