from Capital Castles
The last of the CASTLES TRILOGY finds Duncan returning from his whirlwind trips around the world back to the United States. The quest concludes, though the quest continues.
from Capital Castles
You know how all this started? All this attention to detail, to novel parturitions? It started when I was kid, a child; it started at that Easter Egg Hunt. Oh, it didn’t matter that I was Jewish and the holiday was a pagan pastiche that patterned Passover nor did it matter that an
ovoviviparous rodent didn’t, couldn’t nor ever would be able to lay eggs, it didn’t matter that way, those ways, at all; it was the ritual of the thing that counted, that sacrosanct christening of edges, hedges, wedges against the past, savory for a newly-sought-for-spring. Parturition. Ab ovo..
It started at that Easter Egg Hunt when we all lined up in a row, like civil war warriors set to wage brash attacks upon the yolk of hardboiled phlegmatism. Poached palinoia. And when the Hunt Coordinator coordinated us to proceed in the proper direction (i.e. forward, with a linear tilt), I proceeded in the opposite one (i.e. backward, sinistrally). Which was not at all the proper direction, the proper direction being straight ahead; but, you see, I knew, or thought I knew, how adults thought and I thought they would think that we would think the eggs were planted straight ahead, in the proper direction. So, when they all proceeded ahead, straightaway, with no encumbrances to hinder them, their hunt, I proceeded rearly because I knew, or thought I knew, that that’s where the eggs would surely be hidden. Adults, I thought, couldn’t possibly be that stupid. And I remember my mother, my poor embarrassed mother, I remember my mother slapping her forehead and wondering why, in fact, I went in the opposite direction. Ë rebours. And after what seemed like hours of that peripatetic pasquinade, I finally returned, weary from the peregrinations, and my mother asked me, in a way only mothers know how to ask, "Duncan," she said, "why didn’t you follow the other children?" And I responded, with alacrity, puzzled alacrity, "Because I didn’t think the eggs were that way. I thought they’d try to fool us." The adults, that is. And she smiled a matronly smile, a smile that defaces and deflates sorrow and loss and recognition, she smiled a matronly smile, stroked my rumpled cheek, and shook her head. She probably knew then. Knew well. Too well, the direction of my purpose.
Of course, I found nothing on that hunt and it’s been that way ever since. You see, there really is no place in this world for children who look for eggs in all the wrong directions.
A Comment on the Previous Chapter
"No symbols where none intended."
Comment Upon Generic Easter Egg Hunts
“Vacuos exercet in aera morsus.”
Translation of Previous Chapter
"He bites the empty air."
PERIPHRASIS/n. pl. periphrases EL, fr. Gk, fr.
perphrazein to express periphrastically, fr. peri + phrazein
to point out] 1: use of a longer phrasing in place of a possible shorter and plainer form of expression: CIRCUMLOCUTION.
And Now For Something Completely Different
When last we left Duncan Katz, I was in the throes of my own viscera. Come with me now to those thrilling days of yesterday! With a heartyhihohadara! Duncan Katz writes again!