Sometimes when I’m driving along
the window down, wind winnowing my hair,
the sun giving me the thumbs up,
I break out in spontaneous whoops of joy.
No, I don’t have Tourette’s.
I haven’t won the Lottery.
I’m just laughing zebra happy,
turning cartwheels happy,
walking on my hands happy.
It’s infectious. I whoop some more.
You wouldn’t want to be a passenger.
I love to sing a capella
In the rain ‘neath my umbrella
To dance like Gene Kelly did
In the puddles like a kid
I like to make a lot of noise
I love the sound of my own voice
And I’m as rich as Rockefeller
in the rain ‘neath my umbrella.
After he had stormed off in his Volvo and got home to a torrent of texts, he responded with a fusillade of his own. It was like a naval battle at close quarters, with no quarter given. Someone was going down.
He got in the last word. That was unusual, Perhaps he had gone too far. He need not have said some of the things he said. One particular insult was, in retrospect, very cutting.
He texted a partial rebuttal before he hit the sack. No response. He texted again. And again. Perhaps he had gone too far. Had she…? O God no. It didn’t bear thinking about.
He buried his head under the pillow and tried to sleep. Eventually he crashed. But the nightmares ….
He awoke at six in the morning. His mobile lit up. His arm flew across to grab it. It was from her. A volley of vitriol.
He had never felt so happy.
I need cheering up, she says. I work better when happy.
A shared laugh would help, she adds.
So it’s down to me. What am I? A stand-up?
I can’t think of anything funny to say.
It’s a lovely sunny morning in spite of the forecast
so that’s something to be happy about
but happy isn’t funny.
I riffle through my corny joke book but she’s heard them all
even the good ones, like what do you call an Igloo without a toilet?
An Ig !
I thought that was pretty good but all it elicited was a groan.
And anyway, how necessary is it to be happy when you’re working?
Take art. Some of the best paintings were birthed in rage and fear.
Think ‘The Scream’ by Munch, Picasso’s ‘Guernica’ or Bacon’s ‘The Screaming Pope’.
You don’t read ‘In Memoriam’ for a good laugh or listen to ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’ for a bit of a lift.
These did not come from a happy place.
Sure, being in a happy place helps, but you’re not going to get the dark matter, the weight if you’re buoyant as a balloon.
pic by John Currin on Pinterest
This is Max.
He’s a happy lab.
Bathed in love.
Now he’s bathed
in water.
A dog wash.
Every muscle,
every fibre
slouches in a beanbag
of content.
Max is in the moment.
Talking to you was great.
I felt the weight
lift off me right away.
Going to you was like
passing from night to day.
You gave me validation.
Said what I was feeling
was okay.
You were the genie that took
my anxiety away.
No more heft, no more gloom.
I floated out of that room.
* have you got someone to talk to who can lift the weight right off your shoulders?
But when I go to pay the fine
surprise, surprise, there’s no waiting game.
Someone picks up straight away.
The voice is chirpy like a canary.
It’s like a change swept through the place
I tell the lady.
I tell Maria.
She even has a name.
People always quick to take your money, I say.
She even chuckles.
I don’t know if it’s put on or genuine
You take what you can get.
The lines to the other sections I say, the ones
asking for extensions, leniency,
were always clogged with callers
And when you finally got through
a graveyard voice answered. like Lurch from ‘The Adams Family’.
She chuckles again.
She brings out my inner stand-up.
But your line, I say, lit up like a Xmas tree.
She glows, gives me the receipt number.
She’s still chirpy, wishing me a good weekend.
I feel light as a glider. The fine is off my chest.
My body alarms me.
It rings two or three times a night.
Who’s in charge here anyway?
Poetry flowed from me
Like water from a garden hose.
Days were diamonds.
My feet horses’ hooves.
Nothing defeated me.
I was sharp as Sherlock.
Prolific as Zola.
I had two hounds.
The wheels turn.
Accept, my friend tells me, Embrace.
Loss is gain.
Now is the new normal.
Someone once said to me, Expect the Unexpected.
It seemed daring at the time so I took it on board.
The only problem was because I expected the Unexpected all the time I wasn’t really surprised when it happened.
It was expected, right?
Life was losing its surprise factor.
I felt heavy as a watermelon.
My counsellor suggested — wait for it — Expect only the Expected.
So I do,
When the Unexpected happens I light up like a lantern
twinkle like a star.
It wasn’t expected, right?
Something niggles you
All week
Like a nail
in yr shoe
And you put up with it
That’s what
You do.
And then it’s all over
In two minutes
Flat
and you wonder
hey! why did I
Ever worry that?
But listen up! here’s
the sting:
The very thing
You gave no thought
to at all
burdens you all week
like an extra ball
in yr pants.
Life is brief.
Loosen up. Don’t worry.
Dance
John Malone 