Litkicks Message Board Archive
A light hearted tale about a boy with no legs who watches as daddy kills the dog
I got up this morning and decided, finally, after about two weeks of having the thing propped up against the radiator in the hall like a giant obstacle course called: "skinned shin of death", I decided to go out on my bicycle.
I had a cup of tea and watched the news:
A bunch of people killing each other in the boring clichéd name of god [God], again. Tony Blair said: "shit, as long as they’re the brown ones I don't care." George Bush was reported as saying: "Who? Oh yeah? Is that a made up country? I'm not falling for that...again."
The news is fun ;-/
So I manoeuvred the bike outside and off I went. First hurdle? the fucking hill I live on...up I climb...
I decided I go to the country park near where I live. It's really a stretch of the imagination to call it a "country" park. It's basically ground outside the town that the council haven't "developed" yet.
There are, however, shit loads of exciting, dying trees, knarled, weak, and beautiful, all hiding amongst the young green trees with their leaves and their lives.
And, like any other day, I wished I had my camera. But I didn't so I had to stop and observe these trees for twenty minutes or so. That, and the fact that I was pretty knackered from cycling.
...Once I got my breath back ;-) I heard this death silence.
Out in a wood there is a great initial silence, once you listen to it. Then, when you've heard the silence for two or three seconds it turns into a Jackson Pollock thunder storm of noise, a Phil Spector wall of sound with Dolby surround and a sledgehammer. Your delicate ear.
The noise is nature. Birds singing, long grass whispering, leaves rustling [my own personal favourite] and, of course, the M8, which is less than a mile away. Motorway distractions. Car noise rumble, bass boost on.
Once the noise hit me, I was on my way again.
I cycled in the general direction of the loch [or Lake, for my non-Scottish friends].
NB - "general direction" = I was a bit lost and just figured I'd cycle into the breeze...
I got to the loch! My theory was correct; the fresh breeze was blowing off the loch.
The Sun was shining off the deceptively smooth surface of the loch, and gave it the appearance of a mirror. The mirror surface was broken in parts by ducks paddling, and swans rushing.
It was a good cycle route.
I stopped another bit around the loch to watch a jogger. A boxer, I thought, judging by the side step jogging he keeps doing and the twisting from left to right as he hops forward. I wished I’d had my notebook and pen.
I always take my notebook out with me. You know, just in case?
This was a just in case moment and I didn’t have my notebook. I took my phone out to write a reminder; just notes, words that would strike my memory when I got home. As the boxer approached I realised he was in his 60s. He looked about late 60s and the person I assumed was his trainer or running partner appeared to be his wife. An elderly couple out jogging. Well, after I write this I plan on writing a poem about that little event in the life of me. Because, it looked as if he was in serious training, punching the air as he jogged and a real look of determination on his face. So, stay tuned for that!
Not much else happened. Some people reading this may think, nothing at all happened. But well, we’re all different. :-)
Well, as I cycled home through this really overgrown, muddy part of the trail, I saw some rangers with chainsaws, cutting down the trees. I watched that for a while. That would be a cool job. A park ranger!
So, I came home, washed the shit of the wheels of the bike, and had a cup of tea and a bit of a smoke. The washing machine sounded exactly like 6/8 War by Leftfield off of the Rhythm & Stealth album.
And this is what I’m getting at. Today is a good day because the usually annoying washing machine sounds like 6/8 War: one of my favourite tracks on that album.
And it’s only 3.50pm.