Attributes Of Animal - Chapter Four -
Amidst the thunderheads and the rain storm belting down rapid and sideways and before hitting it looks sharp enough to cut - flying in with left and right hooks followed by uppercuts of rain, ricocheting upwards after it's first impact being heavy enough to strike twice that it bounces back and strikes you again from under. You know that funny rain that seems to shoot up. Well it was firing and the cold side winds that are sweeping across the landscape are strong enough to take you off your feet. The dark skies over head seem simply the reflection of the brackish, muddy terrain which this morning was dry and green and welcomed dog walkers to exercise their pooches. Out there, stumbling along, trooping through this biblical storm, mud covered and wellies sticking and sploshing back with every step, Criss travels through the fields. A short cut from the Fox and Hound pub, which in better conditions is a great little bypass as that local establishment has recently acquired the skills and work ethic of our Criss' sound professionalism and they're paying. I hope Criss hasn't taken the short cut. Though I know Criss. I swear Criss, saturated head to toe in those mud thickened boots must be grumbling and real pissy right now, -out there in this storm- and I think of the text I received earlier
'Be around later, be in!!. Twin exclamation mark. Only this time in my head I've replaced the two smiley faces with two angry faces and I think, for sure Criss gonna be real pissy, probably regretting such a choice, such a brave resilient statement as taking the route through the field in this storm. Taking a short cut only to get caught up and stuck in the mud, or, maybe Criss has gone right off the idea of coming here at all and making plans in the first place and therefore turned around 180 degrees and gone directly home. I wouldn't mind though, though I'm sure Criss would have text and told me. Criss is like that. Even at times when it's completely clear and obvious I'm sat at home and sat beside my ringing phone, not wanting to talk. 1-2-3-12 missed calls later after breaking out in cold sweats and without breaking my reluctance to answer the phone, Criss will still be there. Somewhere. Ringing it. Criss knows its probably not a case of the 'deathly anxious' and more of a 'Gooses stubborn ignorance'.
'Goose...',
'Goose...',
'Gooose....',
'Ignorant.....', And I answer to the latter.
Sat here alone, amusing myself and unaware of my second smile of the day, the front door knocks. A Criss's knock and I expect to hear Criss call through the letter box next and then I do.
'Yo, safe Goose, tis Criss... Open up love'
Then the letter box drops. I answer the door and Criss is stood there in those wellies, mud thick brown. There original colour can no easier be distinguished than the colour of an artists canvas before applying the paints to create a masterpiece and brightly eyed I welcome her inside. She storms past me bringing with her most of the great outdoors and I think how 'great' isn't the word I'd use, though it is what is, -the great outdoors, the great expectation, the great big blue-
Criss walks through the hallway leaving the carpet stained with dirt and I don't care. Taking off her water proof coat like a flustered stripper who's just been given the key to her straight jacket and rapidly slinging the coat on to the hallway floor, stylishly with class and elegance. Her speed and dramatics reminding me of a stack of light paper in front the blow of a heavy desk fan. Either that or the Tasmanian devil at the epicenter of sandstorm. Criss heads into the bathroom where she grabs my purple towel off the shelf, drying her long black hair that's now straggly and ruffled from the same blowing gale that's thumping on the apartments exterior. She's wiping the wet from off her face with my towel and it's not the first time. Then Criss puts the toilet seat lid down and she sits on top and with my towel around her hair she begins slapping at her wellies, yanking at the rubber bottoms. Her hands slipping away every time in her attempt to remove them from her feet. Criss tuts and gives up. She leans back, resting against the toilet cistern beaten by her own wellies. She splays her arms wide and stretches and looks at me laughing. She sets me off and I'm laughing with and at her at the same time, and she knows it. Laughing I kneel down and I pull at her welly. First the left wellington and then the right. The left one comes off with ease but the right wellington has some stubborn hold. The second wellie refuses to part from Criss's right foot and after more force still remains half on and half off, so now I pull even harder. The wellington comes shooting from Criss's right foot and with her muddy wellie in my hands I fly back against the corner of the wall where the bathroom wall meets the floor and Criss and I are crying.
Daughter of the storm I call her,
'Daughter of the storm riding again' I say still laughing and she throws the left wellie at me and it lands in my lap.
I chuck the muddy wellies back gently and tell jokingly to her to pick up her coat.
'Yes boyo' she says and I reply with
'Go on then river monster....'
'Who are you calling a monster you joke?' Criss says laughing.
'I'm going to smother you with my coat in a minute!' Criss says.
'That's cool' I jest.
'I'm going to ring Jeremy wade, and let him know about the extreme angling here for him to hunt' I joke and then I say
'hunt some freshwater fish, you bloody swamp thing!' and I stop. Criss isn't laughing anymore. In fact Criss's gimlet eyes are stabbing through mine and if looks could kill then right now I'd be somewhere between dying and eternal fire and brimstone from the killer look she gives me. It tells me I've gone too far now, so I apologise to her, saying it was only a joke and to get over it as I stand up, dusting myself down. I look back up at Criss and say
'Killer breeze, tornadoes sister'
'Huh?' Says Criss.
'Just something I was pondering. Dont worry' I say
'Yeah, you and your pondering over the what is reallys' Goose, do you know what really is?'
'Huh' I say, and Criss laughs at me.
'Shut it' I say smiling.
'Put you in the tumbler I will'.
'So Goose what is really?' Says Criss.
'Nothing but soap operas and contributions to the next episode' I reply.
'You and your lost arc chamber of secrets babe, don't let the cat out of the bag if you want to catch the piglet' says Criss
'Dumb as an oyster' I reply and walk off into the lounge.
Criss's follows me leaving her muddy paw prints on the toilet lid and the walls. Sediment from her dirty hand marks are still residual and lingering over the sinks porcelain. But I dont care. It's all just happening. Though sometimes it may feel like 'It's all just happening' all at once or, too fast, or, if what's 'All just happening' isn't good or what you want then 'It's all just happening' can be 'All too frustrating' but not this time. This time what's happening happens to be exceptional and personal to just us. Similar to all those other times we've got into funny conversations and stuff but different to those other times as well. Although it seems more personal to me at the time, who knows? maybe it's different to Criss too? This time 'What's happening' isn't too much at all and definitely doesn't frustrate me. I'm usually the isolated loner, peerless and without any particular idol or individual I look up to, no hero expect for Criss's friendship and I become clearly aware of 'what's happening' right now maybe only exclusive for today or simply the passing moment and soon will no longer be and it tells me to enjoy it and to seize this moment. The feeling of carpe diem is unfamiliar and strange yet almost soothing, unblended and special. This fresh sense of 'It's all just happening' is my moment of clarity. A pure and unadulterated innocence, bare and new and swimming freely in a hot spring of tranquillity, embraced by Gaia and aware only of bliss and it's spiritual joy.
Criss sighs pretty loudly and it's not a sigh of frustration or is it a sound that would indicate some sort of sign of discomfort from one who is fed up and not the usual breathing a sigh of relief-the storm has passed- end of hardship and beginning of good times- type of sigh either. She sighs with an almost content and in the moment balance, like a subtle expression of appreciation. The sound of her gentle exhalation is refreshing and calming, an embracing sound of a short hum I get lost in and I breathe out heavily. For a second we're there in the lounge, Criss behind me, completely silent and she says it
'It's all just happening'.
Hearing her words strikes me and for the first time I know of the unity of the moment and of the strong connection between our minds, or it could be our souls and I feel high. Knowing what just happened wasn't the first time either, though it was the first time it felt different and not only different, the feeling was shared too. It's almost overwhelming that for the first time in a long time, I realise- I'm not alone.
I tell Criss to sit down and I go check the water level in the kettle, it's half full and I flick the switch down. Pouring the milk over the coffee and stirring the mixture into a frothy blend before adding the boiled water and giving it a gentle final stir just for luck- I get the feeling that I'm sure I'm asleep. That those peculiar emotions, that deep serene brilliance and even the exisistance of the past fifteen minutes didn't exist at all and is in fact fictional. A small figment of my hallucinatory imagination going wild and vivid with such depth, though still a fantasy. A simple creation that is less surreal and less exultant and still never the less, completely untrue. Though it is true. It's todays reality.
Criss calls from the other room though I can't pick up exactly what she's saying so I call back to her just messing around with a slight serious tone saying
'They all analyse to criticise' knowing that this probably won't suit as a fitting response and Criss replies
'Jokes, you make me laugh, I need a cigarette' she says vaguely though honest, and in my retort, sarcastically and almost flirtatiously I come back with
'I hope the practice isn't over apparent?'
Criss laughs and calls back simply.
'I like you, nothing you say makes any sense' and we laugh.
With the predicted forecast, the afternoon storm fades as the grey skies turn a shade dimmer and night advances to finish the day. As the darkness descends into it's starless skies which are still cloudy from the days gloomy and dull turn out Criss and I are chatting. We're joking and she's said she was leaving an hour ago. She's telling me a story about a woman she had previously worked with before changing jobs. A guy had taken this woman she had worked with on their first date to a restaurant in Paris and apparently this woman was extremely surprised about it all and with all her gratefulness had fallen in love and they had gotten married almost right away. Criss is saying how she thinks it's funny and that there's something slightly gold diggery about the whole commitment. I look at Criss and tell her that the woman in her story was in a for bigger surprise because if gold digging is the case, then the woman was surely in for a shock as the flight tickets were more than likely purchased via Easy Jet for a pound or something and Criss laughs. Another hour passes and Criss leaves. We say good night and I tell her not to ring me when she gets home and knowing for well that she will. I know Criss and she does.
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