I wrote this in 1996 when I lived in Boston. This is the last paragraph of a thirty-page chapter in a memoir. I called it the Egyptian Queen, simply because the journal had a drawing of Queen Nefertiti on the cover.
I
was lonely last night. I’ll go to the shul, and
then to the Boston Computer Society again. Visual Basic. Boards. Bread.
Beards.
Burrs. Bring me the proclamation. Hear ye, Hear ye. Come one, come all.
Never
mind. It was a joke. Keep your socks on. Wash everything thoroughly.
Dilute the
vinegar with water and gargle three times daily. To hell with your
hegemony. Beware the wrath of Zeus. He awakes. Lichen on the rocks.
Rocks tumbling down Mount
Washington. The Muse has gone next door. I was in love once. THE
INVISIBLE
UNION OF ALL SOULS. The silken threads tying me to you and you to me.
Heavy rain -- wind from Africa.
THE END
So
there I am, at the end of a long cold winter in Boston, writing in this
journal titled the Egyptian Queen. This was in March of 1996, in a year
that set a record for cumulative snowfall. The snow was three feet high
out the front door.
What
helped in the long cold winter were two galvanized tubs of papyrus
plants blooming in brilliant green in the living room. The papyrus sat
in these tubs right by the bay window and got the sunshine they needed
to flourish -- saved my life, they did, that winter.
And
somehow the journal planted a seed. It was the Egyptian Queen on the
cover. It was Queen Nefertiti in a classic profile. She greeted me every
morning as I sat down to write.
Her
image inspired me in a mysterious way because not one year later I
found myself in Africa -- in Zimbabwe, in Mozambique and Malawi. I was
looking for Queen Nefertiti. I even found her. I think it was her. It's
hard to tell what is and what isn't when you're in Africa -- all kinds
of wild tales and strange scenery in Africa. I should tell you that
story some time.
Well,
we can't spend the whole day dreaming about Egyptian queens and things I
probably only imagined in Africa. Twenty years later, I can scarcely
believe that I was even there.
I'm
only trying to make a less than abrupt transition to the very local
news about Dave Morrison and his new source of video stimulation. Dave
lives near Pasadena.
Dave
calls it Blue Collar Logic, because he wields a paint brush by day and
dreams of a better world by night. Blue Collar Logic is a series of
two-minute videos with political comments. Two minutes is long enough, I
admire his effort. His presentation is clear. One can be brief and
intelligent at the same time. In fact, brevity is a sure sign of
intelligence.
But
don't get too excited, good old Dave has swung over to the conservative
side of things. You might not want to follow his train of thought.
Oh, he's not such a bad fellow. And you know, if Dave Morrison was
President, instead of the truly dangerous man we have now -- if it was
Dave Morrison, or fellows like him, calling the shots, I wouldn't mind
too much.
There's one video Dave called Islam and Alabama which is kind of fun. Dave claims that a woman has more freedom living in Alabama than she would have living in Saudi Arabia.
I
couldn't say. I was never in Alabama. I did spend a few months living
in Mississippi right next store. I had a job working construction labor.
That was in 1977. I did not like living in Mississippi, but I did mind
my own business and I was not molested.
The Egyptian Queen
This
all started 5,000 years ago in Egypt -- what we used to call
civilization -- reading, writing and agriculture. Well, most folks used
to agree that those three things defined civilization -- reading,
writing and farming. But that leaves out all the wandering tribes and
the oral traditions of long ago. So we have no definition of
civilization. Having no definition, we cannot define courtesy and good
manners. Not being able to define courtesy and good manners, we cannot
effectively oppose Donald Trump, a man with no sense of courtesy or
decency. I hope that makes sense.
Spring Subscription Drive. A
$25 or $50 subscription to Frog Hospital comes with the promise that I
will try my best. I have been writing this journal since 1998 --
curiously I began writing Frog Hospital shortly after I returned from
Africa.
And
I have written some hundreds of issues of this journal, and some of it
has been very good indeed and I would like to continue writing this, and
I would like you to send me a check for $25 or $50 or punch the PayPal
button.
You can find the PayPal button on the blog. Go to Frog Hospital.
Or make out a check to Fred Owens and mail it to:
Fred Owens
1105 Veronica Springs RD
Santa Barbara, CA 93105
thank you very much,
Fred
--
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