And art thou gone, beloved Ghost?
Best of Familiars!
Nay, then, farewell, my duckling roast,
Farewell, farewell, my tea and toast,
My meershaum and cigars!

The hues of life are dull and gray,
The sweets of life insipid,
When thou, my charmer, art away -
Old Brick, or rather, let me say,
Old Parallelepiped!

---------------

What's a coronach supposed to sound like, musically?

James

There was a table set out under a tree in front of the house, and the March Hare and the Hatter were having tea at it: a Dormouse was sitting between them, fast asleep, and the other two were using it as a cushion, resting their elbows on it, and talking over its head. `Very uncomfortable for the Dormouse,' thought Alice; `only, as it's asleep, I suppose it doesn't mind.'

The table was a large one, but the three were all crowded together at one corner of it: `No room! No room!' they cried out when they saw Alice coming. `There's plenty of room!' said Alice indignantly, and she sat down in a large arm-chair at one end of the table.

`Have some wine,' the March Hare said in an encouraging tone.

Alice looked all round the table, but there was nothing on it but tea. `I don't see any wine,' she remarked.

`There isn't any,' said the March Hare.

`Then it wasn't very civil of you to offer it,' said Alice angrily.

`It wasn't very civil of you to sit down without being invited,' said the March Hare.

`I didn't know it was your table,' said Alice; `it's laid for a great many more than three.'

`Your hair wants cutting,' said the Hatter. He had been looking at Alice for some time with great curiosity, and this was his first speech.

`You should learn not to make personal remarks,' Alice said with some severity; `it's very rude.'

The Hatter opened his eyes very wide on hearing this; but all he said was, `Why is a raven like a writing-desk?'

`Come, we shall have some fun now!' thought Alice. `I'm glad they've begun asking riddles.--I believe I can guess that,' she added aloud.

`Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?' said the March Hare.

`Exactly so,' said Alice.

`Then you should say what you mean,' the March Hare went on.

`I do,' Alice hastily replied; `at least--at least I mean what I say--that's the same thing, you know.'

`Not the same thing a bit!' said the Hatter. `You might just as well say that "I see what I eat" is the same thing as "I eat what I see"!'

`You might just as well say,' added the March Hare, `that "I like what I get" is the same thing as "I get what I like"!'

`You might just as well say,' added the Dormouse, who seemed to be talking in his sleep, `that "I breathe when I sleep" is the same thing as "I sleep when I breathe"!'

`It is the same thing with you,' said the Hatter, and here the conversation dropped, and the party sat silent for a minute, while Alice thought over all she could remember about ravens and writing-desks, which wasn't much.

The Hatter was the first to break the silence. `What day of the month is it?' he said, turning to Alice: he had taken his watch out of his pocket, and was looking at it uneasily, shaking it every now and then, and holding it to his ear.

Alice considered a little, and then said `The fourth.'

`Two days wrong!' sighed the Hatter. `I told you butter wouldn't suit the works!' he added looking angrily at the March Hare.

`It was the best butter,' the March Hare meekly replied.

`Yes, but some crumbs must have got in as well,' the Hatter grumbled: `you shouldn't have put it in with the bread-knife.'

The March Hare took the watch and looked at it gloomily: then he dipped it into his cup of tea, and looked at it again: but he could think of nothing better to say than his first remark, `It was the best butter, you know.'

Alice had been looking over his shoulder with some curiosity. `What a funny watch!' she remarked. `It tells the day of the month, and doesn't tell what o'clock it is!'

`Why should it?' muttered the Hatter. `Does your watch tell you what year it is?'

`Of course not,' Alice replied very readily: `but that's because it stays the same year for such a long time together.'

`Which is just the case with mine,' said the Hatter.

Alice felt dreadfully puzzled. The Hatter's remark seemed to have no sort of meaning in it, and yet it was certainly English. `I don't quite understand you,' she said, as politely as she could.

`The Dormouse is asleep again,' said the Hatter, and he poured a little hot tea upon its nose.

The Dormouse shook its head impatiently, and said, without opening its eyes, `Of course, of course; just what I was going to remark myself.'

`Have you guessed the riddle yet?' the Hatter said, turning to Alice again.

`No, I give it up,' Alice replied: `what's the answer?'

`I haven't the slightest idea,' said the Hatter.

`Nor I,' said the March Hare.

Alice sighed wearily. `I think you might do something better with the time,' she said, `than waste it in asking riddles that have no answers.'

`If you knew Time as well as I do,' said the Hatter, `you wouldn't talk about wasting it. It's him.'

`I don't know what you mean,' said Alice.

`Of course you don't!' the Hatter said, tossing his head contemptuously. `I dare say you never even spoke to Time!'

`Perhaps not,' Alice cautiously replied: `but I know I have to beat time when I learn music.'

`Ah! that accounts for it,' said the Hatter. `He won't stand beating. Now, if you only kept on good terms with him, he'd do almost anything you liked with the clock. For instance, suppose it were nine o'clock in the morning, just time to begin lessons: you'd only have to whisper a hint to Time, and round goes the clock in a twinkling! Half-past one, time for dinner!'

(`I only wish it was,' the March Hare said to itself in a whisper.)

`That would be grand, certainly,' said Alice thoughtfully: `but then--I shouldn't be hungry for it, you know.'

`Not at first, perhaps,' said the Hatter: `but you could keep it to half-past one as long as you liked.'

`Is that the way you manage?' Alice asked.

The Hatter shook his head mournfully. `Not I!' he replied. `We quarrelled last March--just before he went mad, you know--' (pointing with his tea spoon at the March Hare,) `--it was at the great concert given by the Queen of Hearts, and I had to sing

"Twinkle, twinkle, little bat!
How I wonder what you're at!"

You know the song, perhaps?'
`I've heard something like it,' said Alice.

`It goes on, you know,' the Hatter continued, `in this way:--

"Up above the world you fly,
Like a tea-tray in the sky.
Twinkle, twinkle--"'

Here the Dormouse shook itself, and began singing in its sleep `Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, twinkle--' and went on so long that they had to pinch it to make it stop.
`Well, I'd hardly finished the first verse,' said the Hatter, `when the Queen jumped up and bawled out, "He's murdering the time! Off with his head!"'

`How dreadfully savage!' exclaimed Alice.

`And ever since that,' the Hatter went on in a mournful tone, `he won't do a thing I ask! It's always six o'clock now.'

A bright idea came into Alice's head. `Is that the reason so many tea-things are put out here?' she asked.

`Yes, that's it,' said the Hatter with a sigh: `it's always tea-time, and we've no time to wash the things between whiles.'

`Then you keep moving round, I suppose?' said Alice.

`Exactly so,' said the Hatter: `as the things get used up.'

`But what happens when you come to the beginning again?' Alice ventured to ask.

`Suppose we change the subject,' the March Hare interrupted, yawning. `I'm getting tired of this. I vote the young lady tells us a story.'

`I'm afraid I don't know one,' said Alice, rather alarmed at the proposal.

`Then the Dormouse shall!' they both cried. `Wake up, Dormouse!' And they pinched it on both sides at once.

The Dormouse slowly opened his eyes. `I wasn't asleep,' he said in a hoarse, feeble voice: `I heard every word you fellows were saying.'

`Tell us a story!' said the March Hare.

`Yes, please do!' pleaded Alice.

`And be quick about it,' added the Hatter, `or you'll be asleep again before it's done.'

`Once upon a time there were three little sisters,' the Dormouse began in a great hurry; `and their names were Elsie, Lacie, and Tillie; and they lived at the bottom of a well--'

`What did they live on?' said Alice, who always took a great interest in questions of eating and drinking.

`They lived on treacle,' said the Dormouse, after thinking a minute or two.

`They couldn't have done that, you know,' Alice gently remarked; `they'd have been ill.'

`So they were,' said the Dormouse; `very ill.'

Alice tried to fancy to herself what such an extraordinary ways of living would be like, but it puzzled her too much, so she went on: `But why did they live at the bottom of a well?'

`Take some more tea,' the March Hare said to Alice, very earnestly.

`I've had nothing yet,' Alice replied in an offended tone, `so I can't take more.'

`You mean you can't take less,' said the Hatter: `it's very easy to take more than nothing.'

`Nobody asked your opinion,' said Alice.

`Who's making personal remarks now?' the Hatter asked triumphantly.

Alice did not quite know what to say to this: so she helped herself to some tea and bread-and-butter, and then turned to the Dormouse, and repeated her question. `Why did they live at the bottom of a well?'

The Dormouse again took a minute or two to think about it, and then said, `It was a treacle-well.'

`There's no such thing!' Alice was beginning very angrily, but the Hatter and the March Hare went `Sh! sh!' and the Dormouse sulkily remarked, `If you can't be civil, you'd better finish the story for yourself.'

`No, please go on!' Alice said very humbly; `I won't interrupt again. I dare say there may be one.'

`One, indeed!' said the Dormouse indignantly. However, he consented to go on. `And so these three little sisters--they were learning to draw, you know--'

`What did they draw?' said Alice, quite forgetting her promise.

`Treacle,' said the Dormouse, without considering at all this time.

`I want a clean cup,' interrupted the Hatter: `let's all move one place on.'

He moved on as he spoke, and the Dormouse followed him: the March Hare moved into the Dormouse's place, and Alice rather unwillingly took the place of the March Hare. The Hatter was the only one who got any advantage from the change: and Alice was a good deal worse off than before, as the March Hare had just upset the milk-jug into his plate.

Alice did not wish to offend the Dormouse again, so she began very cautiously: `But I don't understand. Where did they draw the treacle from?'

`You can draw water out of a water-well,' said the Hatter; `so I should think you could draw treacle out of a treacle-well--eh, stupid?'

`But they were in the well,' Alice said to the Dormouse, not choosing to notice this last remark.

`Of course they were', said the Dormouse; `--well in.'

This answer so confused poor Alice, that she let the Dormouse go on for some time without interrupting it.

`They were learning to draw,' the Dormouse went on, yawning and rubbing its eyes, for it was getting very sleepy; `and they drew all manner of things--everything that begins with an M--'

`Why with an M?' said Alice.

`Why not?' said the March Hare.

Alice was silent.

The Dormouse had closed its eyes by this time, and was going off into a doze; but, on being pinched by the Hatter, it woke up again with a little shriek, and went on: `--that begins with an M, such as mouse-traps, and the moon, and memory, and muchness-- you know you say things are "much of a muchness"--did you ever see such a thing as a drawing of a muchness?'

`Really, now you ask me,' said Alice, very much confused, `I don't think--'

`Then you shouldn't talk,' said the Hatter.

This piece of rudeness was more than Alice could bear: she got up in great disgust, and walked off; the Dormouse fell asleep instantly, and neither of the others took the least notice of her going, though she looked back once or twice, half hoping that they would call after her: the last time she saw them, they were trying to put the Dormouse into the teapot.

`At any rate I'll never go there again!' said Alice as she picked her way through the wood. `It's the stupidest tea-party I ever was at in all my life!'

Mmmm boy.

They keep talking about something called "CDs" -- I don't have a damn clue what they might be ranting about! Oh, Lord, does anyone?

I'm only a caveman
You modern technology frightens me.
your silver discs produce some sort pain in my head.

NP -- personal Georges Delerue compilation.

I remember that SNL skit. I loved the main theme for it. Oh what were those lyrics?

Oh yeah. The lyrics were:

"Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer!"

Just genius.

(DISCLAIMER: I hope I don't offend anyone with this post. It's all just for fun, there is no real character study in it at all.)

There was a table set out under a tree in front of the house, and sitting at it were a Brecher, a Lux, a Spore, a Moore, a Collins, a Scottsman, an Esseftee, a Howard, a Mark, a #2, a Vulcan, an Austrian, a Mom, an H-Rock Turtle, One-legged man, a man who seemed to be kissing everyone in sight, and one man with multiple heads, one of which was a vampire and another who only talked in verse.

At the head of the table sat a Hatter with a big, bold name tag the read "Administrator." He mostly sat in his chair while the others talked about film music.

Alice took a chair next to the Moore, but as she sat down the man who had been kissing everyone jumped upon the table, ran to Alice's place, and kissed her (quite rudely) on the forehead. Before she could object he was back in his seat.

"Outrageous!" yelled the Scottsman.

The kissing man seemed hurt and replied "I was only kissing 'er; after all, I am the Kissinger!"

"Have some wine," the Lux said encouragingly.

"I don't see any," said Alice.

"There isn't any."

"Then it wasn't very civil of you to offer."

"Well," the Administrator interrupted, "it wasn't very civil of you to come to our message board uninvited, not talking about movie music."

"I didn't know it was your message board," said Alice, "The topics seem laid out for a great many people."

"Indeed they are," said the Administrator.

"Aren't we many enough?" asked the One-Legged Man.

"Never many enough!" the Collins proclaimed.

"Your hair wants cutting," the Vulcan said to Alice.

"You should learn not to make personal remarks," Alice said with some severity; "it's very rude."

The Vulcan opened his eyes widely, but only said, "How is a movie score like a cabinet?"

"It is very rude," the Administrator chimed in.

"Well, scruck you and the horse you rode in on!" the Vulcan yelled. "I should get to say such things, should I not?"

"CLEAN POSTS!" cried the Administrator. All the members moved down a thread, all but the Vulcan, whose seat was lost as he found he no longer had a place at the board.

The was silence at the board for a while. The Brecher broke it. "Could you read me how many tracks are on this album?" He handed a jewel case to Alice. She studied it for a moment and added "Fourteen."

"Two tracks wrong!" sobbed the Brecher. "I told you butter wouldn't suit this Discman!"

"I don't understand," the Austrian meekly replied, "it was the best butter."

"Have you guessed the riddle yet?" the Moore asked Alice.

"No, but I think it might help if I knew what a movie was."

"You mean you don't know?" the H-Rock Turtle looked stunned and began to cry. "Why, if my old teacher Mr. Myuitimio Sakamutomo heard, he'd be furious!"

"I don't think movies have been invented yet," said Alice, "so I'm afraid I don't know them."

"You don't know much then, do you?" the Spore asked contemptuously.

"CLEAN POSTS!" the Administrator cried again. Everyone moved on except for the Spore, who lost his seat for a while.

"I want a story!" yelled the Kissinger.

"I'm afraid I don't know any," said Alice.

"Then recite something, my dear," said the Mom. It was the nicest, most tender voice Alice had heard here.

"I want to recite!" interrupted the #2.

"Absolutely not!" cried the vampiric head of the Many-Headed Man, "You always recite too long."

"Indeed," the Mark and the Howard replied together.

"Unless," said the Many-Headed Man's second head, "he were to recite...."

The verse-speaking head continued:

"I am an English lecturer,
The most famous of my time,
Because I stick to the same old words,
And never change a line."

"That would suit him very well," added a fourth head.

"Sh! Quiet, all of you!" said the Mom.

"Many-Headed Man, that was uncalled f--"

"You hush up, too, Peter!" the Mom interrupted. The Administrator fell surprisingly silent. The Mom continued, "Go ahead, young lady. We're all listening. Don't be shy."

"Thank you," Alice replied with a curtsy. "What shall I recite?"

The H-Rock Turtle lit up. "Oh! Recite 'Jaws: The Hunting of the Shark'!"

"Don't you mean 'The Hunting of the Snark'?" said Alice.

"I mean what I say," the H-Rock Turtle replied in an offended tone. And the Moore added, "Come, let's hear it."

So Alice began to recite 'The Hunting of the Snark' but was so caught up in the discussions about film music that she did not know what she was saying.

"They sought it on eBay, they sought it with risk;
They pursued it with hope at Intrada;
They threatened its life with a bootleg-disc;
They charmed it with trades but got nada.

One remarked to me once, said a mildest of men,
'If your Disc be a Disc, that is right:
Fetch it home without fear -- it is good on the ear,
It's dramatic, orchestral, and light.

'But oh, beamish nephew, beware of the day,
If your Disc be a Bootleg! For then
You will softly and suddenly vanish away,
And never be met with again!'

They shuddered to think that the chase might fail,
And the Mixer, excited so high,
Went bounding along on the tip of its tail,
For The Hollow Man was nearly so nigh.

'There's Thingumbob shouting!' the Editor said.
'He is shouting like made, only tsk!
He is waving his hands, he is wagging his head,
He has certainly found a Disc!'

Uffish and poised, ready for noise,
The party took in what they saw;
With such little fit he plunged into the pit,
While they waited and listened in awe.

'It's a Disc' was the sound that first came to their ears,
And it seemed almost too good to be true.
Then followed a torrent of laughter and cheers:
Then the ominous words, 'It's a Boo--'

Then, silence. Some fancied they heard in the air
A weary and wondering sigh
That sounded like '--leg!' but the others declared
It was only a breeze that went by.

In the midst of the word he was trying to say,
In the midst of his laughter and glee,
He had softly and suddenly vanished away--
For the Disc was a Bootleg, you see.

Alice waited for the polite applause but none came. The H-Rock Turtle's eyes watered up as he began crying again.

"How did I do?" Alice asked timidly.

"That's not how I remember it," said the Esseftee.

"You skipped about one hundred stanzas," scoffed the Howard.

"How should you expect me to say so many lines in one sitting?" Alice replied defensively.

"It's not that hard," said the #2. Alice sighed and decided not to argue further.

"That was quite a recital," said the Lux. "I haven't heard anything that hard on the ears since Sleepy Hollow."

"I liked Sleepy Hollow" several members exclaimed at once.

"Well, you're antediluvians! The whole lot of you!" said the Lux.

"CLEAN POSTS!" the Administrator yelled again. The Lux could not find a new place to sit after he lost his old one.

"Must you keep on like that? It seems like an awfully distracting waste of time," said Alice.

"I dare say you don't even know him - I mean Time!"

"I suppose not, but -"

"I knew him once, but we fell out and I can't keep time anymore," the Administrator sighed.

"And I can't keep track anymore," added the Brecher.

"But that's not what I meant -" Alice tried to explain herself.

"Then you should have said what you meant," piped the Howard, "Going back on your word!"

"Insolence," cried the Austrian, "sheer insolence!"

"Now see here," Alice said, "I don't think -"

"Then you shouldn't talk," said the Administrator.

This piece of rudeness was more than Alice could bear: she got up in great disgust, but no one seemed to noticed she was gone. The last time she looked back to them they were trying to put the Scottsman inside an mp3 player.

"At any rate I'll never go there again!" said Alice as she picked her way through the wood. "It's the stupidest message board I was ever at in all my life!"

Have a nice day!

You wouldn't by any chance be interested in a Tour of a Major Metropolitan Area by foot, would you?

Crikeys, it almost seems impossible, but are YOU Lewis Carroll???

Again, the irony in James' story. The administrator ends up, after advocating peace and destroying rudeness at all costs ("CLEAN POSTS!!!!"), to be the rudest of them all.

My apogies Alice!

PeterK

No point in editing posts. We have all the space we need here....

If some of you have not visited his web page and read his
creative writing, you’ve done yourselves a disservice. He
is an accomplished creative writer. TWO BIG THUMBS
UP, James. Thank you.

(P.S. PeterK, I've never seen you rude.)

Joan, just a tiny correction: none of the poetry I posted at this thread is original; the first and second were both Lewis Carroll, and the poetry contained in that little satire was adapted from Carroll's own poetry.

Mark- My "clever" mind isn't picking up the hint, as I'm not sure what you mean...

Al- if only...

Thanks again.

I guess I'm not making the Williams concert after all. I have to fly to Chicago on August 11 and then take over the wheel of a U-Haul van that will spirit me to Florida, my new home state, at least for a while. Do I ever need the change in scenery!

NP: ARACHNID SOUNDS (some of them are pretty amazing, especially when they're chowing down on a cricket or small bird. I have already sent a tape to Marian. Aw, don't thank me now. Just wait till ya hear it.)

quote:

---

Originally posted by Chris Kinsinger:
[b]SHOULDN'T WE BE ON PAGE 7 BY NOW?

[/B]

---

PeterK

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Patience Chris we will get there.

You are a VERY good writer, man.