A Life Less Ordinary?
August 26th 2006 16:11
It was never unusual to think about a horse at every waking moment. It was never unusual to step like one, snort like one or scribble a fine head on empty paper that was often the exaggerated figment of imagination.
And then life got in the way, because life gets in the way of everything. Horses began to sub-lease with rent, bills, responsibilities. Love. It would be unusual now if I could think about a horse at every waking moment, but it would be grand if I could.
Is it a life less ordinary to live with a horse in a city with four million souls surrounding me? I go about daily business in riding clothes, commuting from a stable to a bank or supermarket, now only mildly noticing the entourage of stares. Is it the tight jodhpurs or the boots? Is it the tight jodhpurs and the boots together? If I slap my dressage whip hard against my chaps in the middle of the Eastern Suburbs will all of man perspire!
There is a curiosity that appears to follow the horse owner in the urban jungle, perhaps because an association with this animal in a diocese of offices and apartments is unusual. Do non-riding women appear largely indifferent as I walk along while men seem to be enjoying the view! Is that a figment of my imagination? Often I wonder about the sexuality of horse ownership, about its connotations and its perceptions. Is it the clothes that are so tight or the beast between the legs!
At every waking moment there is a horse on my mind, at many there is one beside me. There is less time these days for my exaggerated imagination, but I know that a life with a horse is an unusual one and Sydney reminds me just how unusual it seems to be.
And then life got in the way, because life gets in the way of everything. Horses began to sub-lease with rent, bills, responsibilities. Love. It would be unusual now if I could think about a horse at every waking moment, but it would be grand if I could.
Is it a life less ordinary to live with a horse in a city with four million souls surrounding me? I go about daily business in riding clothes, commuting from a stable to a bank or supermarket, now only mildly noticing the entourage of stares. Is it the tight jodhpurs or the boots? Is it the tight jodhpurs and the boots together? If I slap my dressage whip hard against my chaps in the middle of the Eastern Suburbs will all of man perspire!
There is a curiosity that appears to follow the horse owner in the urban jungle, perhaps because an association with this animal in a diocese of offices and apartments is unusual. Do non-riding women appear largely indifferent as I walk along while men seem to be enjoying the view! Is that a figment of my imagination? Often I wonder about the sexuality of horse ownership, about its connotations and its perceptions. Is it the clothes that are so tight or the beast between the legs!
At every waking moment there is a horse on my mind, at many there is one beside me. There is less time these days for my exaggerated imagination, but I know that a life with a horse is an unusual one and Sydney reminds me just how unusual it seems to be.
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Comment by jon
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Comment by JessO
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I wonder what the fascination is from non-horsey people. Can anyone tell me?
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Comment by Kleonaptra
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And its not just the city. When I pop down to windsor and couldnt be bothered changing out of my farm clothes I get stared at just as bad as in the city. I think horsey people carry a certain poise and confidence, a 'dont mess with me' air. We get it from our horses.
And, Oh, my claps get louder at someone else who can step and speak like a horse - I spent so much time as a kid out in paddocks pretending to be one of the herd, I think Im more horse than human. When they knicker, I whicker back. When they call, I whinny. Drives my city boy boyfriend wild, especially in those tight jods and shiny high boots....
Comment by JessOw
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Comment by Kleonaptra
Kalikapsychosis
So nice to meet someone who can talk to her horse!
Up and coming - poems for my other horses! Zayfir, the colt, is my absolute pride.
Comment by JessOw
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