Sunday, February 24, 2013

Do You See Me Standing Here?

From Evernote:

Do You See Me Standing Here?

"The path is level now; no bumps," said Casey. I looked out back. It was true. The ridge was filled with a huge pile of pebbles, chalk-white, and you could form the path with a rake any way you wanted. 

I began with a short trip, then a slightly more distant objective occurred, then a concurrent series of errands, and before too long I was at the library swimming pool. I had not meant to go to the library swimming pool. I would not be home until later than I had anticipated. 

I better text Lady. I have the message on my iPhone, but there is a local provision for routing, a community Wi-Fi resource which requires sufficient study to justify the clerical assistants plus health insurance for all. 

The Interconnectivity manual is on a screen like at airports, but not in columns or on a grid. It was a series of sentences, actually, which is fine but each was modified by another and contradicted by a third, with the implicit understanding that any failure to follow instructions was the sole responsibility of the patron. 

Two figures appeared gliding in the background behind the text on the screen. I hastened to ask if they might answer one question. 

"Yes, I suppose," wearily said he. "'Metonymy' and 'synecdoche' are, in fact, more or less synonymous by now. A part for the whole, a piece for the object, a suggestion for the idea. Each means what the other suggests, though one intends and the other portends allegory." 

"What should manifest to the discerning eye," added her, "Is that our feet, neither of our's, are actually standing, in your pre-sense. And so you may consider what you've learned so far a gift horse."

I looked closely at the screen and they dissolved in accordance with the effort. I had assumed -  incorrectly, as it happened - I might be allowed to select the question. 

Wait, here's Lady Kale herself! I rush to her. She is angry. 

"You should not flash bad grammar and usage," she says. "Everyone may of course see it." 

"Wait, do you mean my text to tell you I would be late? But I never sent it! I was trying to learn how just now."

"Your text is available generally as you thumb it," she said with some resignation. "Didn't you read the instructions?" And she pointed at the screen. 

"Sorry," I said.