Getting from place to place to me is constantly an experience calling for reflection. Seriously. I can't put one foot in front of the other, it seems, without doing what Neil Armstrong did on the moon, which is considering it in its historical context and framing it with the right words. It's with a great struggle right now that I'm even able to type this paragraph in under 10 minutes. It all has to be done step by step.
Here's what I'm considering: I've got it set before me, as everyone knows, a titanic battle, a battle of wits, perhaps to the death of one or both of us, with my hiatus, who has overgrown all bounds and now is the dominant force in our house. I say 'dominant force' and I mean it, but we shall see, because perhaps I will prove to have been the dominant force all along, depending on how it all works out.
At this point I haven't got what it would take to kill the thing by violent means. I have only my hands and feet -- my body -- as all the weapons have been confiscated and hidden. And in this I feel some regret, that over the years I didn't do what it would've taken for my body to be a lethal weapon, like they say in the movies. I suppose I could've learned karate or jiu-jitsu, in which case I would be able, with the skills of karate, to chop the thing to death. (Hah! Huuh! Kuh-rack!) Or with jiu-jitsu I could walk up to shake its hand, then flip it over my hip, then stand back in a menacing pose, a threatening look of scorn on my face, and watch it crawl scared out the North door. Evil cometh from the North, and to the North it must return!
But in the absence of the martial arts, those skills, and in the absence of good old fashioned American weaponry, I need to rely on my wits. My wits might get the job done, although I'm sure they're not as honed as they could be either. I'm a little soft. But if I ever get out of here alive I need to do something about that. Like check out the self-help books at the mall that say You've got the power in you, etc. Hmm, that's an idea. I think they do have books that say that, You've got the power in you. And if those books are true at all, then it stands to reason that I've got the power in me right now, even without reading them. Somehow I've known all along that I've got the power in me or I wouldn't know about the books, so why would I now need page after page of explaining what I've already got? We shall see!
I'm looking over at the big lug. He's a creature who exists in several rooms at once, being stretched out and amorphously crawling or inching out here and there, depending on where his consciousness decrees his particular parts should be. What I'm seeing just there in the corner seems to be in a state of slumber, getting his mental refreshment. But that doesn't mean that the part of him in the kitchen would necessarily be sleeping; in fact I think I just heard some gargling from the kitchen area and I know Grandma's in her room asleep.
My big idea is to ignore him into shrinking, then when he's shrunken to the point of being manageable, hope that I see the weapons -- my sacred swords among them -- so that I can hack what remains to little bits. I don't know what might happen after that. I might find a little tail and fling him in the road like a dead mouse.
The whole job of ignoring is starting ... right NOW ... then it will go step by step until the job is done ...
Wait a second. Someone should say something historic, like me. I need to say something like with the moon landing ... Let me work something up:
"I'm writing this today as a person with an unusual problem. I took a hiatus from many of my responsibilities. But somehow it appears to have become a living creature, who now is holding me captive, having taken over my life and house. My grandmother's life is also in danger. I am going to try my level best, relying not on weapons but my wits, to kill the monster. I may not live, but it is my intention, of course, which should go without saying, that I want to live and I want it to die. We shall see what happens. To God be the glory."
OK, I said that ... then crossed myself in a very ritualistic way, bowing to the three good directions, East, West, and South.
Showing posts with label north-side. Show all posts
Showing posts with label north-side. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Sunday, March 1, 2009
The North Never Melts
Snow blanketed the entire world the other day, preceded by hours with rain that became ice. Everything was a slick, hard mess. We were hoping for an early onset to spring, but as it turned out, those hopes were dashed with winter's surge. Hoping ... it never seems to affect the weather.
Then, as with most things, the days brought differences in the outlook. It might be really cold at night, but the sun's rays have a hidden warmth. It beams down and when it touches the chilled earth, the chilled earth begins to loosen up, pat itself on the arms a bit to get the circulation going, then shed its coat, sweater, and long johns, finally to find itself warm.
I took my coffee grounds out to spill them on the snow -- I love the look of coffee grounds splattered everywhere -- and when I got there most of the snow was gone. Clear over by the well, under the big maple tree, there was still some snow. But that was about it. Also over by the fence. There's places there, I'm sure, where the sun's rays never make it. It's a tangle of grass that mice have arranged to live in.
Those places are on the south, I might add. Meaning, there actually is plenty of snow left, and ice under it. But you've got to go north to find it. I could look, but I don't think I will. North is only a few feet away, just on the other side of our north wall. I'm not that interested. I already just know it. Because I have experience with life. I know the north never melts. Yes, maybe by the time July gets here, even things on the north will finally catch up to the south.
Just chalk it up as another reason I think the north is not as good as the south. It's a very shadowy place, where mankind finds an uneasy welcome at best. You could die going north.
Then, as with most things, the days brought differences in the outlook. It might be really cold at night, but the sun's rays have a hidden warmth. It beams down and when it touches the chilled earth, the chilled earth begins to loosen up, pat itself on the arms a bit to get the circulation going, then shed its coat, sweater, and long johns, finally to find itself warm.
I took my coffee grounds out to spill them on the snow -- I love the look of coffee grounds splattered everywhere -- and when I got there most of the snow was gone. Clear over by the well, under the big maple tree, there was still some snow. But that was about it. Also over by the fence. There's places there, I'm sure, where the sun's rays never make it. It's a tangle of grass that mice have arranged to live in.
Those places are on the south, I might add. Meaning, there actually is plenty of snow left, and ice under it. But you've got to go north to find it. I could look, but I don't think I will. North is only a few feet away, just on the other side of our north wall. I'm not that interested. I already just know it. Because I have experience with life. I know the north never melts. Yes, maybe by the time July gets here, even things on the north will finally catch up to the south.
Just chalk it up as another reason I think the north is not as good as the south. It's a very shadowy place, where mankind finds an uneasy welcome at best. You could die going north.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
The Fields Of The North
The direction north, in relation to where I normally am in the house, begins outside the north wall. It takes in the porch, the yard, the tree, the other smaller, denser trees at the edges, the slope to the road, the road, then everything beyond the road.
Beyond the road are two fields. There is a fence separating them, and of course they are held back from the road by a fence running parallel to the road and an area called the ditch. The fields have occasionally had, in one, horses, maybe both have over the years. They extend, the one down to a house to the northwest, the other is more or less blank, except there are houses perhaps unrelated off to the east and northeast. Were you to go far enough north you would come to other houses and main roads for the town.
What I'm concerned with is what is directly across the road that runs east and west just north of our house. The two fields.
I've never ever been in either field. You would think at some point in the many years we've lived here that I would have been over there, but I haven't. It's reasonable, probably likely, for example, that a ball might have bounced down the slope and somehow have made its way into one of the fields. Or a Frisbee. But it's never happened. That is land my feet have not touched. And I really can't see it happening now.
I have definitely looked at the fields of the north many times. Not with any curiosity about what it'd be like to be there. If anything, my feelings have been just the opposite. I have been very content over here and not over there. I don't know who owns them, I don't want to know. I'm not interested in what they do, whether they have horses (I haven't seen one for many years), or what might happen to me if I were to encroach on their territory. I know I'm not going to, so it's nothing I need to worry about.
My contentment is completely here, south of there, and south of the north part of our own land. All the fields I shall ever want are somewhere other than north of our land.
Beyond the road are two fields. There is a fence separating them, and of course they are held back from the road by a fence running parallel to the road and an area called the ditch. The fields have occasionally had, in one, horses, maybe both have over the years. They extend, the one down to a house to the northwest, the other is more or less blank, except there are houses perhaps unrelated off to the east and northeast. Were you to go far enough north you would come to other houses and main roads for the town.
What I'm concerned with is what is directly across the road that runs east and west just north of our house. The two fields.
I've never ever been in either field. You would think at some point in the many years we've lived here that I would have been over there, but I haven't. It's reasonable, probably likely, for example, that a ball might have bounced down the slope and somehow have made its way into one of the fields. Or a Frisbee. But it's never happened. That is land my feet have not touched. And I really can't see it happening now.
I have definitely looked at the fields of the north many times. Not with any curiosity about what it'd be like to be there. If anything, my feelings have been just the opposite. I have been very content over here and not over there. I don't know who owns them, I don't want to know. I'm not interested in what they do, whether they have horses (I haven't seen one for many years), or what might happen to me if I were to encroach on their territory. I know I'm not going to, so it's nothing I need to worry about.
My contentment is completely here, south of there, and south of the north part of our own land. All the fields I shall ever want are somewhere other than north of our land.
Friday, February 27, 2009
The Illegitimate North Side
Here's something I've always felt but have never put into words, that I've always felt like the north side of our house isn't as good as the south. It looks weird seeing it in print, but it's a feeling that's persisted for decades.
We go in the south side. The pictures we've taken over the years are on the south side. It's sunnier on the south side. The garage is on the south. We get water on the south. All our outhouses have been on the south. The north is more or less forgotten, like uncharted territory, like the dark continent. Anything might happen on the north side. I might be taken captive by natives in the few trees over there. The north is no good.
We have the porch on the north side. Hardly ever used. There's a view on the north side, but everything is distant, except things up close, like the road, the trees. People pass by on the north side, but on the south side they come to visit. The north is wild, the south is home.
I mow the grass on the north side, but I feel like it's less worthy of mowing than the south. There are things to discover on the north side, I believe, but I'm not very interested in discovering them. If I were to see a block of wood on the north side, I'm about 99% sure it would be rotting. Things on the north tend to rot faster than on the south. That's the difference the sun makes. It's moist and buggy on the north. It's dry and domesticated on the south.
I look out the window on the north side, but I'm looking at the view in the distance. My eyes barely see the yard. You could get lost on the north side and no one would see you. I think other people feel the same way but never say anything.
There's some things I could say about the east side too. When I look at the east side from the north, I feel like I can barely reach the south. But when I see the east side from the south, I know I'm home, and there's nothing to see up north. The west side isn't so bad, especially from the south, because you have the sun hitting the west at more auspicious times of the day. But to see the west from the north is, again, to long for the south and to feel morose.
We go in the south side. The pictures we've taken over the years are on the south side. It's sunnier on the south side. The garage is on the south. We get water on the south. All our outhouses have been on the south. The north is more or less forgotten, like uncharted territory, like the dark continent. Anything might happen on the north side. I might be taken captive by natives in the few trees over there. The north is no good.
We have the porch on the north side. Hardly ever used. There's a view on the north side, but everything is distant, except things up close, like the road, the trees. People pass by on the north side, but on the south side they come to visit. The north is wild, the south is home.
I mow the grass on the north side, but I feel like it's less worthy of mowing than the south. There are things to discover on the north side, I believe, but I'm not very interested in discovering them. If I were to see a block of wood on the north side, I'm about 99% sure it would be rotting. Things on the north tend to rot faster than on the south. That's the difference the sun makes. It's moist and buggy on the north. It's dry and domesticated on the south.
I look out the window on the north side, but I'm looking at the view in the distance. My eyes barely see the yard. You could get lost on the north side and no one would see you. I think other people feel the same way but never say anything.
There's some things I could say about the east side too. When I look at the east side from the north, I feel like I can barely reach the south. But when I see the east side from the south, I know I'm home, and there's nothing to see up north. The west side isn't so bad, especially from the south, because you have the sun hitting the west at more auspicious times of the day. But to see the west from the north is, again, to long for the south and to feel morose.
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