Arbroath, Scotland October ’15
I couldn’t help getting drunk before the storm, I fell into a dream where I never did land and saw my body flicker out, and forgot. I went out for the dark and the rain because why wouldn’t you, it was right there. I stood for a while by the big pine tree, the hot tub, the one we should take out but I can’t bring myself to, and the drops that fell were like bombs on my neck and it got colder, I could see my breath, I imagined the storm coming in and where it had been, and admired it, it was giving us all it had. My hands looked withered and old and I waved them like they weren’t mine, I angled them in the light for a reflection that never came because they were just prop hands, they were like scarecrows.
I bought some incense from Whole Foods that cost $12.99 for 20 sticks and did the math, and told myself it was worth it, threw my glasses on my lap, rubbed my eyes, looked around and wondered how all of it could be true.
Lily had a friend over who stayed longer than we thought she would and dinner was soup with kale and sausage, sausage with fennel seeds, so you can imagine what that was like, but none of it mattered: I had Pink Floyd on the laptop and they all commented I was weird, and they were all right. The bistro lights went out earlier than normal and Charlotte screamed and I shouted at her to stop, and everything went black and the wind started and we thought at first how cool we lost power, and next, how long it would take to come back.
Bill Pearse 
It reads like a dream within a dream. It has an edgy disjointed quality that doesn’t answer questions because it is too busy trying to figure out how an elephant got on the ceiling to play hopscotch in the first place! As always, a quirky delight.
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Hey that’s what I was going for there! I like the way you put it, thank you. And for reading and letting me know you’re out there, I appreciate it! There’s nails on our glass windows and the trees are waving good morning! Bill
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I like these short and sweet posts, a little variety in the mix. We make a soup with fennel sausage and chopped fennel (and also vermouth) so it is fennel-rific, though I don’t bother serving it to my kids. Without knowing the album, Pink Floyd seems perfect for heavy weather. Hope your power came back but if not, at least the generator gets a chance to do its thing.
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Thanks, I was trying out variety as you say Kristen. why not. The soup sounds good, the chopped fennel always feels extravagant somehow, all that frilliness in the kitchen, the smell of licorice. Too hard on the kids and their bland senses though, you’re right. Pasta and butter.
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Kids telling you that you’re weird is one of the best compliments you can get. “Your dad is weird” while you are not around is high quality too. Roger Waters announced another tour yesterday, or the day before didn’t he? He’s one of my favorites…Amused to Death is still one of best albums ever. Buckle up for the weekend, stormaggedon is coming.
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“Um, you still have a blog right?” That’s funny…I’m looking forward to popping over, be there in a bit. Bill
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Sometimes the best companion during any weather event is incense, a glass (or 17) or your favorite, and Dark Side of the Moon. Something about this sounded very romantic.
Also, fennel sausage kicks ass. Finochionna, in particular, is a favorite of mine. Very romantic before-the-storm prose.
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Hi Justin, yes the thought of losing power always sounds romantic, and is for a bit, but then (as you probably know) fast becomes a drag. We’re lucky we haven’t yet, but I expect to. Maybe that way we won’t. Finochionna I haven’t heard! Thanks for the tip…happy Friday. Bill
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Power going out is always an excuse to drink red wine (or stronger stuff) and finish the ice cream before it melts. But I am an expert at enabling myself to be a fat alcoholic. So it goes!
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Sausage with fennel – what could be wurst?
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That’s weak. The link didn’t work. Ha…
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Going from wurst to worse: If links doesn’t work, try rechts.
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See? Everyone agrees Pink Floyd pairs well with rain.
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Yes. It was your suggestion that got me ‘feedback’ at the dinner table, for that WYWH album, probably Welcome to the Machine, the way it makes that chunking cog sound. That was the moment everyone looked up from the dinner table to the den, the laptop, and said I’m weird. Thanks Walt.
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Well, that makes me weird then.
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And me by extension, by attachment, bi focals.
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it’s the waiting for the return that’s the best.
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Oh right — funny, I thought you were commenting on another post of mine and didn’t understand. I got my posts crossed! Sitting here waiting and wondering if it’s ever going to really come, the winds. Tonight they said, worst winds since a storm we remember from around here in ’06, so we’ll see. Lost part of our roof on that one, but the house was a lot older than the one we have now. Woops, there it just kicked up! Clicking send before the
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Bill, your post took me back to the street I grew up in, back as a child in 1970’s west London, here in England. We frequently experienced ‘blackouts’ and, for us children, it would open an evening of fun as neighbours gathered to cook for each other around the few gas powered stoves in our street. We would delight in the mysterious atmosphere of an entire evening with no tv or radio and just the flickering, golden glow of candlelight to huddle around. We would play cards; Gin Rummy, and board games, by that gentle candlelight, into the depth of night and each of us guessing what time we expected electricity to be restored. Our parents would all congregate and we children would listen intently to stories of our family histories and, as the hours passed, ghost stories would gradually be introduced; no doubt to encourage us children to head to bed, freeing the gathered parents to crack open the whisky. I enjoyed your post and the photo. Thanks for prompting a memory and the associated smile it has provided me with. Dean.
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If I could choose how I really wanted my blog to operate, it would be like this, with people sharing stories of their own triggered by my posts. It’s a ‘post within a post,’ and more interesting as your story is from a different country than mine, somehow more exotic that way — and similar to my own at the same time. I find it funny how freeing it feels for us to be released from our day-to-day routines (I see this when I take my kids camping, the kind of pure fun that comes from making a woodfire or playing with river rocks). You can probably appreciate that as a therapist yourself, helping people heal. Nature is my favorite antidote for most problems I have, which are comparatively small, probably. Thanks for sharing Dean and reading, you’ve reciprocated smiles across the pond. Bill
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Nature is, I also believe, the best tonic. We live in different parts of the world and yet we evidence that our humanity removes barriers created by distance and difference. I thoroughly enjoy your Blog and I too value how readers relate to my Blog. This is all incredibly liberating. Thanks for your evocative posts, as ever. Dean.
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“So you can imagine what that was like.” Yup.
I always feel a good storm calls for a big ol’ ham.
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Ham has many applications, even doubles as emergency radio or source for satire.
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I wash my clothes in a Ham-A-Tronic 3000.
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