Building a yurt these days,

is no easy thing,

sure the cyborgs pitch in,

they can help with the lilacs,

those lilacs.

those lilacs!!!

i should have listened to the Rumba!

she knew of much more than sweeping.

lo, she gave me hints, as she brushed,

the servos,

sounding like the second movment,

but i stared at the screen then,

even when she tried,

to spell the coming doom.

i thought it's an advertisement.

not fair of me to close my mind.

oh, and you might say,

thou skeptic,

what has that got to do,

with the price of tea in Caracs?

i'll tell you, so, it has much bearing:

yurts are the barometer.

every venture is messured,

'gainst that ancient art.

saddlemaking, teamongering,

itinerary writing and other,

miscellaneous secraterial work,

all are compared to or beneath.

and the Rumba knew that all too well.

and so, i must make amends,

i must erect a worthy apology.

Late summers are always a worry. food that is served must be light and enticing to the eater. be it your significant other, coming back from a hard day at work, or the little cannibals, coming back from school. in the cool of air conditioned homes or the sizzling heat outside, you must always find something they'll have want to put in their feeding-slits. . but it is not as hard as you think!

no. nothing is light enough, yet satisfying and wholesome than nutritional value lables.

first, to get started, let's take a look at what's in a lable, which is regulated by the FDA and must contain detail on both nutritional values for 100gr, and per unit. the lables also must contain information regarding ingredients, manufacturing and distributor details, and expiration date. they also occasionally hold infirmation on refrigeration and warnings about allergens.

now, obviously once you peel the delicate lables, they are not ready to cook. we must remove those parts that are not good to eat, or leave an aftertaste. many forget this , ir neglect, but do you really want to serve a meal that has manufacturer address on? why ruin a sumptuous meal with contact information? no. don't. DO NOT JUST PEEL A LABLE AND GET COOKING!!!!

take a well-sharpened knife, or a cleaver and remove the manufactors details, as well the allergic warnings. the only parts that are good eatin' Are the nutritional vakues and ingredients. contact information particularly leaves a bitter foul taste and there is some evidence to suggest that it could contribute to arterial sclerosis. so trim those parts away.

once enough lables are cleaned and trimmed out appropriately, it is now easy to begin. (remember, fingers curved as you cut...safety first people!!)

cut a pound of lables to thin strips. and let them soak in water and a bit of salt for about an hour.

take about another half-pound bunch of lables, and put them in the food processor, along with eggyokes, cornstarch, salt, garlic and a bit of oil. once the mix reaches a good, thick consistency, take a spoon and make small balls. place the balls on some wax paper.

take the lables that were soaking in water and cook them with a bit of chicken, (fatty parts especially, i prefer necks)simmer until they soften. once the strips are soft enough remove the stock (save it, for the love of god!!! save it!!!oh god, save the stock!! call me and i'll come over and take, if you're going to throw the stock. god. WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU!!!)as you drain, remember to pitch the pot over the colander and NOT slide!!

add some oilve oil and basil and cool in the fridge.

now take some boiled potatoes, that you cubed, and set to cool. mix the lables with the potatoes, gently so neither the lables nor the potatoes get too mooshed. add some sun dried tomatoes, capers, and diced anchovies and toss it all with a vinaigrette of virgin olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and a dash of cumin. (yes! CUMIN!!!!)

this will make a fine cold salad that everyone will want seconds. make sure there is enough, don't want to be caught without enough nutritional label salad when the sun is setting...

take the balls we made and deep fry them until they are nice and brown, serve along with the cool lable salad, and you are set.

i see where you are going with this. you want to invest my time in the thriving extracurricular activities in the great state of Uttar Pardesh. it is not my intention to cast aspersions on felonious activities in that plentiful land, just that the thought of going there and getting into MORE covid trouble seriously marrs my excitment at your proposal. but thank you for the thought.

most of the rocks are smoother than you think. at least here by the river. where the main force acting on them is abrasion. these rocks are hard, these rocks are dense.

throw the rocks at someone, and it will injure,

throw it at a window, and it will break.

the potential of fuckery is multitudinous.

yet, recall, that most of the rocks are smooth.

far away, near a faultline, or high in the mountains, rocks get more troublsome. slate, and flint and basalt, their break and shatter violently, over time. even the limestone bears the memories of collisions and calamities, in jagged chronicle.

i would not recommend walking barefoot, tempting the outcropping to bite.

i shall not argue, it is true enough that from the right perspective, or the precise resolution, the smoothest of surfaces, is actually, cracked and distorted. it can also be said, that the most jagged of rocks, when held in aggregate, is just as shapley.

i have sat on many rocks. and some were a pleasurable massage, and some were a torture to endure. sitting is the true test of things: Piercing harshness or absorption of the outer membranes.

thought is a desire to find a place to sit. a perch that shall fit or conform to reality, even if this reality is threatning.

be sure that in your thought, you don't sit upon a sharp, spike of a rock.

i love so many things. music has this unnerving quality that you can just be stuck, seemly eternally on a loop. it could be just a few bars worth of notes, just a few seconds, but something about it just drive you insane. its like your brain got faced with this unsolvable roddle, and tries agaon and again to figure it out...which it can't...

i grew up listening mostly to jazz, but for some reason at some point when i was in my early tweens i got a double album; Glenn Gould plays the English suites.

its not Bach's most complex composition and not Gould most profound recording. but hearing this album changed how i hear classical music from a casual interest/nice-ish thing to total insanity.

i took particular interest in the A minor suite. i got the music sheetbfor the whole oppus, but this baby drove crazy. the prelude is my first seroous attempt at fugal structure and its a hard, merciless bitch a thing. (if the last time you did any classical music was age 10..)

but i got it done. then ti fnal gigue, is even more crazy. which is why i intentionally played it at a crawl. (if Gould can play with the tempo than so can i HaHaHa!!!!!!!).

i haven't stopped playing thos ever since. i just remember it all, without any need to think. i play it in school, in abandoned musc rooms, i played kt back home when my father died.

i even play it at home (though my girl doesn't lime Bach so much..)

someday i won't ay it any more.

but it will not be by choice!!

1.

Vladimir the contortionist was not one to play it safe. he spent years of work, stretching his limbs in all kinds of weird directions. his legs and arms bent way behind what would normally be a torture or a subsequent visit to the ER. it could be that his bones and cartilage and tendons were made different. held together with much greater tolerance for torsion and compression. indeed, he could bend his index finger sideways. he showed me this wonder of osteo-acrobatics and i had the immediate urge to clench my fists in sympathetic pain. he said he feels no pain like that.

he made money doing shows . contortionists are usually female, so the novelty of a male contortionist got him a decent living.

secretly though, Vladimir was working towards one of man's great goals; sucking his own cock. with great effort and lengthy, at times dangerous, periods of exercise he approached this summit of all man's desires.

and like the experienced mountain climber, you try to reach the top, because its there.

and he did.

i think some part (or parts?) of his spinal anatomy must have given way, at some point, and Vladimir reached his breakthrough. it wasn't a momentary touch at extremes of stretching. no. it was the acquired ability to bend so far back, that you could comfortably please yourself, giving yourself a full lengthy, gratifying, satisfying, blowjob.

what almost all men are forever denied, that forbidden fruit of self-encirclement that was the luxury of the tempting snake, was now his!

few men in recorded history had reached this apex and lived to tell about it. and he could do it with relative ease, now that his spinal column agreed with his efforts and their obvious prize. all parts of his body shook in excitation and ecstasy as he relieved himself upon himself.

needless to say that he stopped dating after that. why beg, and grovel when you can just bend a bit?

2.

after some time , even the shiniest diamond loses its luster. which actually makes sense. diamonds are remarkably hard, and once they are shaped and polished they may be a wonder. but they need a source of light to cast rays upon them, and without that, they are forever dark and cold.

such was Vladimir's achievement. it was a source of joy and pride, but the euphoria of self gratification wore off somewhat and Vladimir wanted to expand and augment his personal conquest.

he considered showing this to other human beings. but overruled this, mainly in fear that the stigma of such zealousness among his fellow contortionists and patrons would negate whatever benefits and acclaim he would earn.

time passed, and his professional exhibitions were carried out with falling enthusiasm. this if course does not mean that in his performances, he held back or gave his spectators anything less of athletic excellence. it is just that he found the act of these restrained shows, lacking in that hidden triumph, which she dared not show the world.

3.

he occupied his time for a while, trying to contort himself backwards. trying to reach that same summit but from the opposite slope. this proved to be an impossibility. the human back, even that of a uniquely flexible individual can not arch backwards in the same degree of freedom it can do forwards. he reached points in his efforts that were beyond pain and torment. moments where he knew he was risking his life.

it was then that he reached out to me. i knew him many years before, and though our paths separated, we kept in touch over time. he asked for my advice.

being skeptical of all that, i asked him to show to me his great success, and he indeed revealed to me both his ability to bend forward and gratify himself, and his attempts to do the same going backwards. needless to say i was impressed and envious by the former and alarmed and anxious by the latter. i demanded that he do not attempt such a feat again, as that it would without a doubt be his doom.

"but what shall i do with myself?" he asked, in frustration. "i am no longer satisfied with mere carnality, and dare not show this achievement to the public. i also feel no joy on my work, and feel that despite the greater ease in which i now perform my contortions, i feel no sport in them, no challenge. the cheers i now get are empty to me, and i think daily of either retiring, or exposing myself fully. there could be no middle ground." he said this and more.

woe to me, i could not find a way to cheer my friend, or alleviate his ennui. "look " i said "you are talented beyond imagination, a shining star in the art of contortionism. known far and wide. furthermore, have you considered the possibility, that the talents that you have and what they allow you to do, INSPIRE the rest of humanity. we need not see this latest manifestation of your abilities, to be uplifted and moved by these 'lesser' actions. that singular act of self gratification then is not for other people's edification, but as a hidden REWARD for the service you give. seek no further movements that endanger your life nor your career, and live with satisfaction in your heart" so said i, but i knew then that my words are such that they can move the mind superficially, but never permeate in to the core. we parted as friends, and i could not feel but dread, as to the dangers my friend was contemplating upon himself.

4.

Vladimir did not stay idle, and my plea for his safety was not received. oh, he made a fervent attempt at normalcy for a while. his shows gained much appeal and so was his personal life improved, when he met a fellow contortionist called Jocasta. The lovely lady entered into his mostly solitary life. we did one of those three wheel date things and i was impressed by her candor and energy. i guess that with all athletes, the spirit is maintained buoyant upon waves of success, and personal triumph. (would that we all, be floating so..) she exuded warmth and was all smiles. Vladimir informed me that she was well aware of his secret talents. i did not ask, of course, if she was likewise able, but surmised that it played a part in their amorous encounters. but the mention of this, and what it may implied, put somewhat of a damper on the conversation. a fraction of a second, where Jocasta's expression sank, and she lowered her gaze. nevertheless we soon struck up a lighter tone and talked about music and literature. the vagaries of shallow people as we all were.

we parted joyfully, and vowed to meet once more in the near future.

as i was walking home, i could not stop thinking about Jocasta's short loss of composure. perhaps it is my ignoble nature to obsess about things that have naught to do with me, but could not restrain my thoughts. i wondered what were the emotions that were going through her mind.

was it embarrassment? it did not seem like that at the time. Vladimir did not talk of her participation in that trick, nor teased secrets that should have been kept as such. she also made no protests as he told me that she was shown his trick, while she did protest other things.

it could have been the pain of jealousy, of his behavior. it could even be the fact that i was in the know of what she assumed to be an intimate aspect of their relationship.

she left Vladimir a few days later, and as expected, he fell back to his disastrous behaviour.

5.

on a cold November morning, Vladimir got up. after finishing his morning toiletries. He sat down and wrote a letter. it was a farewell letter. he made apologizes to people whom he may have offended, Jocasta most of all. he explained the tensions that ruled his life and were pulling him apart ; his need for greater achievement, his need to demonstrate this success. that he did need to exhibit his talents in their full glory, remarkable as they were, but not for vanity or self aggrandizement but as a need to impress upon others the possible and to encourage others to reach for their dreams.

after penning this letter he set about to a lengthy session of stretching. he worked through every muscle group and invigorated every ligament, joint, bone and tendon in his, and finally, after this hard ordeal he began to measurably bend his back, curving himself farther and farther backwards,

reaching the buttocks, he braced himself for the final push. he resolved that it would be either concluded soon with his ascent of the phallus from this rear , a thing that was never accomplished before, or death by a broken neck. the cheeks of his gluteus maximus were not unfamiliar to him. and indeed, he was not the first to reach those mid-summits. but all that would come after, as he explored further was chartered country in the world of controtionism.

he took a few deep breaths, surging his blood with oxygen, and held his breath somewhat, to give some more tensile strength to his upper torso.

and then with his blood thus invigorated he bent further.

Standing like this on the mat, his back bent, his head was now aligned with his buttocks, he edged himself downward and outward, going slowly . the pain was intense, but he did not relent.

as he looked on, he could see in the distance the shaft of his manhood, a peak that he was nearing.

but then, as he was above his anus, and his eyes lined up with that important orifice, the sphincter muscle opened, like a the opening iris of a camera, the folds of skin turning in concentric directions, and opening widely.

a sight like this was never afforded to any student of physiology or anatomy, and the portal was eerily unnatural.

the iris opened thusly, and Vladimir could peer through the aperture, and see a deep, dark cavern.

and then, to his horror, out of the depth and darkness of the void, bright eyes glinted.

perhaps it was paralysis of fear, or actual spinal damage, that did not allow Vladimir to retreat from this ungodly vision.

one pair of eyes now peered through the darkness at him, the eyes grew in hypnotic intensity. pain and fear washed over Vladimir, as his eyes adjusted to the dark and he saw the approaching feline silhouette. the creatures walked towards him, then accelerated its step to a run.

Vladimir felt his heart stop then, as the large cat jumped out of his anus, causing him to lose his balance and fall. in confusion and terror, he collapsed on the floor.

6.

when Vladimir regained consciousness, he found himself strewn upon the mat, he shuddered in spasms of pain, and for a moment feared that he had finally severed his spine. his anxiety of paralysis subsided as he felt a tingling sensation in his left toe.

"Rise "

he heard a commanding voice, but remained lain on the mat.

the singling sensation turned to sharp piercing pain.

"I SAID RISE!"

the voice commanded. and despite the great torment involved he manged to bring himself to a precarious sitting position. he was in anguish, as his back did not afford him any posture that was free of pain.

but all paled in comparison to the terror of the great carnivore that stood in front of him.

the animal was at once fearsome and breathtaking. Majestic leopard like animal, with dark spits and amorphous rings, it towered over him and glared. but for the pain in his toe, where the feline bit him, he was sure that this was a hallucination.

"I AM THE OCELOT OF THE OF THE INFERNAL BOWELS. WHY HAVE YOU DISTURBED MY REST?" demanded the beast angrily.

Sensing the great danger that he was in , Vladimir expressed his obvious ignorance.

“ MY BRETEHERN AND I LIVE IN THE MYSTIC REALM THAT IS ENCIRCLED WITHIN THE BOWLS OF EVERY BEING. WE ARE NOT TO BE GAZED AT AND PEERED. WHEN WE LEAVE OUR LAIR, IT IS ONLY TO HUNT OUR PRAY, YOUR IGNORANCE IS NO EXCUSE . YOU SOUGHT OUT TO VIEW YOUR OWN MANHOOD FROM A PLACE WHERE NO UNSHEILDED EYE MAY NATURALLY SEE. BY THAT YOU ARE NO INNOCENT, BUT A VORACIOUS THRILL SEEKER! AND A VIOLATOR OF OUR PEACE!”

“forgive me , oh great ocelot!” pleaded Vladimir ” I did not know of your hidden realm and would have never presumed-”

“SILENCE!” roared the ocelot of the infernal bowels. “YOUR WORDS ARE LIES! YOU AND YOUR KIND ARE NEVER SATISFIED WITH THE GREATEST TREASURES THAT LIFE OFFERS YOU! YOU MUST HAVE MORE AND MORE, AND HAVE NO END TO YOUR AVARICE, APATITE AND PERVERSION.“ so condemned the furious animal. It growled angrily and bristled it’s rich fur.

“it is true, oh great feline! I have chased the satisfaction of achievement. But not for my sake. It was for the betterment of mankind. I merely hoped that by reaching the summit of my Phallus, from the back side, i would inspire others to great effort and self-sacrifice, and to move my race forward... i ... attempted this feat to bring a benefit to others.”

“YOU LIE! YOU ARE NOT A LEADER OF MEN, YOU DO NOT CRAVE THE EMPOWERMENT OF YOUR FELLOW WRETCHES, BUT ONLY YOUR FLEETING EXCESSIVE JOYS! AND AS THAT THESE JOYS ARE EXCESSIVE THEY ARE NEVER FULFILLED .”

“then why must i be so motivated, to bring myself to great harm and danger, only for the merest joyful spurt , only to be then left, cast down and sad? It must have a greater meaning! It must have a value that is not the euphoric tincture of the moment!” protested the pained contortionist.

“IT IS NOT MEANING THAT YOU SEEK, NOR INSPIRATION TO OTHERS. THAT IS YOUR IGNORANCE OF THE SELF. ALL YOU DO IS TO GRATIFY YOUR PHYSICALITY WITH GREAT PAINS AND SHORT LIVED REWARDS, ALL THE WHILE YOU BRING YOURSELF TO GREATER AND GREATER PERIL. IT THE PERIL THAT YOU SEEK THE EPHEMERAL PLEASURES AND DELIGHTS THAT YOUR PRESENT YOURSELF WITH ARE ONLY A SIDE EFFECT OF YOUR DEEPER DESIRE…”

“which is?”

“TO DIE. YOU WISH TO FIND YOUR END. ALL LIFE IS A CHASE TOWARDS THE FINAL SUCCESS THAT YOU SO SEEK, WHICH WOULD BE YOUR DEATH!”

“perhaps you are right. Oh, wise ocelot. Then perhaps in this you may assist me? Will you take my life? perhaps you and your kin may find comfort and restitution in devouring my flesh?”

“AH.. THAT WOULD BE TEMPTING, BUT I SEE A GREATER PUNISHMENT FOR YOUR REKLESS INTRUSION. I WILL SPARE YOUR WRETCHED LIFE, AND IN RETURN CURSE YOU TO NEVER DRAW PLEASURE FROM YOUR OWN STIMULATION. YOU WILL LIVE YOUR LIFE THE SLAVE OF OTHERS, WHOSE MINISTRATIONS YOU WILL REQUIRE TO FEEL JOY ONCE MORE. “ so said the feline “AND THEN ONE DAY, YOUR DEATH WILL COME. IT WILL NOT BRING YOU PLEASURE NOR UNDERSTANDING. IT WILL JUST END YOUR EXISTENCE. THAT IS THE MEANINGLESS LIFE YOU ARE GIVEN AND CURSED WITH AND SHALL NEVER RECOVER FROM. I SHALL AWAY. YOU WILL NEVER SEE ME AGAIN. “ growled the ocelot and jumped back into whence it came. The sensation was of intense , unparalleled anguish. He screamed in his pain and fainted.

7.

When Vladimir next awoke, the room was dark. Outside he could hear the traffic, of a police car speeding , it’s pitch changing as it passed.

His eyes grew accustomed to the shadows and he was assisted by the light of neon outside.

He felt pain throughout his body. A merciless throb. It was not the same sensation that he was accustomed to, in his daily efforts . simply put he felt that something was WRONG.

With great effort, he rose and walked to his bed. The pain followed him with every step . he took a pain killer and tried to massage his aching , protesting body.

The next day, he felt that some of the pain subsided. He had not eaten anything the whole day before , and felt hunger and thirst. He made his way cautiously to the kitchen and broke his fast on hot cereal and an egg. Sitting there upon the chair he felt the pain grow as he struggled to retain an erect posture. Slouching upon the table offered no relief, as that he felt the arch of his back pulled down by his inner weight. He suffered through the meal and returned to his bed, with more pain killers.

Days passed and the pain, grew dull, but not receded altogether. A visit to the doctor revealed that he had accumulated damage to his disks and vertebrae, anti-inflammatory medicines were prescribed and their relief was noticeable. But his back , he now realized was forever injured. He would not be able to perform his contortions to the masses of his devotees and more grievous to him , he was forever deprived of the ability to gratify himself. It was a humbling further proof to him that the ocelot was truthful and precise in his analysis.

8.

I met Vladimir again, a few weeks later. Being in his confidence, he revealed to me all that transpired, his pivotal meeting with the ocelot, and the subsequent difficulties that he was facing.

After I overcame my skepticism , and having come round to believing the amazing, yes tragic event, I felt great pity and concern for my friend. Sympathy is such, that when you know deeply the anguish of another person, you soon feel it too. I was deeply moved by his story and tried to offer him comfort. The pain with which he was struggling with shall vanish, I encouraged him. And the loss of his abilities were not the setbacks that he perceived. I explained that even without the ocelot, sooner or later, age would have caught up to him, and he would have eventually had to relinquish his lustrous career as a performance artist. As for his excursions ,I conveyed my sorrow for his loss, and yet expressed my continued envy that at least he had a chance to experience things that few indeed could ever have. Of course all this was cold comfort for the forlorn athlete.

I wish I could say that the words I said had any effect on my friend. As I left I had a feeling of dread, that my friend will do something drastic. I even feared that he would fulfill the ocelot’s prophecy and take his own life. But such is not the case, I am glad to say. The next time I met Vladimir he was warmly embraced in the arms of Jocasta. Apparently his frequent excursions to the lower realms were a burden on their relationship. As he came to her, in his reduced state, she forgave this , and they soon patched up things. My friend did not move away from contortionism, and managed to find a role for himself as a mentor for other athletes in different fields of sports. He counciled his students to take a long view to what they desire, and to find separate avenues of expression. It was perhaps his greatest achievement, to cultivate this spirit of achievement in others, which presented itself, ironically only when his own talents were stripped away from him

people are motivated by many things. some find a drive to do things of great or terrible outcome, as they pass through life. but there are few indeed, who manage to combine extraudinary talents with a driving need for acheivment and expression. those few who can produce things that others are never able to fully appreciate and understand. because how could one fully understand what was going through Shakespeare's mind? or Beethoven? the output of these giants shall be a benefit for humanity forever, but it shall be unfathomable - forever out of reach to both wholly comprehand and equal.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni is without a doubt one of the greatest examples of this unfathomable output. he was motivated by many things, and acheivment of beauty in its deepest form was without a diubt among them.

i have witnessed his art, both sculpture and painting and feel that of all these, i feel the strongest towards the frescos he created in the Sistine chapel. standing in the great vault, looking up you see such wonders as god's hand upon the clay Adam, and the early steps humanity took, until Noah and the flood. but then you walk further , and right in the forefront, you see another masterpiece, the last judgment.

of all the images i see of the diffetent charachters of man, peophet, demon and deity it is one that i may be able to understand...

....My friend , G, had a hard time in school. he was older than me, but we were in the band together, and became friends. high school is a violent place. blood gets shed and bruises decorate unseen parts, as people learn restraint. well, that is to say that some learn and some never do.

G was very much in love with R. i can not fault him on that, R was very beautuful. i had a crush on her as well those dark days, as many did. but unlike my timidity, G worked up the courage and had the skill of eloquence, and they went out a few times. for me it was something equal to climbing the Everest without oxygen bottles. it's been done by others, but not at all a possibility to the likes of me.

G climbed the everest then, and his secret pride of the event and the radiant joy he was obviously feeling gave me a moment to think that, perhaps i too am seeing things wrong, and despite my heinous appearance, and geek-ooze, i might find a willing accomplice for my evil schemes.

i tried to entice him to talk of the events, those nightly Himalayan peaks, over lunch sandwiches. he apologizedzed and refused to divulge the techniques of ascent nor the vistas of the upper reaches, those lands that i was so drooling over. he refused, and with that made the success greater in my mind. perhaps if he provided a survay of the topography at that time, i would have thought it trashy. the mistery is an amazing thing to a young explorer.

...Michelengello was enticed to paint to ceiling of the Sistine chapel, by an appeal to his curiosity, i think. it is true that the artist was already well known as a sculptor, but he did not have much of reputation as a painter. perhaps it was a set-up; a trap that was put in motion by the artist's rivals and nemeses, to entice him to take on a project that he was not capable of accomplishment. indeed Michelangelo was not ready for the work and it took him more than four back-breaking years. he had supposedly acquired cart blanche to paint whatever he wanted, but this freedom and the advance in gold was set against a very demanding patron. one that burned people alive and could discredit him and bring his career to an end. despite the possibility of failure known to the artist, he set up a hung stage, held in suspension from the ceiiling itself, and to that height Michelangello climbed daily, working and working, with his back and neck tortuously bent, with his face spattered with the paints. a daily struggle of height and pain did not discourage him, nor did the prodding of the officials, who could not seem to understand why things could take so long. after all, was it not, that the creation of the world was done in six days? or so they must have protested. four years later, Michaelangello revealed his ceiling frescos to an awestruck crowd of bishops and cardinals, who could not say anything, but perhaps pray for their sins.

.....Enter T.

T was in the basketball team. T was a winner, T got things done. T was defined by accomplishments and accolades. he had a smile, that was fake and charming at the same time. i distrusted him and not without good reason. stereotypical thinking is a useful tool in life, especially in youth, and especially when you are often shunned, ridiculed or abused. i had run-ins with athelets of his sort before. never good or happy ones. it is not that the entire world of sports is against me. it isn't. i know that for a fact. but i feel hate and despise to those wretches, who are physically built with function in mind. those masculine arms hold balls today, they may hold my neck tomorrow. indeed, if you look at sports historically, they are but crude approxinations of some form of combat. but only a gastropod such as I would think of it this way.

and it is true that body and mind are united in exellence, when the one is of good health so must be the other. T was not a clever student, but he knew the minds of male and female of the species very well. he knew the enticements and endearments that are those requisits of serious mountain climbing.

oh, to be human and versitile. i won't hide my envy any longer. i would have given many of my tentacles, to be like T for even just one day(but only if i would be equipped with his set of skills).

T walked the halls, ascending the mountaintops, crest after crest, seeming to never falter, to shun every deathly cravass, nor ever to require rest. his rumored conquests, which were numerous, seemed to not show hatred nor resentment, nor jelousy as he moved on, to others. it was all good sport for the gallant T and all those grateful.. emm..mountains.

----

G went out several more times with R. his ambition and confidence were spilling over to a spurr of creativity. he was enriched by experience.

as were jamming in the band, he left us lesser mortals of the horn section in the dust. it seems that love, whatever it is, make a man want to run in wild riffs, fearing not trecherous chord progressions.

his zeal also manifested itself with sketches of great detail, drawn upon composition paper, the blue guide lines disappearing under graphite-gray itterations of horses and dragons. the swirls and lightnings penciled adeptly. this apprently was a latent talent that only the oxygen-thin atmosphete of great hights can awaken.

as much as G was enjoying the hights of youthful romance i was suffering the wretched depth of ridicule and torment. being a mountain of coordinatdely moving fat , i was subjected to all kibds of treatments by the males. but somehow the females found great mirth in viewing my absurdly fashioned gelatine and the total inability to anticipate behavior. it took me a long time to learn the undercurrents and protect myself, let alone make use of and rise above them as others did. ndeed understanding the human species is something. i still struggle with. I all too slowly grew to have the suspecicion of the good intentions of females of the species, particularly the well endowed of the generation. i was an easy mark for my awkwardness, always totally flustered as well as horney. it was easy for those that wanted an easy laugh to make ready use of these failings. that women can be just as cruel as men was acreakization that required time and mental peocessing. the fact that i was such an extreme weirdo attracted even more abuse and i was invited to all kinds of activities and celebrations, that never existed, only to see how my abysmall face lights up, and then contorted in anguish and humiliation. luckily over time, i learned my lesson and tried to at least mitigate to pain if not the peril.

...Michelangelo must have felt a touch of devinity. he was in many ways a heretic to catholic doctrine, but his work on the sistine chapel and other religious projects ,such as the pieta, and david , and more so, the SUCCESS in accompmishing these ambitious works, must have given him great confidence. perhaps even a feeling that all was possible for him. he branched and divested his intetests in many other forms of art, such as architecture, and poetics. he displayed apparent talent with music as well. and though he focused mainly in sculpting and frescos in the following years, he never hesitated to experiment and expand. the fact that he was refered to as THE DEVINE Michelangelo must have reinforced this surity. he was offered projects in fields that he had no experience in, and jumped into the fray . well, if the price was right. michelenagelo is one of the first artists that became a wealthy man from his many and varied commisions.

...G and R started sitting for lunch together. doing so away from the swine of the commeners. i saw my friend less and less, until he even cut band practice to be with her. no time for saxophones when you have better things to do with your lips. you'd expect that G would be turned by this into some kind of cool kid/geek hybrid , or be forced to totally abandon his lowlife chums. but it was not so. if i met G in the hall, we'd talk about stuff and more often then not, he would be the one to come over. he did not change his colors. he just became happier and seemingly more busy. he even studied!!!

one day G brings R over to chat with me. she knew me, of course. the looser that was sitting with her in algebra. i nervously tried to make words and articulate things to say. and probably failed. we had a decent conversation, but then they invited me for a date. R did, actually.

'come see a film with us, Balshazzar' she said cheerfully. i could only see admiral Ackbar in my mind , stating that this is a trap; that was my instincts kicking in. i just got another session with the teasing squad before meeting G and R. oh, the fun the girks had, enjoying a laugh at my sluggish incomprehention. i figured that this conversation was gettong strange and that there was something wrong. it seemed to me that R would love to have me on a date with G. it would be perfect for her -perfect to either show him what a detestable loser i am, unworthy of human company OR , more disturbing, to set things up for trashing G because he brought such a creature on what was supposed to be a romantic date. this possibility would of course be more cruel to my friend. the old 'break up by third wheel'.

it's not like there were no films at the time to watch. this was the early 90s! and i was not unfamiliar with what was going on in the field of cinematography . but i felt her offer as a trap. and merely said 'oh, i'll see if i can get a date' which is another way to say 'when pigs could fly' .

back then people had no cellphones. we had these things that were hooked up with chords to a wall and you dialed a number with buttons. and through magic, another person answered. hopefully the one you hoped for. many people had a tiny book with numbers and names to use. and this is how people communicated. my phone book had almost no female names. obviously.

R sensed the evasion and smiled . saying with her almond eyes 'fair enough. wretched creature, i have misjudged your knowledge of the subtle powers. but beware my wrath' or so i perceived it. they walked on being happy, and i feeling relief.

G did not ask me about this later. but perhaps it happened that we didnt meet again for the rest of the day.

...When Mchelangelo finished the ceiling of the Sistine chapel in 1512, he gained even more acclaim. it was heralded as a miracle of art of the time and there were those that called the artist as 'THE DEVINE' . Michelangelo did not malinger, and quickly gained new commissions in Florence, where he competed in fame with other artists of the time, such as Leonardo Da Vinchi. but italy of the time was far from a stable place. the city-states were increasingly being unruly and tomultuous. in germanly the reformation was beginning, and it did not spare the latin regions. in Florence, Savonarola threw the Medici family from power (for a time). then the french invaded. then the spanish invaded, Henry the VIII of england began his quirky marital trajectory and broke away from the Catholic church...

The lowpoint must have been in 1527; Rome was sacked by the French king Charles and his soldiers. the mess they left behind barely spared the Sistine chapel. a new pope that was in his eighties needed to make a show of renewal. they called the old master back. commissioning him in 1533 to repaint the massive altar with a 'Final judgment' . 'Final judgments' were rare occurances in the eschatological world. creating them is an immense challenge of both art and philosophy; they need to convay so much in terms of the rising of the dead, and the judging and the angeles and the two options that god assigns to the universal body of the zombies. by conparison, painting 'The last supper' was amature time. to make the the choice of painting fresco in the front of the giant hall and not the rear , where all the visitors shall look upon the artwork all through the lengthy masses and ceremonies was also an unusuall additon to the challenge. instead of having the piece convey a final reminder to the visitors, as they leave the chapel, the artwork now needs to clearly and continously penetrate the observer as he gazes towards the altarl. another hidden caveat to the undertaking was this piece was carried out vertically as opposed to the horizontal upside down of the 'ceiling job' . it might be easier on the artist' back to paint in such a way, but there would be much more oversight and circumspection by the patron's clerics.

before Michelangelo began work, he began a fued. a long time ally and collaborator, Sebastiano del Piombo, suggested eagerly that michelangelo, his elder, and mentor abandon using frescos (painting over damp plaster) and atempt to do his work with oil-painting. which was Piombo's medium of choice. Michelangelo rejected, but the eager, younger Piombo went behind the old master's back and suggested the oil painting scheme to the pope, who accepted the suggestion, and had the wall painted with the appropriate cover of plaster. michelangelo, which had incurred many enemies amobg his collegues saw this probably as nothing less than betryal, as that it implied that Piombo could replace him if the need arises. in his rage, michelangelo packed his stuff and left...or at least posed an ultimatum. it took another year for the wall to be reapplied with the correct coat of plaster to allow for fresco, and michelabgelo declared hostily that oil painting is for ladies amatures and hacks. he began work on the wall only in 1536. and his troubles just began..

... this story, if you noticed, has been loaded with Checkov's gun; a detail that is introduced in the earlier stages of the story, MUST reappear later with dramatic effect.

T

T must have seen R around like everyone else. no one could have missed her. and her tempting attributes. but perhaps what drove him was not merely those physical markers of grand aesthetics, but the fact that she 'belonged' to G. i am not putting it as a possessive assetion. certainly not as i am telling things now, so many thousands of years later. but it was certainly viewed at the time, that those that go out repeatedly are to some extent 'attached', if not obliged to their partners. contrary to this ran, perhaps, the rebellious spirit of taking what is in someone else's joy. after all, stolen water is sweeter.

T made advances and quite successfuly, he charmed R . I know not how this was acheived. I will never know, most likely. too much is lacking in my understanding of humans. adults, adolescents and children. but I am sure there was much of the events that transpired that were obscure to me.

whatever the reason, R was soon dating T, and G was left behind. in the days that followed, my friend walked in visible misery, quiet in a way that I have never seen him.

he seemed occupied in thought more than agonizing over things. he skipped band , he did not often eat in the dining hall, and when he did, would not talk of anything in any enthusiasm. i tried to cheer him up, comfort him in my very akward way. baiting him to argue over stuff, inviting him to do stuff. i renember one of those occasions i spent with him, we sat together in the cafeteria and we wetejust world apart., he would just scribble aimlessly in his notebook, just 'shading' the header section.

...It is easy to overlook today, that the catholic church of Michelangelo's age was the farthest-reaxhing burocracy in the world. and the center of all this power and wealth , and endless ambitoon and bickering was the vatican. shortly after Michelangelo began his work on the altar wall of the sistine chapel, the old pope , clement IV died. the new pope,Paul III , who wasnt much younger, seemed to have no objections to giving michelangelo a free hand. it is very likely that Michelangelo showed him sone general skeches and explained the project vaguely. he did obtain a commitment of providing an unusually large quantity of a mineral called Lapis Lazuli, which was imported at extreme cost from faraway afghanistan. indeed l the c blue pigment, which was the product of the rare mineral was rarely used at all in paintings. Michelangelo secured an unprecedented quantities from the new administration, which alliwed him to paint large surfaces in heavenly sky blue.. but with it a much greater level of interference. soon , the aging artist found a great deal of criticism from the officials. the ceiling was far above the busybodies and opinionated administrators, the alter wall was within reach. they found flaws in much that Michelangelo did and he did struggled restrain his contempt for the hypocricy and cobtempt he felt towards his patrons. he also did much to provoke such criticism. he decided to paint Jesus who sits in judgment over all the souls, WITHOUT A BEARD!!. to increase the thological ire, of the fanatical clerics, he borrowed images from Greco-roman art, such as Charon and Minos who attend for those consigned to hell. but the greatest point of contention was the seemingly endless array of nudes. the dead arisen from their burial, the angels the demons and condembed are mostly wearing nothing . to emphasize this fashion of the last days, Micelangelo painted dozens and dozens of penises . it is not Michelangelo's invention to depict human nudity, and he did not used it in the last judgment for th first time. even his 'david' is not incumbeted by modesty. the ceiling work, including the creation of man is also adorned with male genitalia.

but the alter piece was too far. Michelangelo was hired to paint a poignant message of judgment and power , to be viewed by the very holy eyes of the pope, the cardinals and the other high officials of the entire church.

and some were repulsed by the immodest aspects of his work.

perhaps most vociferoys of these discontented clerics was Biagio da Cesena, the pope's master of ceremonies who was in charge of all work done in the sistine chapel with an eye to maintaining decorum and relatabiloty to scripture. Da Cesana, saw penis after penis as am affront. he complained frequently to the pope , and found fault after fault in the artwork. in his frustration and rage, Michelangelo paints himself, or rather the flayed skin that is carried over by St. Bartholomew. of course this is another obvious allusion . the ancient god Apollo was challanged to a musical dual by Marsyas, who was said in his time to be devinly inspired. apollo wins, and as punishment flays Michelangelo. the old master challenfes the popus clerics; the entire sistine chapel is no normal place of worship for the plebians. it is the seat of acuminical court. the elite of catholicism. the art work is given for the appreciacion of people of high intellect and learning. those that see the allusion to another pagan story, may see the skin of the artist. those that are too ignorant, see Bartholomew.

Cesena does not relent and is now claiming that the entire work must be remade, as that the images of nudity, genitalia and paganism must belong in a tavern or a whorehouse .

in his rage, Michelangelo seeths. he refuses to retouch anything except for one detail; on the lower right hand corner is the pit of hell; Charon the ferryman has brought a load of sinners to be received by Minos the overlord of the pagan hell. the demon is seen inspecting the new arrivals making cold , functionary decisions , ascribing punishments. he stands nude, and decorated with the ears of a jackass. a large serpent is coiled around his body, and it's mouth, artfully swallowing the demons genitals, concealing it to the eyes of the impressionable clerics. a closer look reveals an uncanny facial resemblance to a certain officious beurocrat...

..after a few more weeks, G seemed to've recovered from the break-up and mostly got back to the way he used to be. at least he seemed so to me; he had gone through the tumult of emotions that was mostly foreign to me and no one fully understands the feelings and thoughts that go through an other persons mind. but despite this tragedy, G seemed recovered and reconciled . the only big change that i could notice, was, that he seemed to've discovered a new medium for his talents ; he now occupied his creative interests into making comics. he made superhero stuff, rovots and monsyers and charicatures of particularly hated teachers. this latter expression was obviously held in great secrecy and shown to only those who enjoyed his confidence. i must say that it gave me pride to see those hidden acts of rebellion, as the external features of our 'educators' was made to resemble much of their personality.

But then...well..i don't know for sure what happened..again! but something happned.

it was something G saw or heared that upset him very badly indeed. one day we were lauching at the witchly math teacher, churning logarithms in the culdron, the next G was back to his coldness , and hostility. clearly old wounds were never fully healed and were now very much hurting again.

I can imagine him seeing T and R walking by and he receiving some kind of heartless, look by either or both T and R. or maybe someone else made fun of the fact that R left him.

someone should look into a way to making energy from insensitivity. it can power entire countries and it is invariably renewable.

i tried to help. sitting with him at lunch. i tried to see what i can do. asking him questions. but maybe it came off at being nosy (which i like to think was not the case, but probably wssn't entirely true). whatever happened, G refused to tell me. i tried to calm him down. changing the subject. the amazing Chick Corea was going to have a concert in town and that was something to get excited about. i tried to steer the conversation about that.

it didn't work though. he remained quiet. after a while he just left me abruptly , as if he had somewhere to run to.

recess ended soon after and i had to wade again in the academics of school subjects, which i found tedious then and always. but it kept me busy enough from thinking and perhaps realizing that something was going to happen.

Next morning we all found out.

apprently G found a way to stay in school when everyone was leaving. i guess he hid himself somewhere and waited, till the the last of the staff left, and the janitor locked up. the night watch , which comprised of a single man ostensibly patrolled outside but mostly stayed by the gate. so the great revolution that was going on behind the walls went unnoticed. G so he had the run of the entire school, as long as he kept moderately quiet, for the whole night. using the pay phone, he called his parents telling them that he's staying over with another friend. and he roamed the empty, mostly dark halls...

now what could he have done?

he could have trashed the place, overturning file cabinets in the principle's office..maybe burning everything. i know thst that was the fantasiy that most would have carried off. if only they were half as brave.

so..he could have broken into the admin and made an 'ocean of paperwork, files and books' (his words)...but he was much more focused than that.

that is the key: intense focus. take that and mix it with a varied mix of talents...

the main wall facing the entrance was well lit, as it alligned well with strong arclights from the road outside. G needed to switch on no lights and with the benefit of that outside source of highway lighting, he made his masterpiece, his Sistine chapel .

what everyone saw the next day was a fresco of 9 seperate squares. it was his 'judgment day' articulated in a massive comics .

the main charachter, which repeated throughout the piece was a massive penis, blessed with legs, arms and a face . this penis discussed about his acheivments with the opposite sex. learned men would observe the occasional white drops, squirting from his cap, obviously a sign of his excitment. of course the name of this gallant phallos was T. 'T gets his girls' the captions says and the male member explains how this is accomplished. to make sure, a small letter T was inscirbed on the charachter, to make sure which letter of the alphabet the penis corresponded to. the subtle artistry did not stop there. Apart for the bragging schlong, several ladies who are obviously eager to make his aquiantance were depicted. their ultimate fate of being sprayed upon with phallic-T's produce. the females were not drawn with an identifiable features. but perhaps the dark-brown long hair of one of these nyphs would tempt reccolection of a certain lady, whose name comes after the letter Q, in the alphabetical order.

The fact that T was depicted as this crude male member, would perhaps have not been too offensive to the respective party, if it was not concluded, with the childish exclamations of 'oh T! you're such a dick' and 'stop dickin' around, T!' there were other such poetic jems. but i forget.

...It took Michelangelo many years to paint the 'last judgment' and the 'creation of adam'. working under the caprice, pettiness and hostility of a the warlike pope Julius II. it took him nearly five to work on the last judgment under the contentious Paul III. despite much objection by da Cesena and his collegues the classical pagan imagery remained, the nudity remained, the many genitalia remained. apprently the pope vetoed these calls for censoring or even erasing the work. in doing so he might have done more to restrain Michelangelo then the more biligerant opponentsnts. perhaps the pope secretly appreciated the artistic work, and could not bring himself to allow it to be changed. it could be also that he, was aware that Michelangello's vengence could manifest itself on other frescos throught italy...

Years later, after both Michelangello and pope were in their graves, a new old pope decided that The last judgment must be purged of profane images. he hired one of Michelangelo's former apprentices to work on tastful alterations. the unwilling desciple, took the money but worked exceedingly slow, draping cloth over the exposed members, or covering them with relatable objects. however, the artist, Daniele Da Volterra , who was obviously not enthusiastical at all in this task, of undoing his former master's work, was assisted by the fact that the Sistine chapel was not shuttered again for renovations as it was during the two periods of Michelangelos work. the chapel received visitors and worshippers, held mass and accuminical conventiones, for which it was designed for.

we can imagine Da Volterra happily failing to schedule time for his artwork, and dragging his feet when such time was alloted. a year later, the pope that commissioned Da Volterra's corrections died and a new old pope was chosen. the accuminical college of cardinals set out to elect a new pontif, met in the Sistine chapel, as they have traditionally done ever since. the new pope that was chosen, Pius V, soon put an end to the efforts to reform Michelangelo's work. perhaps as he was engaged in the process of election, he had occasion to observe the work, and came to fear the judgment of history. in 1990, restoration work was concluded on the entire sistine chapel. four hundred years' worth of soot and dust were carefully removed and along with it much of the paint that Da Volterra used.

...it took G just one night to paint his masterpiece and surprising enough, he did not take credit for the work! he tried to distance himself, from the scene. he appeared with fresh clothes and his old bookbag the next morning and was seemingly admiring the work, which the hall monitors were not really sure what to do about. some people took photos with disposable cameras.l, which were common then. the flashes striking the paint, a thing you should not be done with high art.

T did not need much to find G guilty of this act of art. he stormed him in front of everyone and started pommeling with fists. he kicked and screamed in outrage, all under his own portrait. it took time to separate T from G, who did not even raise his hands in defense , even when T was stomping on his fingers.

such was G's passivity, that i actually saw him smile as he wss being beaten. i don't know if this was part of the satisfaction of knowing how humiliated T was, or perhaps it was his monent to play-act Obi-Wan , as he non-engaged Darth Vader on the death star, or some other peaceful martyr. i think that other people did not see the smile. maybe it's all in my mind. but T was shown to be the crude, brutal, easily goaded douchbag that he was, and that it seems was G's plan.

in the end, adults arrived and separated the youths. G was taken to the nurse, and later to the hospital. he had broken fingers and ribs, where T's knee landed on him.

Then the great judgment commenced.

Both G and T were summoned to the principle. by that time, T was sent and alreadu serving the sentence of exile for two days. bereft of the human company he was so dependant on meeting and showing off to.

i heard of the proceedings from G later on. they were not confronted 'gainst each other, but questioned sepetately. i guess, admin was desperate to avoid the police charging anyone.

G did not admit to staying overnight in school, not even to me. he denied being the artist responsible for the mural, but as he talked of it it was clear he doth protest too much. he recalled to me questions posed to him by the inquisitor. and how he answered them deflected andctebuffed. he was feeling much better about things, perhaps feeling satisfaction at the inability of the school to actualy prove that it was he who decorated the wall.

the extent of the hate hr felt towards T was obvious and understandable to me. the principle questioned him again and again on how he stayed overnight and how he vandalized the school walls. which G denied. as we talked, he recalled when he and the principle came at last to the subject of motivation. G coyly told me what he DIDN't tell the principle; 'if i had a motive, it means that something wrong happened before, doesn't it?' i could tell at that moment that he wished he had a way to say that to R.

G was punished for his protest. it is true that the fact that his hands were soiled with gouach paint on the day of the event was circumstancial evidence, nor was his lie to his parents evidence enough, but in the arbitrary machinations of school jurisprudence, the fact that T found him the reason must have been enough. his parents made no protest to this, and both of T and G were suspended for another week , as i recall. it would have been longer, but the midterms were coming up, and missing them would be a serious threat to world peace.

as for G's artwork; i want to say that the mural, depicted so poignantly by G was preserved and cherished as an effort of great expressive energy. the graphic quality and the versatilility in both realism and exxageration were truly the work of an aged master. but the intentionally hurtful message perhaps marred the experience to some individuals . the entire mural was first covered with a few tableclothes, taken from the dining hall. you could see the unwashable stains of hundreds of meals on the cloth. the paining was subsequantely painted over that very day. i recall passing by, during recess and seeing the janitor with paint and a roller slowly painting over the piece. i believe the symbolic statment of openly erasing the art was important for the principle. he could have surly asked the janitor to attempt to expunge the paint from the wall, perhaps with the benefit of a strong corrosive . the work would have taken less time to accomplish. but with the demonstrative effect of painting over the creation, over and over, until the picture and emotional importance are buried under the layers of paint, they hoped to symbolize the erasure of the uncomfortable truths of life in school.

or maybe i don't know much of house-painting.

G and T did not interact in any way that i know of after that. i could guess that the sword of eternal expulsion was hovering over both of them , at least for the span of time that would pass until other distractions dominated their attention. G walked around with a cast over his hand for a few weeks, and did not play in the band much again, even after the cast was removed. we hung out after that but his intetests seemed to've shifted to such an extent, that we had less and less to talk about...

as for R, the proceedings did not leave her uneffected. as i said, i don't know what was her reasons to leave G for T. 'it is a fool that looks for reason in the heart of a woman' an old proverb i've come across, i would make it diffetent 'it is an absolute madman that looks for rationál in the heart of a teenager' . there were things that G said or did that were not to her liking. i am sure of that. but it could be that she was also driven by other things. in the end she left G . later she also left T . it was not immidietly after the 'last judgment' but not much after that either. the fakeness of T, and his unsheathed violence must have had something to do with it.

or perhaps the implied possessive aspect to both G and T's behavior was the turnoff. there are those who are attracted to a 'daddy' figure while others who are free birds that shall never be kept and contained in a relationship , no matter how protective, or loving.

of course R did not return to the paint-stained hands of G. that kind of happy ending is seldom realized in life. i doubt that G even expected such an outcome when he set out to produce his artwork. and if he did, he never showed a sign of his disappointment.

within a a few more weeks he brought his courage to the fore and asked out another girl, and another after that...

such is life.

...I've reard that recently, a hidden Michelangelo was discovered in Florence. it was covered under layers of plaster that were applied. once removed, the careful sketched were revealed; nudes and some genitals, that must have displeased a patron...

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Marius itchikawa (itchy) - a man overly fond of carry-on purses. he reads voraciously the obituaries, looking for opportunities.

Mehmet Tuscanini - a heir to a large fortune, he squanders money on frivolous activities like collecting autographs of gardeners and bribing bus drivers. some say he went to far at the community theater production of Indiana Jones.

Jarvis H. Jarvis - the greatest ukulele player that ever lived. made a name for himself in Finland. lost to the world during the spring thaw.

Hamlet S. Balcony - an avid popcorn collector. considered as an authority on the subject and often is asked to serve as an expert witness . secretly dreams about drawbridges but will keep his perversion hidden. if a scandal ever occurs, his career will never recover.

Sonny Listones- living paycheck to paycheck. deeply regretting his purchase of an air frier.

someday he'll learn the truth about ice golfing.

Constance D'evelroux the third- the fifth lady to be called Constance D'evelroux. likes to read lab supply catalogues . she was successful at casting her two predecessors into oblivion and shall one day become the first of her name. finds herself looking for mister right in all the wrong gas stations.

Mellisa perez - a regional administrator for a water dripper suppliers. desperately hopes to have her butterfly collection gain the respect it deserves. as the hours tick away, she impales moths and butterflies and dragonflies. a hurricanes seem to follow her, whereever she goes.

D'vasrsh Tzazziflaff - cheif navigator of a Varkian spice freighter. his phisical augmentation peohibit him from ever leaving his ship, yet in his dreams, he hopes for better things. in his free time he writes four-dimentional hikus.

count Elsrarfed, the Chterfarnian ambassador- quite capable of using his knife and fork and does not need a diaper anymore. his will as an honored guest must be obeyed, even if he needs more protein.

the carnivorous fern - a cognizant fern who sings and eats whatever it could catch. his fear of a dinosaur resurgence is ungrounded.