Didgeridoo Morning (Musing)
The humming of the electric toothbrush against hard calcified structures that is teeth with the modulating movements of the lips, creating a low hollow sound like the didgeridoo as that sound resonates out of the mouth. It sounds as if I am back to the land of kangaroos, crocodile meat and Aboriginal boomerangs. The inescapable visual imagery of the dry arid parched sandy desert that is the Outback seem to beckon, drawing me into its windy cloudy shades of moving grey, alluding to the hope that there is an oasis within that desert. Wait a minute, is that a well? Or is that merely a mirage.
And the interesting thing was that I am still standing in front of the bathroom mirror looking blankly into the face that was half-looking back at me. What will this face do today? Will it change the world? My eyes half-closed, face unshaven, voice gruff and growly, I am so not ready to meet the day; much less change the world. The sticky mucus between my eyelids seem to be telling me something. As if speaking words that I could not understand, they look like words, but with each flutter of the eyelids, the words seem to lose its meaning and I lose the ability to enunciate my thoughts.
A gargle of the mouth, and we are on to another adventure. There is something about the weekend that drives you to madness, a creative genius that is both unwavering and unyielding, it drives you and it doesn’t stop abruptly like most events. And like the thumping beats of a techno rhythm, it drives you inch by step by yard towards that mysterious alluring light. The song appears in your mind, and you’re ready to move.