* This is the true religion, the religion of snow
- Billy Collins
It might have been a side effect of one too many professional gatherings I'd attended in recent weeks, or perhaps it was the result, more generally, of an excess of performed professionalism I'd built up like arterial plaque over the past several years, but whatever the cause, abruptly last night, whilst on a black and barren stretch of the Pike, halfway home from a late night at work, I was overcome by the impulse - nay, the necessity - to try my first-ever spit take.
I swigged a mouthful of water from the bottle beside me, replaced both hands on the wheel, imagined something had caused me great surprise, and with as much suddenness and force as I could muster, blasted the liquid forth. Drops, far more copious than I had anticipated, sprayed far and wide, covering the windshield and dash, and in the darkness glittered and shone like dewy stars. I was giddy with release. It was easily the best thing I've done in weeks, if not all year, and by best I mean not simply a thing of pleasure but of virtue.
I do, I do believe in a vaudeville-loving God.
* from Shoveling Snow With Buddha, a poem my mother loves
6 comments:
Love it! :) Wish you had pics!
What a fabulous release. I'm inspired.
That's awesome. I got to do a spit take in a production of A Midsummer Night's Dream recently. Totally made the show for me. (And it takes a surprising amount of practice to get it down to a fine mist.)
I'll have to try that. Outside. At the beach. Hope it didn't hamper your visibility while driving. Glad you got it off your chest!
Loved this, so much, and it stretches my brain to even imagine it.
It made me want to share this with you - my pals Joel Jeske and Grandma (Barry Lubin). Apparently there is a lot of technique involved in water gags...
Love,
Kate
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DY19L07FwPE
Hello Leah,
I met you today after your brilliant talk on memoir, in Boston. I was enthralled. Thank you.
I bought two of your books, and you kindly signed one - in favor of one excellent word in place of seven little ones.
When I asked about your mentor, before Mr. Freedman, and you said your mother, I did not realize until I was reading your book, and your website, about her diagnosis of ovarian cancer. As a physician with a particular interest in breast and ovarian cancer, I can empathize with your situation, and that of your mother. I am reminded of a talk with another woman, possibly your mother's age, who is quite beautiful (as I imagine your mother to be), who got quite upset when someone commented on how well she looked, despite being very ill. She told me "Don't they know how the outside does not reflect how I feel on the inside, and how much work it took me to look like this, although I feel like death warmed over". I wonder if your mother ever has felt like that?
Thinking of you,
Annette Richard
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