Daily, Freedom

[Freedom]

While at the cabin I wrote (longhand) 3 notebook pages; that is, front, back, front.

This is a date that's important to the bank robber book, so I wanted to record mountain details on this day, as sun set.

Frankly, I came on down at 6:15, not because it was dark, exactly, but because the woods are spooky

[Freedom]

Wow, this was hard today.

Here is the crop:

The Stapler

The stapler is a Swingline from circa 1975. It is made of metal, and weighs somewhere about a pound. The finish is a slightly metallic gold-taupe. The anterior portion is an inch wide at the front end, narrowing to three-quarters of an inch at the waist. The metal part of the upper jaw is six and one-fourth inches long, and , curving

A stapler is a device for punching metal fasteners into paper. There are three main parts: a base, a magazine for the pre-formed staples, and a hood that slides over the magazine. The magazine and hood are joined with an axle to the base. The stapler beside me is a Swingline from circa 1975. It is rather like a sphinx. It's front

I am rather like a sphinx. Made of metal, I was enameled a lion-like golden taupe, faintly metallic. My forepaws neatly support a metal plate. My lines are elegant and uninterrupted from forepaws to back end (I have no tail). My haunches rise smoothly, and I hinge forward at that point, to BITE! My head is quite sturdy, and in my belly I conceal a company of sharp soldiers, mustered single file. When fed some leaves, my head slams down upon them, pinning them together against the plate on my paws.

[scribbliz]

freedom, this is good...I especially love the last paragraph! what a way to describe a stapler!!

[Freedom]

Glue for brains today.

Per PaperGrace, I'm thinking of the back-story for a guy on the front of the circular from the local jc.


Boy, I look dorky in this picture. What the hell do they make those graduation "gowns" out of anyway, leaf bags? Body bags? That's it, must be, they have a freakin zipper. Don't even wanna talk about the hat.

So I'm from far away. Far, FAR away. Anybody that looked at me close would catch on to that, I'm about a foot taller than the average human, my nose and my mouth are way bigger than normal, my eyes and my ears are way smaller, and the universal translator installed in my throat gives me what they call an adam's apple the size of a shoe.

I got some great teeth, though.

I was forced to go through the graduation ceremony in order to fulfill the requirements for my badge. VidPix of me in this outfit are now public record up home for all my friends to see. And then some human guy with a camera got me to stand in front of the school emblem and grin. Why, oh, why did I do that? The only way I can explain it is that, when you're in another form, the ways of that form rub off on you -- this guy kinda hit my "polite" button.

(So to speak: I'm fully organic, don't ACTUALLY have buttons.)

Man, human societal norms and rules can be tricky. Clothes, man. Wo. I do a lot of copying. (Imitating is what I mean, I don't clone them.) But there again, you can't just openly WATCH a human and take notes, they freakin NOTICE! You gotta, like, look quick and then process the picture in your head for details. It's good practice, though.

The "T Shirt" is a good example. Many guys wear them with graphic devices on the front -- but the ins and outs of what's acceptable to other guys, while at the same time being acceptable to the authority complex, are just SO freakin subtle I wear only non-adorned T Shirts, and then you have to pick a color! Now, my observation is that blue is the least objectionable color to humans overall, so pretty much all my T Shirts are blue. But they mustn't be too BRIGHT of a blue ... you get it. It's hard.

There's an up-side to this, though. That the dorky picture made the front of the course catalog DOES mean that lots of humans see me looking dorky, BUT it's incontrovertible proof that I was here.

[Freedom]

What I saw today: antelope crossing the street.


I was the passenger, a dear friend was driving -- we were "driving around," one of our favorite pastimes since we COULD drive. The time was about 2:30 in the afternoon, a bright sunny day, fairly hot. We were proceeding in a westerly direction along a well-travelled arterial street. Traffic was moderate. My friend had picked up a cell-call from her far-away sister, so I was on alert, watching the road for her.

I pointed. "Antelope," I said. "Possibly a deer."

There ahead of us a buff-colored ungulate was crossing the street, from right to left. Oncoming vehicles were stopped, and it wasn't hurrying at all. When it got off the street into the grass, it squatted its little rump down to have a pee. Yes, antelope, a doe.

And here came some more antelope from between the houses to the right. Another doe, and two -- no, three -- no, four fawns! We thought, two does, each with twins ... except that all four fawns clustered close around the second doe, and none seemed interested in the first doe at all.

The fawns seemed a little more anxious that the ladies did, which indicates that kids CAN be smarter than their folks. They hurried across and scampered up onto the grass.

They did sort themselves out two-and-two, like two separate sets of twins. I imagined a situation where the second doe was the mom, the first doe was her fawn from last year, one twin-set were her fawns from this year, and the other set belonged to a third doe, who had perhaps gotten separated from the group.

Antelope fawns are incredibly delicate and precious, their legs are thin as angel-hair spaghetti, and their eyes are huge and black and shiny. Their coats are buff, with white sides and rumps, and their noses are black. They have little tiny tails. And they can run about 50 miles per hour.

[Freedom]

Wow, well ... at least I wrote SOMETHING.

[PaperGrace]

Well, that's the point, right?! We don't have to produce 'High Art' with every tap of the keys or stroke of the pen. I liked this:

"The fawns seemed a little more anxious that the ladies did, which indicates that kids CAN be smarter than their folks. They hurried across and scampered up onto the grass."

[Freedom]

This is the best I could do

I start out blunt and become acute.

I wear a gleaming coat, thin but tough, often goldenrod but any other color is possible. My coat bears a legend that identifies me, my tribe, and my cohesion factor. Sometimes this legend identifies a candidate and his tribal affiliation; or sometimes a vendor of automobiles and HIS tribal affiliation.

I wear my heart on my sleeve for all to see how hard it is, or how soft. My coat gleams over the curves and angles of my hexagon.



Axel came down the stairs at a canter although the house was dark. Street light through the front windows discovered the frames on the wall beside him. He looked to the left: the library was a cave with a square door. To the right the foyer merged into the greater cave of the front room. He straight-armed the door and went out into the night.

[Freedom]

Axel drove an old huge Cadillac, older than himself, which handled like a waterbed. Cold blooded thing. He had to pump the gas a couple times before it turned over and then the comforting sound of the engine and the feel of life under his butt pleased him as always. Love them eight cylinders.

He used the end of the driveway for a T-turn and headed down towards town. Pushed the button and the windows hummed open. Registered the smells of summer trees and the sweet dark humidity on his lips. Turned on the radio.

The Cadillac surged up the entrance ramp to the empty highway. Sodium lights stained it yellow and made the darkness darker beside him. Axel visualized his route. The highway curved off to the right, an expectant tunnel / corridor in its yellow glow The highway was an expectant tunnel of light curving off to the right.

Axel enjoyed sailing down through it but six and a half minutes later he spotted his exit as expected and glided off the highway into the dark.

Now the Cadillac burrowed beneath the highway, headlights picking out the concrete bones of it. The road Axel followed led almost immediately into the country, no businesses, no streetlights. It was a narrowish road and Axel basically took his half out of the middle.

Again he became aware of the night air, smelled herbage and tadpoles. An agreeable drive so far.

[PaperGrace]

Oooh! Ooooh! Where is he going!? I need to know!

[Freedom]

Axel kept the radio off. He wanted to be sharp.

Far ahead on the right he could see a glow through and a bit above the trees. He'd been here before. Down through the swale, foot off the gas, coast up the hill, kill the lights, cut the engine and slide into the dark under the trees. No power to the steering or brakes, but enough give in both to settle him where he wanted to be.

Now he watched. He saw a little lonely bar with a floodlit gravel parking lot between its flat dark front and the road, and one modest neon beer sign in the window, blacked out on the inside. He could hear a faint rhythm from the jukebox (no live bands here) and smell a rumor of the murky sweetness of the bar air inside.

No one came in or out. No cars passed along the road. Axel didn't fidget, he never did. He wasn't particularly bored. Occasionally he shifted position a little, or took a deep breath.

He saw bats snip in and out of the light above the bar, and heard coyotes, which surprised him as it was well before midnight. Then a big yellow one came trotting out of the dark trees beside the bar and crossed the parking lot from corner to corner, straight line, owns the world, thought Axel. It moved its head to meet his eyes for an instant but didn't pause or change course.

[PaperGrace]

I'm glad Axel breathed, I was starting to thing he was a vampire.

[Freedom]

The gibbous moon began to rise, and the countryside to take shape under its light. Axel knew all the phases of the moon.

Ah. A lanky stooping man in jeans appeared in the light of the parking lot. His walk was kind of a lope. He crossed to his goofy little rice-burner toy pickup, started it up and skidded it out onto the road, managing to throw a little gravel. Loud pipes.

Axel thought a small engine with loud pipes was one of the dumbest sounds in the world. His mouth compressed with irritation as he ignited his own smooth silent monster.

Lights off he crunched across the gravel, a pleasant enjoying the sound, and drifted out onto the road. The blacktop was nicely reflecting the moonlight and got brighter right away. Axel's night vision was quite good.

The dumb toy pickup bopped along ahead of him. He could hear it even from this distance in the still warm air. The way he liked to follow was, to be far enough back to catch regular glimpses of his quarry, not so far back that he could lose them, not so close that they would notice him. He was skilled at this, from long practice.

Axel visualized their route. In about four minutes the quarry would be confronted with a fork in the road, and Axel knew he was as likely to go left as right. The Cadillac cruised closer in the moonlight.

[Freedom]

The man in the pickup glanced automatically in his rear-view mirror, and he his eyes actually saw the big car a mile or so behind him on the bright-lit road, but his brain failed to register it at all. He drove on unconcerned and Axel followed calmly.

At the fork the little pickup went left. Axel was pleased. The right-hand fork offered a darker road with more cover, but the left hand fork road to the left wandered hypnotically through mile after identical mile.

Music drifted faintly back on the still air. Axel wondered whether he was hearing the sounds as they came out the other's window, or whether the sounds had just floated on the still night air until he drove through them.

There was an hour's drive ahead of them before the next choice of road turnoff of any sort. Mile after mile slid past. The gibbous moon leered into the drivers' windows; neither paid it any mind.

There -- the pickup wavered to the side a little and was hastily corrected. The driver skinny jasper was getting sleepy. Axel maintained his distance for the moment.

[scribbliz]

quick question...what the heck is "gibbous" aside from that puzzlement, this is a very intriguing work, and I want to know more...yet somehow i missed this until this mornign sorry I didn't reply sooner freedom.