Wednesday, May 24, 2006

 

Let me out of this cheap B movie


If you've never seen anyone of the Beckett's plays you may find it difficult to figure out how I spent the last couple of days.

Mr.Charmes provided most of the script, with his behaviour which is one step – to say the least - into madness. Me, in spite of my efforts to behavive like a perfect ascetic, I'm completely overwhelmed by my feelings for him and I act more like a passionate geisha than like Siddharta. Great, uh?

Honestly, I'm trying hard to get a grip on myself and on my life, trying to eat regularly, do the common housekeeping chores, wake up everyday and simply go to work, without callin in sick or swearing all my way through the office.

When somone's most difficult task is "to have a normal life", if a justice existed things should simply align themselves to that, and proceed NORMALLY. I mean, I don't expect a better job, nor to win the lottery; I don't expect Mr.Charmes to be sensible and polite nor Thomas to be sane. None of these impossible things is on my list. I'd simply like things to go their way as smoothly as they can.

But.

Yesterday morning I started my wonderful Monday with an email that started like this
"good morning. it is with great sorrow that i write to you this e-mail. you do not know me, but i am xx, close friend of yyy (a guy from the US navy I met a few years ago, and whom I still write to). He would always keep an envelope with me sealed when on deployment, never to be opened unless something unfortunate were to happen. well, don't know how or what to say about this but the envelope is opened. the following is left for you and I quote:.. "
ok guy. If this is a joke it's the worst joke ever. If it's not a joke, you're a complete asshole, contacting me like this, scaring the shit out of me, letting me think that he’s dead somewhere… when you still don't know what the heck has happened to him!
Yep, the following mail said something like “I haven’t heard from him nor from anyone else, but he was due to be back and he’s not” Is that enough for you to unseal envelopes, send emails over the ocean and so on?
Anyway, I still don't know much more about this story, but it really strucks me. Talk about starting my day with a smile…

After eight hour's work the only thing I wanted to do (apart from having Alzheimer and forget the US navy, Mr.Charmes and his bloody girlfriend, my job contract expiring in a month and so on) was to get back home, cook some healthy food, invite some friends for dinner and eventually chill out on the sofa with my cross stich on my knees and stuff.
But the curtains weren’t due to fall yet.
When I got home I firstly didn't understand what I saw.. I mean, my apartment floor is usually almost white while yesterday it looked like a cow's back. Well, call me a bloody racist but when it comes to my ex tidy and clean floor IT DAMN MATTERS IF IT'S BLACK OR WHITE.. After a few moments' shock, I realized what had happened. One of my cat was running around, tarred and feathered like a bad guy in a western movie.
What happened, you ask? Discarding the hypothesis that those furry monsters were rehearsing a short version of The good the cat and the ugly, the only possible explanation is the following: my landlord had tarred a small terrace close to my terrace without giving me a single word of advice, while some poor little bird killed by the cats had provided the feathers.
Do anyone of you out there know what is the only way to clean a tarred floor (and a tarred cat)? Yep, right. Oil is the only remedy.
Try to picture yourself, after a hard day, on your knees, rubbing the floor with seed oil. How's your mood? Now picture yourself - or what's left of it - trying to have a wild cat rubbed with seed oil and then washed with soap and rinsed. I think this is what happened to Kubrick before shooting A Clockwork Orange. Things like these leave a hard mark on your mind, kids.

When my closest friends ask me how I'm doing, I simply tell them they owe me 6.50 euros for the answer. This life's a movie and that’s the ticket price.

Almodovar should give me a call.

-------------
Title from: Headlong- The Queen

Comments:
Oh Dio!

The landlord is a "gonzo".
The cats couldn't help it.
And you my dear are a wonderful
writer.

rQm
 
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
 
Filippo: my landlord would be perfect in any Laurel&Hardy movie. He is "naive" enough he could play both parts. At the same time. And by naive I mean "where the hell is he coming from, with that absent look on his face, darn alien!!!"

Needless to say, I missed you!
 
Do you have a PayPal account for the 6.5 euro payment? :-)
 
Your sense of humor shines through even when the road is bumpy.
 
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