memories of louis

we crunched along a gravel path when all of a sudden a mallard staggered from the bushes in obvious distress. i backed away like a frightened child but louis was bolder. he took the bird under his arm and squeezed it gently several times until something small popped out of its beak. a fat ruby red berry arced through the still summer air and then with frantic wing beats the mallard launched himself after it, over it, and away into the trees. i gazed in that direction long after the creature had disappeared, so it was some time later that i realized louis was crying.

on the occasion of the break up of his first marriage, louis abruptly disappeared. it took us a few weeks to track him down to a small house in a small town near oxford. percy and i took the train out of king's cross and went to pay him a visit. i recall it was a radiant spring day and we both had our jackets off and sleeves rolled by the time we crested a hill to discover louis sitting cross-legged on the slate roof of his small home. we attempted to engage him in conversation but his mind was clearly as far away as his stare. the house was barely furnished but i pulled out two chairs and we sat on the lawn beneath him, enjoying the colourful decay of afternoon into evening. i must have fallen asleep because i suddenly founf myself jolting awake. louis was stood a few yards in front of me, smoking, back silhouetted against the last of the day's light. he turned around and discarded his cigarette in a single flowing motion, and said "let's go home chaps".

yet, despite his appearance, he was really a very complicated young man with a whole set of personalities, one inside the other like a nest of chinese boxes.

can we use this thread to speculate on his upcoming nuptials, as we have been given permission to do so by the man himself

that's a wonderful idea max

if he agrees to take her last name he could really save himself a lot of trouble in the long-term

also whiney

lolllllllll

if you are reading this elle dawg i will 100% come to the wedding if you invite me

um unless its in new zealand no offense

we buried my grandfather on a fog-shrouded st patrick's day. i stood looking down at the coffin while people waited patiently for me to speak. it was a box - not a symbol, not an allegory, not even a coffin, just a box. the idea of my grandfather being in that box, deep down in a damp hole in the earth, was simply too absurd. it was all i could do not to laugh. i didn't know how long i had stared silently but i realized that louis was speaking for me. he spoke well and he spoke truly and the last observation that he made was that my grandfather would have seen the positive side of being dead on this particular day, the day of his funeral, as he had always violently despised the irish. and that was when the laughter finally burst forth and try as i might i just couldn't control it.

poor louis' handwriting almost gave out when he wrote of this. of the six men who never reached the ship, he thinks two perished of pure fright in that accursed instant. the thing cannot be described - there is no language for such abysms of shrieking and immemorial lunacy, such eldritch contradictions of all matter, force, and cosmic order. a mountain walked or stumbled. god!

one thing i will say, louis probably loved cricket better than any of us

rip l0uis of ilx

;;;;;;;;;;;;;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~;;;;;;;;;;;;; <-- river of tears

*surveys the flooded world*

:)

http://freechristimages.org/Images_Genesis/Noah_After_the_Flood_Francesco_Bassano.jpg