a week-end looms. and i feel oddly blue.
maybe i have a case of the PPD's (post piss up depression)? or maybe...no.no. let's nip it in the bud right here. bah.
our crazy little band of hill dwellers had a haphazard tent warming get together last night, for my spaghetti thin riding buddy, tati. it wasn't planned or anything. there were four of us and five wild children. and a sky full of stars and um, three bottles of champagne and a bottle of wine. and a general feeling of instability surrounding the small bowl of radishes, carrots and feta cheese. there was a vague consensus that the planets must be cartwheeling or something. although i've been told that that was ages ago. still. maybe things take longer to catch up here. oh who knows.
the wild things played sardines. finley (4) drank someone's entire mug of champagne. the wild things had piggy back races over an obstacle course around the tent (and the paraffin lamps) while we drank more and danced and laughed more. we made enough noise for at least sixty people. this was good. and spoke of frivolous things. well. damian and paul tried to talk about serious things like buildings and architecture and politics. i broke that up fast. we decided the factory lights looked like fallen stars and that i was flushed with love, life and all things good. i can assure you, oh bestest beloveds, this morning it's as drab as anything.
and i can hear my heart rattling in my bone brittle skeleton.
godsakes. so. in order to chase the lurking black dog i have murkily decided to pluck us hence from these grey hills and head to the club where apparently there is a seven a side rugby afternoon going on....last time we went to watch the cricket. when the batting team lost their temper and refused to carry on with play. it was delightfully shocking and eye brow raising bad sportsmanship. i was desperately wanting a punch up, after the caught batsman threw down his bat and cursed the umpire in excellent swahili. but no. everyone managed to keep it together. buggar. anyway. yes. this grey cold afternoon. yes. the wild things can romp around the field and i shall attempt to make a single solid connection with at least one person. instead of staring out to the distant horizon with a head full of floaty notions.
this sense of terrible discombobulation is well, terrible. terribly lovely. terribly unsettling. terribly devastating. beautifully and dangerously ungrounded. dis-connection moving into something separate and surreal. it's like someone just cut my string and i am a loose kite. a free kite.
and the unpredictable wind's picking up....whoa. . .
Kitchen Board: a blustery grey cold saturday afternoon, 15 august 2009: 14:18HRS and counting.
will grab milo and fatty milk from mohammeds. small fish are coming from kisongo. . .
toodely oh toodely, bestests. bisous X.X.X soft icy ones on a warm neck. x j