Observations

by William Bowden

1. My attention is momentarily distracted by a blond marionette across the street. She is enacting a St Vitus-style dance for the benefit of her companions. The hidden puppeteer is clearly that delicious blend of youthful hormones, virginal sexuality,and the unfettered wantoness for new experiences. In the background an elderly woman trawls past; the unwelcome harbinger of the journey’s end, ignored in the glorious victory of the moment.

2. I’m holding a leaf in my hand. A smashed and broken relic of the alien chemistry of trees. Under the distant hearth of the Sun, it's complexity is partially revealed. The tiny fishbone spars (that vault so symmetrically toward the periphery from the central artery) recall ceilings in cathedrals I glimpsed as a child. The veil of particle-sized iridescence that wavers across the exterior speaks of layer upon layer upon layer. All that remains unseen beneath the surface — reminds me of how little I know, and how little others know as they sweep the fallen leaves away.

3. Why do I feel so uncomfortable meeting his gaze? Is it because his time approaches near, ordered to his tomb long before the expected hour? Or is it because the wheelchair seems so resolute, so incontestable, so replete with unspoken meaning? Perhaps it’s because six months ago he was happily at the helm of the yacht, never dreaming of neural dysfunctionalities; as the stars guided him home. I think it’s because he was the chirpy fellow who changed my life when he said: “Welcome aboard!”, and I joined the crew, the company, his company 13 short years ago. I feel as helpless as the younger Pliny, watching, whilst the devil Vesuvius sucked the life from his father’s lungs; in the bay of Naples all those centuries passed. Unlike the elder Pliny he will not be known the world over, no, he will be lost forever — save perhaps for the recollections of a small few.

4. Buy now and save! Is this a koan: a reworked Bhuddist paradox? If a bargain falls in a forest and there is no-one around to purchase it, is this a sale?

Come, Grasshopper, tend your wounds: if we spend a thousand dollars, there is a hundred dollar cash-back deal. We’ll spend the money we’ve saved on beverages that’ll transport us to tropical isles: where full-breasted women will singest of summer in full-throated ease. Then upon returning home, in just two afternoons, I’ll show you how to transform our tired old backyard into an Italian sun-drenched garden fit for a king! Of course we could just watch T.V. Life is full of choices after all Grasshopper, where’s the remote anyway?