Platypus Vobiscum: a Pius Reader

Being further unsorted contributions to the Church of the Cosmic Platypus, salvaged over the course of two seasons working at "Phantom Peak" from Pius' easel in the corner of Old Town, together with illuminations – some by the author – also sundry anonymous annotations (click to embiggen)...

"Platypus Vobiscum. That's how you work the system. When it works, it works. Peace. Peace. Stop saying Peace. Take. For example take a moment. Did you mean Piece? Do you remember the psalm about the jigsaw? He puts pieces in the jigsaw. And he starts with the corners. The jigsaw is the pieces. Pushing can be pulled. Ink can run out. And then come back. Personally hopping about on the track, listening for rumbling. 

Back to the Circle. Start again. Start at the side."

"Well we start there. Stop saying Stop. Leave me be believe me. NOT EVERYTHING IS A CLUE! THERE you are, you naughty little bargain. I'm not saying the gloves are 'off' off, but nobody seems to be wearing gloves. 'I literally just got off my horse.' It is perfectly possible to exist in a state where you can INSTANTLY decide what being – say – this pen feels like. Or the candles. But I don't know you can do it with your eyes closed. Or you would do it differently. The whole concept of 'wrong', in a way, is – Oh I wanted to say 'wrong'. But."

 

"Is any dance a mandatory movement?

Vanity. Vanity. All is vanity. Apart from dressing as an Oompah Loompah.

Mockery is the sincerest form of flattery. No? But mockery just means imitiation.

In spite of its numerous legs and armour, the millipede is not the strongest animal in the pet shop. The strongest animal in the pet shop is the shopkeeper, for they feed the pets."

"The olden times had no eraser. So sometimes the angels would just look like bats. Imagine if angels hated their wings. What works is a piece of man." 

 

"Who was the first to sit down? When we were shrews, did one of us sit down and realise our hands were now free. But they had not the strength to use them. The more shoes I wear, the more I realise how little I understand about shoes. They go up and down with your feet.

But how?

I'm bang on time, and now does Time bang on me. Ribbons. Safer than candles. Three & four & never more."

"This is why old Mister Sleevey is very careful about where he sets up his knockoffables. And a good scribe always knows where the paper ends. 

I met a blogger from some retro land who said 'Two massive kneecaps – nobody knows whose – take up the landing, hairy lean and tanned. I think they might belong to Nerys Hughes, but now I can't remember how this poem originally scanned.' That's all they said. Then, falling on their face – as if to salvage some measure of grace, after such a dwindling finish – they uttered one last 'Thanks' in accents tinnish. But I would not be moved. I stood there still. I mean still like – oh, you know. And moved, as in Not here because they're there now.

All water is a feature. Even ice.

'a' came after 'the' because it changes the subject.

INFECTIOUS"

 

"Ordinarily this is not a forum for factional hoots. Changing one's mind can be be very useful. Two types  – at least – of crossing out (motives for deletion) A mistake or a change of heart."

 

"This is just to say that

I have sold the elephant

foot umbrella stand

Things fall on my back. And the trays are wet. And the shirts we wash are never as clean as the shirts we didn't buy.

Handwriting wasn't always calligraphy. Who wants to learn cursive when you can sprout the sentence separate and friendly. Not formal and exclusive. And when did exclusive become a compliment?"  

"I've drawn a little city. It's looking pretty pretty.

One can imagine the future, and spend all that time grieving.

SINGS: Elbows and kneecaps and drops of brown liquid. Nicknames that hurt like a stone or a stick would. Hairplugs that give you a tickle-y cough. These are some things that I hope will fall off. Hubcaps and breezeblocks and bits of old sofa. Pablo Neruda and Gordon the Gopher.

Happiness is a sense of control."

 

Themepunk Roundup: I Don't Wish to Alarm Anyone

 

"When I find myself relaxing...

I'm sometimes by the sea...

I'm sometimes lying on a rock...

But I'm never by a bee."

 

 These lines are but a fraction of my contribution to "Phantom Peak" as Pius, High Priest of the Church of the Cosmic Platypus, mini-penned at an easel in the corner of Old Town, where I would sit to receive tourists as part of a step on their trail. (Everyone who visits Phantom Peak is a "tourist", including those who know the place far better than me, and have made even greater contributions.) My character's dependence upon psychedelic fungus after an orchestrated blimp crash is one of the few details of the world's deep lore I was sure completely of. When a message like the following would pop up from a Head of Department on our work WhatsApp –

 

 – uncaptioned, I might be thrown, but I'd figure if I needed to know what it meant, I'd know, and that generally proved correct. Another contribution, perhaps my proudest, was the innovation on day one of asking tourists, once our scripted interaction had been logged: "Would you like to take a moment?" It was fascinating how well this offer nearly always went down. People seemed genuinely delighted to be just standing still for six seconds or so, stopping, and insufferably, I began to feel like an actual church. Any post introducing Peak though, should really be about the extraordinary company I worked with, but I'm making this all about me because taking a moment is how I've been spending my fiftieth birthday. Today's been lovely. Thanks to all who've said and sent nice things. According to this mural in Strangers' Hall, Norwich, I am now finally half-way through my life! I'm now trying to remember one of Pius' sign-offs. 

 Ah, yeah: Nine out of ten.

 

Photo credit: I've become lax, sorry. If anyone knows who took that picture of me, let me know.