aahrrrr (24/Jan/18)

… and the day begins…

with the wind that more than shakes the barley-oh… flattens it I would say in a way not dissimilar to how an detachment of Cornish leprechauns might leave it after raving to kazoo version of Black Sabbath songs…… they could call it St Pirans Dance!…… I wonder if Cornish leprechauns would look different from Irish ones…. they couldn’t be green of course though and might be dressed more like tin-miners….. I’m sure they’d be more than capable of leaving a field of barley worse in a state of disarray should they wish too…… I’m not sure if this storm has a name, which is odd, like the last one seemed to ticked all the boxes from the feel of it, and I’m sure the flattened barley would agree……

… I have a name, though not an interesting one, nor one with an interesting story… my name was a compromise, there, that’s it, not named after a song or a famous person, an astronomical event, a mythical creature or even a saint, nope… I’m a compromise… I wonder if that means I don’t matter or the name doesn’t?… but then again, am I my name or is my name me?…… are we inextricably-bound of can I just say I’m not that anymore, instead I’m going to be… whatever…… or I could become initials, or a single initial… R… which sound like a growl or the sound a cartoon pirate makes, which itself always seems to be a south-west English accent, i.e. Cornish… and here I am back with the leprechauns… unless I drop the ‘ah’ sound from the beginning when saying it and just say ‘rrrrr’, but that then sounds like I’m strangling a Mongolian throat singer……

… I kept the window open a crack again last night, not too much, it was barley-flattening wind after all, if I don’t feel that connection to the outside then it feels like I don’t exist… whatever the weather… if my name wasn’t my name would I exist if I didn’t have a name at all?… people are scared of things without names so they name them just in case with the first thing that comes into their heads usually, like with many folk music tunes, traditionally called the first thing that you see or enters your brain when you first play it……

© 2018 robert greig

the nose hat or naming gulls (15/Jan/18)

watching the wind shaking the leafless trees reminding it that winter’s still here and not to grow leaves too soon, keep the counsel of your roots just where they are and have been for months now, among the worms and hibernating pupae…

underfoot the mystery exceeds the myth where the unimaginable remains unimagined, which sounds all good and well as long as you’re not out in the elements as I was stalking the beach while a single gull stalked me held upon air from invisible string watching me, watching me, what is it thinking?… food, obviously, it’s always food and when it isn’t it’s sex, or reproduction… does it know it’s making babies or simply following instinct so innately ingrained?……

but mostly it’s food, which is now what I was thinking about as the wind behind me drove me step by step long the wavering shoreline…… in and out, in and out, just like the windsurfers… windsurfers! in this weather?… here’s me in layers of layers and still feeling the bite and they’re windsurfing in wetsuits decidedly wet teasing the wind with an is-that-all-you-got attitude…… not for me, not for me, I know when I’m beat and I’ve been beat for years now no longer feeling my fingertips and my nose wishing it wore a little hat… a nose hat, now wouldn’t that be cute…

stepping over apocalyptically-strewn piles of discarded seaweed from the last storm and despite the blue sky another is on the way…… but fear not, I’ll be back safely ensconced inside my cave when I eventually get back there and should the gull follow me I’ll give him a name… but he didn’t so it remains gullonomously nameless……

and anyway the gull who perches every day on top of the church roof cross would be decidedly cross as after all these years I’ve still failed to christen him at all, if indeed either are hims as equally they could be hers, ‘tis impossible to tell with a gull who is the he and who is the she……… if I was to name a gull, or a pair of gulls, one male one female then I could consider Larry… Larry for Larus, the scientific genus of these gulls, and Harriet being a homophonous twist on their common name, Herring gull…

ok, a bit of a stretch but solves my nominative dilemma… Larry and Harriet, I feel some avian tales coming on…….