Summer Phyllisosophy

7 Summer Phyllisosophy copy

This episode of the Magpie Tales is a real Diller.

Summer is the cruelest of all seasons.  Heat and ennui, woolens and tweeds banished to the recesses of the closets, movies with explosions instead of Edwardian interiors and muted emotions.

Prelude to the afternoon of a prawn, shrinking and shrimping in its tank before it is harvested.  The sound of a cellist in the woods.  How did she get there, and why are they serving champagne with spare ribs and macaroons?  How did I suddenly become barefoot as I traverse this thorny path to the clearing and the banquet where a bandoneon player has now joined the cellist.

The deconstruction of self that is sometimes mistaken for aging.   How did the past 20 years speed by in the span of just a week?  At what point will I be mistaken for my grandfather or Uncle Walter?  Perhaps I can paste one of their photos into my passport since by then I will no longer have resources to leave the country.   Haven’t I always been an imposter anyway, claiming to love summer in order not to spoil it for those who do?

For now I think I will stay for this party as the musicians begin to play the national anthem of a fictional country


7 responses to “Summer Phyllisosophy

  1. Afternoon of a prawn – Debussy would have gotten a kick out of that…

  2. Curses! To be stuck at that surreal garden party … back to the tweeds and woolens, the cozy dark warmth of a winter study … summer strips us too bare … the mosquitoes bleed us dry and wrinkly … and pebbles pierce the toes.

    Great write, your piece. Got me all worked up with sympathetic angst.

  3. Yep … a real Diller! I was privileged to sit in a few audiences back in the day ~~ St. Louis Crystal Palace in Gaslight Square ~~ those were some days! Laughing hysterically at the antics of Ms. Phyllis.

  4. “The deconstruction of self that is sometimes mistaken for aging” wow amazing work!

  5. love it!!…but what you did to the picture is scary..x

  6. I felt myself travelling around the circumference of these strange loops like a young child on a ferris wheel ! , thanks

  7. Summer really is the cruelest of seasons…Diller sun and all…

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