[MD] Uncertainty

Mon Sep 14 08:34:22 PDT 2009

Well it takes one to know one, Marsha.  We can start a club!
Oh wait.  RMP already did.

On Mon, Sep 14, 2009 at 1:24 AM, MarshaV <valkyr at att.net> wrote:

>
>
> No matter what you opinion of anarchistic introverts, your stories are
> still
> great.
>
>
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: moq_discuss-bounces at lists.moqtalk.org
> [mailto:moq_discuss-bounces at lists.moqtalk.org] On Behalf Of John Carl
> Sent: Sunday, September 13, 2009 11:07 PM
> To: moq_discuss at moqtalk.org
> Subject: Re: [MD] Uncertainty
>
> Marsha,
> Coming from an anarchisitic introvert it means all the more to me.  Thanks.
>
> On Sun, Sep 13, 2009 at 12:42 PM, MarshaV <valkyr at att.net> wrote:
>
> > John,
> >
> >
> > Yes, goodie, it's magical, but tell me again why the sky is blue, Daddy?
> >
> >
> > ------------- (13 dashes)
> >
> >
> > I have a spider tattooed on the back of my neck.  It is there to weave
> the
> > thread of communication.  I had always thought it was to sing Her song,
> but
> > surely it must be to hear the woven threads of others, like your
> beautiful
> > little stories.  Thank you.
> >
> >
> > Marsha
> >
> >
> >
> >
> >
> > -----Original Message-----
> > From: moq_discuss-bounces at lists.moqtalk.org
> > [mailto:moq_discuss-bounces at lists.moqtalk.org] On Behalf Of John Carl
> > Sent: Sunday, September 13, 2009 2:56 PM
> > To: moq_discuss at moqtalk.org
> > Subject: Re: [MD] Uncertainty
> >
> > On Thu, Sep 10, 2009 at 11:26 PM, MarshaV <valkyr at att.net> wrote:
> >
> > >
> > >
> > > I like spiders...
> > >
> > >
> > >
> >
> > Ok that reminds me of a story.  A story with a moment hanging by a thread
> > and the thread was a spider's web tendril, woven by a damaged spider.
> >  Damaged but alive.
> >
> > The spider's plight was witnessed by a little girl, with her dad, at the
> > dump.
> >
> > I guess I'm gonna tell you the story because it's been in my head to give
> > to
> > you.  I'd like to plop the book it comes from in front of you and make
> you
> > read it for yourself in the author's own excellent words.  But I can't do
> > that.  All I can do with your eyeballs is try and lure them onward with
> > words.
> >
> > so sit down and shut up.  You wanna hear the story or not?  It's called,
> > The
> > Garbage Man's Daughter.
> >
> > The story as I heard it was told through the viewpoint of a young woman.
> A
> > bit troubled.  Worried somehow, that things went amiss and she's writing
> a
> > letter to her father, going back to where she felt they went wrong.
>  Where
> > they took a wrong turn from understanding each other.
> >
> > She starts by describing her nature as fact-oriented.  Every evening, as
> > she
> > grew, she spent in front of the tv, absorbing the facts of her world from
> > Dan Rather.  She got kinda gloomy after a while.
> >
> > She never believed in Santa Claus.  She called her parents by their first
> > names and announced, "Bill, Wanda, I don't want you to write "From Santa
> > Claus" on my presents anymore.  Santa doesn't exist.
> >
> > She also didn't want any such things as pretend dolls, or toys that were
> > imitations of things.  She wanted microscopes, a gyroscope.  She'd sit in
> > front of the tv, play with her gyroscope, contemplating  the way a planet
> > spins, and absorb the facts as presented by Dan Rather.
> >
> > She pondered the idiocy of the whole Santa Claus - Tooth Fairy mythos.
> Why
> > would adults make up fairy tale characters to take the credit for the
> good
> > things they do?  Why not rather invent mythical creatures to cover up
> > embarrassing moments instead?  "oops, it looks like I've been struck by
> > that
> > nasty fart fairy again, the wicked little beast."
> >
> > But in her extreme empirical devotion to fact, she goes a bit too far.
> She
> > hears her folks talking about the garbage man and assumes him to be
> another
> > one of those inventions to cover up the fact that adults have to take out
> > the garbage in life.
> >
> > Only this one seems kinda cool to her.  A character with a little pizzaz.
> >  She pictures him, big belly, cigar, curly hairs poking through the top
> of
> > his long-john tops.  She's actually pleased that the "oldsters" have a
> > spark
> > of creativity in them after all, after all that other blatantly
> > manipulative,  "Be a good girl or Santa won't bring you any presents"
> crap
> > or the equally offensive "Nice girls go to heaven".
> >
> > Jesus, Santa Claus, the tooth fairy, the easter bunny?   Boring.  But the
> > Garbage Man, he strikes her fancy.
> >
> > And then, one early morning, when she happens to be up for some reason...
> >
> > She hears out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
> >
> > She springs to the window to see what is the matter
> >
> > And what to her wondering eyes did appear,
> >
> > A man in coveralls with a garbage can coming out from the rear.
> >
> >
> > All of a sudden, the thought that the Garbage Man is actually real shakes
> > her empirically built universe of cold hard fact to its core.  She finds
> > faith.  She constructs a world where the Garbage Man lives - at the Dump!
> >  In a teetering shack where his many children scramble through the crap
> > looking for the good stuff.
> >
> > It makes her mad that his children have to live in squalor.  It doesn't
> > seem
> > fair.  Are all the other fairy tale creatures slaves as well?  Maybe some
> > fiendish intelligence is MAKING Santa live in the cold North Pole and
> maybe
> > the tooth fairy doesn't like changing good money for germy teeth.  It
> sure
> > makes sense that Jesus didn't want to be crucified.  Who would?  What
> kinda
> > mean intelligence is running this show?
> >
> > She begins to make little offerings of good clean food and nice clothes
> in
> > the garbage.  She worries that it seems like the Garbage Man just mixes
> up
> > her stuff with all the other messy garbage in the back of the truck, but
> > figures it must be one of those magic things like Santa being able to
> visit
> > all the homes in the world in one night.  A soul  finds  faith and makes
> > offerings, the old pattern arises.
> >
> > Until, after a while, her parents noticing the disappearance of food and
> > clothing from the house, start to cross examine her and through their
> > questions, she begins to realize the mistake she has made.  The final
> blow
> > comes when her dad takes her to the dump and she sees the fact of the
> > enormity of the place and the enormity of her mistake.  A deep depression
> > starts to step in, but her attention is distracted by the weavings of a
> > damaged spider, and the magic that is life enters her mind and helps to
> > heal
> > her.  One little spider.
> >
> > The mind makes its own magic, whole worlds out of the slenderest of
> > threads.
> >  That's a good thing.
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