magic_in_the_strangest_places
sabbie comming home from work
tired
leaning my head against the glass
a tramp got onto the bus
his hair was wild
his jacket open
he wore no shirt.
his movements were jerky,
high speed
as if someone had the fastforward button
pointed only at him.
he bent over an empty seat
and quickly,
quickly
reached into his huge bag
and pulled out a little toy clown
with a porciline smile.
he bent it into sitting shape
and plonked it unceromoniously down.
the quickly shuffled to the next emtpy seat
and repeated the process.
to a third
then a fourth seat
he plonked another sitting clown down.
then, without seeing to their fares
or their comfort
he got off at the next stop and shuffled down the street.
[his work here was done?]
and the other commuters turned to each other
a little bewildered, and smiled
caught each others eyes
and grinned
they started talking, where before there was only empty stares out blackened windows.
a broken man with a powerful smell had somehow united the travelers in a way i have never seen before;
a magician with insane hair casting a spell with clown dolls.

by the time we reached my stop
still noone had moved them
from the seats he had placed them,
as if moving the dolls would shatter their newfound bubble.
020206
...
fyn gula (i found my self in this enchanting vignette, auspiciously reveling in the wonderment i pictured. an inside smile breaking to the surface.

"what are you so happy about? she asks. "read this," i say, and move to make the indigo screen visible.)

i am the day weary commuter returning home, interested in the magician and his crazy coifurre, watching with fascination and awe as he performs his accelerated, spontaneous magic show. i want to look in his oversized bag of tricks and examine its contents. i want to know what other treasure is in there. is he the reluctant santa claus of the metro, giving misfit toys an opportunity, the reticent kris kringle of the busway offering the unwrapped presents that failed to make the trip in the sleigh, or a madman willfully neglecting his surrogate children?

"you've been so bad," he says, and i listen over the sounds of the bus,
"i can't handle the four of you anymore. i'm done, had enough. sit still in these seats and some kind soul will make you their own. just wait, you'll see!"

"please tell me you are only feeling tired," the children cry, with mouths that don't open. tears that don't fall. once they did for real, in the story he has when someone asks him.

i want to get off at his stop and walk to where he is going, buy him a machiatto and a biscotti, and ask him why he did what he did and let him inspire me, teach me, give me what he has so i can go forth and bring happiness to others.

i want to peer into the gaze of the others returning home, eyes that once only stared out the blackened windows, but now looking into mine. i want to exchange proper pleasantries, to convers. to become friends.

i am the broken man with hair that is not wild. i wear shirts underneath my coat. i do not set clowns on the seats of buses, but i do carry a large satchel with some tricks, but mostly books i am not reading, magazines i am in love with, journals i salivate upon, corks, pens, bubblegum wrappers, a broken tim tam.

i am a clown, but not made of white glass, more so bones and flesh. i set myself into chairs and fall over, i dance to any music i hear. i make up stories that make children laugh and sit in my lap and wrap their arms around my neck.

i am the child of the mother, united with her traveling companions, who betwitched by the wild-haired wizard's spell, began chatting and discovered things she needed to know to help someone else, that child who snuck back on to the bus and took a clown for my own.

i am the little toy clown doll with the porcelain face, one of four, my bendable legs set into place on the seat, entertaining the crowd by my very enigmatic presence, my comfort obviously ignored, although i feel it won't be long until a child finds me. here he comes, with slow grace lifting me. goodbye.

i am the bus driver, who pulls into the garage when my run is over, parks, and scans the aisle seats for packages or the rare sleeper, and find to my peculiar surprise, three toy clowns. i think back on the pleasant day how it semed my customers were friendlier than usual, talkative for a work commute, looking into each other's eyes, smiling. gracious almost. i pick up the stuffed dolls one at a time, but don't make the connection. don't remember the tramp.

i am the bus. the place where strange magic takes place.
020206
...
farmfish magic of thee slowest kind be happenin' in thee st.francis garden even as snow falls, such a miracle, how me perennials sleep unda' blankets o' white, jest waitin' fo' their mudda's wake-up kiss. 020207
...
. . 030907
...
pipedream today i have seen magic. small sparkles of magic only i could recognise and they were presents for me from Someone to tell me that there is still hope, and beauty, and magic in the smallest things and strangest places.
my faith is being redeemed. thank You.
030907
...
pobodys nerfect I love the first story here about the clown dolls being left on the bus. It's cool when stories like that get bumped.
They're like long-forgotten treasures just waiting to be rediscovered.
030907
...
. glad to be of cervix. 030907
...
realistic optimist sabbie that's so beautiful it gave me chills 030908
...
User24 there is magic in all places
there is magic in your hair
there is magic on the bus
there is magic in the fair

there is always magic,
wherever you may look
there is always magic
hiding in every nook

when you cast your gaze around
you'll find the magic gazing back
no magic words are needed, not even one small sound
there is magic on the pathways and off the beaten track

there is always magic
you just need to look.
030908
...
CASpEr what is this, the fucking disney or family channel, again I'm gone

this is putrid to me
you're so full of shit
go blathe to the preSchoolers
god damn what a puss
040324
...
pipedream yay U24, that was awesome! i think i'll pop over to blather_family and sing it to ambermoon :)

phooey on the cynics, go blather in your own little goo-hole or whatever :P

sparkles for ya, u24 *thumbs up*
040324
...
u24 thankyou :) 040325
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iNsEcUrE_GoTh_GiRl it's a blather_anthem!
nicely done user24 ;)
040325
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pipers considering a blurple dinosaur suit hmmm..maybe we should set it to some music, and annoy the hell out of the blather_scrooges...hehehehe 040325
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iNsEcUrE_GoTh_GiRl what music would you suggest then? 040326
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pipers don't quite know, achooly..lets ask oE, he's the jazz boy :) 040327
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somebody . 041214
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Mahayana [!wow! Sabbie, that was unbelievably emotive]

that is [exactly what i want to do with all of my free time in between trying to conceive ways to utilize technology to bring lifeís most basic necessities to those in developing nations that are without such privileges]

your words have inspired me in such piercing ways that not even a solitary word of mine could ever convey to you what this blathe means to me

thank you

[absolutely beautiful]
041214
...
sab hey babe
that means a lot to me, especailly from such a wordsmith as your good self.

its now dedicated to you mahayanamuse

and i can send you one of the clowns he left if you'd like

i picked some up and took them home when i got off
041214
...
misstree just read this story to caeasar. 041215
...
you I remember the winter
With the kubrick and the innocence.
The desires and the cat stevens
All that beauty and the life moments
I will remember them forever.
They were marvelous.
My feelings were glorious and ignorant.
The Phantoms I could see.
These feelings, with whom I was committed, freed me to purity and true nature. Before her, I was only planning.
This was all two years ago, when one could trust what I said about my feelings.


Today I am happy.
050122
...
wewwewwew I remember the winter
With the kubrick and the innocence.
The desires and the cat stevens
All that beauty and the life moments
I will remember them forever.
They were marvelous.
My feelings were glorious and ignorant.
The Phantoms I could see.
These feelings, with whom I was committed, freed me to purity and true nature. Before her, I was only planning.
This was all two years ago, when one could trust what I said about my feelings.


Today I am happy.
050122
...
gooblegoon42 I remember the winter
With the kubrick and the innocence.
The desires and the cat stevens
All that beauty and the life moments
I will remember them forever.
They were marvelous.
My feelings were glorious and ignorant.
The Phantoms I could see.
These feelings, with whom I was committed, freed me to purity and true nature. Before her, I was only planning.
This was all two years ago, when one could trust what I said about my feelings.


Today I am happy.
050122
...
formyhomies Awake in me for four years now, always hidden from others, who i am. denial. despondancy. despair. Acceptance creeps up on me and i realise my existance is about to blossom.
Synchronisities between people's speach and my own thoughts, moments prior becoming so subtle as to read it as almost second nature.
Time spent isolated and hidden is now spent with with comfort as it's purpose among my loved ones .
My veins and my body charged with it, strange and wonderful shadows and outlines in my vision.
This spring is beautiful, the world yawns - vibrating with life and hope.
050503
...
no reason she took a picture of a heart-shaped raindrop today 050503
...
andru235 intensely uplifting...the magic continues to have an effect...! 050609
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hsg soul_of_a_clown_clown_of_us_all

no matter where you go there's a clown in the corner.
wit his uperior perspective taking it all in.

blast away you tears with an old_fashioned soder_bottle.
070724
...
hsg soul_of_a_clown_of_us_all

wit_his_uperior_perspective

if his head is in his ass, where does that leave yours?
071030
...
. i used to be a good person
god somebody please help me
i'm the ugliest thing i ever saw
and i want to burn myself alive
and i don't want anyone to ever find me
071030
...
hsg a_course_in_miracles

acim is the only way out of it.

bla bla blather is a strange place indeed.

u could always take a term of silence.
071104
...
spoken sabbie i wanted to thank you for your story i am beaming with joy
my eyes and mind where held captive to your words
i revel in the assurance that there are others who appreciate random insightful nonsense that touch our spirit and link us all
the man on the bus left a treasure that i'm glad you shared
his gift
human connection
whether intended or not
a spell weaved over a crowd of faces now feeling something
anything but something

the image your words wove in my mind
yet another gift
almost feel as if i were present thanks again
090422
what's it to you?
who go
blather
from