I step out of the Rec Center and into the sunlight. I picked up my walking stick. About to set out, I am thinking about how much this feels like the olden days. Before I can take another step, something (or maybe a thousand somethings) start bothering my tongue. I reach into my mouth and pull out a measuring. Actually, it’s a sake box filled with exactly one thousand needles. I place it into my left palm, then it slowly starts rising up, up, and up straight up into the sun. I say farewell and head off.
I can see the white sculpture staircase sculpture zigzagging on the green lawn. I stride towards it. As I get closer I discover nine very round, fat men sitting together on the sculpture. They are picnicking on tiny sandwiches they’ve balanced on their thick legs. After each sandwich they drink a measurement of precisely 10 drops of glue from an Elmer’s bottle. Their mouths are sticky and dripping.
I turn away and start toward the main campus, but a man stops me. “Just a moment!” He begins smearing large amounts of glue onto the lawn with his elbows (why that part of his body, I wonder), making an Elmer’s glue path for me all the way to the large stairs in front of the science building.
I am met at the stairs by a little green man. “Of the ten fields that I studied,” he says in a squeaky voice, “measurement is my specialty!” He pulls out a measuring tape and starts measuring each stair laboriously and writing it all down. I continue up and don’t wait for him to finish.
Finally the brick path opens up and I am heading toward the large Richard Serra sculpture. Oddly, it is painted with white polka dots and “Dr.” is written on one side of it. A man in a white coat approaches me and says, “My specialty is needles — I am an acupuncturist! Would you like to try a session?” I say sure and he lets me into the triangle sculpture ahead of him.
It’s dark inside, but then candles all over spring into light. The entire inside of the sculpture looks as if it has been outfitted by a fortune teller. Michelle sits at a table in the middle, a divining rod in her hands and tarot cards all laid out. “Interested in getting your fortune told?” I politely decline and step back outside.
I can see the Art Department now. I walk up the long set of stairs leading up to it. Upon reaching the green just in front of the building I see Harry Potter. He is standing in front of a canvas attempting to paint a live model en plain air. When I reach him he seems frustrated. “I am the world’s most eminent wizard because I started using a wand at an early age,” Harry says, “but I never learned how to paint! A paint brush is nothing at all like a magic wand.”
“You filthy mudblood! Stop complaining and just paint!” I look over. Indeed, sprawled on a chez lounge on the lawn posing for Harry is Voldemort. Although he is perfectly still he manages to shout derisive comments at Harry. The closer I get to him, the more I realize that the stink that has been growing fouler is in fact his very terrible morning breath. I recoil and head to the entrance of the Art Department building.
The kanji: 旧 白 百 中 千 舌 升 昇 丸 寸 肘 専 博 占 上 下 卓 朝 嘲
[Note] This palace was particularly visual for me, so I thought I’d add real pictures of the places I was imagining in my mind for all the little vignettes.