GIRLS
March 9th 2008 14:45
This guy told me that I’m the voice of today’s youth. Imagine if I actually do represent every single young person in the world. Imagine if every kid in Brisbane is a self absorbed, hopeless romantic male who thinks that he can make a career out of writing fiction. That will piss a whole bunch of people off.
I remember a class I went to. Every student had to introduce themselves and talk about their hobbies. Whenever someone talked about their hobbies, they’d always go, “… oh, and I like music!”
I wonder what would’ve happened if I went and yelled, “…oh, and I hate music!”
I went to Borders the other day. I started reading this book called Women, by Charles Bukowski. This girl nudged me. I looked up and it was a friend from a class I went to last year, one of the ones who said that they like music.
Do you still like music? I joked, but she didn’t get it. I didn’t really get it. She told me that she was buying postcards. I told her that she can buy cheaper postcards somewhere else, not Borders. She told me that she likes the postcards in Borders. I told her that there are better, cheaper postcards elsewhere. She asked me, Where? And I thought for a moment, and I shrugged. Somewhere else, I said. Somewhere cheaper, somewhere more creative. She asked me what I was reading. I said, Women. She laughed. She was even prettier when she laughed. She looked at my lips. My lips were dry.
We went to Fat Louie’s, but I kind of wanted to keep reading. I’m sick that way. Sometimes I like to drown in books and watch my body float to the surface, completely solid, completely alone, any sort of evidence of my identity washed away by the countless words of other people. But she promised to buy me a drink. In the end I bought her a drink. I bought a scotch and dry and she wanted a black Cruiser, whatever that was. It was Happy Hour so there were a lot of people there. This guy with a necktie and a bowler hat lost at a game of pool and in his anger, threw his bowler hat; it flew across the room like a Frisbee and the edge of it actually hit my friend’s throat. Her bloody throat. She winced and I yelled at the guy who threw his bowler hat, and he yelled at me back, and this circle formed around us, and we tackled each other awkwardly.
My ex-classmate and I stumbled out of Fat Louie’s, a bit more pissed off and ashamed of ourselves than usual. Her face was red and she told me that she was going. I said, Okay. We sort of hugged but didn’t want to hug. I started to walk back to Borders but I ran into James, this friend of a friend. He said, Hi. We didn’t have much in common but for some reason he gave off the vibe that he thought that we have much in common. He laughed and patted my arm, even if neither of us said anything that resembled a joke. He asked me if I wanted to smoke with him. I said no at first, but then he told me that he’d give me one. In the end I had to buy a carton for the both of us.
We sat somewhere and talked, smoked, and he started spewing out a lot of information about his ex-girlfriend. He cried on my shoulder. There are those sick people out there who are completely happy with their relationships, and because they are so damn happy with what they have they convince you, you jealous bastard, to ask yourself, Why the hell am I single? James was not one of these people. He just cried a lot. He had the makings of an artist.
James left and I started to head back to Borders, but I bumped into Hailie. Hailie hugged me and looked at my lips. I looked at her lips and she had grown a moustache. She had an obvious, sort of thick moustache. We talked and flirted. I ran my fingers along her hair and made a comment about the blonde streak that ran down it, but somewhere between my words and my finger actions I remembered her moustache all over again. I focused on her skirt. I leant in to kiss her but changed my mind.
She yelled, Come back here! Kiss me!
No!
Come back, Dean!
I can’t.
She pulled me in but I pushed away.
Dammit, Dean! Just kiss me already! You want it more than I do!
I told her that I was drunk. I pretended to wobble.
It’s my moustache, isn’t it, Dean, you prick?
No!
I’m a feminist, you know?
Well I’m not!
What the fuck, Dean?
I hear that a lot. What the fuck, Dean?
Haile jabbed her fingers in my direction. You don’t go to uni, you don’t do anything. You’re nothing. At least Brent is doing an apprenticeship. He even reads the paper. Hailie walked away.
Who the hell is Brent?
I put my sunglasses on and headed for Borders, but by then Borders had already closed, so I headed home. At home I made a meal for myself. The house was quiet and told no story. I looked at an atlas my brother gave me before he and my mother moved out. I closed my eyes and chose a place to go to. I’m going to Acapulco, I thought to myself. I listened to music, because I like music, and fell asleep, hoping to dream of Acapulco.
Here we are, Eva screamed. She was crying and angry and crying. We’re at the edge of the world and we’re falling off it.
The world is round, I yelled back.
Everything you do annoys me, babe, everything! You don’t get me at all.
Have you ever thought that you don’t get me?
What the fuck, Dean? I put so much into you. I snobbed all my friends for you. Yet you’re hurt. You’re always so fucking hurt!
I’m not hurt, okay? Just listen to me, okay?
Okay okay okay - stop saying OKAY!
I’m not!
Eva glanced at the door, and when she did, something about it transfixed her, caught her by a tempting surprise. It took her some force to look back at me. Her voice stopped trembling. Her face was flustered. She looked beautiful, no matter what feather of emotion settled on her face.
I want to feel something good, ANYTHING GOOD, she said. I want to feel something when I’m with you. But I don’t anymore. It’s gone. You’ve put it all into your awful words and your slutty girls and burnt them away.
I told her to shut the hell up. I told her not to go to Sydney because it will change her. I told her that I loved her. Nobody believes me but I really do love you. I moved in closer to her and she crossed her head no, but didn’t move. She didn’t move forward, did not retaliate. The kiss told me that I was stupid. The kiss told me red. It told me blue. It told me about that time I told her I was going to marry her. It told me about that time she tucked herself into my arms. It told me about that time we drank cordial. It told me about clouds and hands pulling grass out of the earth and throwing it in the air, and eyes watching the torn grass fall back down. I couldn’t imagine what the kiss would feel like twenty years from then. You can’t tell someone that you love them - not you, Dean, certainly not you. Her tears were warm on my left shoulder and I was ashamed of time, ashamed of that person inside me.
| 130 |
| Vote |
Add To: 
subscribe to this blog
Comment by Lady Henrietta Muddling
Potter in a Harry
My son loves your writing. He used to have a site on here called Mind Orgasms. I like your writing too. It's wonderful. My son David used to live with me but he disappeared a couple of weeks ago, and I haven't seen nor heard from him since. He said something about heading to Brisbane. So if you see him, can you let me know? I'm busy publishing his writings he left on my computer on Orble. He's a very strange man, my son. I've got no idea what his wirting is all about and whether or not he killed lots of people, or whether he just made it all up in his head.
Henrietta.
Comment by katyzzz
Photography Tips
MS Paint Art
I enjoyed your tales, I think somehow you'll manage to do what you want but you'll need to forge the path as well as write,
Henrietta writes well, the people you meet, as you say.
Comment by Tim_booth
Keep writing, I will keep dropping by. I linked you in my portuguese blog.
Cheers mate.
Comment by Cibbuano
Hunt Famous
Orble Post of the Day
Fat Cult
Techbreak
Comment by Lilla
From The Home Front
Enviro Warrior
Dream Herald
Esoteric Bookshop
wonderful as Always (pun intended)...
Right there, right now : just surfacing .. again ...
Lilla ...
Comment by The wonderful Peter Yang
The First Wonderful Peter Yang's Variety Blog
The New Wonderful Peter Yang's variety blog
Power Ranger Online
TV Online
Solar Energy Pannel
Stay healthy and loose weight
Comment by Always Eighteen
Always Eighteen
I just read your latest piece. I haven't heard from David in a while. I'm not much of a juggler or a performer, so it's always a pleasure for me to entertain with the written word.
Good to hear from you/him? Reality's always a bit subjective, isn't it...
Comment by Always Eighteen
Always Eighteen
Katyzzz,
It was an arsehole of a long time writing it, too. I'm not much into lengthy posts, but due to certain things that happened that day, I felt that I didn't want to leave much out. You read it, right?
... I've got a rake and I'm forging this bloodbath of a path as I type. Right now my path has consisted of a lot of heavy, heavy days, but one day I hope to reach that point you read about; I dream of becoming one of those guys who became something out of hard work. If hard work doesn't give me good grace, then I guess I'll just have to win the lotto.
Comment by Always Eighteen
Always Eighteen
Love your site, even if I don't understand the Portuguese entries. I don't understand much of anything anyway. There's a picture of the Friends box set, which is cool.
I like your taste in music. Are you originally from Australia?
Comment by Always Eighteen
Always Eighteen
A lot of the books I read can only be found in Borders, or online. In Brisbane, anyway. Plus I get discounts from them
Comment by Always Eighteen
Always Eighteen
Never knew you were a fellow surface floater
Comment by Tim_booth
I can assure I'm 100% Portuguese going back three generations at least, so I don't think I'm Australian. It's a pity tough, I love the sun and hot weather. Keep writing man, it's wonderful to read you. I'm very glad I found your blog. Maybe one day, if I get published and translated, you can read my stuff too.
Cheers
Comment by Always Eighteen
Always Eighteen
I'd love to read your stuff. Let's make a deal - let's both aim high. Maybe one day you can read my book in Portugese, and compare it with the English one, and conclude that they're both kind of dodgy.