12. Frosty 🥶 / ‘Birds’ (12)

-Aristophanes’ Birds
-Frosty Lunch DAte
-Favors for your friends

-something else 
-(intro)dinner-time horror show


Wiki:  “Or ‘Milos’ … a volcanic Greek island in the Aegean Sea, just north of the Sea of Crete.”
“The mining of obsidian did not lead to the development of permanent habitation or manufacturing on the island. Instead, those in search of obsidian arrived by boat, beaching it in a suitable cove and cutting pieces of the volcanic glass from the quarries… The position of Milos, between mainland Greece and Crete, and its possession of obsidian, made it an important centre of early Aegean civilization.” 
“Milos lost its arms-making importance when bronze became the preferred material for the manufacture of weapons.”
“The first settlers were tuna fishermen. Lying on the north-east coast, 1896 excavations by the British School of Athens revealed a town wall and a Minoan-inspired structure, dubbed the Pillar room, which contained fragments of vivid wall paintings. The famous fresco of the flying fish was found in the ruins of the Pillar room and was executed with delicate colouring and graphic observation of nature in the graceful movement of a fish. Stylistic similarities to Minoan frescoes are suggested, and it could perhaps have been the work of a Cretan artist. Part of the site has been washed away by the sea.”
“The first Dorian settlement on Melos was established no earlier than the 1st millennium BC. Dorians are the ethnic group to which the Spartans belonged, but the Dorian settlers of Melos made themselves independent. They eventually established a city whose site lies on the eastern shore of the bay… From the 6th century BC up to the siege of 416 BC, Melos issued its own coinage… Melos was the only island in the Aegean Sea to use this standard. Most coins bore the image of an apple, which is a pun because the ancient Greek word for “apple” (mêlon) sounded similar to the name of the island… By the 6th century BC, the Melians had also learned to write, and they used an archaic variant of the Ancient Greek script that exhibited Cretan and Theraic influences. It was discarded after the siege of 416 BC… From at least as early as 470 BC and ending with the siege of 416 BC, the Melians exported terracotta reliefs, which were typically used as door or chest ornaments and depicted scenes from mythology…” 
“In the summer of 416 BC, Athens invaded again with 3,400 men, and demanded that Melos ally with them against Sparta, or be destroyed. The Melians rejected this, so the Athenian army laid siege to the city and eventually captured it in the winter. After the city’s fall, the Athenians executed all the adult men, and sold the women and children into slavery. They then settled 500 of their own colonists on the island.”


For The Birds.

Sir please don’t feed the birds.

Hmm. Oh, what?

I said please don’t feed the birds anymore.

It’s just a little bird, it’s not going to hurt any–




“…a nut job.” … “Yes…they’ll ask for a–“


The negotiation: “well, you’re going to have to let me in now. Are you really going to die over it?”


“Just let me in, you idiot!” … must allow car thieves… into car… in order to save life…

“I have to give you the Heimlick maneuver to save your life, now open up!” … I was almost at my car… and he came over to rob me!, but that goes without saying… He’s choking on pistachios!

*gasp* “Nooo!” 
*gulp*  “I’ll open up a bottle…”

“… I’m gonna open up a ginger-ale.”

<‘Favors for your Friends’>

“Someone once said, man, life is strange… and I said, yeah, compared to what?”
-Boby Dylan

Planet Earth:
Frosty, distracted by the time-tracker on his HUD, nearly ran into a wall while heading toward the center hub of Adobe Tower. There were a few restaurants and shops, as well as a few strange things to visit. One attraction, on the Mesa floor, claimed to have recreated a dinosaur with breakthrough genetic engineering. Frosty rolled his eyes, commenting on how they’re “really just overgrown Geckos.” Ironically, this was still an amazing feat, as well mistaken for, perhaps, a reptile. It was a marvel of scientific accomplishment, waved aside like some old carnival trick; you’ve seen it a million times.
Entering the restaurant, Frosty adjusts the collar of his itchy sweater. He is sweating, a bit under the neck, and his hair has visibly dampened. He looks ordinary, but feels as though he is sticking out, somehow, in the entrance to the restaurant. It is a background discomfort that he can rationalize as groundless paranoia, but could still never completely rid himself of. The restaurant is dimly lit. There are well-dressed diners all around, and the place has an atmosphere of elegance. He has grown excited to see Andrianna. It has been so long since he met with her last. “Why had it been so long since she has tried to contact me?” He asked himself.
The hostess of the restaurant approaches him. She has kind eyes and Frosty’s underlying discomfort seems to have diminished some. She asks whether or not he would be dining alone, and remarking how he had hoped he would not, Frosty indicates that there should be seating for two. The hostess brings him to the table, which was, unfortunately,  forcing Frosty into walking between tables (where people must must have been staring directly at him, me, and maybe recoiling from the sweat beading down my neck). He imagines the entire restaurant laughing under their breath about him: 

     “Who ordered the stuck pig?” Some of the diners recoil, in silent disgust.

Frosty realizes that this is lunacy, a fantasy, He reasons with himself that he is, in fact, by all means allowed to be here—he has the same right just as any—and this internal self-deprecation will eventually destroy him, if left unchecked. No one was as hard on him as he was on himself, and he seemed to know that. Why would the diners have this hateful and menacing image of him, having no knowledge of who he even was? Dissolving these underlying thought-patterns with a physical shake of the head, Frosty reminds himself about his respectable position in society. Approaching the table, the waiter started filling the empty glasses with water. This image helps him come to an easing of his nerves.
Frosty sees behind the waiter that Andrianna had entered the restaurant and was standing in the doorway. She was beaming. Women like Andrianna were always beaming. Frosty is pleased to see her, but a part of him resents her obvious glow. He didn’t at all feel this way, until just then, when he saw the reality of that glow. The vibrancy—and how it had not paled at all since last he had witnessed her. This, he knew, was some dark quality within him. It was a quality like possession, striking a man who feels guilt within himself by these talons of envy, and on certain occasions it is an egoic presence which is painfully difficult to mask. He also notices that this is lacking in certain others—typically ones just like Andrianna. 
They are ‘better’ people, he reasoned, in more ways than one. Frosty didn’t even have 6-pace abs. Stronger, he thought to himself. This is yet another thing about himself that he hates—that her light brings about the shadow in him. He usually catches himself in this mode, of seeping negativity, and is able to correct it. He allows his joy at seeing her overflow his shallow self-pity, and the black moment passes. Frosty feels that he looks a little bit too much like a caveman, maybe like some sort of a Frankenstein Monster, rigidly, lobotomized outstretching, his primitive hook-hands greeting her. Shakily, pulling out her chair for her and smiling (at the Blonde-haired beauty) with a slack-jawed grimace, Frosty disgusts himself with his failed performance… 
In truth, Andrianna hasn’t had a single thought other than gratitude to see Frosty, but the poor man had created this scenario, of utter defeat, right at the get-go. He did this often. Overtaken by this mental noise, which can shake him up quite a bit, Richard Frosty is the type of person prone to finding a use for stresses. He had read them in a book once, and sometimes remembered. This stress is the catalyst to his humor. He blinks into composure, diving in face-first in order to keep up appearances. A professional of misdirection, he has been trained to find composure. A pattern is restored, the geometric master spins a pattern-construct just for her, …
… that went like this: “Please, have a seat, Andrianna!” 
That wasn’t awkward at all.
His excitement betrays him. He adjusts his exuberance… 
“It’s so nice to see you again, Frosty. How are things?” She was as lovely as he had ever seen her.
Frosty ran over to pull out Andrianna’s chair—always the ‘extra-mile’ gentleman. He hoped that she thought this, as he did it. Frosty then hoped, with eagerness (equal to the hope that she was thinking him as an ‘extra-mile’ gentleman) that the sweat on his palms has not noticeably smeared on the back of her chair (so that when she pressed her back on the chair she would not feel a wet spot, and then he wondered if she…) 
He catches himself. 
He catches himself in the act—the mind streams on, surfacing incessant and off-putting messages. Andrianna smiles, showing her excitement at seeing him. Her excitement is contagious, and Frosty loses himself, in a moment that ‘she’ has manufactured. Betraying his initial contempt of her, perceiving she had purposely neglected him as of late, though, realistically, she of course had probably not been intentionally ignoring him, his happiness at their dinner date shines through. It is received by his guest as a display of quite a genuine happiness. He responds to her pleasantries (like a giddy little school girl), and at the sight of her smile, all discomforts are swept away. The anxieties of a Stratego had subsided as she laughs. Frosty fills in the silence—in this he is well practiced. Although his skills are rusty (and perhaps obsolete):
“I’m so glad you were able to make a little time for old friends. Here, please have a seat. What a strange saying, have a seat? I don’t suppose they’ll let you take it home with you after, would they? Just a joke—oh, don’t bother laughing at that one—out of courtesy—besides, if they were all winners I’d have to start charging! Only kidding…I mean, just imagine the size of the to-go bag though! Do people still say ‘doggy bag,’ I certainly do!” 
Andrianna smiles courteously. She has missed his silly sense of humor, and has perhaps forgotten how refreshing it was. Her professional attitude seems to have diminished, some, while she maintains a few particular walls in her communication. She knows how Frosty can get—with a little too much friendliness.

“Frosty, it has been too long! I trust everything in the brains department goes well? I’m sorry though, it has been too long… How is the exciting life of a Stratego?” The flattery of her referring to him, and his station, as the ‘brain’s department’ is never wasted on Frosty.
The Stratego had once been much more involved with the handlings of the military, but now that the threat of any major war had come to a close there really weren’t many uses for them. Grandiose battle tactics had been instructed to past Tacticians. The Cases he now works are hardly public knowledge, but not so covert that they warrant the excitement this title usually suggests. The State-controlled media wanted the public to believe that terrorism had been defeated, and keeping up this image was high priority. Strategos learn how to work the shadows. They are like tailors to the black cloth of ignorance, banality, and deceit; blanketing the population with their communication mediums. They focus more internally now.
“Oh you know, nothing my ‘genius’ can’t handle.” One of Frosty’s eyes had gone cock-eyed. She laughs at his egregious delivery. 
“So, you’re not a terrorist then? Haven’t switched teams, have you?”
“Oh, you know, only on the weekends, Luv.” The man had a certain talent and charm once settled in. Andrianna quickly began to remember how pleasant spending time with Frosty was, and she quickly drops her guise of professionalism all together.
“Besides, what’s a couple of ongoing WorldWars, anyways? Shall we order some expensive wine?”
The two laughed. It is a callous sort of humor, but humor was humor, and nobody should be apologizing for any of it. “Have any preference?” She holds up her menu.
“I like the kind that tastes juicy, but nothing in a box. I have standards.”
“You have standards now? It has been a long time.” 
Frosty is definitely not like most of his contemporaries. She looks at his pudgy body—a comedic master swirling his dark red drink around, twirling that angelic liquid like an outright incarnation of Bacchus. Mocking seduction with his eyes, she looks again at his pudgy body. She is smiling—it is pantomime designed solely to get a laugh. He has this great knack for channeling these characters, of his own creation. She looks at his clown-like demeanor and thinks: he seems trivial, but this man is not to be trifled with.
“Juicy kind, huh? That’s just great, thank you for your valuable input.” 
“I will say one thing– I’m definitely the ‘least’ cultured man here.” Frosty remarks with a lecturing tone.
Reminding herself that Frosty is, despite that silly demeanor, a man partly responsible for the deaths of many men. Trying to hold back a laugh (at the dark irony of it all) she also thinks it is vaguely important to stay careful, despite their lengthy friendship. To open up too much, too easily, with a man such as this… it could be considered a weakness. Strategos love to trip a story up, and although Frosty is different, it often seems they can’t help it. They are logic masters, and this sometimes will over-ride their ‘pleasant’ behavior. Using their calculating prowess, in order to play games, during a trial for instance, sometimes they can greatly sway an outcome. Frosty is hardly a typical specimen for his profession, however.
Frosty is a genuinely good guy, and that feeling (of wanting to laugh in a joyous, childlike manor) should be allowed to be let go. She deserves it. He deserves it. That infrequent guest—Joy, let loose, as she laughs: her first real laugh in months. She could stop playing ‘the game,’ for a brief moment—that exhausting game we all play. Sitting back, she comically swirls her own glass, putting on a face, in imitation, then, smelling into the glass, she makes a face as if the glass has a curious, and frightening odor. She looks as in disbelief, by the smell of the wine, and the two catch eyes, laughing again. Frosty is definitely impressed that she, besides her beauty, is deep-down still that child: fun, unbroken, despite it all. She has it all. Instead, Frosty thinks these traits of hers both settles and tortures him.  
After initial excitements had died down, the room’s temperament shifted. The night is winding down, and they are still genuinely happy to see one other. They are still enjoying one another’s company. He drank some, she drank some… Andrianna started getting more somber with the catalyst of the drink. Trying to make the mood more serious, she brings up the stock World News, easing into it with the events of media coverage (at least the conventional topics to be touched on), she brings up some global issues, some military spending issues, and water-cooler conversation. It is the mood she is trying to change, and these topics are a ‘means to an end.’ Frosty has identified this immediately, and is helping her transition ease over, smoothly. He will hear-her-out, now, and deduce what she really had to say later on. She straightens up, after asking to be excused to the restroom. She then sat back down, her face darkly shadowed. She is looking much more serious now. He wanted her to get out whatever it was she called him to talk about tonight, and to stop dancing around it. He has no problem with a request for a favor, as was presumably the reason she had invited him here this evening.
“So, did you hear on the news about the kidnapping?”


Quoted from ‘Plato’s Laughter,’ by Sonja Madeleine Tanner

“If the arguments developed in the preceding chapters are accurate, their implications are extensive and need to be traced. First, the Conclusion sketches how reading the dialogues with an eye toward laughter and comic moments as philosophically meaningful affects how we read Plato.” 
“A different view of the self in Plato emerges from this discussion, and it is one that is more in keeping with Socratic Ignorance than generally acknowledged. The Delphic Imperative to “Know thyself”—at the heart of the philosophical undertaking for Socrates—is thus significantly impacted by considerations of laughter and comedy within the Platonic dialogues. So too are many assumptions that have become “traditional” about the relationship of comedy to philosophy, and laughter to what is serious. 
“The book concludes with a reconsideration of these relationships and what this might mean for philosophy more broadly. Although I believe the dialogues discussed here tell a particular story of the engagement and revision of laughter, there is a degree to which the selected dialogues are arbitrary. A similar project could be done with many others, including the Protagoras, Gorgias, Hippias Major, Hippias Minor, Euthyphro, Ion, Meno, Laws, Menexenus, Lysis, and more. These are merely some instances, examples, and functions of laughter in some dialogues. This book does not purport to be in any sense exhaustive in its treatment of laughter and comedy in the dialogues it has examined. Quite to the contrary, if its main theses are right, the literary dimensions of the dialogues—such as comedy, hold the dialogues open to a nearly inexhaustible array of interpretations.” 
“What it has attempted is a more extensive, but still partial, taxonomy of kinds of laughter in the dialogues, their possible functions, and philosophical meanings. The intention behind the book is thus to open up broader discussion of laughter and comedy in the dialogues, and in no sense to shut such discussion down with anything akin to authoritative pronouncement. Such a pronouncement would be as ridiculous and self-blind as Euthyphro, Hippias, or Dionysodorus.”

Quoted from ‘Plato’s Laughter,’ by Sonja Madeleine Tanner

“Although I have treated comedy and laughter as though they are separable from elements of tragedy for the sake of giving comedy its own hearing, they are more fundamentally intertwined than I suggest here. At the same time, I have also been very hesitant to designate any of the dialogues as “comedies” or “satyr plays,” even on compelling evidence that Plato is making quite heavy use of such risible forms. A label such as “comedy,” if this book is right in its assessment, itself needs revision before it can more accurately describe the “serious,” philosophically meaningful laughter of Plato’s dialogues. It is not the aim of this book to undertake an explicit revision, so much as to suggest its need and, perhaps, to sketch some of the contours of what is needed. Plato, thus, may well be the elusive writer of both tragedy and comedy referred to at the end of the Symposium, as Clay claims, but, oddly, this makes him neither tragedian nor comedian nor ironist per se. He is all of these, but not exclusively of one another. It is in this spirit, then, that this book acknowledges but a few of its own many limitations. The book is but the shaggy hide of a satyr covering over what it clumsily hopes to reveal: a few golden treasures, due not to me, but to the alternatingly luminous, exuberant, perplexing, and philosophical dimensions of Plato’s laughter.”


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Comments (



%d bloggers like this: