memory palace 3: walk from rock climbing gym to art department

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.”

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“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.