By Gerald Fleming
A long time passes—long even in the understanding of stone—and at last Bone feels entitled to speak to Silence. There are prerequisites: proper depth, aridity, desiccation, ph balance, density, and a kind of confidence. No loam: say salt, say dust, say southwest Utah. And when the conversation occurs it is understood on Bone's part what to expect from Silence, so one could say that expectations were low, but such is a pattern of our thinking, and in this case the entire dry dialectic is different, and in fact expectations were high. There is a moon shining, unknown to Bone, intimate with Silence. There are mammals overhead, the noise of whose small feet are perceived or unperceived.
And after all this discursive talk, what at last does Bone say to Silence? What would you have Bone say to Silence? We could try Is there anywhere we can go for a beer? and that might get a little laugh, might qualify as ineffably human, almost religious. But we know better about Bone & Silence—need only look inside us, have the bravery to cease this chatter, this scrape of pencil on paper, to leave the rest of the book blank, get out of the way, let the conversation begin.
I had a quiet Monday, partly because I was typing up notes and writing and working on my LiveJournal backup project before LiveJournal went down for an hour in the afternoon, partly because I had laundry and thrilling chores like that to do, and partly because I have an eye infection that is really bothering me. Daniel had a more exciting day -- not only is it his eighteenth birthday, meaning he can now register to vote and have a Google+ account, but his chemistry class was canceled because of a chemical explosion in the building that injured two students. Adam had track practice at Cabin John Park, which was the furthest I ventured from home today when I went to pick him up.
In the evening we watched the first episode of Terra Nova, which looked great but if we'd been playing a drinking game where we took a sip every time a completely predictable cliche occurred, we'd have been drunk halfway through and unconscious before the end. Despite an ostensibly progressive theme (don't pollute the planet or we'll have to move into the past when the air was still breathable) it has some deeply conservative values and the women's roles aren't terribly impressive though to be fair the men's roles aren't either. Perhaps it will improve. Here are some more photos from the Pennsylvania Renfaire:
I got to give a favor to Sir Thomas at the tournament joust. (Sir Thomas and Sir Marcus are known for being unchivalrous -- their motto is "Cheat To Win" -- but he was very gallant to me.)
Dementordelta cowered in fear of being locked in the dungeon
Jugglers performed outside the Globe Theatre...
...where, inside, Don Juan and Miguel practiced using whips with Don Juan's daughter Esmerelda (who is actually Don Juan actor Jose Granados's daughter Dakota).
The Royal Falconer showed off Congo, an African hawk.
Since it was Scottish weekend, Tartanic offered multiple bagpipe tunes, much to Adam's dismay.
The elephant who gives rides to Faire guests takes a break and drinks water after carrying his bowl over to his trainer.
One of the goats that now live in the children's area by the farm shoppe takes a walk to greet visitors.