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Why I Hope I Never See a Battle Between a Sperm Whale and a Giant Squid

Giants engender a sympathy of poignancy as much as one of awe.  Isn't it poignant to imagine a great beast, capable in it's enormity of utterly crushing you or I at any time, yet this beast doesn't destroy us.  Rather they remain, like obedient servants to a greater power of nature or God, insular and avoidant of any confrontation.

So we have two giants, the sperm whale and the giant squid, neither looking to start anything but by their very nature antagonistic toward each other.  Who's to say which of these giants is in the right?  Maybe neither is more correct than the other.  One, the giant squid, a protector of the deep, the other, the sperm whale, a traveler whose travels evidence an adventurousness without any malicious forethought.

Apparently, when they encounter each other, it's like two poles of similar magnetism.  Each repels the other.  Who knows why.  Maybe, like Cain, " , . . . if thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door.  And unto thee shall be his desire, and thou shalt rule over him."  Genesis 4:7   They then face off, each, unknowingly, protecting a sinful nature which has been exacerbated by the presence of the other. 

Sometimes the sperm whale wins, sometimes the giant squid wins.  The winner returning to a life of solitude, except for their own kind,  no less humble than before winning.  Yet, now the loser has suffered. 

In anthropomorphizing these creatures, as I've done, they take on qualities of men.  Strength, quietude, purpose, etc. rather than simply biological qualities like hunger, territoriality, etc.  Choosing of this dichotomous nature  isn't to deny the existence of the other.  Neither creature is without a peaceful existence at times; a peacefulness which is a staple of nature's grandeur and can be anthropomorphized.  Belying this peacefulness are the necessities of survival.  But the sperm whale and giant squid survive without hunting each other as their main food source. So why should their meeting seem to lead, inevitably, to battle? 

There is no logical, biological, reason for their confrontation.  Just an unexplained acrimony toward each other which elevates each to an anthropomorphic level of idiocy and, at the same time, mocks any biological explanations of the necessities of nature's food chain.  It's as if their enormity were an award recognizing their humility and peaceful countenance, only to have the two, once backstage together at the awards show, engage in some sort of catfight.  This is why I hope never to see a battle between a sperm whale and a giant squid.
Opuscule No. 1: Piano Man

Somewhere Around the 3rd, 4th, or 5th Date
Bothered by his evolving affection for her, he excused himself saying "Excuse me I have to go to the bathroom." He pushed himself away from the table. 

He stood facing the hallway which would lead to the bathroom looking down at her. She sat looking up at him. 
Feeling somewhat abandoned, she quickly asked "Should I order us another?"   "Yes." , he said "that's fine."  and headed for the bathroom.  He walked down the hall leading to the bathroom, walked past the bathroom, and came to a rickety, wooden framed, screen door leading outside.  He pulled it open and stepped outside.  The air, overwhelmed by the neon and noise of the city, was uninspiring and unable to hide it's sluggishness. It was not at all refreshing.  Still he felt relieved.  Relieved to be free; free of her but, more so, free of it.


The waiter walked from the table after taking the order.  The girl looked around the bar, at it's decor, prints of abstract art, some shiny metallic bar stools, and a padded, red bulbous, vinyl affair attached to the front of the bar.  She thought it to be by definition an elbow rest although, she'd have defined it as ridiculous.  She grew upset with the uncalled for quietude of the place, but manged a smile for the gentleman seated next to their table.

A rodent, possibly a rat he thought, noisily scurried among some leaves and junk laying aside the base of the building.  He decided to return.  He buttoned, then unbuttoned his sport coat, pushed the door open, used the course, fibrous welcome mat to clean the souls of his shoes then headed back to the dining room.


Once there, he grabbed the back of his empty chair, pulling it away from the table. "How's things?" he asked, and sat.
"I ordered drinks." she said. He nodded.
There was a pause, when she interjected, "How were the bathrooms?"
His eyes moved involuntarily left, which he almost instantaneously realized. In tandem with this movement he shook his head slightly, as if he had a twitch.  It was a barely visible set of  movements but very noticeable to her.  Noticeable in the sense that she was aware of his being flustered.
"You're weird." he stated flatly.
"What do you mean?" she answered.
"I don't know.", he said.  He relaxed, having achieved a distancing from her with his brazen accusation.
Slightly saddened, she looked away;  looked at the other customers, at the decor again.  She felt the cold, metallic bar stools and the cushioned elbow rest to be less ridiculous now than before.
"I'm sorry.  I meant 'you're weird' to be affectionate not nasty."
"That's all right,  I'm sometimes weird." she lied.
"Well, you're not weird." he stated. Then added, "I can be weird myself you know."
She expressed a polite, not fabricated, half smile to accept his awkward apology.
"I think we should call it a night." he volunteered.
She agreed.
As they approached her apartment he wondered if he should mention he would like to see her again.  He was like a balloon floating in the vicinity of a needle.
If he mentioned it he might be turned down, deflating his unacknowledged hope, and be left to fend for himself.  Without the benefit of additional rationale he said, "I'll call you tomorrow."

She wanted to say, 'Whatever' but said, "Yes, that's fine."

It's a fools' game, nothing but a fools' game. . .
Bonnie Tyler, It's a Heartache, ©Universal Music Publishing Group
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