p e n c h a n t

Troy Howell Well, hello, IC. Long time no see. –(See Enter, view.)
Imaginary Character I see nothing’s changed around here. Same tired humor.
TH And what have you been up to?
IC Very funny. I’m not on the wall any more. And I’m not IC, remember?
TH Wait, wait, don’t tell me….
IC That’s a news game show.
TH It’s a cliché.
IC Clichés are old hat.
TH Precisely.
IC No, I was Humpty Dumpty, but that got boring. Then I realized in some kind of scrambled epiphany—
TH Sunny side up?
IC —that it wasn’t I who was imaginary, but your own yours-truly self.
TH You mean me?
IC Precisely.
TH Yes, I do remember. And it was you who made me up.
IC How does it feel being fictional?
TH Not as bad as reality.
IC But in fiction you can’t undo it. You’re stuck.
TH In life you can’t either. What’s done is done.
IC You can go forward.
TH You can go forward.
IC So that’s why I’m real now.
TH I see.
IC Will you stop saying that? It’s not funny. I’m not imaginary. I’m real. Real, real, real, real, real.
TH And I’m not?
IC No.
TH Prove it.
IC You know that piece you wrote? On that other blog? All about you being Tom Sawyer?
TH What about it?
IC Dumb. Character as window, mirror, ha. Smoke and mirror’s more like it.
TH That’s in there too.
IC What?
TH Smoke.
IC Anyway. It’s embarrassing. Like a dodo doing calculus. You made it all up. It ain’t real.
TH Didn’t you see the photo? You think I made that up?
IC I mean the stuff about reader and writer and whispering hearts.
TH Hmm.
IC You need to get real. I’m going to deconstruct you. Hope you don’t mind.
TH Hmm.
IC Hmm.
TH Well?
IC I’m thinking. OK. I’m going to be Tom. Thomas Sawyer, sir. Just for a bit. See what it’s like. Here, pass me the pain killer.
TH Wait … what are you doing?
IC Putting you out of your misery.
TH Can’t I just fade out?
IC Like the Cheshire?
TH Good enough.
IC Smile.

*

Alice And what does outgrabe mean?
Humpty Dumpty Well, outgribing is something between bellowing and whistling, with a kind of sneeze in the middle.

More apologies to Lewis Carroll, whose real name was not that.

illustration by John Tenniel

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Imaginary Character I’m back.

Troy Howell I see.

IC I’m not IC anymore (see Enter, view). I’m Humpty Dumpty, remember?

TH Ah, yes.

IC And I’m tired of being him.

TH What’s wrong?

IC Nothing.

TH Then why—

IC Nothing at all. That’s what’s wrong.

TH I don’t understand.

IC You wouldn’t. You’ve never been an imaginary character. You’ve never been Humpty Dumpty. Sitting on a wall all day, doing nothing. Staying balanced, alert. For what? I’m bored stiff.

TH It’s mind over matter. I guess that’s not for everyone.

IC Don’t get cute with me.

TH Try public speaking. Live a little. Break out of your shell.

IC Ha. Ha. You know, I think our titles are switched. I think you’re the imaginary character.

TH And you’re Troy Howell?

IC Heaven forbid. No, I’m the one with the imagination, and I dreamed you up. Call me real.

TH Well, it hasn’t been a bad dream, considering.

IC Thank you.

TH Quite the imagination you have.

IC That’s not sarcasm, is it?

TH I guess that’s up to you.

IC It’s not sarcasm. It’s a compliment.

TH Think of it: You’ve dreamed up a character called Troy Howell, made him dream up an imaginary character who then becomes Humpty Dumpty, who claims to have made up Troy Howell. It’s like a house of mirrors: which image is real?

IC Me. I’m real.

TH How do you know?

IC Pinch me.

TH OK. Ready?

IC Ow!

TH Still bored?

IC Not as much.

TH Meet reality.

IC It hurts.

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illustration by John Tenniel / complaints to Lewis Carroll

we bear—who’s to say what they will or can become? True, genes, environment, circumstance, parenting—or lack of it—all these shape our children. But as they mature, they begin to shape themselves, and choose, to some degree, what will shape them. As a parent, I’ve discovered that no matter what you tell or show them, it’s who you are in your heart that will have the greatest impact.

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Alice And what does outgrabe mean?

HD Well, outgribing is something between bellowing and whistling, with a kind of sneeze in the middle.

Again, regards to Lewis Carroll

speaking of eggs (see Enter, view. / Humpty Dumpty), I discovered, uncovered actually, a nest of earthbound eggs as I was digging a hole for a clothesline post.

I recommend using clotheslines, a tried-and-true method that is seldom still tried but still true. Tried before “sustainability” was vogue (and vital, though it’s always been that). Consider the economical, ecological and psychological benefits of suspending fabric from a line, over the plugged-in, push-button, fabric-softener, high-heat, cycle: you have air, sun, and a few moments to reflect. Of course, much of the world has never seen the arctic-white or avocado or goldenrod metal humming box that is the electric dryer. Much of the world has boulders and branches, or nothing—or next to nothing—at all. One added benefit of this honorable but outmoded practice mysteriously delights at night: as you lie between sweet-smelling sheets a part of the left-over sky soothes your senses.

As I was digging this clothesline-post hole, my shovel broke an egg in the ground, spilling its sunny yoke. I carefully unearthed the others—a nest of five—and as I gazed a chill went through me. A copperhead had been in this area last fall. Could it be—?

I went indoors and pulled from my library shelf The Audubon Society’s Field Guide to Reptiles and Amphibians. (Another recommendation of mine—the Audubon Society’s field guide series, which covers a range of nature subjects: mammals, mushrooms, wildflowers, the night sky, weather, to name a few). Under Pit viper family (Viperidae), I found Southern Copperhead, and read: “Breeding: live-bearing” So, not a copperhead. We also have rat snakes and black king snakes. The Rat Snake lays a clutch of 5 to 30 eggs in rotten logs or duff; these were in soil. The Kingsnake has a clutch of 3 to 24, so that was one possibility. We also have the eastern box turtle (Emydidae), who frequents our garden. “Breeding: 3-8 elliptical, thin-shelled eggs, averaging about 1 3/8 inches …” Back to the Blacksnake … “creamy white to yellowish, elongated, 1 1/4 to 2 3/4 inches …” These eggs were definitely thin-shelled—I could see the coloring inside—and about 1 3/8 inches.

Back outside I dug a new hole about the same depth I had found the eggs, and transferred the nest, anticipating seeing a slow emerging of tiny turtles—a “bale of turtles” according to James Lipton (see his An Exaltation of Larks, a wonderfully amusing menagerie of collective nouns)—in the near future. The guide mentions that hatchlings sometimes spend winter in the nest, so it may not be until next year.

Which brings me back to our lowly Humpty Dumpty.

But for his humiliating name, he’s an upright character: He’s intellectual. He’s fluent. He’s balanced. He’s above the fray. Yet he’s also vulnerable. He might crack under pressure. If he tips, the consequences are, at best, heart-stopping, at worst—like the fall of man—catastrophic. If he falls, what then? It all depends on your outlook. You’re culinary, you make tempura. You’re artistic, you make tempera. You’re a monarch or a soldier or royal, you try to pick up the pieces—a noble but wretched task.

There’s one other possibility: Who is to say that from the wreckage may not fly a new creation on wings of bliss?

illustration by John Tenniel / regards to Lewis Carroll

Imaginary Character This interview is now in session.

Troy Howell Sounds like school to me.

IC Speaking of school, where did you go?

TH That should be: To where did you go. Captain Raymond Collins Elementary, Long Beach, California.

IC That’s it?

TH Isn’t that enough? My grammar proves it, I think.

IC I mean, any degrees … writing programs …

TH Oh, that. Sure. Plus the school of soft knocks.

IC Please expound.

TH To the degree that one suffers in life, giving, and the pursuit of happenings. Not to mention.

IC Not to mention?

TH Exactly.

IC Mr Howell, you made an interesting point earlier, something about grammar.

TH Yes. There’s the good and the bad.

IC No in-between?

TH And the in-between.

IC I mean, surely, you’re not one of those everything’s-black-or-white kind of guys. Are you?

TH Only when I’m drawing with graphite, charcoal, or pen and ink, or writing with my trusty white Bic round stic fine USA, a pen that is increasingly hard to find these days, if you can find one, which is hard.

IC You’re being redundant.

TH Well, Mr Ick, I think we all can be redundant at times, now and then.

IC You’re still being … what did you call me?

TH Ick. Mr Ick.

IC I’m glad you included the Mister. Otherwise—

TH Otherwise this interview would come to a close?

IC Exactly. Moving on, earlier you mentioned the school of—

TH Soft knocks.

IC Is that anything like soft rock? Or Fort Knox?

TH Only to the degree that music—always someone else’s—can be deafening at times, or annoying, like a buzzing fly—

IC Don’t all flies buzz?

TH Not after they’re dead. But you interrupted. Or to the degree that the price of gold plummets.

IC Could you give our blog audience an example?

TH Gladly. Take this blogjam, for instance. I’m trying to download the theme of my tamest dreams, because I’m not into rounded corners, except on city streets, in case you cut it too close, or on pizzas, and the window vanishes on the computer screen. Every time. So I download a new browser, which is kind of like Bowser, the dog I always wanted. Ta-da! I can now download the theme of my tamest dreams (after my password is invalid, every time, and I’m prompted to create a new one, which I do, but which still is invalid, every time, and after I creep through the digital back door while some invisible programmer’s ancestor—I won’t say who—isn’t looking, and ta-da! I can download the theme. Then, Lo and behold—which is a biblical term the literary equivalent of, “Yo, check it” —now I get to upload the theme, but that name, the name of the theme of my tamest dreams, is already taken, which is kind of like “Reserved for Employee of the Month”, so I rename it with a past-tense form, and somebody—I won’t say who, because I don’t know—doesn’t like the name, and wants me to rename the rename, so— Where was I?

IC Lost?

TH Oh, yes. Ah-ha. A solution peers over the penumbral horizon like Kilroy. I’ll just change the color of the header banner to white! Now everything’s white!

IC So you are, indeed, one of those—

TH Now I have a less-than-desired look, constructed of chagrin and technological vexation. But it will do. For now.

IC The ta-da moment.

TH Anyway, the point is, you have to work with stuff like that, to soften the knocks. I’m speaking metaphorically, of course. The terrain of life.

IC I see. What school did you go to?

TH That’s: To what school did you go.

IC Moving on, before we close this interview—

TH I’ve bored you, I see.

IC I’m glad you called me IC. Instead of that other word. Before we close this interview, you spoke of  speaking metaphorically—

TH Yes. Take this interview, for example. You enter, you look around, you “view” the wordscape—

IC I don’t follow.

TH Wordscape. Like landscape, only it’s not made of terra firma, flora and fauna. But there are images nonetheless, some of which appear in the words before you, others on the pages within you, by the camera obscura of the intellect.

IC You’re outgribing, or something.

TH You’re imaginary, or something.

IC Could I be Humpty Dumpty?

TH OK.