notes from
the MUCK . . .

How does your garden grow? With muck, muck and more muck! I spent much of today finishing the final muck box and then shifting muck from one box to the next. The first box, which the Big Lad is enthusiastically pointing out, has been rotting down for two years now and once we’d removed the top quarter of unrotted material, we found we’d hit the pay dirt.

Thursday, October 27, 2005

Get Her Ray

As noted by Jeff, the approach of Halloween should instill many feelings, all of which should be positive and dripping with ectoplasm, blood, and other such ghoulish things.

I like Halloween because I like being scared, and, as some people know, it is pretty easy to scare me. I have been a wuss for as long as I can remember. When I was 8 the movie ghost busters came out. I couldn't go and see it at the cinema but my aunt had a pirate copy of it and was bringing it round on the day of my brother's first birthday. For some reason during that period in my life, I also dug my brother's birthday, so you can imagine how excited I was during the day. We had a camcorder; I filmed an exhibition football match with me and my friends, then we put on an improv ghost busters adventure, where I played the part of Winston ably but stilted by the excitement that in mere hours I would be sitting down to the real thing. Anywho, we still managed to get the marshmallow man, and then it was just a matter of waiting.
The camcorder captures the moment when my aunt arrives, my eyes light up, I spring to my feet, spontaneously clap several times, before leaping out of the room to welcome in the missing part of my life that would ensure contentment forever. (See earlier post). It also captures me watching the video, dutifully smiling at the camera but not wanting to take my gaze from what is unfolding on the tv.

It does not capture, however, the moment when the librarian suddenly turns on them like some hellish banshee, all her skin falling off her and whatever, her hair all wirey, scary scary scary. I ran from the screen, the room, the horror to my bed. My mum, or someone, I don't actually know, I wasn't there, turned the video off, and it was put away for a good while.

But I went back. I watched that film, I loved that film, I love that film, my performance of Winston improved dramatically. Eventually I went to NYC and had my picture taken outside of the library where it happened. I conquered my fears and I can look at that excited 8 year old kid in the video jumping up to answer the door square in the eye now. Of course, I also have to break it to that kid that I never made it as a professional footballer, that I never grew up to look like superman and that we have the same amount of leghair.Yes, other facets of my emotional psyche remain shamefully stunted and will do so forever, but its the little victories that count in the life of muck; mostly because they are the only ones we get. Take pride in yours whatever they are this Halloween.