“Remember The Wadded Up Paper Shopping Bag?”

(May 21, 2018)


see(ing) faces in

folded towels akimbo

a recurring* theme.


  • (I did not throw out a crumpled paper shopping bag – I buy them in bulk for popcorn-n-butter and to cover garden container plants in need of winter anti-freeze protection – but this one was just an ordinary crumpled bag under the draped picture window, alone and unmourned.  Then, on dark and stormy night as I finished a promised 50 pages before lights out, I noticed a tableau of War Between The States contestants, one with a long bayonet-graced musket poised to deliver the final stroke and the other on his side with a hand upraised…I always wondered did my paper tiger finish or grant mercy?  Then months later I looked at a stack of just-folded towels – ok, yester-folded – and noticed a big-nosed face and forehead looming down onto a stack of unread books on the other side of said picture window…so I see things.  Ask John Whigham about the time we counted American Bison (buffalo) heads with horns and humps, bears and wolves and – best of all! – alligator heads with distended jaws and (here we must imagine the teeth) since through the framing dense fog and streetlamp illumination the tall Florida pine treetops provided such a panorama of still lives parading past our after-bathing-at-baxters – check the musical reference to find out more – a-goggled eyes lo those many years past.  People who do not see “things” amaze me.)

5 thoughts on ““Remember The Wadded Up Paper Shopping Bag?”

    • One day may I be promoted to “people!” Right now “best” is attainable in theory. I have “hearing” problems and solutions, however. Once I got mom truly and safely dead she quit warning me of The Bus roaring down on me half-a-world away as I started to step off the curb. And so many other times. And then there are the unidentified “voices” both inside my ears-housing device and actually audible (at least to me!) with whom I sometimes converse…Oh, d*#$! Left the checkbook on the counter…No? They what was it you forgot: you always forget something! Quit Pickin’ on me: that kind of a thing. I used to tell people, “No. I do not talk to myself – someone else is there. But occasionally I do talk to me – but it quickly devolves into an argument, which promptly I lose most every time!” I would rather my clouds, my universes all have “seeable things” and for charm a few aural enchantments as lagniappe. I shall use you as reference, Shehanne, when the all-white-clad people come ’round toting a largish butterfly net.

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      • Not so sure about the sensible part: but it is true that I never have successfully lied to me – especially when confronting a mirror. “Peel another layer, J, you’re still not down to true yet,” the guy who sounds way too much like me keeps on and onandonandon. But he does entertain. Much cheaper than Lucy Brown’s(?) 5-cents therapy sessions a la The Late Charles Schultz’ Peanuts cartoon strip.

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