Signs

Gavin W Sisk

Gavin W Sisk


I didn’t make good latte art today.  But it tasted good.  Nicaragua Finca La Tormenta: where the beans were grown.  I haven’t a clue what that translates to.  All I know is it’s a small plantation in some country in Central America.  Nicaragua, I think (duh!).  Does this make me pretentiously provincial?  I’m not certain those two words like how I’ve forced them together.
Anyway, as far as latte foam and inkblot tests go, my first impression was of a nuclear Star Spangled Banner that went horribly out of control on Mars billions of years ago, blasting genetically modified organisms all the way to Earth where they landed in widespread lifeless mud puddles.
If they had missed Earth and instead landed on Venus, would art, politics, and the daily news be different there?  Would Venusians have learned much earlier in their existence that sunbathing is bad for their health?  What arrangement of Earth’s sterile topographical features would they infer as proof of an ancient existence that may have blown itself to smithereens one day after lighting a grossly oversized, celebratory skyrocket?
I can imagine small robotic rovers crawling across the Mojave Desert, searching for elemental signs of life.  They would blast strange frequencies into scoops of dead dirt and transmit the results to anxious two-headed scientists back on Venus who, if lucky and astute, would rightly deduce that Mars was the culprit all along.  Then, after publishing their conclusions and supporting data, they would each be hanged twice for heresy (once for each head).
Or maybe the shape floating in my coffee cup looks like a little jellyfish having a poop.
My therapist takes lots of notes.  I think she’s writing a book.

 

 

May 18, 2013

 

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