LPO

lizard; packet; object-{

uk me puddleduck

}

Starbuck’S PEBBLES

There once was a huge boulder, perched precariously, on the edge of a cliff.  For hundreds of years this boulder was there, rocking and swaying, but always keeping its balance just perfectly. But one year, there happened to be a sever windstorm; severe enough it was, to topple the  boulder from its majestic height and dash it to the bottom cf the cliff, far far below.  Needless to say, the boulder was smashed into many pieces. Where it hit, the ground was covered with a carpet of pebbles–some small and some large–but pebbles and pebbles and more pebbles for as far as you could walk in an hour.

One day, after all this, a young man by the name of Ichabod happened on the area.  Being a fellow of keen mind and observational powers, naturally he was quite astounded to see so many stones scattered so closely on the ground.  Now Ichabod was very much interested in the nature of things, and he spent the whole afternoon looking at pebbles, and measuring the size of pebbles, and feeling the weight of pebbles, and just pondering about pebbles in general.

He spent the night there, not wanting to lose this miraculous find, and awoke the next morning full of enthusiasm.  He spent many days on his carpet of stones.

Eventually he noticed a very strange thing.  There were three rather large stones on the carpet and they formed a triangle–almost (but not quite) equilateral.  He was amazed.  Looking further he found four very white stones that were arranged in a lopsided square.  Then he saw that by disregarding one white stone and thinking of that grey stone a foot over instead, it was a perfect square!  And if you chose this stone, and that stone, and that one, and that one and that one you have a pentagon as large as the triangle.  And here a small hexagon.  And there a square partially inside of the hexagon.  And a decagon.  And two triangles inter-locked.  And a circle.  And a smaller circle within the circle. And a triangle within that which has a red stone, a grey stone and a white stone.

Ichabod spent many hours finding many designs that became more and more complicated as his powers of observation grew with practice.  Then he began to log his designs in a large leather book; and as he counted designs and described them, the pages began to fill as the sun continued to return.

He had begun his second ledger when a friend came by.  His friend was a poet and also interested in the nature of things.

“My friend,” cried Ichabod, “come quickly!  I have discovered the most wondrous thing in the universe.”  The poet hurried over to him, quite anxious to see what it was.

Ichabod showed him the carpet of stones…but the poet only laughed and said “It’s nothing but scattered rocks!”

“But look,” said Ichabod, ‘see this triangle and that [square] and that and that.”  And he proceeded to show his friend the harvest of his many days study. When the poet saw the designs he turned to the ledgers and by the time he was finished with these, he too was overwhelmed.

He began to write poetry about the marvelous designs.  And as he wrote and contemplated he became sure that the designs must mean something.  Such order and beauty is too monumental to be senseless.  And the designs were there, Ichabod had showed him [that.]

The poet went back to the village and read his new poetry. And all who heard him went to the cliff to see first hand the [carpet] of designs.  And all returned to the village to spread the word. Then as the enthusiasm grew there developed a group of those who love beauty and nature, all of whom went to live right at the Designs themselves.  Together they wanted to see every design
that was there.

Some wrote ledger about just triangles. Others described the circles.  Others concentrated on red coloured stones–and they happened to be the first to see designs springing from outside the carpet. They, and some others, saw designs everywhere they went.

“How blind we have been,” they said.

The movement grew and grew and grew.  And all who could see the designs knew that they had to have been put there by a Great Force. “Nothing but a Great Force,” said the philosophers, “could create this immense beauty!”

“Yes,” said the world, “nothing but a god could create such magnificent order.  Nothing but a God.”

And that was the day that God was born.  And ever since then, all men have known Him for His infinite power and all men have loved Him for His infinite wisdom.

quoted from The Principa Discordia

歯のない

quazimandiaz

On the Medusa of Leonardo Da Vinci
IN THE FLORENTINE GALLERY.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824.]

1.
It lieth, gazing on the midnight sky,
Upon the cloudy mountain-peak supine;
Below, far lands are seen tremblingly;
Its horror and its beauty are divine.
Upon its lips and eyelids seems to lie                               _5
Loveliness like a shadow, from which shine,
Fiery and lurid, struggling underneath,
The agonies of anguish and of death.

2.
Yet it is less the horror than the grace
Which turns the gazer's spirit into stone,                           _10
Whereon the lineaments of that dead face
Are graven, till the characters be grown
Into itself, and thought no more can trace;
'Tis the melodious hue of beauty thrown
Athwart the darkness and the glare of pain,
Which humanize and harmonize the strain.                             _15

3.
And from its head as from one body grow,
As ... grass out of a watery rock,
Hairs which are vipers, and they curl and flow
And their long tangles in each other lock,                           _20
And with unending involutions show
Their mailed radiance, as it were to mock
The torture and the death within, and saw
The solid air with many a ragged jaw.

4.
And, from a stone beside, a poisonous eft                            _25
Peeps idly into those Gorgonian eyes;
Whilst in the air a ghastly bat, bereft
Of sense, has flitted with a mad surprise
Out of the cave this hideous light had cleft,
And he comes hastening like a moth that hies                         _30
After a taper; and the midnight sky
Flares, a light more dread than obscurity.

5.
'Tis the tempestuous loveliness of terror;
For from the serpents gleams a brazen glare
Kindled by that inextricable error,                                  _35
Which makes a thrilling vapour of the air
Become a ... and ever-shifting mirror
Of all the beauty and the terror there--
A woman's countenance, with serpent-locks,
Gazing in death on Heaven from those wet rocks.                      _40