January 2011
39 posts
Mr Brain was a hermit dwarf who liked to eat shellfish off
the moon. He liked to go into a tree then because there is a
little height to see a little further, which may reveal now the
stone, a pebble—it is a twig, it is nothing under the moon that
you can make sure of.
So Mr Brain opened his mouth to let a moonbeam into his head.
Why to be alone, and you invite the stars to tea. A cup of
tea drinks a luminous guest.
In the winter could you sit quietly by the window, in the
evening when you could have vinegar and pretend it to be
wine, because you would do well to eat doughnuts and
pretend you drink wine as you sit quietly by the window. You
may kick your leg back and forth. You may have a tendency
to not want to look there too long and turn to find darkness in
the room because it had become nighttime.
Why to be alone. You are pretty are you not/you are as
pretty as you are not, or does that make sense.
You are not pretty, that is how you can be alone. And
then you are pretty like fungus and alga, you are no one
without some one, in theory alone.
Be good enough to go to bed so you can not think too
much longer
It’s A Small Solar System by Allan Howard. Read by your faithful tumblrist for LibriVox - amateurly (which doesn’t always translate into poorly, thank goodness) read public domain audiobooks. A listenable eight minutes!
Earthmen Bearing Gifts by Fredric Brown, originally published in Galaxy magazine, June 1960. Read it on Project Gutenberg. Read by ME for LibriVox.org. Six minutes long.