BONNE FÊTE, BICYCLETTE
Occasions for silliness that resist sadness and scepticism. Happy-making mini-antics. 180 degrees away from vandalism: nobody and nothing is hurt or uglified. Somebody and something is made a little better, laughs out loud, grins inwardly. Inside-Out Shirt Day. Backwards Pants Day! Get out those costumes: a full-on disguise or just put a pigeon feather behind your ear. Holidays on no official calendar. Dada time. An unscheduled Second-Line Parade appears on the balcony, marches down the hallway or just twirls batons in your own mind: joyful reverberating noise even if it's only you tootling to the begonias. Tintamarre. Bang that pot at 8pm. Revel. Make something out of nothing, well: try. Beautify. Silli-fy. Cultivate circus-attitudes all around, minus the caged animals, admission tickets, sad clowns: Be the circus of the heart, be that feeling of swelling wonder of something wonderous. Ride your bike with no hands. Blow out all the candles, make it suddenly perfect and dark. Then, sing a tune into the pure dark, harmonize. Fireflies are out! Barefoot, wet grass: no jars, no catch-and-release. Just to chase that flickering awe. No toxic fireworks thank you very much. Just the Sky Sparkles, please. Happy gasps, all ages. A present in the mailbox! For me? What's the occasion? No occasion.
Bonne fête, bicyclette!
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