Rarely and occasionally one is granted the insight and clarity to see the forest.
When one is blessed by such an occasion it is time to put ones axe in its cosy wooden shed.
Speaking personally I have many blunt axes.
I feel they have done their tasks, and it is nice to lay them down, so that they can rest in complete assurance their efforts will not be called upon again. Yet exceptionally when all else fails, if one is truly honest, axes never die. They are just resting. It is a rest of the just, akin to the hibernation of a bear.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
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It is cold it is wet.
The walk is real now.
The sounds of the party in my head are fading now, like a dim dying candle,mirrored by my cold dead lighter.
I can feel my feet now. I can feel the minor abrasions that are normally nothing , now they are becoming something.
Are they Wisely showing me my error?
Are they showing me the error I might have made?
I knew , I knew.
What does that mean? What is ice, what does it mean?
Is it the same cold embrace that normal folk should fear?
Surely that does not apply to me?
I cannot die. I don`t believe this!
One simple error, surely this is not my irreversible death.
How feeble am I.
I cannot believe this error.To think such a minor error could lead to such a finality.
Oh how careful one should be as one chooses ones products from the internet.
If only I had bought that winter jacket in Asda. Perhaps I would see my family again.
The walk is real now.
The sounds of the party in my head are fading now, like a dim dying candle,mirrored by my cold dead lighter.
I can feel my feet now. I can feel the minor abrasions that are normally nothing , now they are becoming something.
Are they Wisely showing me my error?
Are they showing me the error I might have made?
I knew , I knew.
What does that mean? What is ice, what does it mean?
Is it the same cold embrace that normal folk should fear?
Surely that does not apply to me?
I cannot die. I don`t believe this!
One simple error, surely this is not my irreversible death.
How feeble am I.
I cannot believe this error.To think such a minor error could lead to such a finality.
Oh how careful one should be as one chooses ones products from the internet.
If only I had bought that winter jacket in Asda. Perhaps I would see my family again.
chilli sweats 1
I was on deck; the sun was shining; it was 11 a.m.. I had done all my menial duties, life was good now. I looked directly
into the sun just long enough for it to burn its power and unrelenting warmth into my inner cortex.
Naturally I felt like a drink. If only to show my appreciation for the unfolding power,luminosity and warmth that was
demonstrated for all to see. The immensity of the universe and beyond, was there in its glinting eye.
This was the luminosity that Darwin had neglected to observe, I thought to myself.
I remembered - oh so well - the whiskey I had hidden from him, the other one. And at this moment, I chose to break all rules
and drink from its forbidden chalice.
I visualized, so exactly, the small wooden trunk beneath my bunk: it made me wonder why had I not been there before.
My only reasoning was that now must be the time; the time to taste that single malt that took so much trouble to acquire and
save from the spawn-like abuse of friendship.
I went below;I was almost invisible, or so I imagined, safe in the certainty that no-one could suspect my planned secretive
orgy of whiskey before midday.
As I entered my cabin, the sun was still glinting through my meager porthole. Short of breath through excitement, I withdrew
the box from below the bunk. I should just add, this was no normal box.
This box contained all pertinent details of my previous lives, including multiple passports and ID`s, and - even more
importantly - the Tesla notes that mysteriously had disappeared after his strange death. And other trinkets that I am not,
even now, in a position to mention.
One could understand why the box had been made from multiple exotic timbers laminated into an exquisite lattice whose purpose
was to withstand a strong man with a sharp axe attacking said box for 4 hours or more. Fortunately this had not occurred ,
partly due to my discretion and partly due to other techniques that will remain secret.
The padlock(such that it seemed) could be opened by the possessor of the key. I had that key.
I opened the box.
The interior of the box was in shadow from my bunk, but I clearly saw the whiskey. I went to grab it, then I noticed the
writing on the underside of the lid.
I had NOT written on the lid!.
Again it was that damn HB pencil that I had traversed the globe to get away from. Those dribbling letters flowing like slime
from top to bottom, in their sickeningly ugly beauty.
I tried to focus to read them but at that same moment it became dark.
The weather had changed. It was not unusual here to experience sudden changes in weather. The sun through the porthole had
gone. But there was more.
The engines were throbbing at full pelt. This WAS rare,I could tell they were at full pelt , because the pipes through my
cabin that also served as heating elements were rattling, at a rate that shouted the engine was indeed at full throttle and
beyond.
Yes, this circumstance was rare. Everything including my mood had changed. It was now nearly dark and the engines were going
crazy. I grabbed the whiskey quickly, opening the seal, and gulped a few. I sat on my bunk for what seemed like an hour to
try to grasp what the hell was happening. It was in fact a few seconds, my adrenalin was peaking.
Things had been getting a bit weird since we used the Tesla technology on the engines, but this was more extreme than I had
predicted.
I went into panic mode, my head was screaming "sort it!": it was my fault.
I took another healthy gulp from the single malt and got on my feet.I made my way to the deck, I knew I had to somehow shut
those hybrids down.
When I arrived on deck the sea was monstrous, the sky was dark as death, and nobody was to be seen.
I threw a glance at the wheel-house , it looked empty.
The boat was rocking now, and the waves were wild , they had a countenance that one sees but once in a lifetime.
I rushed and struggled to the wheel-house, with the sole thought of shutting the engines down.
The boat was rolling more extremely than I had ever experienced, but I managed to make my way up the precarious stairway
into the wheel house.
Of course, I was shocked to see the wheel-house and deck empty of crew, but, deep down, I knew and expected it to be so.
I grabbed the wheel in an effort to turn the boat into the bizarre mutant waves.
I couldn`t believe it. It was fixed solid, immovable as if it had been welded. It was absolutely welded solid , non turnable.
I grabbed at the twin throttles to reduce the crazed engine over-spin, again they were immovable, they too were welded firm
at full throttle.
It was at this point I saw the large pinnacle shaped rock dead ahead. We were heading straight at it.A 300ft high piece of
uncharted rock in the Indian ocean. How can this be? Again I struggled with the wheel and the throttles; it made no
difference. A lifetime passed as I stood there helpless, paralyzed and confused in fear.At the moment the boat struck the
rock, I woke up drenched in sweat and as cold as ice in my bunk.
into the sun just long enough for it to burn its power and unrelenting warmth into my inner cortex.
Naturally I felt like a drink. If only to show my appreciation for the unfolding power,luminosity and warmth that was
demonstrated for all to see. The immensity of the universe and beyond, was there in its glinting eye.
This was the luminosity that Darwin had neglected to observe, I thought to myself.
I remembered - oh so well - the whiskey I had hidden from him, the other one. And at this moment, I chose to break all rules
and drink from its forbidden chalice.
I visualized, so exactly, the small wooden trunk beneath my bunk: it made me wonder why had I not been there before.
My only reasoning was that now must be the time; the time to taste that single malt that took so much trouble to acquire and
save from the spawn-like abuse of friendship.
I went below;I was almost invisible, or so I imagined, safe in the certainty that no-one could suspect my planned secretive
orgy of whiskey before midday.
As I entered my cabin, the sun was still glinting through my meager porthole. Short of breath through excitement, I withdrew
the box from below the bunk. I should just add, this was no normal box.
This box contained all pertinent details of my previous lives, including multiple passports and ID`s, and - even more
importantly - the Tesla notes that mysteriously had disappeared after his strange death. And other trinkets that I am not,
even now, in a position to mention.
One could understand why the box had been made from multiple exotic timbers laminated into an exquisite lattice whose purpose
was to withstand a strong man with a sharp axe attacking said box for 4 hours or more. Fortunately this had not occurred ,
partly due to my discretion and partly due to other techniques that will remain secret.
The padlock(such that it seemed) could be opened by the possessor of the key. I had that key.
I opened the box.
The interior of the box was in shadow from my bunk, but I clearly saw the whiskey. I went to grab it, then I noticed the
writing on the underside of the lid.
I had NOT written on the lid!.
Again it was that damn HB pencil that I had traversed the globe to get away from. Those dribbling letters flowing like slime
from top to bottom, in their sickeningly ugly beauty.
I tried to focus to read them but at that same moment it became dark.
The weather had changed. It was not unusual here to experience sudden changes in weather. The sun through the porthole had
gone. But there was more.
The engines were throbbing at full pelt. This WAS rare,I could tell they were at full pelt , because the pipes through my
cabin that also served as heating elements were rattling, at a rate that shouted the engine was indeed at full throttle and
beyond.
Yes, this circumstance was rare. Everything including my mood had changed. It was now nearly dark and the engines were going
crazy. I grabbed the whiskey quickly, opening the seal, and gulped a few. I sat on my bunk for what seemed like an hour to
try to grasp what the hell was happening. It was in fact a few seconds, my adrenalin was peaking.
Things had been getting a bit weird since we used the Tesla technology on the engines, but this was more extreme than I had
predicted.
I went into panic mode, my head was screaming "sort it!": it was my fault.
I took another healthy gulp from the single malt and got on my feet.I made my way to the deck, I knew I had to somehow shut
those hybrids down.
When I arrived on deck the sea was monstrous, the sky was dark as death, and nobody was to be seen.
I threw a glance at the wheel-house , it looked empty.
The boat was rocking now, and the waves were wild , they had a countenance that one sees but once in a lifetime.
I rushed and struggled to the wheel-house, with the sole thought of shutting the engines down.
The boat was rolling more extremely than I had ever experienced, but I managed to make my way up the precarious stairway
into the wheel house.
Of course, I was shocked to see the wheel-house and deck empty of crew, but, deep down, I knew and expected it to be so.
I grabbed the wheel in an effort to turn the boat into the bizarre mutant waves.
I couldn`t believe it. It was fixed solid, immovable as if it had been welded. It was absolutely welded solid , non turnable.
I grabbed at the twin throttles to reduce the crazed engine over-spin, again they were immovable, they too were welded firm
at full throttle.
It was at this point I saw the large pinnacle shaped rock dead ahead. We were heading straight at it.A 300ft high piece of
uncharted rock in the Indian ocean. How can this be? Again I struggled with the wheel and the throttles; it made no
difference. A lifetime passed as I stood there helpless, paralyzed and confused in fear.At the moment the boat struck the
rock, I woke up drenched in sweat and as cold as ice in my bunk.
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I was in the lesser living room, formerly it had been a bedroom, which opened onto the hallway.It was mainly built as colombage and dressed with old firearms and swords from my own personal history.There were dried flowers and other adornments that were not down to me.The room cast an interesting blend of masculinity with the addition of a femininity I have been blind to.
Jose a neighbor was there. Why I don`t know, but he, unlike some, he made me feel reasonably at ease.
I have to admit that he was, in fact, very unlike me,
Yet he was amenable enough for me to tolerate him without the need for a very stiff drink.
This may sound unflattering to describe him as such , but in fact, I state this is a high compliment.
I can`t remember what we were talking of, but I imagine it was the usual, I`m ok , your O.K,, stuff men try to do,when making the effort to communicate.
Sadly due to our genetics and upbringing , this is the best I could hope for.
The phone rang with it`s very not unusual and not pre programmed. brrp bbrp, you know what I mean.
That overused frighteningly, straighten up and face business tone, that can cut through your heart and then some.
Because I had omitted to re-programme the phone to a more amenable tone was the reason I had noticed it had rang exactly twice.
Alandra had answered it before it could ring thrice.
Cool I thought. How can she cook? clean and washing machine? and still hit the phone in two.
Jose and myself quietened our amenable chat after a minute or so , the expectation of a little word from Alandra played heavy.
but nothing came.
I am generally always put on edge when a phone rings, I do appreciate (only Just), how other folk of a more normal lifestylic persuasion may feel , and do sincerely envy them.
If they truly do look forward to electronic alarm bells such as these, then the warm sunshine of a god (of which I know not), must be kissing their breasts in an almost unsexual but strangely predatorial manner. Experiences such as they be, I am sadly unfamiliar with.
Before I digress into the sado masocistic nature of religion, I should try to focus on the point of my story.
It`s not so unusual to hear the phone ring twice, and then hear nothing, but I guess it was unusual enough for me to be unable to rest at ease.
After what seemed like a minute,I excused myself to Jose, and entered the hall.
The telephone was situated by the old double wooden doors, that once served (one imagined)(probably wrongly) as the grand opening of the farmhouse that would once have served the workers in a gentle and appreciative gesture of love for the work they had endearingly carried out throughout the year. Some of the more oblique gestures of corporate love have manifested themselves in our very real modern world,surely?
In general they are traditionally built with reason.They are Large, long and wide enough to cope with a really large eating table. A table such as this , if fully garnished,could stand alone as an ultimate statement of appreciation for all involved,and encompass everyone pertinent to the harvest.
There she was, shadowed in the dim glowing light of the The inadequate petite table light that served it`s purpose in our battle
against the diminution of the status quo of our atmosphere. It made it`s effort to illuminate the hallway.
An ominance, a feeling, a dread, was there before me.
It was palatable.
It cut me.
I was on autopilot, stunned and `silenced` by her face.
I said to her,"I can handle anything"
I was thinking it was something that had been said to her on the phone.
There was no change in her cold dead face. Immediately I said
"I can handle anyone".
These were not light words , they had meaning. I knew she understood that meaning, yet still her face was white deathly and most definitively un reassured.
On a normal day a "coup de telephone" could never shake a girl like her , my brain started running like Chirnobil
What the fuck had been said????
Whatever it was , I would "track em down and blow em away" came to my mind.
She knew this , she knew nobody would mess with us.
Still her face was stone cold scary.
She didn`t say a word.
She picked up the inadequate table lamp and moved it`s gentle dim glow , such that it would illuminate the wall just above the telephones comfortable charging womb.
Some pencil marks were illuminated, they were just visible on the wall at head height.
They were striking.
in a way that good art can cut you .
Initially I wondered , had I been doodling while phone chatting , but looking at the strangely expertly drawn rendering of the face, with the round Lennon type glasses framing the eyes, it was well beyond my ability. It encapsulated an essence of soul, and then the dripping black hb pencil lines drooling words dribbling like a stream below and around , I had my doubts. it was far too well drawn for me to have been guilty of a mad drunken doodle.
Before I had time to think and register what I had seen ,Alandra raised up the table lamp.
What I saw explained in a moment the look on her face.
Because of the shaded nature of the table lamp, as it was elevated and turned, the more extreme light from above the lamp shade managed to cast its illumination slowly over the rest of the wall and ceiling.
It was at this point that each and every hair on my body stood up.
Every part of the walls and ceiling had been covered by the heavy hb pencil . With words , dripping from above.
My Body froze my mind was blank,this was beyond me , for once I was truly scared , I had no word of reassurance , I had nothing to help, It was beyond any expectation, in that moment I was truly lost.
I can tell you here and now what some of the words said. But I think if I did , they would always be out of context.
Anyhow , we paid decorators to re paint. We never went back to that house.
The only repercussions were, that the words kept coming back through the paint.
This is one of my main reasons for recommending "Wickes Trade stain block"
lesser products do not do the job.
Jose a neighbor was there. Why I don`t know, but he, unlike some, he made me feel reasonably at ease.
I have to admit that he was, in fact, very unlike me,
Yet he was amenable enough for me to tolerate him without the need for a very stiff drink.
This may sound unflattering to describe him as such , but in fact, I state this is a high compliment.
I can`t remember what we were talking of, but I imagine it was the usual, I`m ok , your O.K,, stuff men try to do,when making the effort to communicate.
Sadly due to our genetics and upbringing , this is the best I could hope for.
The phone rang with it`s very not unusual and not pre programmed. brrp bbrp, you know what I mean.
That overused frighteningly, straighten up and face business tone, that can cut through your heart and then some.
Because I had omitted to re-programme the phone to a more amenable tone was the reason I had noticed it had rang exactly twice.
Alandra had answered it before it could ring thrice.
Cool I thought. How can she cook? clean and washing machine? and still hit the phone in two.
Jose and myself quietened our amenable chat after a minute or so , the expectation of a little word from Alandra played heavy.
but nothing came.
I am generally always put on edge when a phone rings, I do appreciate (only Just), how other folk of a more normal lifestylic persuasion may feel , and do sincerely envy them.
If they truly do look forward to electronic alarm bells such as these, then the warm sunshine of a god (of which I know not), must be kissing their breasts in an almost unsexual but strangely predatorial manner. Experiences such as they be, I am sadly unfamiliar with.
Before I digress into the sado masocistic nature of religion, I should try to focus on the point of my story.
It`s not so unusual to hear the phone ring twice, and then hear nothing, but I guess it was unusual enough for me to be unable to rest at ease.
After what seemed like a minute,I excused myself to Jose, and entered the hall.
The telephone was situated by the old double wooden doors, that once served (one imagined)(probably wrongly) as the grand opening of the farmhouse that would once have served the workers in a gentle and appreciative gesture of love for the work they had endearingly carried out throughout the year. Some of the more oblique gestures of corporate love have manifested themselves in our very real modern world,surely?
In general they are traditionally built with reason.They are Large, long and wide enough to cope with a really large eating table. A table such as this , if fully garnished,could stand alone as an ultimate statement of appreciation for all involved,and encompass everyone pertinent to the harvest.
There she was, shadowed in the dim glowing light of the The inadequate petite table light that served it`s purpose in our battle
against the diminution of the status quo of our atmosphere. It made it`s effort to illuminate the hallway.
An ominance, a feeling, a dread, was there before me.
It was palatable.
It cut me.
I was on autopilot, stunned and `silenced` by her face.
I said to her,"I can handle anything"
I was thinking it was something that had been said to her on the phone.
There was no change in her cold dead face. Immediately I said
"I can handle anyone".
These were not light words , they had meaning. I knew she understood that meaning, yet still her face was white deathly and most definitively un reassured.
On a normal day a "coup de telephone" could never shake a girl like her , my brain started running like Chirnobil
What the fuck had been said????
Whatever it was , I would "track em down and blow em away" came to my mind.
She knew this , she knew nobody would mess with us.
Still her face was stone cold scary.
She didn`t say a word.
She picked up the inadequate table lamp and moved it`s gentle dim glow , such that it would illuminate the wall just above the telephones comfortable charging womb.
Some pencil marks were illuminated, they were just visible on the wall at head height.
They were striking.
in a way that good art can cut you .
Initially I wondered , had I been doodling while phone chatting , but looking at the strangely expertly drawn rendering of the face, with the round Lennon type glasses framing the eyes, it was well beyond my ability. It encapsulated an essence of soul, and then the dripping black hb pencil lines drooling words dribbling like a stream below and around , I had my doubts. it was far too well drawn for me to have been guilty of a mad drunken doodle.
Before I had time to think and register what I had seen ,Alandra raised up the table lamp.
What I saw explained in a moment the look on her face.
Because of the shaded nature of the table lamp, as it was elevated and turned, the more extreme light from above the lamp shade managed to cast its illumination slowly over the rest of the wall and ceiling.
It was at this point that each and every hair on my body stood up.
Every part of the walls and ceiling had been covered by the heavy hb pencil . With words , dripping from above.
My Body froze my mind was blank,this was beyond me , for once I was truly scared , I had no word of reassurance , I had nothing to help, It was beyond any expectation, in that moment I was truly lost.
I can tell you here and now what some of the words said. But I think if I did , they would always be out of context.
Anyhow , we paid decorators to re paint. We never went back to that house.
The only repercussions were, that the words kept coming back through the paint.
This is one of my main reasons for recommending "Wickes Trade stain block"
lesser products do not do the job.
that damn banging
I awoke from a uneven and disturbed sleep.
I felt an inner dread , somewhat as if one had been drinking
for days on end.Then I realised I hadn`t been drinking.
Slowly my consciousness arrived, I was clear headed,
sober,healthy, and then I remembered the reason for my inner
anxiety. It was the banging on the hull that had been
disturbing my sleep all night.
I wanted to go back to sleep and hide in my unconsciousness,
but after five minutes or so it was obvious my stomach had
no intention of settling and would not let me drift back
into the beautiful oblivion that was sleep.
I threw on my clothes and shoes with a finite decision:
I would check out that bloody noise. I had had enough.
I walked down the narrow corridor that led me to the stairs
which would take me to the deck.
The sun hit me on the face, for the first time in days and
days, it felt good , at last we were in calm seas and
sunshine. I thought briefly, `God help me! This is what I am
here for, sun, sea, fun, none of this weird shark hunting
crap gone pear shaped`.
Anyhow why is the deck deserted, has everyone been hiding
below, not wanting to know what the banging was , like bunch
of ostriches? It appeared so, no-one was to be
seen.Superstition was rife on boats like ours; it was taken
for granted. Often times it seemed you could be playing a
peaceful game of poker down below,and while all seemed calm
and happy , little did you realise you were as safe as if
you were walking on the edge of a volcano, one wrong word
said, and you could end up with a load of red hot flaming
lava on your face , so to speak.
So first, I picked up my lucky knife.
I made my way to the source of the banging, it seemed to be
emanating from the bow on the starboard side. I plucked up
my nerve , there was no-one around, my fear and curiosity
had the better of me , I just had to know for sure what it
was.I already knew, and I wanted to go back and hide with my
churning stomach. But I knew I had to see it.Maybe when I
had seen the terrifying truth , I could rest easy, in the
certainty that the claws of nature would never forgive, and
would hunt one down for eternity. But at least I would know
for sure.
As I approached, the steady irregular banging got louder and
louder. This was the moment, it was now I would at last know
the inescapable truth.He was after revenge , there was no
stopping him, this was it. We kill him or he kills us.
I pulled all the courage I had into one big stomach churning
lump, and cautiously peered over the bow. Just as I did, I
saw the heavy unattached anchor swaying.It swung and hit the
side of the boat with a big bang.
Oh my God, what a relief! It was like a huge weight had been
lifted from me.I had my life back.It was a huge hit of
endorphins straight to my inner cortex."My God!" I thought
"I can finally get some real sleep."The second thought was,
"I need a drink fast.This is Christmas with tinsel and presents".
I then thought of the irony of the other tough piratical
sailors on board , all hiding below, all fearing their worst
nightmare. I thought, "They will never live this down, I
will see to it.Yahoo! Quelle blague!"
I swaggered back to go and get some proper down time ,
joyeuse in my magnificent bravery. A shiny sweet sparkle
from the happy sun caught my jubilant eye. I wandered
drunken with relief toward it, with pure nonchalant
curiosity, thinking "Maybe today is the best day in the
world, and now I have found a diamond!" I got closer, it was
bigger than a diamond.It was much bigger than a diamond!
Then all of my insides suddenly fell like a stone from a cliff, into
a dark deep icy black lake.
It was Jonny`s hook, still attached to the rest of his false arm.
Strangely,It occurred to me that the stomach acid of a shark
could easily outsell Duraglit or Brasso.
Maybe I had a future after all.
I felt an inner dread , somewhat as if one had been drinking
for days on end.Then I realised I hadn`t been drinking.
Slowly my consciousness arrived, I was clear headed,
sober,healthy, and then I remembered the reason for my inner
anxiety. It was the banging on the hull that had been
disturbing my sleep all night.
I wanted to go back to sleep and hide in my unconsciousness,
but after five minutes or so it was obvious my stomach had
no intention of settling and would not let me drift back
into the beautiful oblivion that was sleep.
I threw on my clothes and shoes with a finite decision:
I would check out that bloody noise. I had had enough.
I walked down the narrow corridor that led me to the stairs
which would take me to the deck.
The sun hit me on the face, for the first time in days and
days, it felt good , at last we were in calm seas and
sunshine. I thought briefly, `God help me! This is what I am
here for, sun, sea, fun, none of this weird shark hunting
crap gone pear shaped`.
Anyhow why is the deck deserted, has everyone been hiding
below, not wanting to know what the banging was , like bunch
of ostriches? It appeared so, no-one was to be
seen.Superstition was rife on boats like ours; it was taken
for granted. Often times it seemed you could be playing a
peaceful game of poker down below,and while all seemed calm
and happy , little did you realise you were as safe as if
you were walking on the edge of a volcano, one wrong word
said, and you could end up with a load of red hot flaming
lava on your face , so to speak.
So first, I picked up my lucky knife.
I made my way to the source of the banging, it seemed to be
emanating from the bow on the starboard side. I plucked up
my nerve , there was no-one around, my fear and curiosity
had the better of me , I just had to know for sure what it
was.I already knew, and I wanted to go back and hide with my
churning stomach. But I knew I had to see it.Maybe when I
had seen the terrifying truth , I could rest easy, in the
certainty that the claws of nature would never forgive, and
would hunt one down for eternity. But at least I would know
for sure.
As I approached, the steady irregular banging got louder and
louder. This was the moment, it was now I would at last know
the inescapable truth.He was after revenge , there was no
stopping him, this was it. We kill him or he kills us.
I pulled all the courage I had into one big stomach churning
lump, and cautiously peered over the bow. Just as I did, I
saw the heavy unattached anchor swaying.It swung and hit the
side of the boat with a big bang.
Oh my God, what a relief! It was like a huge weight had been
lifted from me.I had my life back.It was a huge hit of
endorphins straight to my inner cortex."My God!" I thought
"I can finally get some real sleep."The second thought was,
"I need a drink fast.This is Christmas with tinsel and presents".
I then thought of the irony of the other tough piratical
sailors on board , all hiding below, all fearing their worst
nightmare. I thought, "They will never live this down, I
will see to it.Yahoo! Quelle blague!"
I swaggered back to go and get some proper down time ,
joyeuse in my magnificent bravery. A shiny sweet sparkle
from the happy sun caught my jubilant eye. I wandered
drunken with relief toward it, with pure nonchalant
curiosity, thinking "Maybe today is the best day in the
world, and now I have found a diamond!" I got closer, it was
bigger than a diamond.It was much bigger than a diamond!
Then all of my insides suddenly fell like a stone from a cliff, into
a dark deep icy black lake.
It was Jonny`s hook, still attached to the rest of his false arm.
Strangely,It occurred to me that the stomach acid of a shark
could easily outsell Duraglit or Brasso.
Maybe I had a future after all.
hard times
It was hard , it was rock , it was stone.
We had to call it a day.
The rain was hitting.The seas were angry, the beast was there.
He was not playing games , he was angry like a fire .
We are tough.We are strong, but you know what? He`s bigger. He`s badder. There is stuff out there that`s heavier than you, me, Jonny and Chris.
Let me tell you about Chris... another time.
We had to call it a day.
The rain was hitting.The seas were angry, the beast was there.
He was not playing games , he was angry like a fire .
We are tough.We are strong, but you know what? He`s bigger. He`s badder. There is stuff out there that`s heavier than you, me, Jonny and Chris.
Let me tell you about Chris... another time.
when the banging started
That day it was cold , it was wet. I felt that cold antarctic wind cut it`s southern pain. If it didn`t wan`t to hurt your soul, it must have wanted your blood.
You could see it in everybody`s eyes. Cold wet pain.
These were the days you missed your family, your friends , a warm beer, bacon and eggs ,and your mum.The best we had to look forward to was a sea that had the grace not to kill us.
The deck was just plain dangerous, we had to be there.
All I could think was , for god`s sake lets go north, let`s get the hell out of hell.
Oh but no , we have to keep on looking for Jonny.
I knew Jonny had gone home.
It wasn`t the banging on the hull that woke me,
It was the nightmare I was having.
For days now, my sleep had been interrupted continually.I was beginning to worry that something wasn`t right.
More than anything, it struck me. The supernatural powers that kept me safe and sane, were not enough.
I believed I could avoid disaster by using my in- built anxiety alarm system.
The problem was, It was going off , but I had no idea what it was warning me against." Of course !" I thought, Jonny being dragged down below the waves , by the invisible force,sharkmageddon,, nature at it`s bloodiest.
Surely it was that.. But if so, why? why can`t I sleep?
And then the banging started. There was no doubt now.It was loud! it was real.It was banging.
You could see it in everybody`s eyes. Cold wet pain.
These were the days you missed your family, your friends , a warm beer, bacon and eggs ,and your mum.The best we had to look forward to was a sea that had the grace not to kill us.
The deck was just plain dangerous, we had to be there.
All I could think was , for god`s sake lets go north, let`s get the hell out of hell.
Oh but no , we have to keep on looking for Jonny.
I knew Jonny had gone home.
It wasn`t the banging on the hull that woke me,
It was the nightmare I was having.
For days now, my sleep had been interrupted continually.I was beginning to worry that something wasn`t right.
More than anything, it struck me. The supernatural powers that kept me safe and sane, were not enough.
I believed I could avoid disaster by using my in- built anxiety alarm system.
The problem was, It was going off , but I had no idea what it was warning me against." Of course !" I thought, Jonny being dragged down below the waves , by the invisible force,sharkmageddon,, nature at it`s bloodiest.
Surely it was that.. But if so, why? why can`t I sleep?
And then the banging started. There was no doubt now.It was loud! it was real.It was banging.
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