Genevieve; Spring Rushes Forth by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 10
Maureen was busy inside. She was experimenting with her favorite possession; a triptych poster which was made up of the top half of Jim Morrison in the porously bordered center, the stylized entirety of Aldous Huxley’s “Doors of Perception”
original 1954 cover sitting to his left, and to his right the seemingly same aesthetically theoretical concept, Maureen’s triptych; property of the author.
but with the cover changed from the first, which contained the discordant ripping lightning bolt, a likely reference to cubism, and probably a multiverse; to the psychedelic era of Maureen’s youth’s op art concentric circles in washed out yellows, pale greens and blues, with the bold titular and authorial reds most
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interestingly manifesting as overlapping oo’s in the approximate middle of the word “Doors;” which could not be read without the use of her special instruments.
To others, this Maureenal act, might have been seen as a somber, or a ploy-for-special-treatment posture, or at the worst, the source of a witchcraft-insanity-evil allegation; so she made it obvious to no one; in fear of their forms of personally unwanted “help” in the kind-hearted world of Pacific Lane; and mistreatment in imagined lesser places. It certainly did not seem preposterous to Maureen to feel that she possessed a few special instruments; and there was no reason to advertise it to anyone. This mild suggestion of a possibly bi-polar outlook was indeed mild and sold her short; as Maureen’s personal assessment was that she was at the very least tri-polar; and most likely quadri-polar.
“Blue Poles” by Jackson Pollock
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Some Pacific Laners may have had some inkling of this polarity consideration, as Maureen’s eyes involuntarily rolled around, temporarily going white, before re-settling on a pupil with a differing outlook whenever she found it necessary to “shift elsewhere” to attempt to stay in tune with the topic of conversation imposed upon her. This might have been one reason she felt most comfortable doing fractal reductions on her computer.
Maureen; the kind courtesy of Pexels.com under their CC0 license.
She was well aware that popular perceptions virtually unanimously disdained any notion of individual pooch speciality,
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in their inability to recognize that they as well as all other living creatures have been similarly blessed with unique and special gifts. For Christ’s sake, even the Bible said so, specifically mentioning seven. Isaiah wrote it as he also correctly prophesized what was to come.
Stained glass window of Isaiah’s vision; public domain.
Maureen was personally comfortable with that. For practical safety, though she didn’t speak as such. She was sufficiently disciplined and word capable to know where to stop or appear to
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stop on the outside, while instantaneously pursuing more on the inside.
This dual path was easy for her to walk safely. While most could not be bothered to try to interpret what her triptych meant, Maureen had recently taken a step beyond that and was currently using two computer programs which shared an overlapping format to experiment with pictorially reducing her well-loved triage to a fractal, or a series of them.
Most of the time, like now, Maureen was not aware which season was currently on stage; and as a consequence it didn’t matter, except when she would wear funny winter, ear covering, hats in summer.
Maggie and Tanner didn’t know and didn’t care what a fractal might be. In fact if someone had said the word to them, their first reaction might have been that it was an un-necessarily rude one.
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Maggie and Tanner; property of the author.
They were leisurely playing around on the rug, their radio in its usual spot in the center of the mantel. The announcer intoned; “Now, for a little classical music kids; ‘The March of the Wooden Soldiers’ performed by Rep Illitch Chi’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, ostensibly out of Chicago. Take it away, Rep.”
Maggie and Tanner both found that amusing for reasons indeterminate to either, obvious to both, and of no consequence to anyone else.
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The march of the wooden soldiers; property of the author.
They got up and side by side, adopted the mannerisms of marching soldiers. Only their stiff, mechanical movements took them to a closed window in the living room, where they saw that the snow was melting away outside. It only took a mutual confirming glance for Maggie and Tanner to go through the now open front door into the arrival of spring.
With the kittens gone to Genevieve’s house Clement and Sheba were fast asleep in front of their television.
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Clement and Sheba; the kind courtesy of Pexels.com under their CC0 license, very modified.
It was tuned to that overly popular, as measured by the mysterious Mr. Nielsen who has never been seen, much less having had any known engagements with the living, cartoon hominid program which most pooches watched only for the absurdly pathetic visuals properly mated with absurdly pathetic dialogue.
It should be noted that the elusive Mr. Nielsen never said
“overly.” That is a value judgement supplied by the inconsequentiality of 88,934,006,841 “merely anecdotal,”
voluntary, and uninvited witnesses. Like Sergeant Friday, Nielsen was and his residuals are, or vice-versa an “Only-the-facts-m’aam” man, with a scientific reliance on the statistical inference of numbers. This may have been an undisclosed personal preference, or the undisclosed inheritance obtained by his heirs perceptions, adjusted for their factually based accuracy or
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inaccuracy, further un-adjusted for their inevitable bias toward self; the significance of all of this a possibly inept and initially shunned TV show carried erroneously as Nielsen numero uno, which inevitably increases viewership, for one half hour per week in real time and in perpetuity in fake. In other words, just tell everyone that everyone else likes it, and they will too. It’s social.
Clement and Sheba had left a low sound level on the box.
They had long ago become aware that if one is oblivious to the
“funny” and otherwise “entertaining” words being uttered, the low level “buzz” was conducive to a good nap.
“The Hominids”; property of the author.
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Spring had indeed sprung outside of Clement and Sheba’s comfy abode. And it would undoubtedly still be there when they got up from their kitten induced, needed naps, unless their siesta performed a miracle and lasted more than 3-4 months.
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