‘What do you mean?! What happened?’
I had called the number that he had left me on the answering machine. He explained to me that he was in a head on collision when he was driving back from the train station, after dropping me off. My heart sank. Daniel was finding it hard to talk without his voice breaking.
‘The paramedics said that he wouldn’t have felt a thing. He died instantly.’
‘I… I just don’t know what to say… I’m so sorry.’
‘Yeah’
We were silent for about two minutes. I was taking in what he had just told me and I’m sure Daniel was thinking about the tragedy of having outgrown his own son, something that he was going to have to live with for the rest of his life. All I could do was apologies again and again, more to myself then to Daniel.
‘We’re holding his funeral in three days time if you wanted to be there.’
‘Yes of course. Is… there anything…anything I can do to help out?’
‘No we will be ok, but thank you for your offer. The funeral will be at the monk house on clive street at one pm. We will hopefully see you then’.
If you suffer from insomnia and have a bad nights sleep you may get a couple of hours of shuteye. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. Time slowed to a standstill and that night felt like an eternity.
I called work to tell them that I would be taking personal leave for a week. I called Samantha to tell her what happened at five past eight in the morning knowing that she would have just turned on her computer at work.
‘Are you OK?’
‘Um, I think so. I didn’t really sleep well last night but yeah I’ll be ok. The funeral is on Friday so I’ll need to go back there.’
‘Did you want me to come with you?’
Typically I would have said no but I couldn’t go to my friend’s funeral without support. I never met any of his friends or family. We originally met at chess club and we only ever hung out by ourselves. He never got to know my friends nor did I with his friends. It was one of those relationships where we both knew our mutual friends would never get along. It was never spoken about but we both knew this. He used to live in the city here but had recently moved back to be closer to his parents, his mother being chronically ill.
‘Yes, that would be… very nice of you if you could do that.’
‘Of course, of course. I’ll organise the plane fairs for you if you wish.’
‘That would be great. Thank you so much Samantha. I really do appreciate it.’
‘Shh, don’t mention it. Did you want me to come over tonight after work.’
‘Sure, if you like.’
‘I do.’
I sat at home watching daytime television for the rest of the day waiting for Samantha to come home after work. Dr. Phil didn’t help matters.
She was very careful around me when she got home. She was affectionate but let me have my space when needed. Caring but not over bearing, which was what I needed at this point of time. She stayed at my place for the two nights before the funeral. I didn’t say much during that time.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Monday, April 21, 2008
Faith, hope and love
I went to Samantha’s house not long after that. I had not seen her since arriving from the land that doesn’t pronounce their i’s correctly and it had been three days since I had been back. She was glad to see me when she opened the door. She lived in a terrace house by herself. About a year ago she decided to move out of the share house she was living in so she could concentrate on her own life. She got sick and tired of counselling her flatmates when they broke up with their partners, lost their jobs or talking to them when they were drunk, high or both.
When she got this inner city house she had dreams of renovating and selling it for a massive profit but didn’t take into account the amount of elbow grease that you have to put in, so you can make the renovations somewhat affordable. None of this bothered me one bit. I was used to living in run down shacks next to freeways so this was pleasant even if a few cracks were appearing on the walls.
It had been a couple of weeks since I had been here and I noticed that she had begun work on the spare room, making a start on painting her feature wall a dark purple. She had her first coat done and I applauded her on it. She said that she got bored whilst I was away and she didn’t like watching DVDs by herself. I jokingly thought to myself that we should spend less time together just so she can get more done on her renovations but then thought that that was slightly nasty so I withdrew my wry smirk. Samantha noticed this and asked what was funny.
‘Nothing’.
‘Yeah right’
I tried to cover myself up ‘I’m serious! I’m just happy to be back that’s all’
She knew I was lying but let it go. She asked me how my trip was and I told her about my little journey but left out the part about Catherine.
‘So did you pick up any ladies while you were away?’
‘Shit yeah, I was king of the town. They were thinking of making a bronze statue of my face and placing it in the town centre with the words: Ioju, the two-week procreator extraordinaire. I have to except the designs first of course.’
‘Of course you do babe. I’m going to put the kettle on.’
‘Excellent. That’s what the last girl said as well’.
‘Oh really? Did she tell you to fuck off at some point as well?’
‘Oh you bet.’
That night in bed I kept on thinking about why I didn’t tell Samantha about Catherine. There was no reason why I shouldn’t tell her cause nothing happened or was going to happen. In the same respect however why should I tell her everything? What if she did take it the wrong way? How do you go about telling your girlfriend that some coke crazed girl who makes a lot of money in a brothel (apparently) hit on you at a bar and that you saw her a second time by chance hundreds of kilometres away from where you first met her. What was Samantha supposed to say? “OK, I’ll go put the kettle on? Keep on telling me about your time at the bordello while this Jasmine tea is brewing. You need to speak up though cause I’m in the kitchen!”
Perhaps I was over thinking the matter since I wasn’t getting to sleep in a big hurry. Samantha was next to me quietly snoring. I concentrated on her snoring instead and eventually got to sleep.
We both woke up at about seven am so we could both go to our respected workplaces. She kissed me goodbye as I lay in bed. I didn’t have to leave for another hour. I watched her drive away through the window. It seemed like a nice day outside which wasn’t a good thing if you were going to spend the majority of your day in an office with minimal natural light filtering through. I’m not going to bore you with how my day went, as you already know what I do for a living. It was yet again uneventful.
When work finished I decided to walk home instead of catching the bus. The setting sun was still surprisingly bright and lovely. A light breeze was coming though for the night which made it the perfect weather for a stroll. I walked past a flamenco guitar busker playing his instrument masterfully. I wondered if I should start learning the guitar so I could serenade random people with my nylon strings for twenty cents each. I romanticised about all the lovely Italian woman (and I don’t know why Italian and not Spanish or Latin American woman) that I would meet and fall in love with as they passed me by but I then thought about the years of training and practise I would need to master the guitar, which put me off the whole idea quick smart. Also, there is no such thing as love, right?
Walking next to me at this instance was a middle-aged man in a dark suit who was talking to himself. I tried to catch what he was saying and noticed that he had his head down, like he was reading a book of some sought.
‘Work hard and become a leader; be lazy and never succeed.’
Was he reading a self-help book of some sought? He kept on reading quotes out loud.
‘Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning’
Yeah, I don’t know about that one.
‘I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’
I just realised that what I had next to me was a Bible pusher of the strangest kind. Normally you see them sprucing on the side street with a megaphone but this guy had some style and pizzazz. You think he’s quietly reading to himself and only naturally, you want to hear what he is reading too so you listen in carefully and then before you know it, BAM, you receive quotes from our apparent one true God on how to seek his loyalty and forgiveness. In hindsight though this tactic could be used as a marketing tool for any organisation. Word of mouth from the one that heard the word from the mouth of the loud reader. Cheaper then a mass billboard promotion too!
‘Love is patient; love is kind
and envies no one.
Love is never boastful, nor conceited, nor rude;
never selfish, not quick to take offense.
There is nothing love cannot face;
there is no limit to its faith,
its hope, and endurance.
In a word, there are three things
that last forever: faith, hope, and love;
but the greatest of them all is love.’
The timing of me coming up to my house could not have been greater. Things could have gotten violent with the Bible pusher and I if he had a few more quotes under his sleeve.
I walked in and turned on my computer. This was a natural habit of mine so I could check if I had received any emails for the day. I quickly made a cup of tea and checked my mail. A mass email from a friend who was overseas was waiting for me. I’m one of those strange people who actually takes the time to read those emails. It’s called escapism via someone else’s reality. My friend Tom was just hitting his strides in South Africa and was telling me all about his time in Johannesburg. He also had attached about a dozen pictures of himself in random bars with random people. A bottle of Castle lager was in his hands in every picture.
I made some stir fry for the night and turned on the television to find some mind numbing entertainment. I watched a reality show and then another reality show and then another reality show with a little more swearing in it. By that stage it was about eleven pm and I was ready to go sleep. I started to walk towards my room but noticed that the little light on the answering machine was blinking. Who would call me on my home phone? Everyone just either emails me or calls my mobile. Hmm. Clicking play. The recorded message was from someone who I had never spoken to before. His name was Daniel and it turns out he was the father of the friend of mine I was staying with a few days ago. Daniel had called me to let me know that my friend had just died.
When she got this inner city house she had dreams of renovating and selling it for a massive profit but didn’t take into account the amount of elbow grease that you have to put in, so you can make the renovations somewhat affordable. None of this bothered me one bit. I was used to living in run down shacks next to freeways so this was pleasant even if a few cracks were appearing on the walls.
It had been a couple of weeks since I had been here and I noticed that she had begun work on the spare room, making a start on painting her feature wall a dark purple. She had her first coat done and I applauded her on it. She said that she got bored whilst I was away and she didn’t like watching DVDs by herself. I jokingly thought to myself that we should spend less time together just so she can get more done on her renovations but then thought that that was slightly nasty so I withdrew my wry smirk. Samantha noticed this and asked what was funny.
‘Nothing’.
‘Yeah right’
I tried to cover myself up ‘I’m serious! I’m just happy to be back that’s all’
She knew I was lying but let it go. She asked me how my trip was and I told her about my little journey but left out the part about Catherine.
‘So did you pick up any ladies while you were away?’
‘Shit yeah, I was king of the town. They were thinking of making a bronze statue of my face and placing it in the town centre with the words: Ioju, the two-week procreator extraordinaire. I have to except the designs first of course.’
‘Of course you do babe. I’m going to put the kettle on.’
‘Excellent. That’s what the last girl said as well’.
‘Oh really? Did she tell you to fuck off at some point as well?’
‘Oh you bet.’
That night in bed I kept on thinking about why I didn’t tell Samantha about Catherine. There was no reason why I shouldn’t tell her cause nothing happened or was going to happen. In the same respect however why should I tell her everything? What if she did take it the wrong way? How do you go about telling your girlfriend that some coke crazed girl who makes a lot of money in a brothel (apparently) hit on you at a bar and that you saw her a second time by chance hundreds of kilometres away from where you first met her. What was Samantha supposed to say? “OK, I’ll go put the kettle on? Keep on telling me about your time at the bordello while this Jasmine tea is brewing. You need to speak up though cause I’m in the kitchen!”
Perhaps I was over thinking the matter since I wasn’t getting to sleep in a big hurry. Samantha was next to me quietly snoring. I concentrated on her snoring instead and eventually got to sleep.
We both woke up at about seven am so we could both go to our respected workplaces. She kissed me goodbye as I lay in bed. I didn’t have to leave for another hour. I watched her drive away through the window. It seemed like a nice day outside which wasn’t a good thing if you were going to spend the majority of your day in an office with minimal natural light filtering through. I’m not going to bore you with how my day went, as you already know what I do for a living. It was yet again uneventful.
When work finished I decided to walk home instead of catching the bus. The setting sun was still surprisingly bright and lovely. A light breeze was coming though for the night which made it the perfect weather for a stroll. I walked past a flamenco guitar busker playing his instrument masterfully. I wondered if I should start learning the guitar so I could serenade random people with my nylon strings for twenty cents each. I romanticised about all the lovely Italian woman (and I don’t know why Italian and not Spanish or Latin American woman) that I would meet and fall in love with as they passed me by but I then thought about the years of training and practise I would need to master the guitar, which put me off the whole idea quick smart. Also, there is no such thing as love, right?
Walking next to me at this instance was a middle-aged man in a dark suit who was talking to himself. I tried to catch what he was saying and noticed that he had his head down, like he was reading a book of some sought.
‘Work hard and become a leader; be lazy and never succeed.’
Was he reading a self-help book of some sought? He kept on reading quotes out loud.
‘Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning’
Yeah, I don’t know about that one.
‘I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’
I just realised that what I had next to me was a Bible pusher of the strangest kind. Normally you see them sprucing on the side street with a megaphone but this guy had some style and pizzazz. You think he’s quietly reading to himself and only naturally, you want to hear what he is reading too so you listen in carefully and then before you know it, BAM, you receive quotes from our apparent one true God on how to seek his loyalty and forgiveness. In hindsight though this tactic could be used as a marketing tool for any organisation. Word of mouth from the one that heard the word from the mouth of the loud reader. Cheaper then a mass billboard promotion too!
‘Love is patient; love is kind
and envies no one.
Love is never boastful, nor conceited, nor rude;
never selfish, not quick to take offense.
There is nothing love cannot face;
there is no limit to its faith,
its hope, and endurance.
In a word, there are three things
that last forever: faith, hope, and love;
but the greatest of them all is love.’
The timing of me coming up to my house could not have been greater. Things could have gotten violent with the Bible pusher and I if he had a few more quotes under his sleeve.
I walked in and turned on my computer. This was a natural habit of mine so I could check if I had received any emails for the day. I quickly made a cup of tea and checked my mail. A mass email from a friend who was overseas was waiting for me. I’m one of those strange people who actually takes the time to read those emails. It’s called escapism via someone else’s reality. My friend Tom was just hitting his strides in South Africa and was telling me all about his time in Johannesburg. He also had attached about a dozen pictures of himself in random bars with random people. A bottle of Castle lager was in his hands in every picture.
I made some stir fry for the night and turned on the television to find some mind numbing entertainment. I watched a reality show and then another reality show and then another reality show with a little more swearing in it. By that stage it was about eleven pm and I was ready to go sleep. I started to walk towards my room but noticed that the little light on the answering machine was blinking. Who would call me on my home phone? Everyone just either emails me or calls my mobile. Hmm. Clicking play. The recorded message was from someone who I had never spoken to before. His name was Daniel and it turns out he was the father of the friend of mine I was staying with a few days ago. Daniel had called me to let me know that my friend had just died.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Spaceman
The Villa vs United football scores were being shown on the bars fuzzy television in the corner. Villa had beaten United 3-1 and were now on top of the ladder. If I was a football fan then I’m sure that would have meant something to me but I was more interested in raiding the jukebox. Someone had put on, out of all things, 10cc’s ‘I’m not in Love’ and whatever you think of the song, its place is not in a run down pub. You expect AC/DC’s Back in Black or Welcome to the Jungle from Guns ‘n’ Roses if you were from that side of town but not this. Granted, it’s production value is still fantastic for a song produced in the mid seventies but still, no place for a drinking hole. If you indeed need to get your fix of 10cc they will be appearing at Retrofest, August 30-31. There will be no more mention of 10cc in this tale ever again.
The end of the song was coming up so I made my way over to the jukebox to start selecting. It was unfortunate therefore that I found out that someone had put two dollars in the jukebox to give them three songs, not one. I flipped through the jewel cases on display to find CD’s that were once popular in the grunge movement of the early nineties and some obscure pop compilation from 1996. One of the songs was Bablylon Zoo’s ‘Spaceman’ and I thought about how popular one song can get for absolutely no reason. I put in my dollar and picked the song for a bit of a laugh.
I walked back to my table passing by a person who looked out of place in this particular establishment. He was wearing a black suit jacket, white shirt and skin tight black jeans which were gripping onto his ferociously skinny legs. He had wavy blond hair up to his shoulders and a two day stubble. His face was chiselled like an American soapy TV star and he had seemed to smoke half his pack of cigarettes in the bar according to his ashtray next to him. He seemed out of place since he wasn’t watching the football, wasn’t hanging out with his work friends and he wasn’t just people watching like I was.
It was more then that though. He seemed to be drinking at a rapid pace. His pints of beer were merely lasting him half the time they should have been and he was only getting quicker. Another cigarette lit, another pint down. Another cigarette lit, another pint down. It was mesmerising. The Last Goodbye by Jeff Buckley was now playing on the jukebox. Dark jacketed man had now begun to quietly sing the lyrics to himself with even more enthusiasm for his beer. This enthusiasm that I speak of was not one of glee, joviality or merriness. No. This man was drinking to forget something that had happened to him not long ago. Ioju’s brain began to calculate. I began to believe that the last few song choices were inspired by this very man. Looking into his eyes I started to understand that was had just happened to him was the pain of loosing someone that you love.
Or the fantasy of it. Most of us have come up with some conclusion in our minds from all the fairy tales that we see as children and all the books that we escape ourselves in as grown ups that we are born to find our Mr Right or our Sweet Princess. That somewhere out there in this world we will find someone that will magically go ‘click’ together with you and make everything that was bad seem all right. The notion of love is a fairytale. You will find people that you are attracted to and that you want to be with it. That is nature’s course and chemistry. They are purely biological reasons to continue our existence as human beings. There is no such thing as love. It’s a myth, which shouldn’t be told anymore although I wasn’t about to say all that to the gentlemen smoking and drinking away right this very minute.
Nor should you think that this comes from someone that is bitter and twisted about ones own loneliness. Alas, Ioju is not like this. In fact, you may not be aware that I do have what you call a girlfriend, Samantha, who I enjoy her company very much. We are six months in and doing quite well thank you. I met her one day when she was doing her own bit or people watching at a café down the road from this bar. Once I noticed what she was doing I wrote down on a napkin ‘Stop watching the people I’m watching, there’s enough people to watch between the two of us’ and gave it to the waiter to give to her. The rest is history.
Samantha and I see each other about three times a week. It’s enough time away from each other so we don’t feel too bored of each other. You may judge that as a relationship that will not work but we have never had a fight and we genuinely LIKE spending time together. Why meddle with something that works? There is no pressure from her to say ‘I love you’ as we both have discussed the meaninglessness of this comment and that makes me happy and comfortable. Enough said.
Where do I think things will go with Samantha? I don’t know? How can you tell? ‘Don’t you want to spend the rest of your life with her, Ioju?’ How can you answer that? We as human beings change from day to day. I like Samantha right now and she likes me right now for exactly who we are right now. I can’t say the same for two years time because I don’t know how I will be in two years time. Can’t you see that making such a leap of faith in a partner, that by letting them know that you love them, by telling them that you will be together forever and ever is a promise that you just can’t keep due to the nature of our evolving beings, which brings us to this little mess of our friend who likes 10cc and Jeff Buckley.
‘It must have been love’ by Roxette was his final song on the jukebox. His eyes were weltering up and seemed ready to burst but this chisel-faced buck was not going to let go so easily. He had mustered enough courage to sink five pints and a pack of smokes away in world record time. This is a fact that he should relish in! He turned to my direction for an instance. It was brief but we connected. I tried with all my mind to tell him telepathically that he had done a heroic job on the beer and the smokes, that there is no such thing as love, that there is a woman out there that will like you for who you are right now, that I feel his pain but now that he knows that love is false he can go out there in to the world and be happy. Be happy! And no Roxette, you were wrong about it must have been love. Annie Lennox, you should no better. My man with the suit jacket, it mustn’t have been love and how fucking good does that make you feel!
Spaceman began to play as my friend was about to leave the bar. Weight fell of his shoulders as he stood and he turned to me again and nodded at me. I nodded and smiled back. Nothing needed to be said. Let Spaceman be the soundtrack to your day JacketMan. Let it be your rocket to fuel you into your new world. He left The Monkey House with a smile. I don’t remember if it was during the normal part of the song or the really sped up bit but I don’t think that really matters.
The end of the song was coming up so I made my way over to the jukebox to start selecting. It was unfortunate therefore that I found out that someone had put two dollars in the jukebox to give them three songs, not one. I flipped through the jewel cases on display to find CD’s that were once popular in the grunge movement of the early nineties and some obscure pop compilation from 1996. One of the songs was Bablylon Zoo’s ‘Spaceman’ and I thought about how popular one song can get for absolutely no reason. I put in my dollar and picked the song for a bit of a laugh.
I walked back to my table passing by a person who looked out of place in this particular establishment. He was wearing a black suit jacket, white shirt and skin tight black jeans which were gripping onto his ferociously skinny legs. He had wavy blond hair up to his shoulders and a two day stubble. His face was chiselled like an American soapy TV star and he had seemed to smoke half his pack of cigarettes in the bar according to his ashtray next to him. He seemed out of place since he wasn’t watching the football, wasn’t hanging out with his work friends and he wasn’t just people watching like I was.
It was more then that though. He seemed to be drinking at a rapid pace. His pints of beer were merely lasting him half the time they should have been and he was only getting quicker. Another cigarette lit, another pint down. Another cigarette lit, another pint down. It was mesmerising. The Last Goodbye by Jeff Buckley was now playing on the jukebox. Dark jacketed man had now begun to quietly sing the lyrics to himself with even more enthusiasm for his beer. This enthusiasm that I speak of was not one of glee, joviality or merriness. No. This man was drinking to forget something that had happened to him not long ago. Ioju’s brain began to calculate. I began to believe that the last few song choices were inspired by this very man. Looking into his eyes I started to understand that was had just happened to him was the pain of loosing someone that you love.
Or the fantasy of it. Most of us have come up with some conclusion in our minds from all the fairy tales that we see as children and all the books that we escape ourselves in as grown ups that we are born to find our Mr Right or our Sweet Princess. That somewhere out there in this world we will find someone that will magically go ‘click’ together with you and make everything that was bad seem all right. The notion of love is a fairytale. You will find people that you are attracted to and that you want to be with it. That is nature’s course and chemistry. They are purely biological reasons to continue our existence as human beings. There is no such thing as love. It’s a myth, which shouldn’t be told anymore although I wasn’t about to say all that to the gentlemen smoking and drinking away right this very minute.
Nor should you think that this comes from someone that is bitter and twisted about ones own loneliness. Alas, Ioju is not like this. In fact, you may not be aware that I do have what you call a girlfriend, Samantha, who I enjoy her company very much. We are six months in and doing quite well thank you. I met her one day when she was doing her own bit or people watching at a café down the road from this bar. Once I noticed what she was doing I wrote down on a napkin ‘Stop watching the people I’m watching, there’s enough people to watch between the two of us’ and gave it to the waiter to give to her. The rest is history.
Samantha and I see each other about three times a week. It’s enough time away from each other so we don’t feel too bored of each other. You may judge that as a relationship that will not work but we have never had a fight and we genuinely LIKE spending time together. Why meddle with something that works? There is no pressure from her to say ‘I love you’ as we both have discussed the meaninglessness of this comment and that makes me happy and comfortable. Enough said.
Where do I think things will go with Samantha? I don’t know? How can you tell? ‘Don’t you want to spend the rest of your life with her, Ioju?’ How can you answer that? We as human beings change from day to day. I like Samantha right now and she likes me right now for exactly who we are right now. I can’t say the same for two years time because I don’t know how I will be in two years time. Can’t you see that making such a leap of faith in a partner, that by letting them know that you love them, by telling them that you will be together forever and ever is a promise that you just can’t keep due to the nature of our evolving beings, which brings us to this little mess of our friend who likes 10cc and Jeff Buckley.
‘It must have been love’ by Roxette was his final song on the jukebox. His eyes were weltering up and seemed ready to burst but this chisel-faced buck was not going to let go so easily. He had mustered enough courage to sink five pints and a pack of smokes away in world record time. This is a fact that he should relish in! He turned to my direction for an instance. It was brief but we connected. I tried with all my mind to tell him telepathically that he had done a heroic job on the beer and the smokes, that there is no such thing as love, that there is a woman out there that will like you for who you are right now, that I feel his pain but now that he knows that love is false he can go out there in to the world and be happy. Be happy! And no Roxette, you were wrong about it must have been love. Annie Lennox, you should no better. My man with the suit jacket, it mustn’t have been love and how fucking good does that make you feel!
Spaceman began to play as my friend was about to leave the bar. Weight fell of his shoulders as he stood and he turned to me again and nodded at me. I nodded and smiled back. Nothing needed to be said. Let Spaceman be the soundtrack to your day JacketMan. Let it be your rocket to fuel you into your new world. He left The Monkey House with a smile. I don’t remember if it was during the normal part of the song or the really sped up bit but I don’t think that really matters.
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