Happy Halloween!

Fellow prisoners

“We need another and a wiser and perhaps a more mystical concept of animals. Remote from universal nature, and living by complicated artifice, man in civilization surveys the creature through the glass of his knowledge and sees thereby a feather magnified and the whole image in distortion. We patronize them for their incompleteness, for their tragic fate of having taken form so far below ourselves. And therein we err, and greatly err. For the animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings; they are other nations caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendour and travail of the earth.” - HB

A better look

Ben moved along the street slowly on his bike. He dipped his foot into the piles of leaves. He passed a bakery and filled up his lungs on it.

Near his house there were jack-o-lanterns on most porches. Some of them were very crudely done by the local children, he assumed. One, though, held his attention. It was really no better than the others. The shapes were in the right place, but the quality of the lines were somehow better. More dynamic. Better for looking at.

He approached it and picked it up. He turned it around in his hand. It really was very good. He thought for a moment about taking it home to show his fiance' and when he did the front door of the house swung open with a crash. This sound startled Ben. He dropped this pumpkin and it shattered into pieces on the sidewalk.

In the doorway stood a fat man in a football jersey.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He said.

"Nothing. I'm very sorry," said Ben. "It was so good. I wanted another look. A better look."

"Well it doesn't look very good now, does it?"

"No, it's not like it was. I'm very sorry. I'll be happy to buy you a new pumpkin."

"What about the labor?"

"What was that?"

"I spent an hour on that."

"You carved that? It really was very good. Should I get two then?"

"And some beer."

"Some beer? Okay. What flavor?"

But the fatass had closed the door and Ben stood there half on his bike over the shattered remains of this jack o lantern.

New Direction

Accepting suggestions for a short documentary subject in or around New England. Ethnographic preferred.

Super Session

Weight goes to all those who partook of recent frivalities at the outermost house.

Max weight goes to Able Fischer and Old furnace, who, while in prolonged stay, really brought the dirty bird.

In addition, Marathon Monday brings with it hard earned imports from Nepal. These new acquisitions will surely sneak their way into new Felsenmeer efforts.

Wilkhommen!

A forum for thought!

Slaveplanet is no more which means all those in orbit are spreading ever apart and therefore closer.