Monday, 19 January 2009

Postcard from Earth (6: Moving on)

Dear Pater,

I am now fully grown it seems. I've done more than 30 of these annual circles around the sun which is how they reckon age in these parts. You have no idea how time drags for a biological entity. But of course you do, ha ha.

Anyway, I have decided I'm done with carpentry. Yes, "horny handed son of toil" and all that has a certain ring to it I suppose, but, honestly, one plank is very much like another.

I said to my earthly papa, Joseph, that I was thinking of moving on, do a bit of a roadie, find some like-minded chums to hang out with etc. In effect that it was time for him to look for a new skivvy. And he says? "Whatever"! Whatever? I mean, OK, we haven't always agreed exact criteria for the difference between a dovetail and a mortise and tenon, but still.

My earthly mum Mary was a bit more choked. She mumbled on about me being quite grown up now and it was about time, one less body to tidy up after, one less mouth to feed, at last some room to swing the cat in blah blah, but I think I can tell when someone is putting on a brave face.

So, that's me sorted. Well, not quite. Having decided what not to do, I've got to make a start on figuring what to do. I hear they need some help on the forex desk down the local temple. Might start there.

Anyway, that's all for now,
Love to Mama.

PS - I take it you'll be good for a reference in the unlikely event I need one? Latin or Aramaic, in case you need to brush up.

Saturday, 10 January 2009

Postcard from Earth (6: celibacy)

Dear Pater,

Sorry not to have been in touch sooner; mostly I have been doing carpentry and growing up.

On which matter, growing up that is, not carpentry, I have the following observation to make. There should be a user manual for these monkey bodies.

For a start, there is the quaint habit of walking on the back legs in a body design that is clearly quadruped. I mean, for goodness sakes, it took me the best part of two years to learn this trick. And there isn't a tail to balance with or anything.

Then there is the practice of wearing the genitals outside the body. Inconvenient or what? And speaking of which, why is it that parts of these bodies, and those parts in particular, seem to have a mind of their own and not do the bidding of the central nervous system?

Reproduction itself is a trifle quaint and seems to involve the direct introjection of genetic material into the other party. At least it seems that way to me, though no one is very forthcoming when probed. Whoops, that doesn't sound quite right, but I'm sure you know what I mean.

That said, one or two local lasses have discretely hinted that they would be happy to help me in my researches. I was quite interested since I gather that there is a recreational element to the whole thing, but the Ghost has absolutely and completely prohibited same.

For why? It appears, and I quote, that I am "a walking meiotic disaster zone".

Naturally I pressed for something a bit more useful than this, and the Ghost was, for once, explicit, if brief. It has to do with the gene cloning and splicing that he was required to do to manage the virgin birth thingy. It seems it was a complete lash-up, a botch, though this is my description, not his. The upshot is that my genes are NOT to be dumped into the local pool unless I want everyone to sprout armpits and glow in the dark.

However, there is a carrot that goes with the stick, and it is a clever invention called celibacy.

What the Ghost says is that some folks voluntarily forswear this introjection thing and live life on "a higher plane". Turns out that other folk think rather well of them etc etc and it's quite a useful credential to have if one plans to be a holy man blahdy blah.

Well truth is that carpentry is a bit samey, so I'd like to keep my options open ref future occupations. More on this later.

Anyway, that's all for now,
Love to Mama.

PS - I don't think that Mama will be all that interested in the introjection discussion. Just my opinion.

Tuesday, 6 January 2009

Postcard from Earth (5: loot)

Dear Pater,

Slightly stung with indignation and a bit of guilt thrown in, ref the birthday bash.

Let me elaborate:

- the turnip, well yes, OK, that was jolly good
- the broom; I think you can draw your own conclusions
- the sandals; hmmm, fair enough, and may be the start of a fashion
- the sand; apparently someone's idea of a joke in case I don't know what the broom's for
- the stick, which I though quite original, turns out to be a replacement shaft for the broom
- and the lump of cheese is, it appears, soap

All in all a touch utilitarian. Never mind, they're jolly nice really (I mean my Earth family, not the presents).

That's all for now,
Love to mama.

PS - no pressie from the Realm, yet. May have fallen down a worm hole?