No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.
From Meditation XVII, John Donne 1572–1631
The past week has seen strange things come to pass.
On the dawn of the Twentythird of December, being the morning of the shortest night, Mikeal and I rode up Scenic Drive to the top of the Waitakares to witness the dawn. The ride up, in the predawn was magical, a warm, humid morning. We rode at an easy tempo to the sound of birdsong and growing light. Unfortunately the dawn was grey, but it was still worthwhile to gaze over the still slumbering isthmus.
I suspect that Mikeal was a trifle disappointed, not because of the dawn, or the ride, but because he appeared to have a desire to beat me. He harboured some strange and irrational fear that I was going to try and kiss him as the sun rose. Maybe it wasn't fear, but none the less he did mention several times that if I tried to kiss him that he would beat me up. I have no desire to kiss him, even in the romantic dawn light, but the idea of being beaten has some appeal.
Riding through the predawn in summer is something that is pure, unalloyed pleasure, especially over the Christmas/New Year period when the roads are deserted.
The pox has hit my house hard, with Mini-Me being covered in spots, now scabbing, a ripping temperature and a sense of misery. Thankfully, it's passing, and will never visit him again.
The Crocodile has embraced his moniker truly, as has his family. A Christmas day photo shows him sitting resplendant in a shirt given as a gift. On the front of the shirt is a crocodile, sort of cartoony, green and toothy. Tres cool! I'm looking forward to the team kit and skin suit.
Recently I wrote of strange search terms that lead to this place, a new one has surfaced -"Buttock Spreader". I can trace the phrase to a dialogue between myself and Jorge the Purient that I posted, but what makes me curious is what was the searcher really looking for? I may enter "Buttock Spreader" into google, just to see where it goes, but my mind suggests that it may not be too wholesome.
On that note, I'm signing out for the year.
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