Wednesday, July 26, 2006

The Pit, The Stop

Just as the goat and the grass met the rocks and the mountains and he began to be elevated he heard the whispers of the wind that asked him to turn. So he did. He stopped on the rise above a cliff and he could see the distance he had travelled, that little running goat, in such a short amount of time.

But he could also see the forest. And the view from up high was devastating in it's beauty. The tops of the trees forming a green ocean of hands, gently waving to him. He remembered their caress, he remembered darting in between the branches, laughing and kicking stwigs (yes, stwigs, I'm making it up ok?) and and and and.

Silly damn goat. Silly damn goat.

He sat and stared and sighed and then.

You know what that goat did?

He smoked a goddamn cigarette.


I do have to write to stay sane. What a love is that? How divine, how deliciously, deviously divine. That I have a car today and I have tasks and next to me is a road that leads to the bush and instead, to keep myself sane, I find myself writing.

That is fucking beautiful. I think anyway.

There are a handful of people I have met in my life that I can openly talk to, on the deepest most honest level. And there are people to whom I can say nothing, just ogle and drool and remain in the bubble of my tongue-tied delirium. And there is a person who holds both of those qualities that somedays I feel I must never see again. Sad really.


Get up goaty. The forest is there but looking is torture somedays. Yesterday, hair and hoof, teeth and snout. Up and up and onward you fly goaty. Don't let us down, climb that peak until all you will see below you is the clouds. And maybe the ocean in the distance. Get up goaty.


Oh god that forest looks good from here.


I don't know if I could ever be a writer. I don't like it somedays. But I'm writing my book and trying each day to practice on here, I hope that's ok with you.

And inside me, I just can't tell if I'm a wild and crazy freedom fighter or a guy who lost that which he wanted the most.

Ah well. Life hey.

1 comment:

  1. just so's ya knows-

    long time reader, first time poster here.

    grand stuff you wonderful, mad bastard.