Tag Archives: MoodPaper

Dreaming Underwater Argo-Dreams

It’s time for bed here in the old house on the back of the hill in deepest, darkest Brooklyn. The jellyfish are swimming lazily in their room, the MoodPaper is pulsating a nice lavender hue, and the dragons are done with their Thursday fire-antics. Bubo is off hunting beneath a waxing crescent and I am ready to dream the dreams of dreamers.

This video should help your mind adventure in the shadowy space. Tell me about your dreams in the morning, won’t you?


Gulp. The world’s largest stop-motion animation shot on a Nokia N8. from Nokia HD on Vimeo.

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Now ‘Ear This

Last evening, after a delicious al fresco meal on the veranda, I decided it was time to try out the Listening Chair, Mordecai’s latest gift to me (to make up for abandoning ship when the police arrived after our misguided celebration of Memorial Day involving our cannon and fireworks).

I sat in the thing – which is surprisingly comfortable – and, per Mordecai’s instructions, merely closed my eyes and attempted to empty my mind. The Listening Chair, you see, will intuit what your body needs to hear and will play it for you.

I quelled my misgivings (history, like the MoodPaper, does not make one calm in a Listening Chair) and attempted to clear my mind. Bubo nestled into my lap. As I calmed my breathing, I decided I would make Sun Tea today before the scheduled thunderstorm hit.

I felt a slight pressure on my forehead and was inundated with the sounds of bat sonar.

Unfamiliar with bat sonar? I, of course, have a number of bats that nest in the upper eaves of this old house, so I am quite familiar with the sounds of echolocation. It was decidedly not what I thought I needed to hear. Listening Chair Bat Sonar

What would you do if that were being blasted into your ears? Exactly. I stood up, or rather, I attempted to stand up. It seems that the Listening Chair, not only decides what you need to hear but also decides how long you need to hear it. The chair had snaked itself around my person, like clinging vines or a kraken.

I listened to the bat sonar chirps for a good hour before all the bats in the house descended upon the parlor. Bubo was desperately biting the chair’s arms while I wrestled within its grip. The live bats created more of a racket and after another 40 minutes the chair loosened its hold.

I tumbled onto the carpet and the live bats fled into the night. Mordecai was in the front room with head phones on, listening to Schubert. Charles murmured an apology and I stormed onto the streets of Brooklyn for some aural respite.

I shall place the Listening Chair in Mordecai’s room (which is covered in MoodPaper). I can only imagine what the chair deems necessary for my brother’s ears.

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Cannon Fire, Odd Style

This past week-end, as you undoubtedly know, was Memorial Day, a time to celebrate and remember the men and women who died in honor and defense of this country. Mordecai and I wanted to participate in the festivities and show our thanks, so we pulled the old Revolutionary War-era cannon out of the attic and onto the widow’s walk. We are not naive enough to believe that shooting off a cannon into Brooklyn is a good idea, so we loaded the old thing with fireworks. This, of course, is also incredibly illegal.

We learned just how illegal when the fine officers of the local police unit showed up at the door. Mordecai, in his typical manner, disappeared before the police were even out of their patrol cars, leaving me, as usual, to take care of things.

Have you ever had to explain why you were up on your roof, setting off fireworks illegally, with a great horned owl, a sea horse in a bell jar, and an over-sized Sherlock Holmes-style pipe? Fortunately for us all, I am rather meticulous in my record-keeping and permit registering.

I think we are all relieved that the officers did not notice the rather gamy odor wafting down the stairs from the laboratory. Apparently some specimens were frightened by the cannon.

Inevitably, Mordecai will return with a gift for me, to thank me for my efforts in keeping us on the correct side of the law. The last time we danced this dance, he gave me MoodPaper, wall paper that changes color and design according to the room occupant’s mood.

Seems like a marvelous item, doesn’t it? Unfortunately, my dreams are so vivid that the MoodPaper would dance in an explosion of color and light each night, waking me rather rudely and leaving me alarmed.

Mordecai’s best-laid plans always seem to take a sinister turn. Unsurprising, really, when you look at the MoodPaper in his guest room; it is constantly undulating in a prism of greys and greens. Sinister, indeed.

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