The Beginning, Number 13 – Limerick

Monday 25 May 2009

A roller door painted all pretty
With a picnicking group by a city,
Lit by a single light,
Was opened one night.
What’s inside? No idea. Such a pity.

2 to go …

The Beginning, Number 12 – Tautological

Wednesday 20 May 2009

As well as it being early in the morning, the clock flashed “AM”. Still dark; there was also no light. Quiet too, no noise. Wait or pause a moment – nearly or hardly no or any tremor or sound. Yonder there is a cat of the feline persuasion screeching, possibly even shrieking; another, the same again, howls its cry back in return. Now there is no noise … or could it be said that presently it is silent?

Here, in front of you, is a roller door – a lockable shutter. A fluoro strip, or a gas-discharge lamp, overhead beams glares down from above. “PTERON: Tomorrow’s Company Today!” in big bold and large solid letters, or graphics, says displays the door/portal. To make its point, and to nail down its meaning, a happy joyful family kindred collection picnic, and dine outdoors, by a scenic/visually aesthetic pond/pool of water. Beyond and behind the pond, or waterhole, is a metropolis city… Actually “metropolis” and “city” is already a tautology but I’ll throw in “megacity” and “conurbation” just to be on the safe (secure) side (edge).

Now, immediately, there is both a noise and a calling – a soft noise, be it a gentle din – a louder noise, now a increasing clamour – a noise louder still, the raucous volume increasing. Roaring up to the door, a truck, a large semi, (probably could take this as already being a tautology, couldn’t you?) rumbles towards the portal, emanating an alarm-like beep as it goes. The door, this passageway, is rolled open allowing entrance – say bye bye! and see you later! to the delightfully happy genealogical dynasty as they rattle, also clatter, also hurtle, their way onto the scroll (or wheel) above/beyond our heads.

3 to go …

The Beginning, Number 11 – Litotes

Wednesday 20 May 2009

The clock, in the European tradition, displays the time as “oh-something”. It’s not light, no afternoon delight here. And you call this noisy? I don’t think so. Hang a sec – what was it? It couldn’t have been a dog. There that sound again. Yep, definitely not dogs. Those meows are confirmational proof their makers are not canine. It’s gone now. Back to the shattering din … not!

Here is a portal – no window, no chimney, no inter-dimensional black hole – just an opening. A covered opening, I grant you, but still an opening. The covering is definitely not a cloth, more likely some sort of metal. Not very straight is it, this covering, more rolly-like. Anyway, on this awning, let’s call it, there’s a … well, what’s it not? A photograph? No. An etching? Wrong again. A painting? You got it. This work of art, this design sketched by no Picasso (as we can see what it is) but also no Da Vinci (it’s not that good) shows a non-cheerless family nibbling on sandwiches and jam tarts; certainly not five star dining. They sit in a very un-standing type of way by a not very large lake which is itself by a not very small town. Oh, I forgot to mention that there’s also some shapes, they’re certainly not numbers. You don’t have to be Shakespeare to see that they’re arranged to spell “PTERON: Tomorrow’s Company Today!”, but it wouldn’t hurt.

Remember how I said it was quiet? Well it’s not like that now and increasingly becoming more so. Too many wheels for a car, way too much grunt to be a bicycle, the travelling truck, a vehicle no man could brave, approaches, making a noise so squeaky, so paltry, it did not fit its demonic demeanor. There goes the door (It wasn’t locked. How do I know? ‘Cos it opens, stupid! No flies on me, mate!) and with it the family. Sad to see them go, but let’s not say goodbye, but instead au revoir!

4 to go …

The Beginning, Number 10 – Metaphorically Speaking

Monday 11 May 2009

Like a talk-back radio station, it was AM. It was dark, the inside of a student household’s oven dark, and as still as a glass of water at a cheap diner. Like a mime falling in a forest, there is no noise – wait – nearly no noise, more like a mime walking against a oncoming train. There’s a cat screeching the sound of air escaping from a balloon; another, fingernails on a chalkboard, screeches back. Now there is no noise, like… umm… a mime trapped in a glass box trapped in a block of cement at the bottom of a well. That’s how quiet it was.

Here, this portal to another dimension, this gate to the Unknown, is a roller door. The dying days of a bluish sun, a fluoro strip beams down, like something that is above you that is beaming down… that’s pretty much it really. “PTERON: Tomorrow’s Company Today!” in big bold letters, a cross between a Sesame Street episode and an explosion in a Helvetica factory, says the door, like Cassandra forever to be ignored, forever to be always saying “See, I told you so, I told you so but you never listen”. As blatant as a boil on the nose of a beauty pageant contestant, to make its point a family picnic happily, reminiscent of those cigarette advertisements from the 1950’s, by a scenic pond as blue as the water in my toilet, which is blue, by the way, and not yellowish or otherwise, just so you get the picture and not start thinking that the water is – say – brown, which would paint a completely different type of picture. No, the water is blue, a good Harpic blue. The kitchen may not be clean but you could eat off my toilet. I wouldn’t recommend it but you could it you were pushed. Anyway… Beyond the pond, like a dreamscaped nightmare, is a metropolis city, a towering masterpiece of industrial decadence.

Now, just as my breath leaves my body, there is a noise – a soft noise, as quiet as a tip-toeing mouse wearing mouse-sized slippers – a louder noise, such as the murmur of a bee hive in the far distant corner of a summer field – a noise louder still, as volumescent as a rave with the music yanked up to 11. No, wait, it’s louder than that. It’s more like the chorus of Every Rose Has Its Thorn sung flat by street revellers under your bedroom window at 2am, a noise so loud that it steals you from your drunken slumber and leaves you wide awake, head throbbing, for the next three hours. If this noise was an image it would be a slug on a mantelpiece – that’s how shockingly loud this noise was. A truck, a large semi, Satan’s messenger, Optimus Prime on steroids, roars up to the door, beeping the cry of angels with kazoos. The door is rolled open like a magician and his endless kerchiefs in reverse – bye bye! to the happy family, that grinning genealogical gang, that amusing ancestral arrangement, as they rattle their way onto the scroll above… like the last strip of 8mm film of holiday memories long past, click click clacking as it spins on its peg.

5 to go …

The Beginning, Number 9 – Adverbs

Sunday 10 May 2009

AM clock-wise. Ominously, no light. Ergo still dark, unsurprisingly. Eerily no noise – wait a second – nearly no noise, apparently. Yonder, raggedly, there’s a cat screeching disturbingly; momentarily another screeches harshly back, responsively. Now, presently, there is, to cut a long story short, no noise. 

Here, solidly, is a roller door. Conveniently a fluoro strip beams dramatically down. “PTERON: Tomorrow’s Company Today!” in big bold letters, says the door educationally. To emphatically make its point pictorially, comfortably a happy family picnic joyfully by a scenic pond, merrily. Beyond the pond, dominantly, is a metropolis city, overwhelmingly.

Now, suddenly, there is a noise, distantly – a soft noise, perturbly – a louder noise, unnervingly – a noise louder still, fearfully. Backwardly, a truck, a large semi, roars aggressively up to the door, beeping as it goes boisterously. The door is ostentatiously rolled open – cheerfully bye bye! to the happy family as they clankingly rattle their way onto the scroll above. Disappearingly. Finitely. Forever.

6 to go …