Ink Cocoon

You’re a word whisperer. I think that makes you dangerous.

You have an otherworldly gift. You can whisper the text from your pages and drink them into my soul. A strange transference of meaning. And you’re unafraid to become a blank clutch of paper as a result. I don’t know how or why you do this. Frankly, it scares me.

I think you know, don’t you, that I can’t help but lean into your presence. Your whisper is like a tocsin in the deep stillness. Too loud. It’s tearing space apart. I feel the gaps between molecules widening. Again, how do you do this? Sorcery’s too absurd an idea to entertain, surely, but how else can I possibly explain this?

I touch your spine. Are you trembling just now? Oh. It’s my fingers. My hands. Okay. It makes sense that you wouldn’t be the fearful one.

Something’s changing. The text is vanishing before my eyes, and with it all sense. And when my eyes skew across you to the pages that follow, it feels as though some inevitable prophecy is being fulfilled. If words can be so effortlessly erased then I don’t know what to do or who to be.

Your gaze is a dare. Stop looking at me! You know very well that your passivity is a challenge I cannot rise to. So… I give myself over. We deep kiss until time runs backwards. My caressing lips. The roughness of your page. Your words continue to fade off the paper into me.

I open my mouth in silent agony, but my voice won’t obey. I hiss. I croak. I dry heave and suffocate. And just at that moment when I realise I’m dying, your words begin to spill from my mouth like ink. They splat everywhere in great, vile, Rorschach patterns.

“What do you see, Herman?”

The doctor’s voice is soft and calm. She keeps the Rorschach test steady in her hands. She’s looking at me with unfeigned patience. I’m grateful, of course, but then I’m distracted by my reflection on a glossy table surface. My face has a deathly pallor. Those crazed eyes. A mouth smeared with black ink.

I wipe this off and smile at her.

“It’s a death’s-head hawkmoth, doc.”

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THE CRUMBCAST // The Last Hurrah!

I’ve always been a bit of a nervous Nellie. I don’t quite know why. You’d think with all the hard knocks I’ve gotten through life that I would’ve toughened up to some extent. But no. I’ve developed some nervous habits instead. You know… like a sane person.

That’s what Peter and I discuss in this episode of the Crumbcast.

Speaking of which, this is the last Crumbcast we ever recorded together. It was done and dusted many moons ago, and he’s since moved on to greener pastures. I’m still bereft that he and his partner have gone, but they gave me a little skull satchel to remember them by… and so I do. I love that little satchel. It’s very black and skully and awesome. Muggers will have to pry it out of my cold, dead hands!

Anyhoo, I digress. Next episode of the Crumbcast will be back to just me again. Ugh. You unlucky things.

PS: To listen to the podcast in question then please click on that picture down there. To view the comic strip that our discussion centres around, then please click here. Yes, it’s real magic in the digital world, I tells ya! No pesky sciencey stuff here!

© All rights reserved 2019

Cognitive dissonance

I understood in my childhood what ‘cognitive dissonance’ meant… Ha! Of course, I didn’t know yet the term ‘cognitive dissonance’, but I knew its effect perfectly and was using it masterly. For example…

I hated sitting on nannies’ knees at my kindergarten. Unfortunately, they just adored to paw at me and fondle me with their fat hands. So, I was forced to play on the defensive. And the fact that the attack is the best defense, I knew too…

‘What do you want to be when you grow up, baby?’

‘A forensic expert. Like my father…’ I was saying always and clapping with my big blue eyes…

I was climbing down from their knees by myself. And I knew that I would be free until the end of the day. I would not be caught and be tortured by stupid questions and milk porridge. After this I was hiding under the table.

I was taking ‘Gray’s Anatomy’ and was scanning pictures. Yes… The truth is a very effective tool… This was one of the first rules I learned.

© All rights reserved 2014