it's raining cats and dogs on the hill tonight.
and i'm thinking all good things come to an end.
about everything. (except about school)
ya know that feeling when you're having too much fun, when you're too happy, when the world tremors ever so slightly with light? when you hold your heart on a string like a balloon, taught straight strings and your head is thrown back, hair wild across your face, sun on your back and you're just skipping? skipping. doolally and foolish like.
but in the back of your mind, your mind of scribbles and stick men, you simply know that The Bad Thing is waiting just around the corner to push you back to where you belong.
"you git back there, you."
"wha-? me? oh. it's you again."
"this is Life, donchaknowit? it ain't all Fun, Loser."
whack on the back of your head.
ow."what on earth were you thinking, Fool."
i hate that.
and don't tell me it isn't true because it is. that's what a client said many moons ago when he pooed in his pants on a walking safari and we were trying to commiserate with him. well. safari c was. stoically poker faced. heroic in fact. i was stuffing tea towels into my mouth behind the camp bar, trying to act normal.
he sadly said to us, (after he'd cleaned up of course - as the camp froze, poised on the edge of uncontrollable mirth) he sadly said, "and don't tell me this happens to everyone. because it doesn't. it isn't true. "
i mean what do you say?
"oh ken. i'm devastated you pooed in your pants on a walking safari for no apparent reason. and even worse - oh god i'm sorry - in front of your petulant teenage daughter who already hates you and is dying of embarrassment just by your being alive...i've never seen anything like it EVER before. so sorry. why. don't. you. just. die."
no. of course not.
you say," gosh ken. don't worry. it happens to everyone."
but lucky old lucky me, recently i've been keeping The Bad Thing in check. i've been sitting on the edge looking in. being terribly careful of not having too much fun. of not believing too much in anything. of delighting in irrelevancy. i've been standing next to The Bad Thing. so he can't surprise me.
man. i've been holding his hand. sometimes.
i hate that.
but i love it that i can see beautiful things in intense simplicity. in terrible things. i love it that we can if we want to. slyly. when The Bad Thing isn't looking. i love it that we can choose to see things the way we want to. no matter how delusional. (you can always grab hold of The Hand) i love it that i rode past a choir yesterday, under a single tree out on the plains - singing a song i didn't understand. its angelic strains floating on mischievous little rain winds. and how my horse was scared of the skinny cow rustling amongst the dead dry maize stalks. . .
i wish it wasn't there, the Bad Thing, but then perhaps the rain wouldn't smell so sweet.
i have a new toy, oh bestests. which will start to be a regular feature. i am not sure what to call it/him/her. right now, the only thing which springs to mind is Wooden Man.( lashings of apologies to the sisterhood. yes. he does have breasts) another name which leapt ever so easily to mind was, she perhaps mistakenly confesses, is Man. he has travelled all the way from the fairest cape for this assignment. a one way ticket. so instead of the old kitchen board, y'll all be seein' him. hell. maybe somtimes in front of the kitchen board. but as i was sayin' , all good things must come to an end. i give you wooden man. be kind.
these things take time. i might even sew him a little hat in time.
wooden man: tuesday night - rainy - ngorobob hill. sometime in november.oh and the bad thing is that i don't think he can sit because of the large steel rod up his bottom.. this is rather unfortunate because it means i can't bend him into the Thinking Man position. sigh sigh. oh well.
toodely ole toot y'all. bisous. fresh rainy new ones X.X.X. x j