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Mundane is…


MUNDANE IS from the LL mundan(us), equivalent to mund(us) world + -anus -ane, but for some reason is not the same as mundify which is from the LL mundific(are), equivalent to L mund(us) clean + ificare -ify. Get that.

I want borders, give me borders, so I make a table, but I want a red border around the table. So how do I do this without having to learn how to do it? Why can't I just punch a button and change the gray to red?


 Whoa, isn't this a nasty surprise. Yellow green and violet. If you can imagine these colors made into new clothes you would want to wear, then you inappropriately elaborate them with modern flash (we should hope). If you can picture these colors made into clothes you would find at the second-hand Amvets store (a delightful shopping experience until those economically not-so-disenfranchised who didn't have to shop there discovered it), into which you would hungrily change even as you paid for them at the check-out counter, then me thinks you take them out of their original fashion context. Tell any scholarly alchemist that you approach the symbolism of Flamel out of context of his time and you'll be given a taste of the ruler and banned from the lab. Let that be a lesson to you as we not too deftly segue into talking about my Great Aunt Alma who was, by all appearances, a fairly mundane woman and I propose that my color choices must be examined in context of her long life and what they would have meant to her and what she would have felt about them.

Aunt Alma looked very much like her brother, my grandfather. Had I been Aunt Alma I would have found this depressing, for though my grandfather was a reasonably handsome individual, his face pasted on her skull did little for her aesthetically. Some might suppose that Aunt Alma's inability to muster a smile was indicative of depression, but such was not the case. Aunt Alma was never depressed. Depression would have conflicted with her cultural values (never mind moral values which clearly conflicted with economic practicalities), just as to submit to mirth was, uhm, antipathetic to those cultural values which provided her a keen sense of diagnostic vision as to how if YOU were a little under-the-weather (i.e. depressed) this was caused only by you not being responsible enough to have wheat toast for breakfast instead of some slap-dash nonsense of butter and jam on anything NOT toasted, and clean socks, and a workable compass in your clean car. Any concern she expressed over your health had nothing to do with Aunt Alma wanting you to feel good for the sake of feeling good. She wanted you to not be unhealthy because being unhealthy was irresponsible and conflicted with her cultural values. If you didn't have that tablespoon of bran for breakfast you might become constipated, and if you became constipated you might perforate a bowel and get peritonitis just like Selena's daughter, Angie, who was always too self-impressed, and ultimately died because she WOULD NOT LISTEN TO REASON, and if you got peritonitis because of the foolishness of not eating the bran then yes maybe family would take care of you in your destitution but wouldn't she feel sorry for that family member upon whose generosity you would be imposing since they had the sense to eat bran and thus, by virtue of their good health, had to take care of irresponsible relations such as yourself.

Aunt Alma never married, and there were never references to any possibilities (present, future or past) of a significant other in her life, male or female. Never would she have considered sharing her domicile with a living creature (so no dogs, no cats, no birds, no bugs) as animals are disorderly and not to be trusted. Mystery never entered the region of this practical Midwestern woman because she would have promptly squashed it flat with the steno pad in which she scribbled her code of her nameless boss ever day of her never-discussed secretarial career (the good secretary has a mouth secure as a Wells Fargo safe which means it never occurred to me to ask where she worked as her response would have been, "Why do you want to know that?"), nor did mystery dare approach her in Mexico where she sometimes vacationed with her brother and his wife because it was cheap, but , "I could have just as well done without everything else down there. At least the weather was good. On Tuesday, January 14th, it was 72 degrees and sunny. On Wednesday, January 15th, it was 74 degrees and sunny. I hear you back in the Midwest had a terrible snowstorm. On Thursday it was 75 degrees and after lunch we drove to the beach for ten minutes but didn't go out walking. The idea of sand in the shoes might appeal to some but not to me. I would have just as soon stayed at the hotel but Lewis insisted. I did catch a chill, however, even though I had the good sense to stay in the car, and clearly as a result of this I became ill with pernicious anemia and had to stay with Leslie (my sister, your great aunt) and her husband, Bob, in Texas. I was with them for a month and missed the snowstorm back home that devastated the attractive new mall. I hear it killed a few people as well. But it's a shame about the new mall. Corrine, your cousin on your father's brother's side, had been promised a job at the new jewelry store and I understand they had excellent benefits. She is graduating high school in May and does not really possess what it takes to go on to college, so she needs to be thinking about how she will become self-supporting. I understand she is now considering a career in cosmetology."

Adventure, for Alma, was a word that suggested disorder, passionate emotion, even outright rebellion. I'm pretty certain Alma had a pair of polyester slacks in this yellow-green color for relaxing in, and a polyester violet shirt. No, make that a polyester shirt in a flowered pattern of yellow-green and violet, perfect for travel as the pattern would hide stains and dirt.


Which brings me back to the subject of--considering my lack of skill--one out of the few other design options available to me for this page and why I chose to not go with this one other. For a background, instead of this yellow-green, I had considered going with the wood paneling fill but it was a bit too cheesy to be properly mundane. Plus, the wood grain was horizontal rather than vertical. Had it been vertical I might have relented.

I wanted to put the wood fill in here, in this table, but do you see it? Do you see a red border?

But the problem with paneling is suggestiveness of ? is behind the wall.

So, maybe I should have gone with the paneling after all because the question of the minute is …





Drum roll while I flip out the



Do you want the



I happen to be holding--not over there, right here, see, here they are. Yes. You want a peek through them? Tell me what you've done to merit a look-see beyond the proverbial curtain. That much? Doesn't matter. However much is never enough. (Oh, and by the way, should I, you know, just happen to forget and leave these mighty attractive but unassuming glasses on the coffee table and you pocket them on your way out, be careful how you use them, because we don't want you adversely affecting my good karma with the consequences of any ill-advised actions you might make while under the influence.) Besides, what do you think you'll find behind the wall and what do you think it'll do for you? Remember all the movies in which people, by accident or design, manage to go beyond the wall. Don't those poor characters usually scramble about trying desperately to put things back in their former order? Everyday the world demonstrates for us,




Your normal code of ethics doesn't stand a chance…




IF you manage to truly find your way beyond the wall, of course. The skin of assumption in which, for example, is clothed the mouse in your hand. Your dreams know the mouse for what it is, but how well do you understand the language of your subconscious?

Well, for politeness sake, let's rephrase all this so it reads instead…IF one manages to truly find one's way beyond the wall, of course. The skin of assumption in which, for example, is clothed the mouse in one's hand. One's dreams know the mouse for what it is, but how well do any of us understand the language of the subconscious?

  Mundane is.

And thank mundane for the many blessings it bestows upon you.

That is what we at BigSofa have to tell you. That is the message we carry to the world.

Don't ask too many questions.

Rather than running from the obvious enemy, you should flee the individual who steps forth, puts out his or her hand, and says,

"Hi, I'm your friend."

one two three four who's that knocking at your door five six seven eight could it be the hand of wait who goes there friend or foe war or peace ask don't ask question don't question love yourself rest easy sit down on the BigSofa peek-a-boo Lop-lop wants to talk to you

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