Trivial tales from someone who’s always in it

… but now I’m back. Remember all that moaning about needing to sit on a shack on a beach by myself and contemplate my disfigured navel? Well, I did it. At the end of August, I flew to New Zealand, hired a car, drove across the Southern Alps and up the West Coast and finally reached Destination: Equanimity. I was there for only two weeks and the resulting state of Zen-like calm and detachment vaporised fairly quickly afterwards but I still manage to get a few atoms of it back now and then.

I went for long walks. I took photos. I cooked up large batches of soup. I thought a lot. I made a friend. I read this book, about which I’m still undecided. It seemed like perfect reading for the situation at the time, though.

So, did Your Correspondent find Truth on the wild Ngakawau beach? Nah … but then again, I wasn’t looking for Truth. I was looking for Peace. And, even though it was only just for a little while, I found it.

Now, if only I could track down some fucking Patience …

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Urge #1: The Urge to Laugh
Doctor: Yes, you’re definitely suffering from depression. There’s some medication that I think will be very effective in your case. I’ll write you a presciption.
Niki: But I don’t want any dr–
Doctor: The medication will help. The side effects aren’t too bad. There might be some nausea … oh, and sleeping problems. You could gain a bit of weight … and lose all interest in sex.
Niki: Oh, is that all?
Doctor: So, tell me: have you been having any disturbing thoughts?
Niki: You mean am I suicidal?
Doctor: Yes.
Niki: Not until thirty seconds ago.

Urge #2: The Urge to Pee
Six Million Dollar Hound: (at 11:10pm) *whine*
Six Million Dollar Hound: (at 12:15am) *whine*
Six Million Dollar Hound: (at 12:45am) *whine*

Urge #3: The Urge to Commit Violent Acts
Six Million Dollar Hound: (at 3:00am) *whine*
Niki: (throwing off the bedclothes) Right, that’s it. I’m fucking killing him.

Urge #4: The Urge to Dance
Acquaintance: I fly out to Ireland next week. Give me your phone number and I’ll try to get you those interviews with Tom Waits and Luka Bloom that we’d talked about.

Urge #5: The Urge to Jump on a Plane Home to Christchurch, New Zealand, Right NOW
Dowager Empress (Mother): It’s supposed to snow again tonight.

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 Before

 During

After

*sigh*

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The Six Million Dollar Hound, I mean. The Dreamboat picked him up from the airport and brought him home. Apparently, he’s wearing a bucket on his head and half of his body’s been shaved. I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen him.

He’s supposed to be kept quiet, you see. No excitement. He’s not allowed to move around. We have to keep him locked in the laundry for the next two weeks. He’s only allowed out to go to the toilet and even then he has to be taken out on a lead.

If he sees me, he’ll go ballistic so I’ve resisted all temptation to go into the laundry. He knows I’m home, though. He’s crying and barking and trying to get out.

I feel like Mr Rochester from Jane Eyre … with a frantic canine locked up, instead of a mad wife.

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… not if you know what’s good for you. And especially not when the Six Million Dollar Hound’s about.

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