07-14-2020, 03:42 PM
Two Days Ago:
I'm halfway through Giraffes on Horseback Salad, and it's so nice to be revisiting Dali after a lapse of many years. But I don't want to rush it; I want to savor it, take my time. Besides, I need some exercise. And LCF wants to go for a walk.
So we head off on a long walk through the neighborhood. We play the dodge-aerosol game, taking turns with other pedestrians sidestepping out into the street or even crossing to the other side. But there aren't a lot of people, and mostly it's just a quiet relaxing rdirectionless walk.
Suddenly LCF looks aside and says to somebody, "Wow! That's nice!"
I realize she's looking over a hedge into someone's front yard. A late-teen boy is interrupted looking at a painting. It's a head-and-shoulder portrait of a moose.
"Did you do that?" LCF asks.
He gives a negation, then nods aside and behind at what I presume to be his sister, maybe 12. She's giggling, embarrassed by the attention.
"N-i-i-i-i-c-e," I say.
The boy holds the painting up so we can see it better and says rather needlessly, "It's a moose." Of course it's a moose. What else could it be, with those antlers? Then he adds, "On fire."
Only then do I realize that above the antlers the sky is filled with red and yellow flames. I can't help myself. "Dali!" I exclaim.
Both of them are by now retreating, embarrassed by all the attention, and we move on.
But I'm certain Dali was an inspiration.
I'm halfway through Giraffes on Horseback Salad, and it's so nice to be revisiting Dali after a lapse of many years. But I don't want to rush it; I want to savor it, take my time. Besides, I need some exercise. And LCF wants to go for a walk.
So we head off on a long walk through the neighborhood. We play the dodge-aerosol game, taking turns with other pedestrians sidestepping out into the street or even crossing to the other side. But there aren't a lot of people, and mostly it's just a quiet relaxing rdirectionless walk.
Suddenly LCF looks aside and says to somebody, "Wow! That's nice!"
I realize she's looking over a hedge into someone's front yard. A late-teen boy is interrupted looking at a painting. It's a head-and-shoulder portrait of a moose.
"Did you do that?" LCF asks.
He gives a negation, then nods aside and behind at what I presume to be his sister, maybe 12. She's giggling, embarrassed by the attention.
"N-i-i-i-i-c-e," I say.
The boy holds the painting up so we can see it better and says rather needlessly, "It's a moose." Of course it's a moose. What else could it be, with those antlers? Then he adds, "On fire."
Only then do I realize that above the antlers the sky is filled with red and yellow flames. I can't help myself. "Dali!" I exclaim.
Both of them are by now retreating, embarrassed by all the attention, and we move on.
But I'm certain Dali was an inspiration.
I'm nobody's pony.