HAIL IN BRISBANE
October 14th 2009 00:47
It was around three in the afternoon and it was hailing outside and Jude was sitting next to me, smoking with one hand and holding the remote with the other, putting the volume up and down, up and down, as we watched channel V on his enormous plasma screen television. He kept asking me about bands:
“Have you seen Temper Trap?”
“Do you think Jamie T is handsome?”
“What do you think of the Bloody Beetroots?”
“Dean, Dean, look at this video. Isn’t it the fucking shit?”
But I ignored him. I was bored and I was drifting. I tried to start a relationship with Melanie when I returned from Japan but it was failing. I wanted to tell her things, I wanted to tell her stories, I wanted to provide excited elaborations about what was happening in my life but nothing would come out; all that came out were bursts of one-liners. In the end we would always fight.
“I don’t know where I’m heading,” I told Jude. “Where am I heading? What’s the end? What’s the season finale?”
Jude nudged me. He was smiling. “Let’s take our shirts off and run around in the hail.”
We took our shirts off and walked to the door. We stood there for a while, not saying anything.
“Should we really?” was all I could ask.
Jude shrugged.
We opened the door and ran outside. We ran around the lawn, screaming in pain or what we thought was pain. We ran back inside, laughed, cried a little bit, and then didn’t talk to each other for the rest of the day.
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