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Tortoise - the full story
a slow-moving typically herbivorous land reptile of warm climates, enclosed in a scaly or leathery domed shell into which it can retract its head and thick legs.
Wind your neck in, you tiny brained reptile.
Is it true you can live for a year without a brain?, and for a month without a head? How is it that you live so long without a hippocampus?
The tortoise is as its reputation suggests: long living, slow, reclusive, hidden by that hard protective shell. The oldest tortoise with a confirmed record is one hundred and eighty eight years but there are tortoises that are believed to have lived to two hundred and fifty years. This longevity may be due to the slow metabolism, or the slow metabolism may be what causes their observed slowness.
The tortoise mostly eats grasses and weeds, and needs little water. In the wild the age of the tortoise can be viewed in the rings on the carapace, because, like their companion in longevity: trees, rate of growth depends on the abundance of food, which in turn depends on the season.
The tortoise may have the reputation of being the oracle in certain cultures. Oh dear, this is very unlike the reality of this tiny brained reptile. The high point of sophistication between tortoises is their one form of communication: ramming. They ram in combat, fair enough, but, foolishly, they ram in courtship too. There ends the lesson.
All this said, welcome to the House of Masks, tortoise, my old friend.
through the gap
the tale of tortoise entering the House of Masks
A solitary figure meanders along the rudimentary path caused by being leeward of the wall surrounding the House of Masks.
The solitary figure somehow fits this solitary place. This place where it is unusual to see anything more than the occasional wild animal passing the wall, not even enough creatures pass by to establish a path of any note. It is unheard of to witness a person here for this place is but a grey void on any map, digital or ancient. It is not a route from here to there. It is not a route from anywhere to anywhere.
The solitary figure passes through the wall as if by magic, but it is not magic. There is a gap. It is not clear if this was once an entrance (there are no signs of a gate) or if this was just negligent construction by a builder who assumed no one would ever come this way. From inside the gap is hidden by the old stump, behind the stump is an old wooden box. On the door of the box behind glass to protect it from the elements is a note.
TO PASS THIS POINT YOU: MUST BE COMPLETELY NAKED, AND MUST WEAR THE MASK IN THIS BOX, AND MAY NOT SAY ANYTHING, NOT A SINGLE WORD. FEEL FREE TO LEAVE YOUR BELONGINGS IN THIS BOX.
The solitary figure slowly struggles through each of the words, reading the note twice to ensure understanding. There are three things. To be naked. To wear a mask. To be silent.
The solitary figure is a recluse and a wanderer. A recluse is used to silence, used to the solitude of one's own company, used to appreciating the beauty in everyday things to be found in nature and in society. A wanderer is used to getting unexpected directions. This is the lot of the traveller: each new place brings with it new customs, new traditions, new challenges; but with each new challenge is a certainty that gives the wanderer great strength: the wanderer knows that before long the wanderer will move on, wander towards a new place. And so begin a new cycle.
The recluse and wanderer does not care about clothes or masks.
The recluse and wanderer will simply follow the instructions.
The recluse and wanderer removes each item of clothing with care, shaking it out and folding it neatly before placing it in the box. A wanderer knows not to be wasteful, each item of clothing may be used by the next person to pass this way, by the next person in need, whomever that person may be. One item, two items, three items, four items, five, six. Boots at the bottom, socks tucked into them, skirt and shirt resting on the top. No undergarments, a wanderer does not always have a choice.
The naked recluse draws on the TORTOISE mask, a tight fit that fixes the head in an unusual pose, the chin higher than normal so the shoulders stoop slightly to compensate.
The naked recluse with the TORTOISE masks walks on This is the right thing to do.
old tree stump
retelling the story of the tortoise and the hare.
The naked recluse with the TORTOISE mask takes a moment to round the old tree stump. Once it was a great tree with a formidable girth, now it is an old stump with inconvenient girth.
The naked recluse with the TORTOISE mask stops, silent, observing. There is a figure leaning against the stump, on the sunny side. A naked prole with the HARE mask who seems not to notice the company, or perhaps does not care, whose hips rock slowly back and forth causing the penis to flop left, then flop right, then flop left.
The naked recluse with the TORTOISE mask watches, and waits. Perhaps waiting for an instruction, perhaps waiting for the right moment to act, perhaps watching the flaccid penis flapping, perhaps waiting for a formal introduction. There are no clues to suggest there is a plan of action, or even thoughts about a plan for action, all that can be observed is the waiting.
The naked prole with the HARE mask languidly looks up, then looks away again, continuing the hip movement: penis flopping left, flopping right.
A voluptuous nude with a FOX mask walking along the perimeter of the field notices the pair at the old tree stump and thinks about the famous race; there is no knowing who would win a race between this pair: the reluctant tortoise or the louche hare, and fleetingly hopes if they are to race it would be something other than that predictable running race, but is interrupted by the tannoy (who puts a tannoy in a field): GATHER ONE GATHER ALL FOR THE FINE PERFORMANCE OF THE TORTOISE AND THE HARE.
The voluptuous nude with the FOX mask stops, thinks, this TORTOISE should school that HARE in the consequences of flopping a cock left and right. Yes, this TORTOISE should school that HARE in true sensual sexuality.
The naked prole with the HARE mask stretches, stands, and clambers up the old tree stump.
The naked recluse with the TORTOISE mask remains motionless.
on steady and race
the tortoise and the hare reimagined.
HARE ridiculed TORTOISE full of softness and curve
With a hand to the crotch this is all you deserve
An orgasm race? Ridiculous dog run dung
You can’t even climax without a shot from my gun
But FOX set the race: last to come gets up the bum.
Off TORTOISE diddled on a slow and steady strum
HARE said: TORTOISE lies, fake sighs, wriggly cheats
I come twice a day, you can tell from my sheets
And the crowd gathered closer to measure the action
And HARE shrunk smaller, to the attention succumb
While TORTOISE diddled on in that slow and steady strum
HARE shouted this is stupid, why should I perform
You're a twisted voyeur, your perversions deform
Meanwhile TORTOISE quietly came and came again
And what about HARE, deserve-ed anal pain.
body of water
where tortoise finds a place to rest.
The naked recluse with the TORTOISE mask happens upon the body of water. A large and calm body of water with a rocky beach, it could be a lake or an inlet from the sea. It is a place of calmness, a place of acceptance. A place to forget the pressures of achievement and striving for success, it is enough to simply be here.
The naked recluse with the TORTOISE mask forgets. Perhaps it is the sound of the waves lapping against the pebbles, perhaps it is the sun warmed rock. Forgetting allows you to live in the moment, to luxuriate in the warmth of the sun on the skin, to relax to the smooth firmness of the stone, to appreciate the moment, this moment. It is the effect of the House of Masks: a strange kind of forgetting that truly makes the past a foreign land. A disconnect between the event and the memory, a lifting of the weight of the past, a new lightness formed by a numbing combined with a pleasure of the moment.
The naked recluse with the TORTOISE mask tells a story to one of the seabirds, sometimes it is difficult to tell the seabirds apart, or perhaps a seabird tells the story. It is the life of a carefree child walking home between parents from the school play. The child had played the wicked witch. The father asked the child to laugh the wicked laugh one more time, but the sound that came was a screech and a thump, an almighty clatter of a car mounting the curb and crushing the family. Months later in the hospital the event was explained to the child: the death of the mother and the father, the consequences for the drunk driver, the processes and procedures, the prospects and the expectations, but the child got confused. Brain injury does that.
The naked recluse with the TORTOISE mask knows other stories, short little stories about animals getting on with things. Stories about animals with problems, solving problems. Simple stories with just one problem and one solution, just a few words ending in a moral guidance.
The naked recluse with the TORTOISE mask thinks this place is reminiscent of those stories, this place is like falling into one of those stories, but the stories have changed, grown strange. Estranged.
The naked recluse with the TORTOISE mask lives like life is a story about a simple problem which will soon be followed by an equally simple solution, and, of course, a moral imperative. It is surprising how well this approach works. It is like it is written: the simplest approach is the shortest route to happiness and a better quality of life without the fuss and fanfare. Then even at the water’s edge the tannoy can be heard: THE TORTOISE AND THE EAGLE TALE SHALL BE TOLD NOW.
The naked recluse with the TORTOISE mask reclines on the smooth rock enjoying the sun.
The nude figures with SEABIRD masks gathered around.
on fantasy and fallacy
the tortoise and the eagle reimagined.
TORTOISE luxuriated like only tortoises could
Sunbathing lazily between the seabirds stood
Yawned and declared If only I could fly
I’d feel the sun like Icarus up high
I’ll give all the treasures for anyone to try
Oh I, said EAGLE, I’ll take you to the sky
And up they went, up up up and again
But just below the clouds EAGLE let go
And down crashed TORTOISE in shattering pain
Oh, lamented poor TORTOISE, oh dear and oh no.
