Rascality
That rapid rabbit Rupert runs and rollicks right apace,
though he requires but rarely rest—despite his rosy face
and rampant racing ’round, his rayed and ruffled wriggling nose,
his rife ripostes, his reeling roll—well, really, you’d suppose
he’d relish full retirement, retreat into some room,
reposing long, but wrong! He longs to ramp up and re-zoom.
I could try to avoid smiling when I’m thinking about this topic, but I’m not sure it’s possible.
And is there any good reason to, anyway?
I can be a silly goose in so many ways; I can duck the inevitable for great lengths of time, and I’m certainly bird-brained enough to think myself above the flighty affectations and affections of lesser beings. But one good thing I learned pretty much when I was still quite a little hatchling is that letting my spirits take wing with every avian in sight is a fine and healthy practice. When I let my thoughts go to the birds, my well-being begins to soar. Who am I to argue with the brilliance of our feathered friends?
Verily, I Say
When various volumes on vellum were writ,
Vertiginous verses were vastly unfit
For virginal minds and ventricular ease,
So veer off from viewing such verbiage, please!
Just try to keep in mind what all that flowery talk can lead to, my friend.
…since I seem to be in the mode of self-improvement. Or, more likely, just talking to myself as usual…
Though we all saw our third grade teacher as a pretty lady and wonderfully good-natured, she was also quietly self-effacing and exceedingly proper, so when she was summarily carted off as an unregistered and presumably dangerous foreigner, everyone in the school, nay, in the entire town, was mightily surprised. Of course, when the government interrogation of her was deep in progress and her skin suddenly began to luminesce and the shoulders of her nice dress ripped at the seams as her wings unfurled from underneath, it turned out that nobody could be more surprised than the feds.
I, like the mighty John Fall-staff, may fall, the butt of others’ laugh,
If I heed not the warning signs, and slip in traps, believe the lines
Yarned by slick liars, kind and not, that tie me in knots I’ve dumbly wrought
Myself; if I would puff and preen, I’ll skid and splat upon the green
In front of wiser fools in stocks, caught up in the snares of my own locks.
Like old Sir John, I’ll meet my doom
If I think me the smartest in the room.
For most of my life I’ve had outstanding vision. I had a little interlude in grade school and junior high school when I wore fairly weak glasses to correct my slight farsightedness, but it was indeed correctable, and after about three years I was once again glasses-free, and this state of uncorrected bliss lasted until I was a whole half-century old. During my external-lens-less heyday I could see all sorts of things with great crispness and clarity and in glorious detail. Unfortunately for you, this did not extend to my seeing the truth more clearly than others could or to my understanding anything more clearly than anyone else did.
Having sharp eyes doesn’t, it turns out, equal having a sharp intellect. Dang.
It’s as if the universe didn’t care whether I’m a blithering idiot, no matter how excellent my eyesight. Come to think of it, a convenient combination in a person wishing to be an artist and writer and having no particular need or wish to do so in a reality-based universe. So here I am, all of those years post-first-spectacles, once again enhanced in my ability to see things by artificial means, and yet no smarter or better able to clarify the meaning of existence or even an itty bitty little part of it than I was with no glasses near my peepers. Go figure.
My appreciation and admiration for genuine intelligence may have increased over the years, to be sure, but the need for such things seems, if anything, to decline steadily and in perhaps directly proportionate amounts. What this says about me I will leave to your imaginations. At the same time, I needn’t leave everything to your imaginations, because as my goofy insight into things utterly fictional remains entirely intact no matter what happens to my eyebulbs, I can assure you that I will continue to produce all sorts of whimsical, bizarre and deeply educational items for your perusal here at my blog. It’s what I do.
How Beauty Contributes to Survival of the Species
A longhorn with a handsome set of horns as curly as they get
Was slightly cowed by what he saw when shown the Long Arm of the Law;
He’d had some hope he was exempt from need to keep his long horns kempt
And polished to a shiny sheen like pearl, his hooves polished to keen,
Dark, perfect handsomeness, the ring hooked in his nose, and everything
In fashion, grand in every way; turns out, he’d missed his class the day
The rules were set out in his youth, and so he lacked this simple truth.
So he was startled when the fuzz pulled him aside and said because
He’d failed to keep in such fine style, he’d have to go to jail awhile.
You, also, may not know these rules, if you too missed time in your school’s
Important seminars, so here I share them with you; do not fear
That cops will catch you; do not dread, but spiff your hooves and horns instead,
And you’ll be free to roam and graze in any pasture, all your days.
Why do I share this? Cattle, kine, or beeves all ought to look as fine
As stud bulls, just in case they meet random policemen on the street,
For at the least—or, maybe, most—they won’t then end up as a roast.
My friends, I’m happy to announce that after many years of working toward it and blurting out to people all over the place that I was going to do so, I’ve finally published my first book. It’s on Amazon and can probably be purchased worldwide already, since my youngest sister, the one who lives in Norway, bought a copy earlier today. My first sale, for which I am of course immensely grateful. If you are interested in laying hands on a print copy of this collection of my art and poetry (aimed mostly at childlike grownups, but most of it will amuse clever children too, and hopefully even the occasional clever adult), please head over to amazon.com to purchase, and I’d be delighted if you’ll review it as well so that it will live higher in the Amazon promotional rotation than otherwise.
In any case, I feel a little like a proud parent, even knowing that my offspring will go forth and do ridiculous things once out of my sight, as all good children do.
I thank my regular readers and blog visitors and friends most deeply and sincerely for your gracious and constant encouragement, which along with that of my family gave me the courage and patience to make this first attempt. I should probably warn you that there are a number of follow-up books in the Sparks pipeline (some serious and many decidedly not) that will, if all goes well, make appearances at regular intervals after this. I will of course explore publishing my full-color work soon, but thought a taste of my longtime favorite style of working in black and white, mostly drawings, would be an appropriate way to make my debut. The cover is in color, if that helps.
Art-Colored Glasses 