Clown Philosophy
Are clouds the fruit of love?
So went one such cloud philosopher one day. Why did he say that? He later perished in a snow mobile accident, and books were written about his golden life. Which can happen.
Of course, many have written books of the meanings of life. Some have them published by larger companies. Others self publish. It is an age old argument, whether to be published by a gigantic company that can afford to perfume its lifts with different ambrosias, or to go it alone and live in a shed in a swamp. Who is right and who is wrong? The truth is, nobody knows. The debate ranges on, and my legs are covered in leeches.
Of course they haven’t always been covered in leeches. There was a period a few years ago when they were covered in stockings. I was in a play about wizards which was very pleasant and was having a great time thinking about wizards, and leeches started to annoy me an awful lot. They started calling me on the telephone asking whether they could audition for my legs. I was happy with the stockings at the time, but then one particular leech began to pester me a lot.
I called him Ian.
Ian was an especially chubby leech. He was forty two years old and had published four books of poetry, and had just about given up on this life. Then, he told me, he had seen an ad for my legs in a leech gazette he was subscribing to. He thought he would give my legs a go, he said.
Ian and I hit it off, and after a couple of months of hanging around each other and talking about satellites, I evicted the stockings and Ian moved onto my legs.
Of course, clown philosophy isn’t all as exciting as this, but it gives you an idea, doesn’t it?