were you swallowed by a whale?

It drizzled again today. The drizzle here in Cardiff is something that puts you in a dilemma: to use an umbrella or not to?

I just walked out. I saw people walking in the drizzle like me. One girl was wearing a hockey top and a skirt. Her pink legs were exposed to the rain and Feburay's freezing air. She was holding a hockey stick not an umbrella.

Yesterday, Mark said he wanted to quit.
Don't. I said. Hold on til the end of the semester. It's just a phase. It will pass.
Has your phase passed? Mark asked.
Not really.

I brought up quitting the course a month ago. I had been thinking about being a farmer for a long time. I don't understand why people have a low opinion of those who have an affection for soil. They eat things growing out of the soil. Yet they despise those who grow them.

Do you love your course more now? Mark asked.
No. Well, the same as before. I'm still not sure whether I want to be a journalist more than a farmer. I answered. Me and Mark have talked about farming since I introduced Joel Salatin to him 3 months ago.

Mark is from Indiana. He used to study philosophy, engineering and science at Purdue University. His parents are farmers. "I used to play with pigs. You know how you can get pig shit onto your face? Use a water hose, aim at the shit, and squirt, piu-- shit all over your face."


Aftering watching Joel Salatin's video clips I sent to him, Mark said, "Damien, I have a plan. I think I can do exactly what Salatin is doing. Do you want to farm with me?"

"Sure. That's all I have dreamed of."

"I've ordered Salatin's books. When I'm back home during Christmas I'll read them and make a plan. We have 500 acres of land..."

"But didn't you tell me that your parents have rented it to other people?"
"Well, my mother still owns it. And those people are my uncles. We can stop the agreement any time we want. That's the best part of my plan. Haha! Believe me, I can make it happen. I talked to my mother. She said I'm crazy and that my way of farming won't work. She's just too conventional to believe new things."
"What am I going to do on your farm?"
"You do what I do. Management and farming. I also have a friend. He can work together with us. He's a hard worker."

After he came back from Christmas back home, Mark had a pile of books on cattle farming on his desk. He lent two of Joel Salatin's books to me. One month later, I asked Mark how his farming plan was.

I had an online chat with my mother. She listed all the things that were not in my favour. That's what my mother does-- she lists all that's against you, and makes you depair. Finally you don't want to do it any more.

My parents won't be that patient. They just say "no and don't even think about it". End of the story. I said.

I'm thinking about quitting. Mark said yesterday when he washed dishes at the sink.
Why? Did you tell your mother? I asked.
Oh, yes.
What did she say?
She said, I suggest you finish the course. But if you do want to quit, then quit. I also told my friends, and they said, just quit, you stupid.
Mark, don't. Hold on til the end of the semester...
Let's hold on together in this.

The drizzle made me wet all over. My glasses went smoky when I stepped inside the house.
Hi, Damien. Mark, Mia and Ioanna greeted me in the kitchen.
Were you swallowed by a whale? Mark said. They all laughed.
By what? A whale? I asked.
Oh, I was just saying that you look wet.
Is it derived from the story about that little wooden boy?
Pinocchio? Oh, right, he is swallowed by a whale. But, no, that's about Jonah and the fish. It's from the Bible.

We played around and joked about in the kitchen. Ioanna and Mark argued about whether leakage from a man's penis will make a girl pregnant when having sex even if the man pulls out before jerking off. Later Mark had everybody stand in front of him, and pressed our arms with his hands while we tried to open our arms against his pressing. He let his hands go after one minute, and we all had a feeling as if our arms had become wings and would fly.

Damien. I forgot to tell you, I failed my exam. I got the result this afternoon. Mark said, holding a glass of beer. The course director said I need to take the exam again next year's January, and my dissertation won't be graded until after that.

Oh, fu--. I uttered an imcomplete word. My mind went blank. I felt as if I had been swallowed by a whale.