Viridian Ice Cream

They asked me to take you on a tour of the internet thingie, and since I like to walk on paths and talk and hand out brochures that don’t really tell you anything, I told them I would. So I will. Mostly I don’t know where to start, but then I figured like most things, you have to start at the beginning, because that way you know which way to go. So I made this the beginning.

They also told me I had to call this something, and since I didn’t know what it was yet I wasn’t sure what to call it. Not knowing everything is all that makes it okay sometimes. So I just called it two of my favorite words, “viridian” and “ice cream.” I also like “twinkle,” but I’m saving that one for later.

So we’ll all join hands and take a walk around the blogosphere, and maybe take a right at the message board thingie before heading down to yourspace, not myspace, because I dropped mine while sniffing fire daisies and no one turned it in to the lost and found. But maybe they turned it into a balloon animal or the smell of pancakes or something else nice that I like, and even if they didn’t, I’m going to pretend that they did.

I like monkeys that celebrate anniversaries and doggies but not people who hate doggies. I had a doggy once. He was a very clever doggy. He said things like...like..."I would feel infinitely more comfortable in your presence if you would agree to treat gravity as a law, rather than one of a number of suggested options." He said that. I only remembered it. In my head.

I also like fishes. And more fishes. If I had a Jack O'Lantern I would use it as a fish bowl, so the fish could see me through the eyes and mouth. And the candle would keep them warm. Although if Mr. Fish keeps hitting people, I will turn him into a fish-faced villain who nobody likes with a crush on Luke Cage, and I’ll make it so he’s been that from the beginning of time to now and he’ll never ever know if he was anything else and it will itch inside his head worse than little bugses.

There isn’t an emoticon for the precise moment when you realize that you've actually forgotten how it felt to make love to somebody you really liked a long time ago. Until there is, we’re skipping the message boards.

On yourspace, people like to stop being themselves, and want to be doggies, or angels, or ‘70s TV icons. My brother told me once, “You can stop being anything.” And he did, and it made me a little sad. But the flowers made me happy again.

Don’t forget that tomorrow we all lose some time. It's always in the last place you look for it. I think I’ve been here before; it makes me twinkle. So that’s where I’ll end our tour. Sometimes it’s ok to end at your beginning, if it’s where you end up.