Day 5



Isn't there some kind of issue with the futility of it though? You know? I mean, self expression is all fine until you're just bathing and bathing and more bathing, isn't it? I'm all for a code of conduct, yes. Of course, a man must know the difference between right and wrong, there's nothing more simple. What I mean to say is, where are we going with this...ah...what? Mustn't, oh dry it, just dry it. Mustn't. But if he puts his left foot forward, where's the space for his right foot, do you find my meaning? No? Well let me put it like this. Perhaps I say something...perhaps you touch my...mustn't!...perhaps you touch my elbow, and I was unaware, totally unaware that you might do so, I might be put off. I might ponder till sunset. If though, instead of this pondering, my feelings weren't so slight, wouldn't that make sense? Because at the center of the matter, you've just touched my elbow and I haven't asked you to, nor do I need you to? Really, there is a futility to it. And perhaps the moral is to move one foot forward whilst moving the other to the back, but if we all did that we'd never build anything but canals or trenches. Have you ever met a canal? Knock me down! Hold my hand! Neither have I, and never hope I do. I hope I never have to cross a canal. They say you walk across a canal, you come back a lesser man. Maybe not a man at all.
       
    Like you know the pretty people talk like dogs. It's the only way to keep the stars in position. A pretty person talking like a parrot, that's acceptable, but a beautiful little thing spinning about the place talking as a Persian cat may do, it'd corrupt the very nature to the core. What I'm talking about is order. And again all I need to say is, leave it alone. Leave it alone, you old mother. Am I going grey? Leave it alone behind the oven. That's a good place for an idea!
       
    Truly, self expression, by all means, ask those questions. But don't tell me it's for my sake or the Queen's. Knock me down! Yesterday, a man may have asked me to marry him, I said, not for all the gold in Italy! Not for all the gold in Spain! I'll touch your elbow for a silver fork, but marriage? Damnable pastry. He had a mouth full of teeth, which I like to see, but I've always known not to trust a man with too round a head. It's why I never speak to my uncle Patsen. Head like a filthy orange. I trust him as far as I can kick a cat. You know, that scoundrel, he once said to me, he once said, "You've lovely hair boy." Pardon! Disgraceful, no? Well you can imagine my horror. Lovely hair indeed. I had half a mind to slap his nose right there and then walk to the chapel. My fingers have grown out of proportion to one another. I would have made a wonderful pianist. Stupid cats. They always come back.