Lake Torture

What the hell is PP gonna do? Still no Franciscan Friar in sight to accompany her on a swim in the Mount St. Francis Lake. Shit. It’s so stupid. There’s the lake. Right there. 100 yards from her sweet room at the Mary Anderson Center, but yet she’s not supposed to swim in it cuz Friar Bill is busy?

What’s up with that? Doesn’t he realize that his schedule must be changed to accommodate her swimming in the Lake?

And if he can’t adjust his schedule for her, well, then, she’s just gonna hafta go swimming without him, right?

Right.

PP had bemoaned her sorry swimming frustration to fellow resident artist this morning, who nodded seriously when PP joked about swimming anyway sign or no sign.
"I don't think it's a joke," she'd murmured over coffee. "I think they really mean you can't swim unless you have a friar with you."
PP shook her head, "That is so stupid!"
She agreed, "Yeah, I see your point. But I don't know what to tell you...."

But PP could tell she really didn't get her point. And who could blame her? Unless you're swimming obsessed, you're not going to 'get it'--you're gonna think, What's the Big Deal? Go for a walk. Write your novel. Revel in the Peace of the chain saws felling the sweet trees in front of the church. (This could be another blog, but PP is gonna wait for now....)

Sighing, PP finished her coffee as she made her way back upstairs to get ready for a walk round the lake, still fuming about the absurdity of her plight.

Again, what the hell is gonna happen? Will the heavens open up and strike her down for her ungodly transgression? Somehow, she doesn’t believe this.






Oh, to be a turtle instead! These little sweethearts did give PP hope. She so loves the turtles at the pond at Woo Woo U, so to discover Indiana Turtles, well, imagine her excitement. Though when she called out to the one big one languishing in sunny turtle lassitude on a fallen in the lake tree trunk, he scurried into the murky water before she could make eye contact.


Can you make eye contact with a turtle?

Maybe not, but PP does so want to give it a try. From IN the lake, not on its shore!

So, tomorrow, she’s gonna go fetch her a friar. She’s just gonna march right over there past the goddamn statue of St. Francis of Assisi (Who, by the way, is supposed to be this super benevolent lover of all animals and such, right? Doesn't a swimming writer fit into this category of 'love' and 'blessings'?) and into the goddamn quaint red bricked church and find one of those friars to accompany her to the lake.



Or is this just a fantasy? Does PP really have this sorta religious fuck it chutzpah?

We’ll see. It’s day 3 without a swim and you all know how LONG that is!

(And yes, she knows she's supposed to be 'writing' here at the MAC, but how can she focus on her writing when she's so damn dry! It's impossible!)

Watch out Friar Bill, PP is coming after you. And nothing is scarier than a PP who has been denied her swim when it's right in front of her nose. Torture! that's what it is. (Hey aren't those Catholics known for their Torturous inclinations? Like weren't they the ones who were in charge of the Spanish Inquisition? Damn. No wonder PP can't get one to take her for a swim. He's probably gettin off on not letting any of the artists cool off in the goddamn Midwestern heat!)





Whew. Now that PP has figured out why she can't swim it's only a matter of how she'll get around the 'Rule'--and she can get around the rules, but she better be careful and keep the Angel of the Lake close by her side; otherwise, she may end up in a dark and dank basement below the Friary, screaming piteously for help but no one will hear her through the sound proof cement walls.

Is it worth the risk?
Hell, yeah! God may save some poor souls, but for PP, swimming is her only Saviour!