This morning I woke up because a loon was shouting over the lake next to my parent’s house. I don’t think the sound of the loon itself woke me up, but the way it melded with the dream I was having did, because I came to mumbling crankily ‘someone get that fucking loon a towel already.’ Sleeping with me must be an adventure in surrealism. Beautiful sound, though. The loon's call is a beautiful sound, that is. The beauty of the sound of sleeping with me is a more subjective affair.
I am generally cranky these days. I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. I know that sounds like a complaint, and I reckon it is, but really I’m just trying to figure out how I can work out properly to build up the muscle mass required to carry the world on my shoulders. I have no problem with the world being on my shoulders as long as I can carry it comfortably. It’s better than me thinking it’s up my ass, I suppose, or it being on the shoulders of an idiot.
I have nothing non-personal to write today so I’ll see you after the cottage – my brain needs some sorting. It always does, around a North Bay run. One thing’s more or less for sure – I’m going to have to make an England run sooner rather than later.
6 commenti:
Funny how some noises are just such a part of our family home. I wake up to the cattle mooing in the pasture behind my bedroom. Or joy of joys, sometimes cats in heat wake me up in the middle of the night. Christ that's disgusting.
I hope that you figure a way to carry the world on your shoulders. I guess there's a lot of decisions to be made right now, isn't there?
Would Figaro go with you to England?
I remember the sound of crows when I think of waking up in my bed at home. That place is no longer home - it has been sold. The only place I can "return to" now is my cottage and that is changing too quickly to be a place to return to. That's what happens when a family grows so quickly I suppose.
Enjoy your place of refuge. I'm sure you'll find the strength is there afterall.
No, Melbine, I'll be going alone. Thanks for the good wishes, ladies. It'll be wierd and I can't really afford it but c'est la vie.
Sugarplum, part of the weight of the world is looking for your own refuge, you know?
it just shows how long I've been living in London... that you said "I was woken by the sound of a loon" and I immediately thought of the crazy guy who walks up and down my street on Sunday mornings, shouting about The Lord and how we all need to be saved.
I had forgotten about such beautiful birds. My mum used to have loon decoys all over her house.
Wow, Mistress - that's so true about trying to find your place of refuge...I do know what you mean. I think I've always known where my refuge is and it's always been where my family is. Even though I did need to leave them for an extended period of time so that I could figure out who the hell I was away from them..you know?
I know, Melbine. Makes my head spin.
I suppose crazy people got that name because of laughing like loons, Boom, but I, having heard many crazy people laugh, have never thought they sounded as beautiful as the bird. Your mum was clever with the decoys. But this year in Northern Ontario the loons were just going mentalist with their calling everywhere. It was lovely.
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