The Language of the Ancients
Once or twice a year I have a dream that I am sailing one of the boats I used to work on in improbable circumstances. Last night I dreamed that I was sailing the Schooner Edna along the rain flooded streets of downtown Portland, Maine.[1] The immediate dilemma was that I needed to get pilot the vessel out into Portland Harbor, but the traffic-by which I mean cars-was too heavy to cross commercial street. Also, DiMillo's-which was now a sort of sinister Mississippi paddle boat with giant stacks belching out black smoke-was blockading the Harbor Line.
Ultimately, I did manage to get the vessel out to sea, and the scene shifted so that the schooner was somewhere off Big Sur. Various events unfolded on board of no real importance. A woman I used to know (we'll call her JP) was there and for some reason it was necessary for us to swim ashore. There was an extended scene where I was coaxing JP to keep swimming-she was not exactly a triathlete when I knew her.
We landed on a beach and hiked up the seaside cliffs into a thick wilderness. Somehow, during the hike, JP turned into a hot female version of Indiana Jones, complete with whip and hat. I tried to make conversation, but every time I did she looked annoyed with me and eventually even pulled a machete on me (which, in real life, I sort of deserve).
By the time we crested the cliffs it was clear we were on some sort of expedition to retrieve a mysterious artifact, and so, naturally, we entered a cave. JP lit a torch and by its light we could see that the walls of the cave were painted Lascaux-style. But something was odd: I looked closer at the caves and realized that the paintings did not depict animals but lisp code.
Jen stuttered in awe: "It's the language of the ancients!"
N.B.: Speaking of the language of the ancients, I wish lj-compose mode was just a little bit smarter. Maybe I just need to update it. (Edit: I take it back, lj-update is smarter than I gave it credit for).
Footnotes: [1] Zip Kellog, librarian, Maine canoe expert and all around cool person once told me a story about how he went paddling down Forest Avenue after a heavy rain storm.
Ultimately, I did manage to get the vessel out to sea, and the scene shifted so that the schooner was somewhere off Big Sur. Various events unfolded on board of no real importance. A woman I used to know (we'll call her JP) was there and for some reason it was necessary for us to swim ashore. There was an extended scene where I was coaxing JP to keep swimming-she was not exactly a triathlete when I knew her.
We landed on a beach and hiked up the seaside cliffs into a thick wilderness. Somehow, during the hike, JP turned into a hot female version of Indiana Jones, complete with whip and hat. I tried to make conversation, but every time I did she looked annoyed with me and eventually even pulled a machete on me (which, in real life, I sort of deserve).
By the time we crested the cliffs it was clear we were on some sort of expedition to retrieve a mysterious artifact, and so, naturally, we entered a cave. JP lit a torch and by its light we could see that the walls of the cave were painted Lascaux-style. But something was odd: I looked closer at the caves and realized that the paintings did not depict animals but lisp code.
Jen stuttered in awe: "It's the language of the ancients!"
N.B.: Speaking of the language of the ancients, I wish lj-compose mode was just a little bit smarter. Maybe I just need to update it. (Edit: I take it back, lj-update is smarter than I gave it credit for).
Footnotes: [1] Zip Kellog, librarian, Maine canoe expert and all around cool person once told me a story about how he went paddling down Forest Avenue after a heavy rain storm.