January 10, 2012
Dear Reader,
The title of page 41 is, "The Octaroon's Balls" You will find a transcript of this page at the end of this letter. Make sure you zoom in to see the lettering and/or read the transcript, below. Have a great week!
Remember, if you don't dream any other day of the week, dream with me on Tuesdays.
You can now link to the Table of Contents on every page. Click here to start at the beginning of this webcomic. Have a great week and remember that Goatwater is updated every Tuesday. Email any questions or comments to bassacards(at) yahoo.com.
If this is your first time visiting this site, or you are a regular reader, email me at the address above if you want me to add you to my mailing list so that I can send you an email reminder, every Tuesday, when I’ve added the new page. No spam, and I will not share your email with anybody else, just the link to the new page and some update information, if I have any. And feel free to let me know, at any time, if you want to stop receiving the weekly emails. Thank you for your support!
Goatwater - Page 41 - Transcript - The Octaroon's Balls
Seaman
What fine stories these are, eh Tamarind-Head? Listen to the beginning of this enchanted chapter: “In Nineteen Eighty-Three of the Lord deprived year, 1492, the Octaroon, whose Brother’s Father owned the tenement yard where she and her mud colored cohorts would play, was crowned Carnival Queen of the main Carnival Ball. ‘Bloody Hell!’ the Revelers complained, bursting into greasy johnny-cake bingeing, drunken riots. ‘Carnival Queen must be browner or blacker, and not at at all like dis Effin’ Fair ting Fiona. In all fairness, you Clear Carol,’ they appealed to her, ‘give up de damn crown!’ The Octaroon defended herself, thusly: ‘Well, my dear countrymen, peace in Jesus’ name. While one of your sort (which, of course, is somewhat my sort) was busy inventing the cotton gin and all manner of enjoyable iniquity, my Great-Great-Great Grandmother, Peola, the noble black one, invented the Peolagraph, a musical device-box revealed to her in a dream, which spins and repeats to music, the colorful, tiresome events of history, which spins and repeats to music the color-colorful tiresome events of history, tire-tire some events of history-history, tire-tire-tire some events, colorful-tire-tire-tiresome events of history, his-history.’
The posse of Revelers proceeded to badly beat the Octaroon, tying her up with white ribbons, powdering her and leaving her out in the open all night. In the morning they rubbed mud and grease all over her body, then left her to bake red, then brown, then black, beneath the afternoon sun. The End For Now Until The Story Repeats Again.” Now, Tamarind-Head, that was a tawdry, quick read, wasn't it? Yes, a bit of a romance but a potboiler, too, for the fellas. And I could just see everything. Even the Octaroon, upstairs, sleeping and dreaming the events I just now read. What is this place, Ruthie, and where are you, Pretty? I’m excited! Could you lead me to the loo again?
Dear Reader,
The title of page 41 is, "The Octaroon's Balls" You will find a transcript of this page at the end of this letter. Make sure you zoom in to see the lettering and/or read the transcript, below. Have a great week!
Remember, if you don't dream any other day of the week, dream with me on Tuesdays.
You can now link to the Table of Contents on every page. Click here to start at the beginning of this webcomic. Have a great week and remember that Goatwater is updated every Tuesday. Email any questions or comments to bassacards(at) yahoo.com.
If this is your first time visiting this site, or you are a regular reader, email me at the address above if you want me to add you to my mailing list so that I can send you an email reminder, every Tuesday, when I’ve added the new page. No spam, and I will not share your email with anybody else, just the link to the new page and some update information, if I have any. And feel free to let me know, at any time, if you want to stop receiving the weekly emails. Thank you for your support!
Goatwater - Page 41 - Transcript - The Octaroon's Balls
Seaman
What fine stories these are, eh Tamarind-Head? Listen to the beginning of this enchanted chapter: “In Nineteen Eighty-Three of the Lord deprived year, 1492, the Octaroon, whose Brother’s Father owned the tenement yard where she and her mud colored cohorts would play, was crowned Carnival Queen of the main Carnival Ball. ‘Bloody Hell!’ the Revelers complained, bursting into greasy johnny-cake bingeing, drunken riots. ‘Carnival Queen must be browner or blacker, and not at at all like dis Effin’ Fair ting Fiona. In all fairness, you Clear Carol,’ they appealed to her, ‘give up de damn crown!’ The Octaroon defended herself, thusly: ‘Well, my dear countrymen, peace in Jesus’ name. While one of your sort (which, of course, is somewhat my sort) was busy inventing the cotton gin and all manner of enjoyable iniquity, my Great-Great-Great Grandmother, Peola, the noble black one, invented the Peolagraph, a musical device-box revealed to her in a dream, which spins and repeats to music, the colorful, tiresome events of history, which spins and repeats to music the color-colorful tiresome events of history, tire-tire some events of history-history, tire-tire-tire some events, colorful-tire-tire-tiresome events of history, his-history.’
The posse of Revelers proceeded to badly beat the Octaroon, tying her up with white ribbons, powdering her and leaving her out in the open all night. In the morning they rubbed mud and grease all over her body, then left her to bake red, then brown, then black, beneath the afternoon sun. The End For Now Until The Story Repeats Again.” Now, Tamarind-Head, that was a tawdry, quick read, wasn't it? Yes, a bit of a romance but a potboiler, too, for the fellas. And I could just see everything. Even the Octaroon, upstairs, sleeping and dreaming the events I just now read. What is this place, Ruthie, and where are you, Pretty? I’m excited! Could you lead me to the loo again?
Goatwater
Copyright 2011-2012
words and images by:
Tiffany Osedra Miller
all rights reserved.
Copyright 2011-2012
words and images by:
Tiffany Osedra Miller
all rights reserved.
**scroll down to read the transcript to page 41**
