Gulp (15th March 2010)

He sits and he stares and he stares and he sits
How much longer?

He looks out the window and the sky is seeping in
How much longer?

There she is, the woman he’s been waiting for.
All of a sudden, she’s here.

Stand up, he asked. His legs wouldn’t listen.
His legs just wouldn’t fucking listen.

Speak up, he thought and his mouth stayed shut.
His mouth just stayed fucking shut.

What’s the point, he settled, as he looked back out the window.
I’ll do this tomorrow, I will, I know it. It will be done.
Just another day now.

He sits and he stares and he stares and he sits.

Then all of a sudden, they’re here.

His foot starts to kick, his legs spring up.
He advances.

His fist is clenched, his hands are swaying.
He comes to a halt.

His eyes are fixed, his stare is certain.
He’s certain. He is certain. Gulp.

He takes a quick look around and sees the office, lying dead in its eternity.
Of course, he thinks to himself. He needed out.

He smiles at her and says
“I’d like to carry on with my life now, thanks.
Which is to say… I quit.”

Fools Rush In (11th March 2010)

“All I’m looking for really, is someone I can have a conversation with… someone I enjoy being intimate with, someone who you know, looks at life similarly… I mean – it’s just a ride. I want a co-pilot.”

May not sound poetic but hey, this is it, isn’t it?
Brass tacks. With time, however, and experiences, views tend to change. Modify.

“That portrayal of love you see in books and movies isn’t real. Or even if it is, it’s a rare thing. We need to be more realistic.”

-----

Fuck you. Here’s some realism – that shit IS real. It happens all the time. The experience that you had that made you think otherwise should not bog you down. And how dare you try and ruin it for others? Fuck you.

You want it, you can have it. Life will smite you and taint you, but if you’re going to be weak about it, please for the sake of love, don’t sodomize the rest of the folk.
Give them a chance to know better.

I won’t stop believing. Love and peace are not and will not be out of my reach.

The point of being idealistic is to stay idealistic. If you don’t, then you aren’t being very idealistic, are you?

We’ll be real soon, if not now.

Cheers.

MHC (1st March 2010)

He looks down at his plate, and looks back up at her.

This can’t work. This won’t work.
He stares at it again. The words “strawberry flavoured yoghurt” stare back at him from a little piece of paper.
This can’t work. This won’t work.

“All you need to do is look her in the eye and say the words. That’s all there is to it. I’m telling you man, you could totally use this.” Jerry wasn’t usually someone he could trust. Shifty fellow, not much for real work. It’s always been side jobs for him.

“Man, I have this sweet set up at the McDonald’s near Garden Street. Starts at 4 so that gives me plenty of time to recover. I’m done by 11 and this girl there, Mindy. She is FIT. The things I would do to her… I haven’t really spoken to her yet, but there’s this party coming up at Dave’s…” he drones on. I don’t know how he does it. It’s been 6 years now and life just isn’t the same for me.

How does he do it? I’m better off. Right? But you have to hand it to him, he sure sounds like he’s having a good time. Maybe straight shooting isn’t the point.

This is shit. I’m actually considering it. “Here, the fries are on me. Do it man, really. You may as well make this trip of yours exciting. Heck, it should be the only reason you go if you ask me. Not your gay conference…” He glances up. “Alright, ok ok I have to go… she’s looking this way. I think I’m going to ask her.” And he’s off. Off to his life. We used to be so similar, him and I. Weren't we?

I guess it depends on the context. I look down at my plate. One last fry. Heh.

I look up at her again. She’s gorgeous. I could do without the make-up, though. I guess they need it on to make them more ‘aesthetic’. Who decides what’s aesthetically superior then? She doesn’t need it. You know, looking a bit natural doesn’t hurt anyone. Whatever, she’s still stunning. I’m going to do it. I’m going to ask her. Ok, here comes my hand… higher… higher… THERE!

It’s visible and it means that I am asking for her to bring herself to me. She sees me. Great. Smile, Bob, smile. Fuck! That fucking steward sees me too! C’mon sweetheart, beat him to me. You can do it. You have great calves. Alright focus, focus. There, she’s here. Now what was I going to say again? Oh yeah.

“Umm… Excuse me, miss, but do you happen to have any strawberry yoghurt?”

I look at her knowingly, yet unsure. She stares right back, but with a puzzled expression. She opens her mouth to say something. The pause is stark. The anticipation is real.
Her eyebrows point as if to say, “Are you sure you’re in the right place, pal?” but the words that come out are “Certainly, sir” and she walks off, exposing her criminal behind tightly wrapped by that cloth she calls a skirt.

This is what the industry’s about, I tell myself. It’s tainted. A moment, and she’s back, handing me what looks like… YES! IT’S FUCKING STRAWBERRY YOGHURT! I knew it! I knew it was too good to be true. Jerry is such a bastard, I knew he was full of it.

Oh, what good is that now. “Thanks, dear.” Shit, why’d I say dear… I just called her DEAR? Brilliant. Just eat your fucking yoghurt, Bob. Scoop up that spineless rubbish. Yeah, I mean YOU.

I take the crummy little piece of paper filled with so much hope and I grin to myself. I knew this wouldn’t work. Ha. Wait a minute. Why the fuck am I so smug about this? This is just great, Bob. Now you have another unwritten story. Another fucking waste of space in your shitty memory. What good are you?

They’re telling me I’m going to be Vice President of Sales in the entire North Zone next year. That’s how good I am.
Wait, aren’t you selling magazine subscriptions? Haven’t you been doing that for 6 years now? Oh yeah, I forgot, you started out SMALLER. You’re a big man, aren’t you, Bob. You have a charming condominium in the South. You have wonderfully quaint furniture that accentuates your Moon sign. You must get laid a lo… oh yeah, that’s right. You DON’T. Why is it so important?? Maybe not, if it were something you would do maybe once in a YEAR. But not you, nooooo. You are too good for that. You want her to be smart, and funny, and cute and have dark, medium length hair and dimples when she smiles and someone you could go to the park with. She should own a German Shepherd, which means she’s warm but still a good task master. Right? An efficient, sensitive woman will make a great life partner, won’t she? Fuck you, Bob. I don’t know why I got stuck with you. I want out.

GET OUT THEN! AAAARGH! I didn’t choose this, Bob. You did. It’s your pathetic ride I’m a part of. Not the other way around. You’re lucky to have me. You’re just a voice in my head. I probably have loads more. But you PICKED me, don’t you get it? Like when you pick a car, or a colour, or a sofa, or that embarrassing litchi flavoured gelato you always do. Hold yourself responsible, kid. For once.

That’s it! THAT’S IT! There you go. No no, that’s IT! He waves a little piece of paper as his neighbour wakes up to the strange animation. “Flavoured! I didn’t say flavoured!” He shoots his hand right up, this time with more vigour and confidence than he has ever shown in the past six years. The blood rushing through his veins, his head, his phallic limb gesturing to the woman to come. And she does. Right fucking away.

“Strawberry flavoured yoghurt please.” She smiles. Her lips widen and it’s as though her teeth sparkle. No kidding. Right, this is it. What next? Let’s let her guide me, then. I saw the way she was pointing at the emergency exits. She knows her stuff. Yeah.

Wow, this is going to be excellent. Her eyes point to the toilet. She says it again, except this time the words have so many fucking awesome connotations. “Certainly, sir.” Certainly fucking A.

I’m doing this. I jump out of my seat, and stroll towards the bathroom. Like a Bee Gee, I walk by all the suckers listening to their iPods and reading their lifestyle magazines.

Haha, ironic. Lifestyle magazines.

Well, they ARE the windows to the world.
Ok, no shop talk. This is going to be off the hook.

ENOUGH! Get out if you’re going to be lippy. But stay, if you’re finally ENJOYING THE RIDE, BITCH. Hah. Look at me now. Take a look at me now. This is going to HAPPEN. The sign says vacant. I have to keep it that way, Jerry said.

Alright. Vacant it is.

I check my hair in the mirror. The twirl is just right. This is perfect.

*Click.* She walks in. Smiles. Wow, what a smile. What a woman.

She sits me down. “You’re new”, she grins.

“I know.”

The End.

(tasteful song here) (depending on taste, of course)

(I'm thinking If She Wants Me)