Purple Piano - review

Where does the ketchup river flow?
What time is it at the bottom, in lower ketchypt?
And how high do the clouds go in upper ketchypt?

The river is milk actually, and flows with rice grains arcing up every few moments like rainbow trout (so named because they jump up in the arc-shape of a rainbow, i presume). And in this milk river, where the rice is jumping for joy and fearing not the chomp of humanity on it's skin, sails a riverboat.

The man in the boat is singing to himself a song that sounds like children playing with electricity. No human could ever describe it adequately, nor would he himself ever be able to re-create the magic of that moment, when the sounds came from his body as they never had before. Such is magic. Such is the stuff of dreamy reality, which is all too often real.

Nevertheless, this man was on a mission. Could he help it if it was one he happened to enjoy? No he could not. He sung and whistled. Could he help it if, in the eyes of an unbelieving world, a world parched of magician-ship (both its mentors and minors) what he was attempting was quite unimportant and farcical at best? Nay, they would never understand. Nay they would never become drifters in the way this man was.

He was well into his thirties now, the years had slipped by and he knew that this was probably going to be 'it'. This was going to be his existence, as it had been in the preceding years, so would it continue to be.

"Dance you bitch dance!" That's what he said to his dog when they landed on tangle-territory a few weeks later. He took out his diallyskofal and began plucking it, whilst whistling the magical chords through the nozzle of thirstiness. "All is in the nozzle of thirst," said his father once. His father had taught him how to play the diallyskofal rather well, and the man felt a sense of satisfaction now, as his dog began barking and dancing. Dogs smile when they are happy, it is possible to ascertain this quite easily when you are in close proximity to them. This dog was a ruptured green. Ruptured green, on this planet (and the translation is rough, you understand) is a sort of color that looks like green, but is constantly flickering, perhaps like a television screen might, into deeper and slightly lighter shades of green. This is what color his dog was. The dog itself had four legs and would you believe, two eyes! What a dog it was, it shook its felixis wildly as the man began thrashing out wild tunes of persistence on his instrument. "You got it bitch! Keep on goin'!"

Thus is the universe. We zoom out of the mans life now, and out of the tangle-territory, out of his journey and the rice-river and all else of his world. And once again we see stars, more and more as we continue zooming out. Bye-bye stars, twinkling as you are. Bye-bye and hello too, for you'll all be visited by me at some point or another, that I guarantee.
You're there in the tickles she gives,
and the ripples they make,
and the nipple she gives,
and the little she ate.

fun, commitment, feeding, nourishment.

And wouldn't you know it, we've zoomed all the way back to Earth. And the child is not a child but a young man, and he's just like me, playing his keyboard delightfully. And the keys and notes are the dreams that we don't know are dreams and can't yet see. And when we're tuned in, we all agree.