Animals and aliens

When you think of Orwell's Animal Farm, you get stuck on the idea of some being more equal than others. But world peace, galactic harmony, the celebration of diversity and the active practice of inclusion are all achieved in science fiction by casting minorities in the role of animals and aliens. Star Trek comes to mind in this regard, where even hippies were disposed of, Federation style, as sensitive dissenting aliens, not forgetting Spock with his pointy ears! And then there were Wookiees, still man's best friend.

Viewing animals as humans--anthropomorphizing--or treating different races as aliens, all of this is shape shifting. This shape is my shade, there where I used to stand--that's Steely Dan.

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Day's eye

About a week ago what is left of the natural landscape in Ottawa--and a number of lawns that have been let to run riot--gave over to the annual dandelion pride. Dent de lion . The teeth of a lion bite a place for themselves and parade their yellow banner for a week before exploding into puff balls of parachuting seeds. But even before the seeds have blown to their new homes, their place on urban hills is taken by ever so slightly more respectable daisies that open most precociously at dawn. Daes eag . Day's eye. A suitable opening for a near Summer's day. Now these are honest bloomers--not sophisticated with heavy petals like potted mums. These showboaters of Summer overshadow their fleabane or aster cousins, who compete, blinking their eyelash petals when the sun is done, bundled in a royal mauve or a flirtatious pink. Also showing now are the heroes of the hedgerow, the bluebells or foxglove from which we have derived the heart medication digi...

Up along (for Charlotte)

The day is yet young there where you are and I have just been to a screening of You Are Here about the stranded passengers who were fed and found shelter in Gander Newfoundland when American air space was closed in the wake of 9/11 and jumbo jets descended on the town like waves of locusts or bombers returning from sortie and run in stacked formation one atop another as they landed and parked nose to tail as if on some aircraft carrier preparing the way for an assault by land from the start the locals had her skald (for those who know nothing of witches and cauldrons to have her skald means to know your fate and have it in your hands) and sprang to action as seafaring people do used to missing bodies lost livelihoods and death and disasters at sea housing passengers from hither and yon in schools and churches and meeting halls and billeting them in their homes for 24 hours they made sandwiches fried fish and chicken threw toget...

Dr Spiegeli (in memoriam Bruno Cecco)

If you stayed at Villa Nina Guest House in Leamington Terrace--and slept under the monkey puzzle tree, or were near enough to smell the McEwan's mash on brewing day, or went to the Edinburgh Booker cash and carry for a flat of eggs or a tin of sweets, or crossed the Bruntsfield Links (where nobody ever plays golf but some occasionally engage in medieval swordplay), or ducked under the whale's jawbone arch when exiting Middle Meadow Walk you met Dr Spiegeli. It's not that he was actually in all of those places all the time, but his sense of humour was as ubiquitous as porridge. And to understand him you need to understand real Scottish oatmeal--not that he served it in his B&B, but his spirit was pervasive like the porridge, and his laugh was contagious and his smile wicked and bewitching and infectious. Now it's time to remember some aspects of Dr Spegeli. Pinhead and Aga cookers and spurtle sticks When you are going to make a good Scottish porr...

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