Dear Diary,
I know you're dying to hear the next thing about the Shrouded Statue, but I'm afraid there's nothing to tell. Hey, that's not my fault, I'm not the municipal officer in charge of unveiling statues, for goodness sake. What I'll do, though, is tell you about another little statue that went the opposite way, meaning it suddenly disappeared from its place. I'm sort of cheating a little here because this actually happened months ago. Well, you can act uppity and make out that your job is only to record the day's events, but don't start pulling red tape with me. It's all very straightforward and clear-cut for you, date in the upper left-hand corner and that's that. Well, time may be like that on paper, but it's not that way in one's head. It's a really slippery thing, you might catch a familiar smell and suddenly remember something from twenty years ago as clearly as if it had happened ten minutes back, while not being able to remember for the life of you what you had for lunch. Oh well, how does one explain such things to a diary, you simply won't be able to understand. Anyway, here's what happened to the giraffe statue, and if it's going to make you happier I'm going to tell it to you in the present tense:
When I first saw the orange giraffe, I laughed out loud. It had appeared overnight on the previously giraffe-less little traffic island. It was not quite life-size, not quite correctly proportioned, and what the colours lacked in rightness was made up for in brightness. But it seemed to adapt so well to its new existence in the middle of the traffic fumes and the dust and the heat, that before long it became difficult to imagine the traffic island without its giraffe. Although with time it accumulated dust and its fine orange faded to a more modest hue, for me the giraffe acquired a sort of cars-may-come-and-cars-may-go-but-I-glow-on-forever aura. I rarely passed the little circle without a glance at that stoic giraffe presiding over the traffic.
This morning the sunlight is filtering through a wintry haze. The traffic, still a little thin, sounds more muted. As I approach the traffic island I look up to nod Good Morning at the giraffe. But the orange giraffe is not there. The spot where it had stood has been freshly cemented over. That is the only trace of the orange giraffe. Traffic flows past and around the traffic island the way it always does.
bare traffic island –
a pigeon circles it
and flies off
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6 comments:
Seems like the case of the globe trotting giraffe. The orange traffic onlooker seems to have shifted its location- it has emerged unannounced at a more pleasing spot- a playground in Shreveport, Louisiana. Nevertheless, due to its ( rather inventive) strategic positioning, it continues to gleefully observe unsuspecting passing traffic, sticking its neck high above the playground fence -- wonder where it will materialize next!
If you want to make that sound more like Erle Stanley Gardner, you have to get a mallu to say it: the gase of the globe droading giraffe. Or how about the case of the jetsetting giraffe? Erle SG might have liked that too.
Hmm - like a transposon. Should keep an eye on this one. We could call it Giraffe element, or maybe OG element, or GTG or JG. See if it turns up anywhere else, you could get a paper out of this.
ha ha ha! maybe if I were a very finicky Earl Stanley gardner, i would insist on maintaining this as " The gaIse oAf the gloAbe droading giraffe"!! Your insight has made me quote a very remarkable figure in the grounds of MSU ( for you see, left to my own resources, I would never embark upon stating such a thing!)
My otherwise genuine observation regarding the OG element would be encountered with a " On the one haand, this gloabe droading giraffe may be someDhing POAsitive, but on the oDher hand, you must be dreaming and nOAt working prOAperly", by my very sharp and critical advisor.
Nevertheless, I shall chug along, keeping an eye open for this colourful visitor. Hmm- if transposons were to be attributed a colour, would it be orange? Can we convince the reviewers that this is indeed so?
We'll just have to tell those reviewers they should be glad we aren't calling it the Scarlet Pimpernel or the Blue Angel.
Regarding those familiar smells bringing back memories of long ago, I was walking home from work recently and an odor hit my nose that took me back nearly 40 years. It was some sort of plant that when I was in the 2nd. grade I would always smell on the peaceful, country road walk home from school each day. It's amazing when that happens. I have had other experiences with that as well. Memories long gone resurrected.
Oops! It was a memory from closer to 50 years ago. Not 40:) Dear God, senility knocks :(
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