An English In Kentucky


















Friday September 14th 2012    Tim Candler

    So much of a joy to hear body parts rumble on.  I could call it 'moaning and groaning,' but I won't.  It's more like a rhapsody through ache, twinge and a sudden stabbing-ness, which I could call a 'pain' but absolutely refuse to. I have been digging with both a long handled shovel, and with what once was called a 'jembi,' but which now is called a 'mattock' because it is not as heavy as a 'pickaxe.'  As well, there has been wheel barrow with gravel, some sort of soil that exudes a sneezing musk, produces headache and dizziness along with a cruel sensation that I will not call 'Terminal' because most likely it followed me home from the Hardware Store.

    Granted this recent excursion into blue sky and sunshine hasn't the glory of double trenching, but it's close enough to fill some sort of void that has existed in me since I completely lost my mind by seeking solace in the title 'gainful employment' at what only demons or 'Job Creators' would call a 'Fulfillment Center.' Nor would it have been in the least helpful to seek that title within the wider community of Hole Diggers, because in my view a  relationship with a shovel is extremely personal, and should not be turned into a hell on earth, or a commodity or in any way squandered to the whims of others.  That particular dark angel pulls me to his weekend, so that I can preserve some sense of title by having  Friday on Sunday. And what fun it is to belong.

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