Two subjects
From the treatise, Identity Assessments of Two guacamole owls I have had the pleasure of studying, by Dr. H.C. Stalks, 1973-1974, Portugal :
Subject 1:
you are humble; yet not without a certain misplaced savoir-faire. you have a sort of stylized humanity. it is abstract. painters could paint it and then pretend it's their self-portrait (nobody would know the difference). mountains can be made from your mole-hills, so start digging. the more you dig little holes, the more the terrain erupts skyward into large, vertical land masses. you like puddles. only because it's the place the water chooses not to evaporate. you appreciate the water's stubbornness. moments ago you contemplated a new beginning. it was erase quickly by neurons fired from the guns held by brain-elves (or mind-gnomes - take your pick (but you don't like either choice)). inside your mind, a little universe exists. the universe is known by many as "the inner ear". it has no use, and should really be called "the useless place", because that's a little more descriptive. you're timid, but your eyes convey to the world a sense of great strength and self-confidence. it's your cheeks that give you away. you got seriously timid cheeks. they betray your eyes' effects. rouge only makes it worse. i suggest cotton swabs. the more puffy your cheeks look, the less timid - and the more they match your eyes. also, you are heartfelt and imprisoned. neither makes much sense out of context, but i'm sure you can apply it to your own situation somehow. that's how these personality analyses work. ...gee, if that's the truth, then i can just say anything and it will fit right in. okay! so um, you have a bluish tinge to your... um, humanity. yeah. and you are a guacamole owl. and you keep your friends locked in the glove compartment of the police car. and um, you like ritz crackers. but not necessarily actual ritz crackers, i could be speaking metaphorically (depending on whether or not you actually like them). if you do like them, then i mean figuratively, and if you don't, i mean metaphorically. in fact, apply that same process to everything you've just read above. also, you have dark red eggs.
****
Subject 2:
You are specific to a time and place and give clothing to meet the eye's demands. Passerbys to the brilliant white castle are born daily, minute-by-minute by hour, and are given tourists as entourage. A pure guacamole owl, you approach life with fairy courage. You are uncommon, a rare particular force, benevolent and unbidden by witches' vines. At dusk you make a choice for flight. A balloon is satisfactory; but a mask tethered to a cloud is considered ideal, its pedigree appraised expertly by your stone-wrought experience. You are what wood would be if it didn't burn. Picture a lattice-work made of ice and air, suspended in an ancient jar, preserved for centuries as an empty vessel for the very purpose of preservation itself, a reminder of the absence of irony in the lands of our kin. You require no spectacles because they are already in your head behind your eyes, placed there kindly by someone who deemed you meritable as a child. They remain and unwittingly augment your strength. As a model for livelihood, you look to the writ of elders and craftsmen. You have found lost paths not on the map. They take you past riverbeds where the trees urge the pine-cones to speak, where the river makes their mouths into caves. The paths take you past sizeable rocks - good and solid - the point of which eludes you until you see the rungs of the ladders. They cross through fields where the mud makes forests, where the snow rests a few feet off the ground, where the sky coats the insides of wells like paint, where you meet under the roots. And you enjoy the transience. On your brow rest hand-picked winds dyed green and black. They remember what suit they were wearing the day of your first look.
Ed. note : These assessments are FRAUDS. It has come to my attention that they were not written by Dr. H.C. Stalks. The real author is still at large. But I will reveal his identity. It is none other than me. And I would have gotten away with it too, if it wasn't for my pesky meddlings. Why don't I just leave my affairs alone? Why do I have to mind my own business? Why not someone else's?
Ohhhh, I'll get you next time, Me!
Subject 1:
you are humble; yet not without a certain misplaced savoir-faire. you have a sort of stylized humanity. it is abstract. painters could paint it and then pretend it's their self-portrait (nobody would know the difference). mountains can be made from your mole-hills, so start digging. the more you dig little holes, the more the terrain erupts skyward into large, vertical land masses. you like puddles. only because it's the place the water chooses not to evaporate. you appreciate the water's stubbornness. moments ago you contemplated a new beginning. it was erase quickly by neurons fired from the guns held by brain-elves (or mind-gnomes - take your pick (but you don't like either choice)). inside your mind, a little universe exists. the universe is known by many as "the inner ear". it has no use, and should really be called "the useless place", because that's a little more descriptive. you're timid, but your eyes convey to the world a sense of great strength and self-confidence. it's your cheeks that give you away. you got seriously timid cheeks. they betray your eyes' effects. rouge only makes it worse. i suggest cotton swabs. the more puffy your cheeks look, the less timid - and the more they match your eyes. also, you are heartfelt and imprisoned. neither makes much sense out of context, but i'm sure you can apply it to your own situation somehow. that's how these personality analyses work. ...gee, if that's the truth, then i can just say anything and it will fit right in. okay! so um, you have a bluish tinge to your... um, humanity. yeah. and you are a guacamole owl. and you keep your friends locked in the glove compartment of the police car. and um, you like ritz crackers. but not necessarily actual ritz crackers, i could be speaking metaphorically (depending on whether or not you actually like them). if you do like them, then i mean figuratively, and if you don't, i mean metaphorically. in fact, apply that same process to everything you've just read above. also, you have dark red eggs.
****
Subject 2:
You are specific to a time and place and give clothing to meet the eye's demands. Passerbys to the brilliant white castle are born daily, minute-by-minute by hour, and are given tourists as entourage. A pure guacamole owl, you approach life with fairy courage. You are uncommon, a rare particular force, benevolent and unbidden by witches' vines. At dusk you make a choice for flight. A balloon is satisfactory; but a mask tethered to a cloud is considered ideal, its pedigree appraised expertly by your stone-wrought experience. You are what wood would be if it didn't burn. Picture a lattice-work made of ice and air, suspended in an ancient jar, preserved for centuries as an empty vessel for the very purpose of preservation itself, a reminder of the absence of irony in the lands of our kin. You require no spectacles because they are already in your head behind your eyes, placed there kindly by someone who deemed you meritable as a child. They remain and unwittingly augment your strength. As a model for livelihood, you look to the writ of elders and craftsmen. You have found lost paths not on the map. They take you past riverbeds where the trees urge the pine-cones to speak, where the river makes their mouths into caves. The paths take you past sizeable rocks - good and solid - the point of which eludes you until you see the rungs of the ladders. They cross through fields where the mud makes forests, where the snow rests a few feet off the ground, where the sky coats the insides of wells like paint, where you meet under the roots. And you enjoy the transience. On your brow rest hand-picked winds dyed green and black. They remember what suit they were wearing the day of your first look.
Ed. note : These assessments are FRAUDS. It has come to my attention that they were not written by Dr. H.C. Stalks. The real author is still at large. But I will reveal his identity. It is none other than me. And I would have gotten away with it too, if it wasn't for my pesky meddlings. Why don't I just leave my affairs alone? Why do I have to mind my own business? Why not someone else's?
Ohhhh, I'll get you next time, Me!
