- Issue 1:
- The Goddess by Jes Sweat
Conversations with Jack: On measuring
by
The Croaking Frog (on substack)
Jack you are next to me on my bed, you look half asleep.
You are wondering vaguely what I’m doing. You know it’s time to get up with me, run down the stairs, and while I start the fire and put the water to boil for tea you will go pee outside and kill the grizzly bear hiding behind the trees.
You are a major member of the family and that means thinking about us a lot, endless emotions and patience, patience! But that’s not your forte right?
And it’s not that you don't have thoughts about other subjects! Boy you can be a serious pain in the ass, especially when you see Rabbit the neighbor.
You have zero complexes.
No second thoughts about being different.
No strange feelings about why we are always standing on our back legs when you are not.
Almost every morning you make a little tour in the woods to visit Charlotte or Frances in their homes away in the forest, and often in the evenings you invite yourself to spend the night at either of their homes. Something natural.
No stupid manners. You are our soul, and you know it. You navigate inside our lives. You are the consigliere that observed all of it. Simple. If you wouldn’t be here, we all would be someone else!
Today It’s early, grey and cold.
A truck delivering the gas is here and you are losing your mind on my bed, bothered by the intrusion. I’m not sure why you make such a show. You know this truck, so please Jack, calm down!
Disrupting the family at this time in the morning is a little much.
Pure and simple!
But that’s human modernism Jack. Schedule is everything. Monday is Monday. Efficiency above all. Billing. Rough. Hostile. You are not sure why Jack, but you feel it’s ugly.
You want your gas or not? So shut up and pay! That’s how things work Jack.
All that is a waste of life, you told me, I know, but what can I do?
You just know there is a stranger here doing something that stinks…
I hear you Jack, yes, really you are the only one making sense.
We humans are junkies, Jack. We always need something. And we think we are so clever!
But frankly, what a disaster! It’s always unsettling to think about that. We could have made it nicer, Jack, it could have been easier, and some tried… but I wouldn’t dare start explaining…
There’s some daylight outside now. It’s cold, 20 degrees.
20 degrees is a gauge, Jack. Remember?
I always wanted to know your opinion about this idea of measuring madness.
You know we measure everything; on this planet, we humans are major measurers. Just like carpenter ants are wood workers, we measure.
We either fit or we don’t Jack. Do we fit in a sweater, in these shoes, in a car, in the economy class, on a bridge, in the tub, in the bed with your partner…
In other words, Jack, everything we see is measured and compared. You can be a good measurer Jack or a terrible one, and then you are a screw up when you miss by an inch.
You are a good measurer Jack, because you know in half a second when I cheated 10 grams from your chicken and you let me know it, you let me know it pretty rough!
You tell me loud and clear, this practice must cease, you human fool!
Ok Jack it won’t happen again. But I must tell you… you would not like to become fat like the neighbor.
You weigh 12 pounds. You are a 12 lbs category dog Jack. And you will eat accordingly. A portion measured for your size. So, you see, everything here is measured Jack, how much you eat, your water, how big is your pillow, your coat, your boots for the ice, your leash, your door and endlessly…
Your big neighbor the bear, must be close to 250! And his life is in a different category Jack. You don’t like him but try to stay away because he’s 20 times bigger than you. Just see the measured difference and when you see him keep quiet, ok? Please…
Let’s get back to what I was telling you about measuring, Jack.
We are addicted to measuring everything and once that’s done we compare. But not you Jack. You never measure or compare. Not you. You know too much.
In America we measure in feet and inches Jack (because we started measuring when we were chimps, with our feet and hands… that was the beginning of the end) And I don’t want to start explaining to you about miles and meters, or milligrams and atoms, and now imagine Jack, they have invented even more!
You are 18 inches long Jack. 18 inches long, 6 inches wide, 10 inches tall, your hair is 4 inches long, and your ears are 3 inches tall…
Enough, please!
But wait to make it clear Jack, we are slaves to measuring.
It’s a mental illness, a compulsion! If you know what I mean. We measure; that’s it. If you don’t measure you feel completely collapsed… and you better watch out with who you deal with because they will eat you up in seconds.
We judge our peers too Jack, tall, fat, short, skinny, white, black, brown, big boobs, pretty, ugly, lame, one-eyed etc… and by their education also! Higher, lower, Ivy League—s’il vous plaît, PhD, smart, idiot, communist, ingenieri, financial cretin, super imbecile, genius… Jack, between you and me, it is all constipated/repressed BS.
But your measurement my dog, at this point is the following: major honorary PhD in philosophy and poetry of life. That’s your resume, Jack. Esopus is your pal. Lafontaine doesn’t even measure up!
Measuring is also just what I do when you go poop outside. I measure. You feel the size! You go big, small, hard or wet, smells like shit or roses (!), it’s my measuring condition Jack! Can you believe it? And that’s only because we are family, I always worry about you going number two in the forest. It looked seriously painful when you were 6 inches long.
What do you think Jack? We can measure your color too. How much grey and white are you? 20 % grey, or 20% white? Oh, I forgot to fill you in on this percentage thing humans do. It’s a way to evaluate an amount, my dog. It looks smart and avoids arguments on ugly numbers. We can say in a conversation 20% of this or 50% of that, or one hundred percent. It’s convenient Jack, because people don’t know exactly what you’re saying? They use it a lot in politics, it looks technically important, it looks like you know, when in fact, it’s just the opposite Jack.
I’m sorry, are we getting stupid here, Jack? A little stupid? very stupid? immensely stupid? How stupid? 150% stupid? No, don’t ask me. Please. I can’t explain that number, but it means plenty I believe.
I’m bad at math, don’t you remember? A little bad? Not too bad? Terribly bad? How bad?
Oh my, Jack! It’s getting really complicated, nom d’un chien!
Let’s get back to your color. There are some variations on your coat Jack.
As I told you we have some grey, some white and yes, some blonde streaks on the side. When they sold you (to sell, can you believe that one? I’ll explain later my dog). They said when you got older, you were going to get blonder… Blonde is a major seller. That’s why people dye their hair yellow. How stupid? a little stupid? very stupid? 150% stupid? Or just dam stupid blonde.
What do you think Jack; did I lose you in these calculations?
If I lost you, it’s that I am 100% stupid. That means that all of me is stupid Jack.
Or all of what I’m saying is stupid Jack, or is this blonde question stupid or is the blonde salesman just obtuse? Oh my!
I think I lost it Jack, how much did I lose it Jack, un poco lost, bastante lost, or completely lost Jack?
Tell me Jack, because this is getting crazy. How crazy…
Help Jack. Stop me… Jack.