“Time”
What time is it? – Time you bought a watch
Time for pee pee
“Time Gentlemen Please”
In the nick of time
Behind the times
Time on my hands
Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and …
I yodeled in the Alps with Hammed, my St. Bernard dog, and wondered if the echo was in the past, present or future. I know time is change and that (or is it) and I know that change is in my pocket. But how much change is there? And if I rattle the change in my pocket will a butterfly die on the other side of the universe?
Does the future ever become the present and does it ever become the past – and do we have to die to find out?
Dead people have all the answers and it doesn’t seem fair, that’s why there are no dead people on quiz shows. Alex Trebeck might be dead which is unfortunate because I wanted to ask him if time can be reversed – you know, like the beeping sound of the garbage truck as it reverses toward that eternal dump. Then again, death is a hell of a price to pay to have all the answers.
We have a 78 record of the past but not of the future – How come? And what ever became of 45’s. Did Buddy Holly really get fried in the plane crash while about to take a bite of a bagel or does he live in Cincinnati and work at the Laundromat? It was Buddy who sang “Peggy Sue” in the days before we had clocks – which means in the days before we had time – which means in the days of wine and roses.
Does time exist? Where is it?
I want to touch it, feel it, rub it against my cheek and swallow it in one gulp.
Does time exist to the person with no mind? – Ask Mr. Bush whose time in office is limited.
Does time exist for the ant? Does time exist for the performing sea lion at Marineland?
Does time exist for the liver being frantically transported in a Styrofoam picnic basket from the donor to the recipient who only has so much time left?
“How long does he have?” asks the tired wife in the emergency waiting room as she thinks about the time her drunken husband walloped her good and she banged her head on the fridge. Why should he have a new liver when there are so many children in Biafra crying out for liver – throw in some fried onions and you feed a city block!
How much time is there if the projectionist runs the movie backwards and the finish is first and we already know the ending but not the beginning: old Adam sits patiently in the Garden waiting for the apple to drop, the snake to rise from its basket and the Eve (of Destruction) to appear.
So why does the present always move into the past and not into the future? Why can’t the present stay put? And when is a present a present –when it’s given on your birthday then it is received – but just how long does the present last dam it! – I want to know – especially if the present was an ice cream cone in the Sahara desert. It’s gone, just like Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Junior – although they did not die in the Sahara (but played many gigs at the Sands in Vegas).
I recall walking backwards up the steps of St. Paul’s Cathedral thinking of the past while contemplating the future – or might I have been remembering the future? The cathedral was empty save for a group of immigrant Poles unloading contraband kippers from a truck in the nave. I approached the altar and had I had legs would have fallen on my knees in prayer.
“Dear God, Holy Father Creator of Lego and other things, why is a man conceived, flushed out of the uterus to fill a diaper and then get on a school bus – why Oh Holy Father does the man then punch a time clock, visit Disneyworld with the kids, suffer from gout, drool and die? Is this all there is?
“Of course not.” says God, “What about sexual gratification, orgasms, threesomes, foursomes and dancing naked in Central Park? What about voting in the free world, penicillin, Tofu and sand paper?”
Is there time when we are dead?
What about when we are asleep? Without the alarm clock how do we know that we haven’t slept for three nights instead of one? How do we know when time comes – what is it wearing – does it smell – does it knock or just barge in?
What happens to time when a person is in a coma or under the anesthetic – does it stand still or snoop around?
What about that split second of time before we act or decide – is it a split second or a split pea – is it a split second or a split atom? What is Malcolm Gladwell up to in the clock tower?
I’m writing this at 4:41 p.m. – am I really, or did I just write it on the computer and how do you know? Do I exist? Of course I do – I attended my Freemason meeting last Tuesday, purchased lamb chops yesterday and just a moment ago emptied my bowels. Therefore I exist …
We must ask if time can exist if no event is happening. Perhaps I lied about the Freemasons! Has there ever been a time when nothing happened? It’s the old tree in the Forrest Whittaker debate. Beats me if it makes a sound as it falls – but I worry for star crossed lovers who are straddling the branch as it leans silently – Do they yell and spoil the metaphor is it a metaphor – and what’s a metaphor for?
“Dearest” whispers the failing girl, who we shall call Gretel, to her lover, who we shall call Hansel (even though his name is Percy), “where oh where is the future – is it o’er the horizon out of infinite reach, beyond the sea in a place called Huddersfield or are we trapped in the past, “AGO?” she says, in capitals, thinking it a profound comment. “ Where oh where have we been – where was our past – where was “AFORE” – where was “GONE” and where are my car keys?
“My darling bluebird of paradise,” says Hansel, “you left them in the blue box amongst yesterday’s newspapers, containing yesterday’s news and a large haddock in batter with chips.”
Thud! Might have been the sound made by Hansel and Gretel as they splattered on the forest floor but who knows, maybe they fell into a lake of custard or discovered a parachute or were just a silly nursery rhyme designed to puzzle innocent minds. I often wonder how the story might have gone if Norman Mailer wrote it a mixed race couple lost in a tenement of narcotics and tortured by a maniacal ogre played by Russell Crowe.
Time is winding down for this old octogenarian (is the ‘old’ redundant? Indeed are the old redundant?). – (it oft seems that way said the snail to the hippo for no apparent reason). It will soon be time to leave this mortal coil – yes, that same coil inserted into orifices to prevent babies from having their fair share of time on earth – or would their time be fair? – And don’t we all hate fairgrounds especially when it’s raining cats and poodles.
If the past and present are real then what is the future? Real close but not close enough to grasp, that is unless you are in Australia where today is tomorrow and the bathwater has already swirled as it does the wrong way down to the sewers where time is miserable unless you are a rat feasting on the palace scraps.
“Phillip, darling, do leave some Yorkshire pudding for the rats.”
Time – Time – Time is all there is. Past tense – present tense – tense moments as the boxer lies on the canvas in a pool of blood gasping for life while his opponent leaps onto the corner ropes fists in the air – “time out”, says the referee but it is an utterance made in the past – seconds ago but it could have been days for the boxer who had stopped thinking of time.
And the trainer says, “Stay with us Archie, time is nothing man – nothing – zip – doesn’t exist – there is no time left for dying – hang in – think about tomorrow – there is always another fight – another round – another kick at the can.”
Fiddlesticks – it’s tough work keeping this straight, here’s to the pontiffs who … pontificate? Regurgitate to the sound of the tick? Or is it the tock?
And Tock is cheap and so are “fiddle sticks.”
This is the end – or perhaps it’s just the beginning?
– Colonel Tom Parker
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