affame_le_geant_it_is_up_to_you fyn gula "people seek a central point: that is hard, and not even right. i think a rich, manifold life, brought close to our eyes, would be enough without any express tendency, which, after all, is only for the intellect." ~goethe, on wilhelm meister if tripod the saimese-hater, this three-legged animatronic white cat that came busting out of gift wrapped four of the treasure box mysteriously left on the doorstep of the wooden cart-turned house along the bianca strada, if her existensial proclamation declaring that: WE, OURSELVES ARE THE QUESTION, then... it was puppertwinkle's obvious responsibility, was it not, to ask then, WHO IS THE ANSWER? he did so staying a safe distance away in case the volatile feline continued her eruptive behaviour. recently, she had proved herself active as vesuvius, spewing the molten lava of her insidious, unexpected malvolence upon the naive chihuahua. the little dog had his soul burned several times, but this latest reaction to her odd way of mentoring he did so with all the caution of a volcanist. "that's a fine, intelligent inquiry," tripod said, with more than a hint of satire. she whipped her tail back and forth like a petulant snake looking for an exposed ankle to sink its dripping fangs into. "i thought you'd be too stupid to make such an obvious deduction. surprise me won't you." she moved forward with an unexpectedly quick strike, as if she was spring-loaded, a twited, evil jack-in-the box holding a hammer instead of a magic wand. puppertwinkle was ready and escaped not a moment too soon. "there's a chance for you yet, little piggy-boy," tripod said, witch cackling. "hope for you is a ship on the horizon with sails billowing, but don't you for one minute stop seeking because you'll end up tied to the ship's helm with the sails aflame." puppertwinkle looked at his feet. he didn't know whether to be embarrassed or proud. and so, he was a little of both. "if you are the question, then the world is your answer!" tripod screamed. and the sound was like a cat encountering another cat that has invaded its territory. it scared the shit out of puppertwinkle, but he knew she did so to tattoo it on his soul. it worked. "in the world that you inhabit so exists all you need to know. you simply need to find it. there are no mysteries. what cannot be told to you is present in your imagination. what cannot be seen will appear in a dream. it is up to you." tripod's crank ran out. before winding her again, puppertwinkle went into the house and scribbled many questions down in his journal. and so, when he was ready he turned tripod's crank with all his fucking might and she whirred back into life again. during the next five hours, when most of us are asleep and the moon seems to slide across the slippery night sky, puppertwinkle finally acheived the meaningful conversation he so desperately needed to have with the three-legged white cat. trust is what we all require and once it is gained there are no limits or borders on what we can reveal to each other. tripod told him the entire theory of boffden's kemulyan-rynomariacle philosophy. he related the reasons why boffden chose saumboo, why he was blinded, why feignez poisoned frau werzenwozen, why the tragic fall of birds occurred and was necessary, why saumboo was turning to stone, why feignez's wings were pulled off, what the purpose was for gluing them upon saumboo, and most importantly... puppertwinkle discovered what boffden wanted him to do next. 021105 what's it to you? who go blather from