Saturday, October 31, 2009

Compulsion.


Feeling constantly driven to write, I have to do it now again, although I wrote a post during the night that no one has responded to yet. It doesn't matter, I write for myself at this point. It's an exercise in being alive and aware and letting my brain work around the details of my life, small and insignificant as they are. Let's face it, I certainly don't live a life of high drama and adventure. I only have high drama when things don't go well and I hit one of my low points and extensively write about it. Adventure never happens in my life anymore, that's a thing of the past, when I was younger and more daring and didn't give a hoot about the consequences. The most adventurous thing I do nowadays is cross four lanes of busy traffic on my bicycle, or ride over cobblestoned streets at high speed because I just came off the incline of the bridge, Yes, I do have to squeeze the hand brakes a little bit then to not hit those absentminded pedestrians that wander into the street.

So anyway, high adventure there is not, but I can write about anything under the sun and make a story out of it. I can dramatize the lives of my dog and cats, if I want. I just took the dog out and I noticed that he is actually a bit of a shy dog, because he saw a window washer and watched him from afar and gave him a wide berth. I don't know how much the glaucoma is influencing his vision, and what he actually sees, but he doesn't like to be surprised and shies away from people who suddenly show up in his immediate surroundings. Of course, he doesn't hear them, which is something people don't understand, and they can make the nicest sounds in the world, but he doesn't know what in the world they are talking about and can only tell by body language what their intentions are. He's not much interested in other people or dogs when we are outside. He really doesn't care very much. It's different if they come into the apartment. He likes visitors and will make sure he gets a lot of attention, and so do the cats, so anybody who comes here has to like animals very much.They will be besieged by them.

Gandhi just escaped into the stairwell and went for a roam around to the very top. I left the front door open on a crack, because rather than chase her, I've found out that she comes back of her own accord and it really doesn't take her that long, because she is afraid that she will miss out on something here. Like when the dog will get his food. I just have to make sure that Toby also doesn't disappear in the meantime, but he will come back too, only he hasn't figured out how to push open the door to come back in and sits there on the doormat meowing mournfully. Sometimes they escape through the outside door, but they know how to make their way around the block into the little patio and back into the apartment through the cat flap. They do it in no time at all. Cats actually are pretty smart animals and have a great homing instinct.

Well, that's what I've got too. You should see me on the way back home from downtown. It's like I'm pulled by magnetic forces toward the apartment. I peddle that bike so quickly, even though I go slightly uphill the whole way. All I can think about is to be home again with Jesker and the cats and to be in my own cozy surroundings where I can do what I will and sit and smoke and drink coffee and be absolutely decadent and anti social, Not that I don't enjoy it to be in good company, but I always look forward to my alone time. I'm just the lonesome cowboy type. Yes, me and a campfire and a pot of coffee, I can picture it now. And my horse Trigger tied up to a tree.

I've got to go to the tobacconist. I'm down to my last crumbs of tobacco. I very rarely let my supply dwindle that low. I suppose I like to live dangerously every once in a while. I'm smoking my second to last cigarette and then all the tobacco will be gone. It takes me three minutes to ride my bike over to the tobacco shop and I have to remember to buy stamps as well, because I have to mail a birthday card to my daughter.

I'm off then. I'm going to ride my bike into the crispy afternoon in which the sun is shining. Have your selfs a nice day and I will do the same.

Ciao,
Nora

9 comments:

Friend of the Bear said...

Hi Nora. I used, many years ago, to have a compulsion to write. It was like a wellspring of energy in my life. I loved it. It's the thing I miss so much since my breakdown. I always admire your creative stamina. It's legendary!

I wish I was driven to do .. anything these days. Except eat of course! I do eat compulsively. I'm looking for a healthier, more productive compulsion.

You have constant entertainment at your place with those animals.

Happy Saturday,
Bearfriend xx

Friend of the Bear said...

PS I think that photo is very beautiful. I love the colour of those roses.

Bearfriend xx

aims said...

What a stunning picture! I love it! It would look wonderful on a wall wouldn't it?

frazzledsugarplummum said...

Sounds like me on my one day out a week. Can't wait to get home to the dog and cats who are always on the look out to escape. The writing helps. I enjoy your writing.

Connie Rose said...

Where do you get those magnificent photographs? Today's is particularly fabulous!

Cheryl said...

I love when you write. You can make anything sound so compelling and it is another one of your many talents, as in the arts and photos. You are so creative and you get in the mood to write, then write, like you said, you are doing for yourself.

I have not been blogging lately, too crazy here, so I'm feeling a bit out of the loop. Trying to catch up. Know you are in my thoughts often.

Gail said...

You are what we farmers call "barn spoiled", headed home, you go faster, just like a horse hurrying to get back to the barn.

Maureen said...

Glad the cats have such great homing instincts. Yes, chasing cats is futile... luckily, mine are strictly indoor felines.

Leslie said...

Hi Nora,

This is my first visit to your site, though Bearfriend has encouraged me to check it out for awhile, for more reasons than that we share a writing passion. It appears you haven't posted for a couple of weeks, so I hope you see this late comment!

I can entirely related to your compulsion to write. I've loved writing always, and gone through many periods in life of frenetic word spillage onto paper (or screen). Words, titles, phrasing, thoughts, grammar, punctuation - all passions. Not my field, but I am trying to conjur the oomph to take some samples to a small town newspaper locally and propose a column of my brilliant thoughts.

I started blogging in June to aide in my endless journey to knock off my tendencies to dive headlong into bouts of profound overeating as a means of coping with whatever requires coping in any given moment. The blogging has been an amazing outlet for me, and I'm finding a deeper and truer voice in myself that reflects who I continue to become a day at a time. I'll definitely be back and also check out your writings. I've posted a few times about my passion to pen - the entries are speckled through my blog. If you get a chance, I'd be honored for you to visit. I'll be following you now.