A Passion to Endure a Lifetime

What age does one have to be to form a passion that will endure a life time?

During the primeval darkness of puberty I began an ebullient love affair with reading, music, TV shows, humour, and discovering erogenous zones: anything involving an armpit. Language and music seemed to delve deep into my soul and fire my emotions. Though childish for my age, and with a restricted ability to understand the rules of grammar and vocabulary, I soldiered on.

Then I discovered melody, harmony, rhythm, phrasing and imagination (not only in music) but in folk tales, novels, poetry, and leg-wrestling. I read voraciously, but the story was overly optimistic, so I opted for Anne of Green Gables. The one thing in life I've never regretted.

In this new era of my life I have morphed into a watchful observer. When I'm not at home, perhaps shopping or swimming in a drained pool, I hold a 'wood effect country birch' venetian blind in front of my face. I've been arrested five times as a Peeping Tom and twice as a banal beech.

Am I to be pilloried for boring a hole in my shutters just because Lady Godiva's hair was cut too short prior to the lady riding her horse? I demand flip flops that don't leak! I demand the name of the stranger standing on my head! Do I sound irrational and erratic?! If not, you may be on the same medication as me. Try meditation, or standing naked among cattle lying in a meadow. However, one can never be too careful standing close to swishing tails.

*

I took my dog to the vet today. The vet's diagnosis was worrying. She said the dog had Parrot Disease, aka Parrot Fever, Pigeon Fancier's Lung. When I said I couldn't understand how a dog could catch this disease my dog said, 'Who's a pretty boy then? Who's a pretty boy? Go on ... Tell me. Who's a pretty boy, then?' I cracked. I was in such a state I drove home without my car. It was a mistake to buy my dog her own Espresso coffee maker, and to let her sleep in the kitchen. There's no food left in the fridge and she's left the steam iron on again.

*

This afternoon I sat down and wrote an email to my dearest friend in Oxford, England.

I've fallen in love again. This time with a human being. She's beauty personified, wealthy, and fluent in German. I know what you're thinking? I can't speak German. But I'm besotted! I know! I know! Even when the sun shines at its brightest, the rain runs down her face, and her voice is sometimes lofty. I've made an appointment with a doctor to diagnose her condition. However, believe me, she is like no other. She's learning me how to 'Goose-Step' to 'Achy Breaky Heart'. I know this may sound simply-minded, however, every time I mention Gabriel Daniel Fahrenheit, she gets hot under the collar. Any ideas?

*

Reflections: The time will come when everything one does will be just a memory, including one's notion of paradise.

Lena & The Seagull

I'm married, at present, to my fifth wife, Lena - she is a beautiful and lively person; sometimes extremely emotional, sometimes chaotic, sometimes tall, sometimes small (I'm not a scientist, nor aware of the cause of this condition). Buying Lena clothes, however, can present extreme difficulties, as I'm not sure what size she will be at a particular hour of the day. She has a talent for imitating people. At breakfast this morning she let her jaw drop, rolled her eyes across the table, and mumbled incoherently in a dull, dark voice. Silence fell over the table, over a chair, and left the room to go to the toilet. I laughed and smiled at Lena. " Well, who were you impersonating? I must admit I'm at a loss." "You," said Lena, lowering her eyes.

Silence returned to the room, and I asked if he had washed his hands. He replied yes. I was immediately suspicious as he doesn't have hands. Any fool could see that! Anyway, where was I? Yes. Love anything that lives and you will eventually get hurt, whether it's a relative, a friend, a lover, a pet. I looked at Lena, then Silence, then Lena. "Do you still love me?" Lena replied, "Yes", her voice controlled, and unexciting. "Do you still share my passions for soil, fertilizer, pruning, being drunk at 9:30 in the morning, and pressing your body against rocky walls?" She smiled sarcastically, and said yes. I felt like pulling my hair but my wig was upstairs in our bedroom.

Anyway, I am suspicious that a son from a previous marriage named, Seagull - a result of my admiration for the works of Anton Chekhov - is also in love with Lena. Why do I think this, I hear you say? Frankly, Seagull shares our marital bed: he sleeps with Lena and I. There I've said it! And worse, he decides when the lighting should be turned of, and its usually when I'm in the throes of a good book. Outrageous behaviour, you'll agree. Then the bed seems to move like a "horse and carriage" eloping at great haste. I can't take the darkness and deceit much longer. I'd be at my wit's end, if I had any. No man should be expected to live like this? I swiftly found my pistol and put it against my temple, but the bullet was a blank filled with soot!

Am I condemned to face aging, loneliness, anxiety - by myself - dressed in a pink, cotton nightshirt, red nightcap, and Russian-made gumshoes, and covered in soot?

*

Reflections: I'm currently working on a humorous piece for submission to a magazine. I expect the usual pro-forma rejection letter. That doesn't alter the fact I enjoy writing, being creative, watching the tide coming in.

I'm sitting in the library. It is late afternoon; late spring. I sit and think for a while. The light from the overhead fluorescent bulbs can be intensive. I’m finding it hard to concentrate. The library is perched where traffic, pedestrians, pigeons, dogs merge, and congregate. Sometimes the echoed, scrambled shouting of high school pupils pierces the air.

The traffic on the street near the entrance to the library never stops between the hours of 8.00 am and 6.00 pm. It moans, screeches and aggravates. Occasionally, stray plastic bags – mostly white – roll along the street, fill with air and levitate. Sometimes I feel out of fashion, but I shall go on. I must.