The Osopher's Tale Read online

  You know the reason the beatles made it so big? ‘I wanna hold your hand’. First single. Perhaps the best song ever written. They nailed it. That’s what everyone wants. not 24/7 hot, wet sex. Not a marriage that lasts a hundred years. Not a Porsche or a million-pound house. No. They want to hold your hand. They have such a feeling that they can’t hide. Every single, successful song of the past 50 years can be traced back to ‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand’, and every single successful story has those unbearably exciting moments of hand-holding.

  Kai built the world. Without him we wouldn’t be here. He lays the biggest claim to this book being his. He gives AND HE TAKES. He is gentle yet firm. Kai; we thank you.

  Kai’s main success in existence was securing one of the main parts in a Hollywood movie that would live on to be a Halloween classic. He played the part of ‘the thing’ in The Adams Family, released in 1991. The media at the time reported that he had been offered such a lucrative role after excelling in the Michael caine feature movie ‘the hand’ in 1981.

  Kai can certainly lay claim to be the most constructive of ann’s originals, having built the world which they inhabit. The colosseum of Rome, Angkor wat of Cambodia, the Sydney opera house, to name just a couple. Every house and establishment occupied by a living, sentient being; all of our daily comforts; the tools that build our tools. These were built by Kai. He is the paintbrush for human’s canvas that is planet Aqua.

  Having always been useful, a key element if one wishes to survive, kai has never struggled to exert his influence on ann’s hutopia.

  In fact, if you look back on the key dates of antiquity, you will often find kai in an anthropomorphised form meddling with affairs; often smartly choosing to be the wisest of incarnations in whatever respective field he sees fit.

  Do not find it a coincidence that mr. Einstein named his son ‘hans’, no. kai wanted to get his name in and around the relative action, knowing just how much he had assisted albert in the lab before the big breakthrough arrived. Granted, after that it was all hand-shakes and waving, but the real work had already been done.

  Fast-forwarding 15 years and we find kai as the right-hand man to someone attempting to end international capitalism and trying to evoke national socialism. Yes, indeed, a Mr. Hans Frank was the legal arm for a A. Hitler, posing as his lawyer and offering him advice on how to circumvent international trade and cargo restrictions. Hans Frank stayed with Hitler until the bitter end in 1945, with his belief never wavering that this was a man attempting to unite Demi into a more symbiotic relationship with ann’s hutopia.

  Whether left or right, Kai would always be one, or the other, or both.

  Surprisingly for a hand, Kai has had ample success in the world of football.

  In 1986, kai used all of his energy to bind with the powers of ann, and thus manifested himself as ‘the hand of god’, scoring a now infamous goal against England and subsequently going on to win the World Cup. Unsurprisingly, whilst attached to Diego Maradona, it was Kai who first touched the golden trophy, lifting it high in the air.

  Buoyed by this success and global accolation and recognition, Kai was feeling more confident and a little cheeky, so he chose a slightly more blatant anthropomorphisation, going under the name of ‘Hans Jorg Butt’, a German international goalkeeper.

  So, this time around, kai was legally using his hands when on the pitch. But the limelight of 1986 had whetted his appetite for fame and more importantly, goals.

  This resulted in Hans Jorg Butt being renowned as a goal-scoring goalkeeper – notching up over 30 in the space of 15 years. Hans’ name and reputation alone got him on the plane to South Africa in 2010, being in a World Cup squad at the age of 36.

  Returning to the movie scene, a young man by the name of Hans Zimmer was making waves in Hollywood, 1994; and not the surfing type but the sound type. The Lion King became his, and many others’ since, making. He would go on to peak at the turn of the millennium with the epic ‘Gladiator’. Enya. Now we are free.

  One man who we thought had peaked but recently returned is perhaps Kai’s most widely circulated and spoken alias. Don’t get cocky kid; laugh it up fuzzball. The millennium falcon. Han Solo. Yes, Kai could not resist instigating the events that would lead to return of this fictional legend.

  George Lucas and J.J. Abrams are both on record saying that their hands were acting independently and possessed when writing and directing ‘The Force Awakens’. This was in fact kai asserting his will on the world.

  Time is a master. Time can be a disaster. Have you never thought why we call the dials on clocks ‘hands’? Well, look no further. Kai weaved his way into being a master of time. It is he who decides whether an hour of pure delirium can feel as though it lasted a lifetime; or an excruciatingly slow work day can go on forever.

  So with that in mind, fast-forwarding on from tales of Kai in human-form, we now come to the night where Kai efficiently demonstrated his worth in ann’s hutopia; he is a binder of people.

  It was a Saturday night in a blustery, wintery Amsterdam. The character, a he, was walking around aimlessly; kai ready to act at his left and right. Cue action.

  The card player

  First, when walking through Vondel Park, a mysterious, shifty-looking youth approached the character and his friends asking for a rizla. Feeling suspicious of intent and somewhat intimidated, the character’s friends either refused or declined the request. The character handed the youth a rizla and let him be on his way.

  20 minutes later, 2 beautiful girls ask the character for directions. The character points the way.

  Added into this story but irrelevant to the content and message are 2 anecdotes. The character chose a doorway to change his trousers in. Sure enough, the occupants returned home mid-change. After this, the trousers-in-bag were to be dropped off at a friends’ hotel. Upon entering, there lies a cat, same breed as the character’s cat. The character mentions this to who he assumes is the landlord, adding that his cat is called Max. The landlord replies that his last cat was, too, called Max. They both smile. The bag is left in the hotel room, no issue. The character is now free of luggage and ready to become a night-crawler.

  Speaking of nightcrawler, the character plays oh my (dis side) by travi$ scott. 2 gorgeous girls walk past and the character does not even get the chance to say ‘oh my’; the music has already spoken for him.

  Leaving his friends, the character, though not yet knowing it, left the shadow of a group and assumed his new, individual identity of ‘the card player’. Kai was in full control from here on in.

  Wandering around for 40 minutes and waiting for providence to strike hard as she always does, the card player, carrying only the finest hemp-paper cards, entered a hipster bar advertising over 100 ales. Walking purposefully toward the counter, he caught eye of 3 gleaming girls playing a game of shithead. His favourite game. Purchasing a citrus-nectar ale, he approached their table and asked to join. Affirmative was their reply.

  The 4 hours that followed next are a homage to the doors that are able to be opened by the creative, ingenuitive hand of humans. The simplest forms of fun are all experienced when held and operated in the hands. Nowadays this is demonstrated most by the thumb forming a pattern, a dance in fact, across an i-phone. In the past, ambidexterity allowed for the shuffling, searching, scrolling and dealing of cards. And this is written up in the book of life, that the hand shall construct forever more.

  It transpired that the 3 girls, kaysee, Allana and andi all hailed from L.a. they had a slight variation in the rules compared to what the card player was used to; he slotted in seamlessly, regardless, taking the first two games in quick succession.

  All the while he could hardly believe his luck, not because of the cards, oh no, he now embraced his ‘the card player’ title, knowing that this chance meeting was the blow he had been looking for. He was instead doubting how he had gotten so lucky. Playing in awe with a beaming smile on his face, he felt ice cool and fully alive
in the moment. Kai, meanwhile, was perspiring badly and sweating his arse off. So, he sent movement up the card player’s arm and into his brain, where they were deciphered and interpreted into producing the craving for a joint.

  Sure enough, soon after, Kai was outside, feeling the breeze, and doing the more mellow task of rolling a dooby.

  The nightcrawling card player had a very enjoyable evening on his only full night in Amsterdam, and after walking them to their hostel and arranging to meet tomorrow, he headed off into the red night.

  p.s. the next day, the character had a hazy memory of the past 24 hours, he vaguely remembers eating a space cake, and was slightly surprised to see one of allana’s cards in amoungst his deck as he was teaching the newly-learned l.a version to his friends. Sneaky kai had snuck that card in there to ensure that the ladies did once again show their faces.

  ‘The Card Player’ story just goes to show how small, sometimes subliminal, gestures of the hand can create unparalleled social interactions and encounters.

  The actions of hands have far more of an impact than they ever get given credit for. A stroke can either soothe and calm a person or make them feel uncomfortable. The emphasis that hands put across when making a political speech burrows deep into the mind of an uncareful observer. Likewise, an opera singer’s hand can make that note pitch just a little higher.

  Kai Next surfaced on the radar 2 weeks down the line in mayrhofen, Austria, the home of disco. There, he was the dj in Arena club, and could be heard screaming: ‘’on Earth there is nothing greater than I am: it is I who am the regulating finger of God.’’.

  Kai rosopher

  The Wisdom of hands

  Gaz

  Today is going to be the day that I’m going to cook a stew for you.

  By now you should’ve somehow realised that you need some food.

  I don’t believe that anybody cooks as fast a stew as I do now.

  Let’s eat, the sauce is on the meat, you just gotta put it in your mouth.

  I’m sure you’ve eaten it before but you’ve never had it with a sprout.

  I don’t believe that anybody cooks as good a stew as I do now.

  And all the sausages that we bought are winding

  And all the spices that we used are combining.

  There are many things that I would like to add to stew, but I don’t know how.

  Because baby,

  Sausage, mash and onion gravy.

  Yes, after all,

  You’re my toad in the hole.

  One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well. This is what ann had In mind when she created gaz. And although there is disparity between his binges and his fastings, it’s safe to say that gaz normally finds a way of striking the right balance; a juggle of nutrition and quantity; what you want vs. what you need.

  None of ann’s other characters can be tagged with this newly-coined word: finnecessity. On the one hand, we have the combined, creative inspiration of chefs, either professional or those wacky-scientists found in the kitchen at home blending various herbs and spices. This leads to the development of new, finely-tuned dishes which make the mouth come alive with flavour and remind us how great it is to be a human with senses. This is the finesse.

  I would eat you, dear reader, if I needed to. This is the basic, primal necessity.

  Let us see how they cook together.

 

  Gaz just bit into his glass noodles, chicken and veg, purchased at a market outside of Berlin Ostbahnhof, and off snapped3 prongs on his fork. Bad start to the story.

  For the remaining 2 ½ hours of his train journey he carefully nibbled the meal off the solitary strand on his fork. Chomp a little bit too hard and he’d be on to what was supposed to be supper – some large, seeded grapes.

  Strangely enough, gaz was on the way to japan on this train, choosing not to fly over the top and miss out on the delicacies of Eastern Europe and of course China. A katsu curry lay in wait for him in a side-street Tokyo café.

  Gaz has an unusual case of synaesthesia and instead of seeing words and number as colours, he sees everything as food. So, to Gaz, flying over Hungary. turkey, iran and china meant flying over goulash, kebabs, koresh stew and peking duck; not to mention all of the tasty inhabitants of these lands.

  Gaz’s sweetest dish was the taste of flesh. Not in the grotesque vampire way, but he saw a woman’s body as an entire 3-course-meal; with the lips being the cherry on top.

  Anyway, last week Gaz was walking down the narrow streets of Amsterdam, when a homeless English person approached him asking for some coin. Gaz, a believer in the seed-to-stomach theory that states that in order to survive and fulfil purpose, you have to strive and prove your worth to existence. So, Gaz demanded some form of entertainment in return for the exchange of cash. ‘’pick a number between 1-20’’ said the homeless man. ‘’is it 17?’’ he said after 5 seconds. ‘’yes’’ replied gaz. ‘’it happens to me at least 30 times a day that and I’m trying to figure out why’’ said the man.

  It was this encounter that reminded Gaz just how high the synchronistic power of humankind is at the moment, with more and more people becoming unplugged from the pre-ordained matrix and attempting to take control of the free, resource-rich Hutopia that Ann created many, many moons ago.

  As a result of this, he decided to commence a culinary train journey, wishing to remind himself of all that is great and holy to the sweet, salty, sour, spicy tastebuds of the tongue.

  Staring out of the window along the way and seeing all of the separate components being grown naturally (Coincidentally, gaz being the most normal out of the characters, he chose to view Gee as a demi-god for all the she provided him with), was too appetising to turn down. Cows, corn, rice, chicken, tomatoes, potatoes, wheat, barley, oats, kidney beans, chickpeas, sheep, pigs, lentils and his favourite, the protein-rich cannabis sativa hemp plant.

  It has not always been this idyllic being Gaz; in the past he would often go through excessive phases of over-indulgence, or on the other hand he would work and then drink too much to even have time or desire to eat, relying on the grains in the beer to keep him going.

  The peak of this confusion was reached in the middle of the 20th century, when he and Si unknowingly had a child together, and fast, fake food was born. From then on, real meat and wholesome vegetables got lost in a world of battery-caged farms and GMOs. In this web of deceit, competition grew as to who had the coolest diet name or who could get the most for less.

  Eventually, gaz chose the attitude of ‘fuck it’, not wishing to be tied down to the term ‘vegan’ or ‘pesci’. He instead became a survivalist – eating when necessary and appreciating every little scrap, flavour and bite to the fullest.

  One of the girls he had been giving the wandering eye to on the train; a polish girl she was, yet every time gaz tried to communicate, his thoughts would become blocked, and into his mind’s eye would appear bigos and sauerkraut.

  Well, yes, anyway, she had left his vicinity 5 minutes ago, but had now returned with a brand-spanking-new plastic knife and fork set for him! Wow! His spirit certainly was in sync with the world at this moment in time, and he felt justified in the long, spur-of-the-moment journey that he had just begun. He put his noodles back on the tray in front of him and commenced a prolonged bout of thoughtful mastication.

  That is all that is able to be written about Gaz; we must request his respect not to be disturbed. He wishes to be left alone except in moments of experiment and/or enjoyment. He does not see or understand why people should fight over land for him or even send him flying through the air attached to parachutes. He is a recurring giver, who, when planted, farmed or tended to, can flourish anywhere.

  Gaz trosopher

  The wisdom of food

  Fizz

  the motherships hang heavily overhead on a thread of rain, drenching an empty harbour that should be full of boats. So much pain. But there’s not, because the clouds
are out, bellowing their trumpets to the tune of the wind.

  I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a tree. A tree that in summer may wear a nest of robins in her hair. Poems are made by fools like me, but it was fizz that made the tree.

  Just as Ann does not concentrate her greatest attention to preserving what exists, but instead encourages Demi to have more offspring to ensure the continuation of Hutopia on planet Aqua, likewise it is less important to alleviate existing evil, than to ensure from the start healthier channels for future development. Fizz is in charge of these channels. It is the giving and taking in nature that strikes a beautiful fear into us; we marvel in awe at her destruction.

  Nature Calls:

  She snows. She’s white. She doesn’t fall directly down. Oh no. She is gracious. She dances -waltzes- from cloud to ground.

  Fizz enjoyed nothing more than the dark, winter months; when she was able to reduce whole cities to a snow-induced standstill.

  It was the 15th November 2016, and Tychy was next on Fizz’s list. I think that she was tracking Gaz around Europe, so that when he stepped of the train and the end of his day’s travels, for the first time that year in that region, the white floodgates of heaven were opened.

  Fizz’s entry in this book may be slightly erratic; she’s hard to keep up with. Certainly one of the busiest of Ann’s 11, she’s here, there and everywhere; tending to little incidents.