Discourse as power as art

He looked at the object in amazement

On the one hand, it perfectly encapsulated everything about the organization and its aims. It even captured the emotional resonance that permeated its everyday praxis. It was a remarkable achievement

On the other hand, it was also utterly incomprehensible. All attempts to describe what it resembled resulted in a series of floundering nouns, none of which bore any similarity to each other. A rider on a horse, a spaceship, a parliament in session, a flock of birds, children at play – somehow, all of these incommensurate things at once

In short, it was perfect

Cravings

She awoke with a very specific task in mind. Not stopping to think or reconsider, she sprung into action and made quick progress. One thing led to another, and soon enough she found herself with a slightly messier than it ought to yet serviceable end result. Having thus exerted herself, she thought back on what had transpired. Waking in the middle of the night to randomly make cupcakes was not, in the strictest sense of the word, normal

In the back of her mind, she suspected the root cause might be the excessively comfortable mittens she’d gotten for Christmas. If this was what finally taught her to bake, tho, she’d take it

Setting the agenda

New Year’s Eve. The last day of a decade. The activities of this day will serve as a template for the decade to come. An argumentative day would make for an argumentative decade, and so on. For big things, the course of action was clear: leave nothing unfinished and be surrounded by friends. For the smaller things, however

This outfit or that? This song or that? This drink or that? Would the levity of the one match the brevity of the other? So many choices, so many implications, so many everythings

At length, she figured that there were arguments for everything, but none against anything in particular. Having thus cut through this last bout of indecision, she was ready to face the new decade, come what may

A sacred geometry

He was home. It had been a long day, and there were still some ways to go with it, but for now, for right this instant, he was home. And home meant taking a nice couch nap

He had barely situated himself on the couch before a meowing figure hopped onto him and formed a geometrically perfect rectangular sphinx. It defied ever notion of spatial possibility and – worse – it actively prevented him from taking a picture of this small miracle

“You would be the one to do this” he said affectionately

“Meow” the rectangle replied with pleased crypticality

Singing the body electric

It began with a single, simple thing. It had a single blinking diode, slowly doing its thing, one pulse at a time. No one thought much about it at the time, but it was the beginning of an unstoppable and inexorable trend. This first item was soon followed by a second, which in addition to its blinking lights also had a built in sound emitter. Then came another one, and another, and another. Before anyone knew it, the kids had an entire arsenal of brightly blinking blaringly beeping toys, and the indomitable will to use it to further their strategic aims

The smallest mood

She sat down. Nothing needed doing right this instant, nowhere needed going, no one needed talking. For once in her life, a small moment of nothing occupied her being. Not even anticipation, for anything. This was, and it was everything. Everything, thus made concrete, was also nothing, and as she sat she pondered the peculiarity of it all. It wasn’t even profound, it just – was

The moment only lasted for the average span of time a moment usually occupies. Then, something, as always, came up. But often, afterwards, she pondered that fleeting speck of time. It had been the smallest of moods

A spinner darkly

Consciousness arrived slowly. Something was ever so gently touching her neck, intermittently. There it was, there it went, there it was again. It went on like this for quite some time

In her half-awake state of mind, she briefly pondered there were things she ought to think in this situation. Not remembering what those were, she arose with glacial slowness to figure out what this strange sensation might be

Turning on the light, she quickly found out. It was a cat, breathing heavily and contently. Drowsily, she remembered that she did not have a cat. Then she resigned back to sleep, ever so hazily conceding that she did now, somehow

It all leaves

Walking forward, podcast in her ears, she was distracted, thinking about the events of the day. Things were going as planned, and not as planned, and sideways, and all in all there was a lot to think about. Stay, go, stay, go. A lot to do. But not right now; right now she was out, walking, thinking, on autopilot, one foot in front of the other

And then, suddenly, she stopped, looking ahead

In front of her was a long corridor of trees, all of them bright with color. As far as she could tell, they had all picked that exact moment to start letting go of their leaves, a veritable rain of colors falling as far as she could see

It was, she decided, something to behold

Key moments

And so it happened. He was stuck. Could not proceed. Unable to move on. Obstructed by an insurmountable obstacle. In a pickle. Stuck

The situation was thus: he was on his way to the store, and as usual he locked the door upon exiting his domicile. After having turned the key, however, he found himself having forgotten which pocket he usually put it in. Left pocket, right pocket. It had to be one of them. He’d done this hundreds of times, thousand, always placing it in the same pocket. Today, however, for some reason, he simply could not remember

He stood there a long time, paralyzed, perplexed

Fighting words

The fight was on. He needed a win. In fact, he had needed a win for a long time. But his opponent – relentless, indefatigable, sneakier than two foxes on velvet sheets – gave him no quarter. This time, however, he was sure he had it. A grand plan that would set things aright, one moment of triumph amongst so many moments of defeat

Unsteadily, he wobbled towards his nemesis. Not five steps into this heroic wobbitywabbity did he turn around, surrender himself to gravity and fell back onto the bed

The nominal nemesis, sensing another opportunity was at hand, taptaptapped onto the addled heap of a man, whose fever delirium expressed itself in mumbles about fighting and winning. Nemesis, not one for fighting, curled into a ball and purred at the extra body heat