Tilt

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Just when you thought it was safe to get out of your pygamas.

Tilt

The longest night finally ended; it’s all about the tilt or axis of the Earth according to the scientists, but I don’t know much about science, other than the word defies the ‘i’ before ‘e’ except after ‘c’ rule, which isn’t strictly a rule. It’s hard to believe I lived with a scientist for seventeen years, who bore our two children, Stella and Tallulah. She has a degree in bio-palaeontology from Macquarie University. Where did she dig me up, you may be asking. It’s a long story. All my stories are long and usually tedious, which is why I like telling them. To punish the world for its cruelty.

The Classical music station is playing the music of Imogen Holst today. I didn’t know Holst had a composer daughter, so you do learn something everyday. I love the Planets by Holst, especially Mars, the god of war, but I am an Aries born in March. Just as I love the Four Seasons by Vivaldi, Pictures at an Exhibition by Mussorgsky and Carnival of the Animals by Saint Saëns. Any composition with a theme, like The Elements by Tom Lehrer. Now I’m getting obscure and fastidious.

The mid-winter blues have kicked in and my feet are cold. The view from my writing desk is still spectacular despite the cloud cover. The distant fields look so green due to recent rains in a land of drought. My little kitten, Persephone, is asleep on the couch next to me and the house reeks of feline excrement. I should do something about that. My poor old cat, Tom Tom, is still excluded in the spare room, but he’ll live.

I think I’m over the Sooky Girl I was infatuated with, but I live in fear of seeing her again, which is inevitable in a town of two thousand. I ran into Scoop and the Magus, who were on their way to the Top Pub yesterday (surprise, surprise). They had threatened to bash and kill me for reasons I won’t go into, but it was a bit too public and they abstained. They are too piss weak anyway, and the Magus has a history of incarceration, so he’d be put straight in the slammer if he threatened me with assault. Scoop is on probation for drug and weapons charges, so it would not be advisable for him to look at me sideways. 

The loneliness and chronic lovelessness were getting to me, so I sprang into action. I got rather inebriated and signed up for an online dating/mating service. Jesus! There is little hope for me. I now get messages from mature women who claim to be interested in me, but they live so far away from me that I think I’ll be safe for a while. Anyone interested in me is either insane or desperate. What did Groucho Marx say? “I don’t want to belong to any club that will accept me as a member.”

So, it’s just me and the cats in the cold mid-winter gloom, although my landlord turned up on Sunday for a visit with his mum, Belle, his gorgeous sister Laura and her partner, Scoot. I don’t get a lot of visitors now that the Mad Woman is in rehab and Red has gone back to Dubbo, for reasons I don’t quite understand.

The Mad Woman rang me yesterday from rehab in Canberra. She sounded psychotic and made no sense at all. There is no way I am going to hire a car and drive her to Melbourne to see her beloved Dave, whose name she recently had tattooed onto her arm, along with other men’s names here and there upon her body. He has a car. He can do it. The time I went to Canberra with her was a nightmare. Anyway, she is in rehab. The best place for her. She still calls me Poe, which is an abbreviation of Poet, which I find rather amusing and will never be tattooed upon any woman’s flesh. One lives in hope.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Submitted: June 22, 2020

© Copyright 2021 Craig Davison. All rights reserved.

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Comments

Mike S.

Another fine true story, Craig, and I wish you good luck!

Mon, June 22nd, 2020 5:21pm

Author
Reply

The mad woman rang me today. Jesus! My landlord came over and cut some firewood for me. I rang my daughter, Stella. I went online to meet mature women. My complicated life never ends.

Tue, June 23rd, 2020 2:50am

hullabaloo22

Ah, you might have the winter blues, Craig, but you've still got a great way with words!

Mon, June 22nd, 2020 7:15pm

Author
Reply

Thanks Hullabaloo22. I don't know though. My discourse is a tad repetitive. Lack of love. Another cat turns up for me to look after. Mature age women contact me looking for a loving relationship! Why? I rang my older daughter, Stella, tonight. She thinks I'm funny. That's all that counts. Hang in there, Hullabaloo22. You are the only person in the world I can tell my bizarre shit to. The mad woman rang me today from rehab. Mid-winter blues with the cutest cat in the universe. Take care and stay safe. There are people who care. All the best, Craig.

Tue, June 23rd, 2020 3:19am

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