Random outbreaks of creativity, adult and child
One small but awesome present I got for Giftmas, from lgbtech, was a set of 6-sided dice called Story Cubes, with pictures on them that you can use for various storytelling games. They were the source of much entertainment on an evening out we had with curgoth, mycrazyhair and several other friends. The idea was, according to the box, to divide the dice among all present and have one person start with "Once upon a time..." and the roll their dice for inspiration, and then continue around the table with each person adding to the story. But given that we were all somewhat under the influence of many and various interesting varieties of beer at the time, the story instead started with "No shit - there I was!" and the each-with-their-own-dice thing quickly degenerated into first grabbing dice from other people, and then eventually keeping all the dice in a big pile in the middle with people taking as many as they felt like using when their turn came. As you might expect both from the alcohol factor and the excellent company, things quickly became very surreal, and a certain point I felt compelled to start taking notes on my phone of some of the more... interesting things that were said.
"The trouble with cosmic turtles from beyond the veil of stars is all the tentacles!"
"Quickly I engineered some electromagnetic shoes that would draw any missile fire directed at me away from my body and into my shoes. The neighbourhood kids called me Mr. Porcupine-Feet."
"How about Missile-Toes?"
"Who are you to tell me what's possible?"
"A tragicomic entomologist!"
"The stewardess, the stars, were just devices learned in my literary theory class, with no plot or character development. So I built a castle and said fuck you all!"
"I wanted something great! I wanted drama! I wanted..."
"Electromagnetism for Dummies - the Musical!"
"So having engineered a fountain in the middle of the airplane, I had a nap, lulled to sleep by the pitter-patter of water drops falling. Through the stars. In Denmark."
"And so, with the secrets of the universe embedded deep within my skull, I initiated a Google search on..."
"Falling stars, electromagnetism & Stephen Sondheim!"
"At that moment my cell phone rang. It was God."
"And so I said unto the Lord my God, my love for thee is like the love of a honeybee for... A phone. It is like the soft fuzzy wool of the ur-sheep from which all other sheep are descended!"
. . .
Of course, the Lynxcub is also an enduring source of extreme creativity. So as the childhood sequel to the adult madness above, here is a conversation I recently had with him:
I had just read him the book Something Good, by Robert Munsch, in which through a complicated bunch of circumstances, a father has to pay for his daughter at the grocery store, and he was full of questions: "Why did Tyya say he did buy something good after all?"
"Because he had to buy her in order to take her out of the store."
"Why did he buy her?"
"Because she's his daughter, and he loves her, so he didn't want to leave her at the grocery store just because she had a price sticker on her nose. Just like you're my little boy and I love you."
Without missing a beat, as though this were a perfectly logical response to that, he replied: "Sometimes I throw anchors at pirates when the come too close to Mama's kayak."
After an inward moment of "Wait... what?" I asked: "Are there a lot of pirates in Prince Edward County?" (where kettunainen's kayaks are currently located)
"Yes, sometimes. They (his paternal grandparents) live on a lake!"
"A lake with pirates?"
"Yes. Sometimes they bump right up against the boat. Then I throw the anchor at them, to knock them into the water."
"Do they swim to shore?"
"Yes, but sometimes I do it where there is no shore!"
"What happens to them then?"
"They sink to the bottom."
"To hang out with the mermaids?"
"Yes, because the mermaids are the pirates' daughters."
. . .
A little while later, when somehow the topic of pirates making people walk the plank had come up (via a Lego video, I think, I asked him "When pirates walk the plank, are they going to visit their daughters?"
"Yes."
"Do their daughters have a way of helping them breathe underwater?"
"Yes, they give them clean water!"
"And pirates can breathe clean water?"
"Yes."
"How do they do that - do they have gills, like fish?"
He thought for a minute, looking a bit concerned, and then replied "Yes!" in that happy of-course-THAT-explains-EVERYTHING tone that he has sometimes.
. . .
Later still, the topic of selkies had come up, and he told me that sometimes selkies would sink pirate ships by swimming over top of them. He also mentioned, shortly thereafter, that the selkies were the mermaids' friends.
"But wait," I said. "If the selkies and the mermaids are friends, and the mermaids are the pirates' daughters, wouldn't the mermaids be upset with the selkies for sinking their parent's ships?"
"No," he replied, "Because that's how they get their parents to visit them!"
"The trouble with cosmic turtles from beyond the veil of stars is all the tentacles!"
"Quickly I engineered some electromagnetic shoes that would draw any missile fire directed at me away from my body and into my shoes. The neighbourhood kids called me Mr. Porcupine-Feet."
"How about Missile-Toes?"
"Who are you to tell me what's possible?"
"A tragicomic entomologist!"
"The stewardess, the stars, were just devices learned in my literary theory class, with no plot or character development. So I built a castle and said fuck you all!"
"I wanted something great! I wanted drama! I wanted..."
"Electromagnetism for Dummies - the Musical!"
"So having engineered a fountain in the middle of the airplane, I had a nap, lulled to sleep by the pitter-patter of water drops falling. Through the stars. In Denmark."
"And so, with the secrets of the universe embedded deep within my skull, I initiated a Google search on..."
"Falling stars, electromagnetism & Stephen Sondheim!"
"At that moment my cell phone rang. It was God."
"And so I said unto the Lord my God, my love for thee is like the love of a honeybee for... A phone. It is like the soft fuzzy wool of the ur-sheep from which all other sheep are descended!"
. . .
Of course, the Lynxcub is also an enduring source of extreme creativity. So as the childhood sequel to the adult madness above, here is a conversation I recently had with him:
I had just read him the book Something Good, by Robert Munsch, in which through a complicated bunch of circumstances, a father has to pay for his daughter at the grocery store, and he was full of questions: "Why did Tyya say he did buy something good after all?"
"Because he had to buy her in order to take her out of the store."
"Why did he buy her?"
"Because she's his daughter, and he loves her, so he didn't want to leave her at the grocery store just because she had a price sticker on her nose. Just like you're my little boy and I love you."
Without missing a beat, as though this were a perfectly logical response to that, he replied: "Sometimes I throw anchors at pirates when the come too close to Mama's kayak."
After an inward moment of "Wait... what?" I asked: "Are there a lot of pirates in Prince Edward County?" (where kettunainen's kayaks are currently located)
"Yes, sometimes. They (his paternal grandparents) live on a lake!"
"A lake with pirates?"
"Yes. Sometimes they bump right up against the boat. Then I throw the anchor at them, to knock them into the water."
"Do they swim to shore?"
"Yes, but sometimes I do it where there is no shore!"
"What happens to them then?"
"They sink to the bottom."
"To hang out with the mermaids?"
"Yes, because the mermaids are the pirates' daughters."
. . .
A little while later, when somehow the topic of pirates making people walk the plank had come up (via a Lego video, I think, I asked him "When pirates walk the plank, are they going to visit their daughters?"
"Yes."
"Do their daughters have a way of helping them breathe underwater?"
"Yes, they give them clean water!"
"And pirates can breathe clean water?"
"Yes."
"How do they do that - do they have gills, like fish?"
He thought for a minute, looking a bit concerned, and then replied "Yes!" in that happy of-course-THAT-explains-EVERYTHING tone that he has sometimes.
. . .
Later still, the topic of selkies had come up, and he told me that sometimes selkies would sink pirate ships by swimming over top of them. He also mentioned, shortly thereafter, that the selkies were the mermaids' friends.
"But wait," I said. "If the selkies and the mermaids are friends, and the mermaids are the pirates' daughters, wouldn't the mermaids be upset with the selkies for sinking their parent's ships?"
"No," he replied, "Because that's how they get their parents to visit them!"