Friendship is simple.
It’s also complex, but let’s ignore that.
It can be what we want it to be.
Well, sometimes. There is such a thing as unrealistic expectations but that’s not what this post is about. This post is simple. This post will simply concentrate on the lovely simplicity of simple friendship.
Take the friendship cats offer just as one example:
Can’t get more simple than that. (And when I say simple, I may mean complex)
Then there is the simple friendship of my
five six year old niece, who I have posted about before with her awesome stories. She is also an amazing artist. Here is some of her work, capturing, once again, the simple friendship cats have to offer:
This cat is obviously simple, as it is talking to itself. (But wouldn’t you agree, this art is simply incredible?!)
I love our nieces. And our nephews. All of our family. But especially the ones who are cute. Pure and simple. They make me feel noble things like this:
And that’s pretty much all I think can be said for friendship. Please do not correct me if I am wrong.
[And please do not steal the artwork from this page.]
give you any of it. None of it. Don’t even bother asking”, was the un-pep talk she gave her reflection every morning.
And the good Lord knew that her mirror needed some un-pepping.
It was greedy for power. And it had to stop.
She wallpapered over it. With the lyrics of songs, scriptures, books, poems. Her favourite people. Her favourite letters.
She stood back to gaze at her soul mirror. While eating her favourite ice cream.
They always loved the way they both loved waterfalls.
As if it weren’t enough to drive through that scenery on the way, with its exhilarating verdancy, the serpentine paths unmarked, illuminated by their shared love of, well, their shared love.
But now, his muscles twitched.
Her emotions repelled down, down from the cliff of his hardened inner life. Over the cascade of his own unformulations. Starting that landslide, you know, the inward one. The one that implodes stars…
leaving burn marks on the pavement. The ones that stranger, whistling at the end of the week, steps over.
He’s wishing those darn kids would quit playing with fireworks again!
But, you have to admit, it IS a great night for a campfire…
Originally posted Jan 13th, 2017
So the thing is, I am in a dilemma. I know, just one dilemma seems like I am bragging about how blessed I am, (and that is a whole other conversation) but it is a pretty serious dilemma.
My husband just got home from overseas, and on the plane he watched the Lego Batman movie. For all kinds of reasons, I have not seen it yet. Most likely related to the fact we don’t live near a cinema, and I wanted to see it in one. And then, I just got lazy. I mean, come on, trying to conjure up the excitement that one only gets when visiting a movie theatre, is just hard work. HARD WORK. Or not. I might be rambling.
But there is a scene that is SO ME, he had to write it down. So here it is. Maybe you have seen it. But I am guessing you will want to see it again. Because, you know, this is important. (And what is really important to know, is that I am not Alfred in this scenario).
I’m pretty sure you can figure out what my dilemma is now, because what else would you be doing but trying to figure this out?
So, do I rename my blog to: Saynoto_____clowns?
(The blank matters. I don’t want to spoil it for those who haven’t seen this. I might be in a serious dilemma, but I don’t want to be unkind.
Btw, an inadvertent part one to this story – the remote’s hiding under my insomnia).
She drew back the curtains with all the care that wasn’t in the world. It was the only way she knew how. To stop the time. To restart his breathing.
(I could have that wrong – it might be, that she was the only one who knew how to do it. No one remembered. No one cared.)
The air was so thick with the calligraphy they had forced out of him. She uncurled it and admired it in the twilight/non-time. All things considered, it was still exquisite.
She had a new idea. And when he read her thought, he sat bolt up right, smiling.
Well, not at first.
First there was terror, terror as the engine stalled. Right above the middle of the ocean. And there were loved ones on board, asleep and unaware of the rolling waves. Waves voluminous with the sinister of the blackest galaxies…
Waking with the resolutionary tearing of fabric, she froze herself in the dive, the dive into the two dimensional whirlpool. The whirlpool of her own pencilled colours, symphoning themselves into place.
The green and the blue.
(I’m posting this song again, because I love it, and my brain seems to like how it messes with it…*smile)
He nodded. With his eyes. Cloudy with the beers they hadn’t shared yet. And she heard it all through the phone.
She hated letting him down again.
The walking out of the ocean. She, wearing the heaviness like a medal. Then she hit the no resistance of the air.
And she flew.
Until that last wave hit.
Filled with shells and rocks, or maybe the debris of shells and rocks. And the clawing of it inside-outed her.
Lying in the sand of her authenticity, she’s exfoliated down to she’s not sure what happened. But the ocean took that medal back.
Or maybe, she gave it back.
He wished she knew.
Those clouds burst, and ran down his cheeks.
So check it out (edit) it has actually been a year today since I started my blog!
And I am a little drunk right now for all kinds of reasons, so I don’t plan to wax long and lyrical about what a freaking honour it has been. Okay, maybe just a little…it has been so great, the people I have met, and the inspiration you have all given me…and some of you, what not to write about!!! Gawd!!! (Maybe I’m talking about myself, I mean, Good Lord, do you go back and read some of what you have written and wonder what the?!?!?! No, probably not, because you are all pretty amazing.)
Okay, I need a moment to top up my glass ( 19 Crimes if you must know…their red blend is extraordinarily good but I am slumming it on the cab sauv, which is pretty darn delish, even for a non cab sauv drinker…)
This non occasion needs an appropriate musical highlight and I couldn’t help thinking of this clip. I so love it because the words are so not me and Emma nails it, (she also reminds me of a young friend who is a lot of fun!) plus, we were at the local Lutheran primary school concert tonight, and the year 7s did a dance routine to a small part of this. Hahaha (wish I had had this wine first…)
So cheers Lovely Readers. I don’t know what I really think about having ‘followers’ … social media is a mysterious beast, but I really do appreciate those of you who have been supportive. Thank you so much. 💋
Um, this post may disappear in the morning light… we will see. ❤
Now the dune crescendoed right in front of her. Had she climbed it? What side was she on? Did it matter? This weary could not answer.
Sifting it through her fingers, she couldn’t find the piece she was looking for. So she let that gentle wind catch them all instead.
She wrapped herself in the cool of the breeze. And when she woke, she smiled, for there was nothing left. Of this dune of memories.
Nothing, that is, but him.
He flicked the ash out of the car window, and she knew that was the signal for her to continue. He thought he was good at pretending to listen, but she knew. When he did those long exhales he was thinking about something else, probably the zombie in his dream last night, the one distilled from the mirror that devoured him in slow motion, record time.
But she had sat on the floor, taking notes on her typewriter, writing him back into existence.
Damn, how he loved her.
There was a tiny, scorpion shaped crack on the wall, that reminded her of the jokes he told.
Before he left.
She didn't understand them, not until it was too late.
signed, unlikely person.
being, one of our church members. years ago. on a rare holiday.
how I laughed!
I was always so moved when that happened. Who's thinking of their pastor
and his wife when they are off having the time of their lives?
I treasure it all.
all these years I have said I should write a book. but really, it would
be more like a treasure map.
a treasure map to when you were here. or me, there.
to being whole, or not.
because, what else is it all about?
all of the heres.