Too early for Venus

Awake at 4 a.m., briefly. Not yet able to see bright Venus through the bedroom window. She is there to greet me at 6.

The dream that I left at 4 involved graffiti, art created from vegetables, affixed to utility poles. I was the documenting photographer. The artists I was aware of in the dream were Japanese, one a former high school classmate who had carved a daikon radish into a personable, smiling, somewhat ghostly creature. It worried me that, unlike inedible guerrilla art, these pieces would be removed and eaten. And that, once awake, took me to a passage from Lewis Carroll's Through the Looking Glass.

'You look a little shy: let me introduce you to that leg of mutton,' said the Red Queen. 'Alice—Mutton: Mutton—Alice.' The leg of mutton got up in the dish and made a little bow to Alice; and Alice returned the bow, not knowing whether to be frightened or amused.

'May I give you a slice?' she said, taking up the knife and fork, and looking from one Queen to the other.

'Certainly not,' the Red Queen said, very decidedly: 'it isn't etiquette to cut anyone you've been introduced to. Remove the joint!' And the waiters carried it off, and brought a large plum-pudding in its place.

'I won't be introduced to the pudding, please,' Alice said, rather hastily, 'or we shall get no dinner at all. May I give you some?'

But the Red Queen looked sulky, and growled 'Pudding—Alice: Alice—Pudding. Remove the pudding!' and the waiters took it away so quickly that Alice couldn't return its bow.

However, she didn't see why the Red Queen should be the only one to give orders; so, as an experiment, she called out 'Waiter! Bring back the pudding!' and there it was again in a moment, like a conjuring trick. It was so large that she couldn't help feeling a little shy with it, as she had been with the mutton; however, she conquered her shyness by a great effort, and cut a slice and handed it to the Red Queen.

'What impertinence!' said the Pudding. 'I wonder how you'd like it, if I were to cut a slice out of you, you creature!'

It spoke in a thick, suety sort of voice, and Alice hadn't a word to say in reply: she could only sit and look at it and gasp.

'Make a remark,' said the Red Queen: 'it's ridiculous to leave all the conversation to the pudding!'

Absurd and surreal, the welcome companions who add what humor can be found to our daily lives. We have two remaining episodes to watch from Amy Poehler's comedy, Parks and Recreation, Season Two. I know that what makes us laugh is so individual, so personal that without knowing someone well, it is unwise to say about something one enjoys, "You'll love it." Let's try it, shall we?



By the time I reached the kitchen, both Venus and the third quarter moon, 50% full, according to those who keep track of such things, were framed by palm trees outside the kitchen window. As we ate our oatmeal (yes, we have converted), the thin wash of clouds turned a shade close to lavender. The lime-colored parrots, who careen raucously through the dawn skies as though to tell anyone whose curtains are closed that the sun has risen, began to settle on winter branches and utility lines for their morning ritual of grooming/squabbling.

What I can tell you is the vegetable-based street art seemed real, inspired...my dream self was in a state of continual surprise and admiration. I took it as an urging to spend today living from my unconscious mind - if that is possible - and not the fault-finding other one.

Leaving bickering to the parrots. Off to discover.