The Perfect Imperfection

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Get ready for some day tripping, because I’ve got only a few images left from this week which are mumbling to me. Don’t try to follow any thread of thought here. You’ll just hurt yourself. The title came from an unlikely source.

I’m greeted every morning by these lovely flowers which I have dubbed The Harmonious Daisies.  Yeah, it came to me in a dream:What I like about this image is that it is flawed. It is flawed in a most perfect way. It is perfectly imperfect. As my mind careers (or careens if you’re a Yank) around iconosynclastic infundibulums and tumbles down an endless staircase of giant pickled herring, I sometimes fall upon incongruous congruities. Why does this flower make me think of humans, individuals, I mean, specifically me? Possibly is is because my imperfections seem to be perfectly suited to me. I behave erratically and improperly in manners which, observed by my friends, are perfectly predictable in the case of erratic action and perfectly excusable (in most cases, anyway) in the case of impropriety. Thus it is with the flower with the missing petal. It is a perfectly perfect imperfection. Nothing more can be said. Therefore, I shall say nothing more.

Except that this is what friends are for.

Might as well throw in a sunrise while I’m here:Actually, the astute observer might notice that the image above is simply the very centre of yesterday’s sunrise. This morning it was raining cats and dogs.

When we arrived at the office we had to wade ashore from our truck because Lake Madang was overspilling its normal banks:Our perfectly imperfect Town Government seems still unable to dig a hole. Well, what can we expect from people who apparently get paid to maintain the status quo? Hah, if only they could do that much!

To prove to you that no detail is so insignificant and devoid of meaning to escape my scrutinous eye I present to you the Mysterious Curly Thingie in the Ants’ Nest:Please to click to enlarge, please. Thank you. See it down there in the lower left under that ant’s bum? It looks like an itsty-bitsy teensy-weensy coil of rope. What in tarnation is it, for pity’s sake? I’m gobsmacked. Anybody got any ideas?

Not to change the subject too abruptly, but I’ve been harping for an office with an actual door on it for years. Since I’m one of the oldest dudes in town, and poor misguided souls sometimes reckon that I might have actually learned something while staggering through my long and adventuresome life, I end up doing a lot of counselling. Hey, I’m the only game in town. People desperate enough to seek me out prefer not to come to my house, lest they find me indisposed or otherwise unable to respond. They prefer to come to my office where, one presumes, I might be found to be more alert. On the door I have a sign which announces, “The Quack is In”.

So, having cajoled the administration into allowing me to modify the IT Dungeon, I’ began today to plan my new office with a door. I thought that you might be amused to see the miraculous state-of-the-art equipment which I used to calculate the dimensions and specifications of this complex project: I carefully measured the room and the placement of the current door and measured all of the furniture and fixtures. Then I “inputted” this data into my Architectural Design Computate-o-Matic Machine (which I invented). The results indicate that now, instead of one  door for one  office we will have five  doors for two  offices. All I can say is that my boss made me do it. She said I wouldn’t be happy with only two doors since I’d been whining for one door for thirty years, so she’s giving me five doors to head off future crying jags. She sleeps with me, so she understands me better than anyone else does.

There’s nothing like hearing someone snore all night to get you into their head.

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8 Responses to “The Perfect Imperfection”

  1. Jay Griffin Says:

    That ‘coil of rope’ is just some wood fiber/shavings. Its the same thing as those lighter colored wood chips in the upper right half of your picture.

    But if those ants want to call it rope, I sure wouldn’t argue with ‘em.

  2. Steve Goodheart Says:

    That coil of rope-looking stuff is indeed fascinating.

    Even more so, to me, is the nest…..I’ve never seen web looking stuff like that before, the stuff they are all walking on that looks like fiberglass…..do they create that? The soldiers are all looking really fierce in this shot…they must have sensed you.

    I love ants. If you get a chance, read any book E. O. Wilson on them….he’s the best.

    Yaaaaay, for new doors!

    Steve

  3. MadDog Says:

    I’m inclined to agree, Jay, but how did it become so neatly coiled up? Look at it. It’s perfect!

  4. MadDog Says:

    Steve, that little coil simply baffles me. I think that Jay is right, it probably comes from material similar to the other bits in the nest, but it’s so neatly coiled!

    These ants do spin webs for their nests, quite dense ones. Sometimes they will sew hibiscus leaves together to make a nest. I have several images of this on my site. They also bite like little demons. If you bring a finger close to one it will rear up on its hind legs and snap at you. I’ll check out the Wilson reference.

    The new doors will be nice, but what a mess it’s going to be doing all that building work while I’m trying to take care of business in my office. Fortunately, I can now work from home with the new wireless connection. I’m going to set up a VPN directly to my desktop computer at the office, so I can do anything that I can do from there at home.

    Later,
    Jan

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  6. Carolyn Says:

    I just love your posts like this…contemplation fodder, but mixed up with your normal life – like getting a new door. I cant help but think of the link between your imperfection start and the open door at the end.
    I am in POM again (looking to move here for a few years to stop the travel back and forth). Worried about bringing my two little ones to POM but hopefully we will get out and about. Take care Carolyn.

  7. MadDog Says:

    Thanks for that, Carolyn. It’s nice to know that somebody likes my “contemplation fodder” as you so amusingly name it. I started journaling daily when I took a creative writing course at uni. Little did I realise that many years later it would change the course of my life. After years of writing many thousands of pages of drivel, I found an audience for it. Now I write regularly for two magazines and have been appointed editor of both of them. Life is so strange. The older I get the more I enjoy going with the flow.

    You made a very interesting connection that was not obvious to me, though I wrote it myself. You must be a very thoughtful reader. It always impresses me when someone finds things in my jibber-jabber that I did not realise were there. I wonder if sometimes my subconscious is guiding my fingers.

    I wish you well concerning your move to POM. It’s a difficult place to abide. Stay safe.

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