Jitterbug Perfume, Week 4, Daffy Yum

"Beets, resembling the hearts of gnomes, were piled in the storage cellars."

JITTERBUG PERFUME
Week 4

Page 24

Michael wrote:

"....but I am seized with the desire to be something more. Something whose echo can drown out the rattle of death.
......This man before you is part of the community, the race, and the species, yet is somehow separate from them....
..I cannot tolerate the passive obliteration of all that I am to myself...... These limbs, this trunk, the heart that drums, they urge me, against all my training, to prevail over submission to the
collective destiny"
i apologize i'm a day late(pg.24). ...but this just stirs something... .DEEEEEEEEEEEP. Can you feel it?

Michael

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Fwhague wrote:

Not to worry, Michael.

One thing we have finally discerned is that information cannot disappear from our universe. After many years, even Hawking admitted he was wrong in thinking that it could. So, forget obliteration. And, the stomach butterflies prior to a transition are nothing more than music (what the hell is that?) perceived in utero.

Our guy TR is quite the wordsmith, though, isn't he?

Frank
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Page 26

Weality wrote:

"I think that I am seeking something... ...What I seek never was, not on land or sea"
go Alobar!
...."the king set upon his harem like a starving rat let loose in a peach barrel."
go Alobar!
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Page 27

Mary wrote:

“Days grew shorter. The citadel was hidden by morning fogs. Beets, resembling the hearts of gnomes, were piled in the storage cellars. Ducks lined up to buy their tickets to southern swamps. Mead was jugged. Blades and leathers oiled. Wolves made clouds when they sang at night. Maybe that was where the fogs came from. Everywhere there were sounds of husks cracking, virgins dancing, the rush of bees on last-minute shopping sprees, the roar of altars ablaze with some sacrifice.”

Walking through Seattle’s foggy October streets tonight, I breathe the songs of wolves.

Mary
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Page 28

Weality wrote:

"Dotted with cow pies and large stones. The stones had been arranged geometrically in patterns that were supposed to mean something to the gods. Presumably, the cow pies had fallen at random, although then, as now, the division between what is random in nature and what is
purposeful is extremely difficult to determine" pg 28 JP could it be that ~existence could be rearranged~ by a change of perspective or a simple 'eye game'? who's to say, that given their various herbal diet,cows aren't laying their monuments in a varied geometry pleasing to the gods as well?
wahooooooo

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Jeanne Moore wrote:

Nature as a paradox, both random and purposeful.. . I really love this book.

Jeanne