Tuesday 27 May 2014

Stepping In The Salad (13)


STEPPING IN THE SALAD (13)


'Had 'e?' asked the Priestess as she wielded brand new tweezers, as she plucked another insect from her arm.

'It's a shame to die intestate but I say the good and the great would do well to pen their obit. What's the harm?'

I said: 'he was silent on the subject, and, I felt I couldn't object; it's a difficult and dreadful thing to do. For the most part, one is wary to consider death. It's scary.

'But, it's something I rely on to get through.'

'Yes, of course,' replied the Priestess. 

'In a world of meritocracy and something like democracy, I can see I haven't really fared that well. . . '

'Indeed,' she nodded.

'Fate and Bad Luck called the shots. It was they who chose my lot.

'As for headstones, I'd say: Damn It, Gone To Hell.'

Sunday 25 May 2014

Stepping In The Salad (12)


STEPPING IN THE SALAD (12)


'It was after kicking cairns that we confronted our mortality. . .

'So, I said to my companion, have you written an obituary?

'Have you thought how you would like to be remembered when you pass?

'Do you have a snappy title for your gravestone epitaph?'

Tuesday 20 May 2014

Stepping In The Salad (11)


STEPPING IN THE SALAD (11)


'Ah-ha,' mused the Priestess, extracting a tick. 'So conceptual these days that it just makes me sick. Did you make something pretty or was it just smart? (How I long for some simple pictorial art.)'

'Well.

'We made pictures of vistas without any sky, and horses in kiosks (though, don't ask my why)

'We wrote short lists of words using sans-serif font, like:

'Equality

'Liberty

'&c

'Enfant.

'We drew circles of mud and trod lines in the grass. We kicked down all the cairns that we found on our path  . . .

'A form of neo-brutalism, then? How interesting.'


Sunday 18 May 2014

Stepping In The Salad (10)


STEPPING IN THE SALAD (10)


'The thing about walking; you can't keep on talking, especially when going up hill. We wandered in silence, our bodies in balance, our minds quite untroubled and still.

'But, the thing about speaking; it don't mean you're thinking. Ascents gave us time to reflect. 4000 feet high, with the sun in the sky, re-engaged with my dulled intellect.'

The Priestess yawned and mumbled some truism about the recuperative powers of meditation.

'It was then we began to make art,' I added.

Friday 16 May 2014

Stepping In The Salad (9)


STEPPING IN THE SALAD (9)


'So . . .

'We made our pledge (as he clung to his hedge).

'We'd cherish the union we'd found.

'We promised to stick to each other's side and walk ourselves into the ground.'

'Til death do you part,' said the Priestess as she mixed a Bloody Mary. 'At any time at all did it feel a bit scary?'

'No.

'And, I'll tell you why.

'As I walked by his side I forgot all anxiety. Dispatched of my sadness and fear.  I felt very strong (my stride was so long). I saw life with a bright clarity.

'It sounds sort of cheesy, I have to confess, but I felt only happy: remarkably blessed.'


Tuesday 6 May 2014

Stepping In The Salad (8)


STEPPING IN THE SALAD (8)



'As he hung on the gorse I, too, felt some remorse. After all, it was he who had saved me. 

'So what was I doing considering death? It was he who had given me life when bereft. It was he who had shown me where happiness lay. (And, it was after all, such a beautiful day . . . )

'I said, "why not let go of that tree?".'

'Did he?' asked the Priestess.

'Yes.

'And, then as we sat on the cliff and ate lunch I put to him what, in effect, was a hunch. I said, "all would be well if we just kept on walking; just doing our thing" (which is moving and talking) . . .

"Consider the facts and, then, let's make a pact. There's no need for this Deep Misery. The joy we have found is both hallowed and sound; let's keep going, just you and just me".'

'As we did,' mused the old hag.

'Somewhat different, I think,' I replied.

Wednesday 30 April 2014

Stepping In The Salad (7)

STEPPING IN THE SALAD (7)



'I ran to the Downs ('til I reached Seven Sisters). My tendons were swollen, my soles worn to blisters. He followed me there, and he stood as I stared at the sea far below. . . .

'No, I wasn't that scared.'

'So dramatic, my dear. Do continue, I pray.'

'I stared at the sea, which was turquoise blue, but, I couldn't decide what was best I should do. I knew I could jump; I am ever so brave.  But, I couldn't commit to a watery grave.

'It was, after all, such a nice sunny day.'

The Priestess snorted.

'For his part he didn't much care for the edge, so he stayed on the path and held tight to a hedge. "Look here,'' he opined as he clung to the gorse. "If you were to jump I'd be full of remorse".'





Saturday 26 April 2014

Stepping In The Salad (6)

STEPPING IN THE SALAD (6)



'It was love at first sight beneath the full moon, but everyday life brought its gloom all too soon.'

The Priestess squatted and looked all agog; adjusted her bra and, then, swallowed some grog.

'The bounds of constraint wrap around domesticity. Too much for the feint, her name is Deep Misery. . .

'Deep Misery works in insidious ways. She anticipates plans and scuppers your days.  She appears quite benevolent, but works clandestine. She worked hard to unravel the love I deemed mine.'

'So, what did you do?'

'I decided to leg it.'


Thursday 24 April 2014

Stepping In The Salad (5)

STEPPING IN THE SALAD (5)


'Oh . . . .

'The man is a boy (and so not a girl). We met in a pub in a small place called Firle. We talked as we drank from a pitcher of wine. It was then - in an instant - I wanted him mine.'

'So, what happened, then?' enquired the Priestess as she hoisted her flesh-coloured knickers and smiled.

'Well . . .

'We slept out that night; affirmation of life. Watch the stars cross the sky, you forget all the strife. You forget about all that is petty and grim.

'I knew, for a fact, all I wanted was him.'

'Tell me more.'

Tuesday 22 April 2014

Stepping In The Salad (4)

STEPPING IN THE SALAD (4)


So.

We discussed REF for a brief little while; my forehead was sweating, my mouth full of bile.

Then, the Priestess opined (cracking open some wine) 'there are more better things you can do with your time. I see that you're sad but I don't know quite why. Speak out - sixty seconds - just what makes you cry?'

'I'm in love.'

The woman eased out a sigh.

'Well.

'Let the bells ring; what a wonderful thing. I presume those are tears of joy. . . Now, tell all from the start (and quit acting smart).

'Is your lover a girl or a boy?'


Saturday 5 April 2014

Stepping In The Salad (3)


STEPPING IN THE SALAD (3)



'Well . . .

'I can see why it is that you get so pissed off; I am sad to admit that this sham - this chaos - might be borne from an output of mine.'

'It's hardly divine, is it?' I interjected.

'But, when all's said and done, it is impact that counts. And, my dear, I've had impact despite it amounts to - well . . .  I must say what I see makes me sick.

'In defence, I did have to act quick.

'Seven days to create - from conception to birth (that doesn't leave time for reflection, research). Seven days to invent and to bring to fruition a half-baked idea fed from ruthless ambition . . .'

The Priestess paused to light her pipe.

'Can we talk about death?' I said, bored with her hype.

'Now, that's quite a request,' she puffed (out of breath). 'My intention, my sweet, was to talk REF.'

Tuesday 1 April 2014

Stepping In The Salad (2)


STEPPING IN THE SALAD (2)



'My God,' I repeated (still feeling defeated; depleted by HE's regime).

'Indeed,' she responded.

(And, believing we'd bonded, the Priestess bent forward and beamed.)

She continued:

'It's so quaint that you pray and, indeed, I must say that your faith has sure served me quite well. Since Darwin and Freud, I've been grossly ignored. (I've no takers for heaven nor hell).

'Acknowledged by one who was never baptised; who's life is beset by deception and lies; by one rarely fazed - that is, rarely surprised . . . 

'My dear, please, refrain from looking so bored.'

(The Priestess wiped a tear, or two, from her eyes.)

'Just tell me how to live,' I barked, sans finesse.

'Alas, that's advice I can't possibly give. . . 

'But, have you ever thought of waitressing?' said the worldly Priestess, as an after-thought.

Friday 28 March 2014

Stepping In The Salad (1)



STEPPING IN THE SALAD (1)


Well, I could not abide walking on side by side with the Priestess; the woman appalled me. 

So, I quit my life's hike. Then, I got on my bike. 

I applied for a job in HE.

(Senior Lecturer in Photography History.)

Now, it might have been funny (as was the money they paid me to work like a dog). But, I quick lost my wit; academe is not fit - in effect, it's like driving through fog.

In an open-plan office, I sat at my desk.

Education's burlesque: I find it grotesque. I bit hard on my lip and tried praying to God. (Self-indulgent and sorry, I let out a sob.)

'Don't you worry, my dear, I have noted your prayer. In your hour of need, I will always be here.'

'You,' I said, eyes open-wide. 'My God.'

'Indeed,' she coolly replied.

Then, the Priestess stuffed an out-of-date, Aldi Welsh cake in her slackly-defined gob.

Saturday 22 March 2014

Wednesday 19 March 2014

Thursday 27 February 2014

Monday 17 February 2014

Lessons In Love, Loss And Italian (1)


LESSONS IN LOVE, LOSS AND ITALIAN (1)


So far, I know how to say 'I want to have it' and 'I want to buy it': voglio averlo; voglio comprarlo.

But, there's little I want, and nothing I can buy.

My vocabulary doesn't extend to the language of love, in Italian.

I consider this a good thing.

I'm getting too old.

Thursday 13 February 2014

Mapping The Territory - Elegy (8)


MAPPING THE TERRITORY - ELEGY (8)


'I hate being sedentary.' I said.

The Priestess, she suddenly saw red.

'Well, get up off your arse,' she rudely suggested.

(And, for a moment I found myself somewhat arrested by her unnecessarily aggressive delivery.)

Sunday 9 February 2014

Mapping The Territory - Elegy (7)


MAPPING THE TERRITORY - ELEGY (7)


'I so rue the fact that I feel awful bad when I fight to ensure my own way.

'So desperate to please, I don't often speak out; and, I think what I'd never dare say.'

'And yet, dear child, you come across blunt. You seem to talk candid, albeit a front.'

'A clever facade; I speak fast and loose, but I never disclose that which gives me the blues.

'No.

'Tho' I never tell lies I keep the truth close. I rarely reveal what troubles me most.'

The Priestess massaged her pelvic bone. 'Not sure if it's cysts or a kidney stone,' she moaned.

'But, it's giving me gip, all the same.'

Thursday 6 February 2014

Mapping The Territory - Elegy (6)


MAPPING THE TERRITORY - ELEGY (6)



'Oi.'

I prodded her hard as she lay on her back; grunting and moaning, wrapped up in a sack.

'I hate this fact . . .

'We can only embrace the things we can name. But to call a thing something is never the same as the stuff that we actually feel. (It always sounds smaller, somehow.)'

Sunday 2 February 2014

Mapping The Territory - Elegy (5)


MAPPING THE TERRITORY - ELEGY (5)



'Fools.'

'Come again?'

'I cannot abide fools.'

Thursday 30 January 2014

Mapping The Territory - Elegy (4)


MAPPING THE TERRITORY - ELEGY (4)



'Pssst. I've thought of something else. . . '

'My dear, you awoke me. . .  why do you provoke me?' She opened her mouth wide and yawned.

'Confession is fine if within prescribed times. I, for one, like to work with professional guidelines. A psychiatrist's hour means much less in the chair,' said the woman as she plucked lice and eggs from her hair.

'I hate our obsession with longevity. (What's wrong with the concept of mortality?) I confess, I take heart from memento mori. . . 

'Tell me

'Why on Earth would one ever want to live forever?  Too long for the body or mind to remember? 

'It's no wonder we get old and start to forget. Our hearts and our souls cannot bear the regret that this life generates; it's a terrible toll.'

'How I long for good company: witty and droll,' said the Priestess succumbing to sadness and all. 'I thought we might get on quite well, but, perhaps you should just go to hell.'



Monday 27 January 2014

Mapping The Territory - Elegy (3)


MAPPING THE TERRITORY - ELEGY (3)



'And . . .'

'What?' said the Priestess as she picked at a spot, bent over a pool like Narcissus. 'Bear in mind, you have only five wishes.'

I continued unabashed:

'I do not like the way we can't see who we are unless we sit back and reflect. The mirror effect only works when we think. When we act, we are apt to forget.'

'Riddles again. Why do you always talk in riddles, child?'

'I mean . . .

'One is only oneself when one's busy performing (at which time one's blind - now I find this alarming - to the critical insight required to behave in a way that don't leave one upset and dismayed.')

'I'm beginning to wonder if you're beyond saving.'

Wednesday 22 January 2014

Mapping The Territory - Elegy (2)


MAPPING THE TERRITORY - ELEGY (2)


'Carelessness.'

'Eh?'

'Carelessness. That's the one thing that I hate. We take things for granted, and then it's too late. Too late to recover the things that we cherish - or, the people. It's friendships I can't bear to perish.'

Sunday 19 January 2014

Mapping The Territory - Elegy (1)


MAPPING THE TERRITORY - ELEGY (1)


'Now it's clear, my dear, for all who can see; it's nigh time you started confiding in me.'

'I keep my confessions for curates and shrinks. That excludes - woe is me - a Priestess who drinks.'

'Tut tut, dear child, where's your etiquette? Just because you run wild pray, please, don't forget there's a reason we're heading this way. . .

'Are you so very dull that you really can't tell that this walk will decide if it's heaven or hell? It wasn't free-will, it was mandatory; this hiking you're doing's called purgatory.'

'Really?'

'Yes.

'A heart only has so much pain it can take before it stops beating. (They call it heartbreak). I'm sorry to say that your days are now numbered, but, some of us care that you die unencumbered by feelings that might leave you bitter and twisted and so (I'll come clean) we've petitioned - insisted - you're given a chance to repent all you hate before you drop dead (as they say, become 'late').

'Ok. Where should I start?'

'How about at the beginning?'

Wednesday 8 January 2014

Mapping The Territory - Seven Years (2)


MAPPING THE TERRITORY - SEVEN YEARS (2)


'Once upon a time (let's say, seven years ago) . . .

'I was married to a man (who was not married to me). A confusing state to be in as I'm sure you clearly see. After all, what should be done about the house and custody of all those ornaments and nicknacks that remain so dear to me?'

(I looked in vain for another planet heading our way.)

'Well.

'The point of man and wife is that you get to share the strife that this life throws at you - clod-like - now and then.

'But.

'When matrimony isn't mutual - think, one-sided kind of nuptials - there ain't nothing that's reciprocal, at all.'

'Why do you speak in riddles?' I forced myself to say.

'Child, it's no major feat to follow (though, I know, it's hard to swallow). I conceive you are deliberately obtuse. . .

(I curled up into a ball; asked 'what's the use?')

'Here's the thing', she continued, unperturbed.

'If a man gives you his ring, he saves you from your kith and kin. (Did you ever meet my family? I forget).

'So, it came as quite a jolt - and I maintain it was his fault - when I divorced him on the grounds of gross neglect.'

Wednesday 1 January 2014

Mapping The Territory - Seven Years (1)


MAPPING THE TERRITORY - SEVEN YEARS (1)


'Well, ' said the Priestess, extracting herself in an ungainly manner from her make-shift bolt-hole . . . 

'Given we're still here,' as she downed a Macon Lungy. 'Let me tell you a short story and, forgive, if it affects me. As you know I'm quite emotional (some might deem 'over-theatrical') but I cannot help deep feeling, after all.'

I searched the skies for another potentially-fatal missile heading our way, but all I could see was the Milky Way.

'The story, my child, goes like this . . .'