The Explorers Club
No. CXXXIX - The first confirmed flight over the North Pole, by Roald Amundsen (1872-1928), Umberto Nobile (1885-1978), and Lincoln Ellsworth (1880-1951), et alii, aboard the Norwegian-Italian semi-rigid airship Norge, 11-14 May 1926.








I know that I am being unfair. Last week's Episode CXXXVIII featured pictures of explorers Byrd & Bennett before their aeroplane, the Josephine Ford, yet this week the airship Norge floats above the heads of explorers Amundsen & Nobile; the inequity is not in the placement of machine before men, but in the inconsistency. What can I say in my defense? I could put forward the following arguments: In my judgment, Admiral Byrd is more famous than his plane. Also, the Josephine Ford cannot be held responsible for Byrd's dodgy navigational claims; so, it is fitting to put the man at fault first, to deserve his comeuppance. But I shan't advance those arguments. The simple fact is that I am powerless before the magnificence of airships such as the Norge; the leviathans of the sky are first in my affection, and so given pride of place. I am unfair, and unrepentant.

Perchance to Dream
I only recall my dreams if they occur after I have woken up and fallen back asleep. The frustrating component of this is that I am most likely to oversleep in precisely this manner; during my dreams, I am vaguely aware that I am dreaming—I know I'm neither awake nor in the oblivion of unconsciousness—but not so aware that I can realize I've fallen back asleep and might be sleeping in. Self-awareness without self-awareness, damnably frustrating. But I digress.

I fell back into sleep this morning and dreamed I was a member of what seemed to be a cartoon-style super spy/secret commando team based in a stately mansion-cum-high tech lair; I didn't see any machines, but the atmosphere was such that I suspect my teammates and I deployed into action through secret tunnels, piloting exotic vehicles, Voltron-style. Curiously, my real life intruded into the dream in a most atypical fashion: The Most Dangerous Game was one of my teammates.

I was walking through the mansion-lair; I have no idea where I was headed in my shiny uniform, but I wasn't strolling, I definitely had some destination in mind. Suddenly, I noticed The Most Dangerous Game beckoning me over to her. She was in her quarters, a ridiculously spacious space age design done all in pink (but for the color, Ken Adam could have designed this place). She was sitting up in her bed, her shoulders bare and the sheets pulled up to her armpits, one finger extended into the air, curling repetitiously to draw me in. I climbed onto the enormous bed and sidled right up to her. She had something on her laptop that she wanted to show me, and as I craned my neck to see our faces nearly touched. She was so lovely. In the dream, I remembered that I had a plan to woo her, but decided that this opportunity was too perfect to pass up; so, I turned my head and kissed her. And that's when the sky fell. She jerked her head away and asked the most devastating question in the world, "What are you doing?" I knew in that moment that she didn't want me, I was no more than a friend to her, she wanted the lantern-jawed leader of our team, with his wavy black hair and dimpled chin. Blessedly, the real world chose to reassert its dominion before things got any worse; my mom knocked on my door to tell me brunch was ready.

What does this mean? Fortunately, not a thing, dreams are meaningless flights of fancy, random mental activity, not signs and portents of the world that's coming. Still, it may be that deep down I believe The Most Dangerous Game will react unfavorably to my proposal. However, what does it matter if I believe that? I'm going to ask her regardless, because I've been wrong before and there's only the one way to be sure. The fears and the insecurities of the subconscious may favor paralyzed inaction, but the conscious mind knows that simply asking her is far more important than her reply. And what is Man but the struggle to conquer primal fear with reason and inquiry?

Plus, I'm not a member of a mecha-driving super action squad, and neither is she. The Most Dangerous Game was not the girl in my dream. Pretty face, though.

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Spike Jones and His City Slickers, "Yes! We Have No Bananas" from The Spike Jones Anthology (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "What's that, an half a banana? Now, what good is a banana split?"

Samstag, 15 August
Korea Girl, "Reunion" from Korea Girl (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: The L.A.W. & Brother-in-L.A.W. were here for her fifteen year high school reunion.

"Why would I spend more time,
With people that I hate
And couldn't wait to leave behind?
Would we dance, make a toast?
As you boast about the things
That you haven't done?
Oh joy, what thrills! What fun fun!"

The only strange thing is that 'tis not at all hard to believe that 1994 was fifteen years ago. Fifteen years, that was all? Really? Half my life away, and 1994 feels even more distant than that.