Monday 30 December 2013

Mapping The Territory (11)


MAPPING THE TERRITORY (11)



The fucking thing missed us, and spun into space.

Wednesday 25 December 2013

Mapping The Territory (10)


MAPPING THE TERRITORY (10)



The woman was mad, I had nothing to lose. The world at an end; I would tell her the truth.

'It's not that I'm glum,' I began to explain. 'I just feel numb, and I so hate the rain. I wish I could say there is nought to regret, but I've lost my cagoule and I fear getting wet.'

'My dear, do not fret. I, too, loath being damp. (All my joints start to ache, and I suffer from cramp.')

I tried again (this time, speaking plain).

'Thing is . . .

'The past has a habit of haunting me, and, the future just causes anxiety. Is it so bad to wish our world come to an end; that we all go together and don't have to fend for ourselves when the ones we have loved are no more?'

'Child, your attitude's proving a terrible bore.'

'Hey, but listen up, lady, I speak from the heart. This living, this living's a terrible art. The one thing we know is we're going to die; it's our one certainty (and the thing we deny).

'If that planet hits earth then our destiny's sure; we all burn together and grief is no more.'

I decided to leave it at that.

Wednesday 18 December 2013

Mapping The Territory (9)


MAPPING THE TERRITORY (9)


'Now, listen my dear, you are so damned austere,' she said as she rose from her bed (alas, not another woodshed).

We'd secured lowly shelter from cold winter weather beneath a peculiar rock. 'A good chance,' she had said, 'to take stock.'

'Of what?' I had asked. 'You know we can't last if that planet is heading for earth. We will shatter and burn, unless it soon turns.' 

I was filled with a dubious mirth.

'How strange is your reason; pray, think of the season. (My goodness, how gloomy you are.) Our new 'sun' brings nothing but hope and good cheer. (I wish I'd remembered to pack some strong beer.) 

'My dear, as I say, that it's coming our way fills my soul with excitement; I'm thrilled. (There's no way that it signifies ill.) Burning bright in the night; what a sight to behold. Now, lift up your eyes, be courageous, be bold.

'You may think that the end of the world is soon nigh but I challenge your view, and I'll testify why:

'This 'planet' you see is God's message to us (don't look like that, child and, please, don't make a fuss); yes, God's promise to us (and, we know who we are). Be proud, and bear witness: his new Christmas star.'

Monday 16 December 2013

Mapping The Territory (8)


MAPPING THE TERRITORY (8)


'Don't look sore, my dear, there is nothing to fear.'

It appeared Mother Courage was back; sucking hard on a tube from her sack.

'Really, nothing's the matter. . . '

(As I coveted her catheter; a rather nice blue plastic Camelbak bladder.)

'You see,' she piped up:

'The sun has gone down and the moon has come up. The evening star's moved into place. Orion's upstanding, the Great Bear's reclining; such a comfort to stare into space.

'So what if one planet's out of place?'

I said:

'You're deluded,' then concluded (in a bid to be clear) 'you cannot ignore facts just to assuage your fears. You cannot turn your cheek to ensure a good view. Bad luck will endure, never mind what you do.'

Thursday 12 December 2013

Mapping The Territory (7)


MAPPING THE TERRITORY (7)


The sky turned red, and the moon came up. (The Priestess imbibed a preprandial sup.)

'My child, do you see (I'm convinced it's not me) that one sun's gone but one still remains? You know, I've been wracking my brains. What on earth could it mean? (You accept what we've seen?)

I was tired of her endless refrain.

So, I said:

'Well, it's clear to me, I'm surprised you can't see that the end of the world is now nigh. Take stock of your life; say goodbye.'

The Priestess looked up, then drank deep from her cup; she'd procured a good whisky, I saw.

'Are you kidding, my child? You will drive me quite wild if you say that the world is no more.'

I was shocked, and tried to look sore.

Thursday 5 December 2013

Mapping The Territory (6)


MAPPING THE TERRITORY (6)


I'd heard said that the Priestess was obsessed with semiology; had applied to reading tarmac yet another tired theory.

I, myself, am sick of theory: such a bore, so dry and dreary. (What's the use of methodology? I ask you quite sincerely.)

Anyway.

We were walking up hill. The sun was striking hot. I was nigh on giving up; throwing in my weary lot. By my side, she held her stride, but the heat was so oppressive that she hitched her dress up high revealing thighs that were impressive.

I looked away.

'Is it me who's seeing double, I must say I've had some trouble with my eyes in recent years - course, it could be all those tears that I've cried for girls, like you. Now I regularly see two.'

I ignored her.

'Yes.

'When I cast my glance aloft, the horizon's rendered soft, but that ain't the thing that bothers me, my dear. What perturbs me all the more and, my child, I can't be sure, but do we always have two suns this time of year?'

I stared up at the heavens, and gasped.

'Do you see?

'I have watched the sun and moon occupy the sky at noon now and then throughout the ages of my life. (There's a theory that their union portends strife. . . )

'But, the detail's in the shadows; things are lit from left and right. While I hate to be alarmist, I believe it's not my sight.'

Monday 2 December 2013

Mapping The Territory (5)


MAPPING THE TERRITORY (5)


We kept on the go, and I held my head low but the Priestess remained irrepressible; her presence depressingly miserable.

'Well, my child, what a lark! I've been quite in the dark when it comes to the pleasures of hiking. I must say that I find it quite striking; my aches are all gone, mind and body are one. This exercise thing's to my liking.'

I said nothing.

'Come, come, don't be surly, it's really quite early. The day's pleasures still lie ahead. So what if I hogged the bed? A lady like me is quite fragile, you see. Sleep badly; I suddenly see red.'

She glanced at me sideways.

'Ooh, yes.

'I sleep light as a feather; regardless of weather I wake in a terrible sweat. My scalp is all itchy, my breast-plate is damp. The nape of my neck is soaked wet.

'Of course, you'll be wondering the cause. Let me whisper, dear child: menopause.'

I replied:

'Fine: so we're dealing with your needs, are we, not mine?'