Jan 13th – The answer rested quietly inside the belly of the broomstick

January 13th – The answer rested quietly inside the belly of the broomstick

23.09-23.19

‘Another pint?’

‘Go on then.’

‘So, what were you saying?’

‘When?’

‘Just then. Before you went to the bar. About that thing.’

‘That thing?’

‘Yeah. You know. That thing.’

‘Ah. The thing. The answer?’

‘Yeah. The answer.’

‘OK. So I was saying that, apparently, the answer rested quietly inside the belly of the broomstick.’

‘Do broomsticks have bellies?’

‘What do you think?’

‘No. Because – well, because they’re broomsticks.’

‘And?’

‘And – well, they’re sticks, aren’t they? And sticks are – you know – sticky.’

‘Sticky?’

‘Stick like. They’re like sticks. Because they’re sticks. Essentially.’

‘Essentially?’

‘Yeah. Essentially.’

‘And so?’

‘Well, it’s bollocks, isn’t it? The answer being inside the belly of the broomstick. Because – well, if I was going to look for an answer anywhere, it wouldn’t be inside a broomstick.’

‘Exactly.’

‘So what did you say that for then, anyway?’

‘Quoted.’

‘What?’

‘Quoted. I quoted it. I didn’t say it. Well, I said it, but it wasn’t my words. I quoted someone else’s. I’m hardly likely to be spouting that bollocks myself, am I?’

‘I wouldn’t have thought so.’

‘Well, you’d be right.’

‘So what did you say it for, anyway?’

‘As an example.’

‘An example?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Of what?’

‘Of what can happen.’

‘When?’

‘When these things appear, and you have to talk about them.’

‘Is that what we’re doing?’

‘Yeah.’

‘So you say something bollocks like – and I quote – The answer rested quietly inside the belly of the broomstick – and we talk about it?’

‘Like we are doing.’

‘Like we are doing. I guess we are. Why is it quiet?’

‘Fucked if I know. Pint?’

‘Yeah, go on then.’

 

Inspired by a prompt from here

The storm raged on without any hope of being saved

How to save a storm.

How do you save a storm? Can a storm be saved? Why would you save a storm?

Questions, questions, questions.

If you could save a storm, where would you save it? Would you store it in a cupboard or a drawer? Maybe you would put it in a box, I don’t know. Are storms digital? If they were could you save them on a server?

Or, hang on a minute, maybe there is an answer, of sorts. Storms are not digital, so I guess they must be analogue, as one would imagine they use or relate to something which is represented by continuously variable physical quantity, a thunderstorm with rain and lightning and thunder is produced by cumulonimbus clouds and warm unstable air that is rising and clashing with the colder air above, thus producing electricity (lighting) and sound waves (thunder). Can they be saved in a cloud?

Probably not.

There are of course many other types of storms such as blizzards, cyclones, hurricanes, tornadoes, and typhoons, to name a few. How would you save these storms?

Film. You could record them to many of the different mediums of capturing live images. You know, celluloid, video tape, mobile phones, camcorders, that sort of thing. If that’s the answer then there is hope of saving a raging storm.

Or do they need saving for prosperity? Or maybe they need saving from poachers or would be malignant storm hunters that want to kill them and hang them on a wall or use their ingredients for strange medicines?

Perhaps they need saving from themselves? Or saving from one or some or all the many, many fictitious deities that are out there in myth and religion?

Who knows?

One thing is for sure. I’m fucked if I know.

Prompted by this page

The Storm Raged – Dead Deer

The storm raged on without any hope of being saved

Calm. Maybe this storm has abated. It has been so long, a vicious storm. It seems this has been no more than another slight pause. The storm sighs, takes a breath, and recommences.

As so often the storm returns renewed,
refreshed, with more energy and lays
waste to all hope. Hunkered here,
Bunkered down no way to turn.

I am reeling as the storm howls in my head, Pushing everything in it’s path, Leaving not one element untouched or intact as it whirls, With an elemental force that knows not how

To Stop.
No Hope
I Cannot
Be saved.

 

 

Today I wrote from 08:16 to 08:26. I was prompted by idea “The storm raged on without any hope of being savedhere. My other writings here. All my prompted writing here, and my tweets here