Tadpole Aspirations

"We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year." ~Pink Floyd, Wish You Were Here

Photographed some tadpoles today. No good ones though; needed a polarizing lens & a macro. Noticed the wrigglers in the pond a few days ago, but didn't tell a soul. I wonder who else has seen them. I wonder who else even cares to know. Quite certain they're frogs and not toads, but somehow sometimes who's to say what they'll become in time? What will we all?

Conversation steering at dinner, we arrive quite pointedly at the possibility that sometime in the future there may come about a device that is able to determine and visualise all occurring moments in history, from the dawn of time to the press of the button. I propose the possible evolutionary path that such a device might take over millions of generations; from mobile phones to self-replicating mind-machines. Ultimately it is surmised that the consciousness of every being may be merely be an agent of these futuristic history machines, magnetic heads zipping away, recording through the ages, and that we are just now at this current particular part of the tape. Perhaps she thought me mad by the end.

Thoughts on whale evolution turn to thoughts on mosquito evolution turn to thoughts on frog evolution turn to thoughts on myself. Soon comes a time when we all must grow legs and leap our fish-ponds.


Murky lies the heavens hovering just above the surface

Character Sketchings

Contemplations arise, the future of the big scribble, of writing. Conventional, classical clashes with the mortal coil.

Some characters though, some characters, come to life! Mary Shelly's monsters of the mind. Let them grow I suppose.

From what single celled neurone flashings did these derivative derivations divide? Millions cubed played out their three dimensions. Paved paths followed, and followed once more recurring, a little to the left, a little to the right, branchings towards a perfection they imagine themselves to be.

And here they are to haunt me.


What ghosts are these?

Familiar Strangers & Strange Familiars

Staring from the twenty-first floor I see them. The horizon highway resembles some kind of twisted ant trail. Workers & soldiers, drones & new queens, off on their way to build the colony. Precise roles are unbeknown -- for the most part -- in the building of these social monoliths.

Off from duty in one of the taller chambers of the anthill, I sat still for a second. The friendly strangers scuttled by.

Who were they? Where were they going? What part do they play in this cosmic mound?

Inspiration from Amelia, a strange friend of mine, set me on an imitation stealth photography mission, I'd always wanted to try. The strangers in some way become the stars. The people I'd never meet somehow still have influence.

More daunting than you might imagine, I managed to snap a few, without too many sideways glances. One seemed strangely familiar. Of all the ants in the mishmash nest..

I wish I could say it was Amelia, if only for the elevated irony. It was my friend Dan, and we went and bought a Boost Juice smoothie! Sweet!


Familiar spirit