It is delightful to hear the Muse in her current state. "Entirely intoxicated"! Just what she needs for these cold, dark days.I wish my old crew-mates were around to enjoy this delightful news. Which reminds me of something odd I discovered yesterday.
I was out looking for other bloggers interested in outer space, the solar system and planetary bodies when I came across this site called Singing Moon. It's my old friend Coyote. I'm sure of it. You can't tell from the photo, that could as easily be his evil twin Alvin. But the poems are as individual as a paw print. And the obsession with rabbits.
But how could it be he hasn't dropped by with some biscotti?
I have only two explanations:
- In whatever disaster that befell the Vendetta, he was conked on the head and is suffering amnesia. In which case, it might be deeply disturbing for him to have me show up and start bothering him.
- It wasn't a storm that took the Vendetta, but an inter-dimensional rift in the space-time continuum that took the ship and my other crewmates away and left a "Coyote" from another dimension here in our universe. This Coyote has all of our Coyote's traits, but somehow never hooked up with the Elgin Street Irregulars. Or perhaps in his universe, there was no Fifth Muse to have brought us all together.
I have to say that I'm hoping it's Amnesia. I'd hate to think there's another universe out there with no Fifth Muse.
5 comments:
Dwarf. Good to see that you give an occasional thought to me. You entirely overlooked a third possibility, short guy. That I have chosen to sit atop this here hoodoo in this here painted desert, tongue lolling, and quietly amusing myself with wordplay whilst awaiting that blessed day when I cease burping kelp and salt water, and the sun bleaches the remaining mildew outta my scruffy coat. It's not easy being green.
That is quite possibly the last time I go on a 'three hour cruise' in the season's biggest hurricane with a student pirate, without checking his frickin' driver's license more closely.
I eye your newly-chosen career path with speculative interest: don'cha think, given the, um, success of the whole Vendetta venture, that strapping a 20-story-tall firecracker stoked to the gills with who-knows-what-all in terms of explosives, accelerants and high-speed oxidants to your butt might not be the wisest thing you could do with your short life?
However, if you want to talk about inter-dimensional rifts in the space-time continuum, there were moments. It was the Bermuda Triangle, after all...
Yup, Coyote, it's you. And no amnesia.
I'm hurt by your aspersions on my seafaring skills. All was well when I went below decks. I have no memory of anything after that until I awoke shivering in the ocean, so I'm in no position to defend myself.
As for your fears about me and explosives I have two points to make:
1) In my many decades as a miner my mishaps-with-explosives-per-year rate was much better than NASA's.
2) There are other ways to get off a planet.
Hmm... but I see that you've disregarded Yogic Flying. Given all of the yoga references bandied about in the last few months, are not the scientific achievements of the Mahareeshi, Dead Doug Henning, and the Natural Law Party good enough for ya? I hear that it not only levitates you, it also 'creates bubbling bliss and generates coherence'. I think this kinda broad spectrum approach demands investigation.
Disregarded Yogic Flying?
Coyote, how do you think I managed to pose for that photo at the top of this posting?
Oh. So that's bubbling bliss, is it?
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