(Scott, Janet.)
Suck in, hold for a bit, let it out. If there was anything better than a well-rolled, fat jay, Cherry didn’t know what it was. After a couple of puffs she passed it to Greg on her left (“Always pass to the left”, her brother had taught her) and pulled the cheap blankets they had found at an abandoned dorm room closer. That was nice. Those weekly meetings were the only thing she had to look forward to lately. All her close friends were gone, the café she used to work at closed and no professors were teaching anymore, so life was nothing but smoke weed and take care of Sheena, Meena, and Laveena, her three pot plants. Feeling the tingle in her fingertips that always started her high, she sighed and turned to Janet.
- So, Jay, what’s up with your life?
- Nothing, really. – answered Janet, taking the joint from Greg’s shivering hand. – Still living with Scott, watching loads of tv and going out every now and then.
- Is anything still open? – asked Michael, his eyes as red as the Flash t-shirt he was wearing.
- A couple of clubs. One or two bars. Joe’s Brewery is open 24/7 now, but it’s a shithole. Scott usually takes me to Feel, the gay club a couple of blocks from here, but the place is just a meat-market.
- What, a bunch of gay dudes trying to fuck the pain away all night? Sounds like a blast – said Cherry, with no sarcasm whatsoever. She made a mental note to ask Janet if they could go there later that night, and then promptly forgot about it.
- Yeah, it can be fun, but it gets creepy sometimes. Some boy got raped in the bathroom last week and nobody knows who did it. Don’t think anyone cares really.
- Well why should they? Consequences don’t matter when we’re all days away of dying. People only attain to the restrictions of society for fear of retribution. There is no retribution now. It’s a free world out there, in the worst sense possible. – Greg used to study Philosophy, before the university shut down.
- At least we’re better off than those fuckers over at Peru. I was watching the news yesterday and apparently the entire country is fucked now. People getting killed left and right and all that shit.
- You still watch the news Cherry? I thought no one bothered anymore.
- Meh, tragedy makes me laugh when I’m high.
- So what, if I tell you that my grandmother died when she was 32 leaving 3 children behind and a good for nothing alcoholic husband to raise my mum and her sisters you’re just gonna start giggling?
And sure enough, Cherry started giggling. And before long, they were all laughing wildly, most of them having no idea what they were laughing about.
Monday, 30 January 2012
Saturday, 28 January 2012
Janet.
(Scott.)
- Hey, did you bring any milk?
- Oh, hello, Janet. I’m great, how are you? – Scott’s roommate wasn’t the most polite person in the planet.
- Yeah, whatever. Did you bring it or not?
- Nah, pretty much every store is closed or has been broken into. Just go next door and ask Gary.
- Gary left. He went back to his parents’ house.
- And so we lose another one. Are you going to that university thing tonight?
- I don’t know, maybe. There’s only like another three people going. – Some students back at Janet’s university had weekly meetings where they talked about stuff. It was kinda like group therapy, except they only did the therapy thing for ten minutes, and then someone would take a joint out. It was quite fun, but lately hardly anyone showed up. Everybody seemed to be getting back to their families.
- Well, just wake me up if I’m sleeping and you don’t go. There’s a documentary about lions on tonight, and I bet it’ll be awesome stoner television.
- Sweet, will do.
As Scott went to his room, Janet turned on the TV and snuggled in the couch. TV was good. Most channels had given up on covering the end of the world, and just played re-runs of their best shows. The night before she had spent a blissful thirteen hours watching a Friends marathon. Not a single thought had gone through her head.
It didn’t use to be like that. Back when the first news broke out, she freaked out. Earlier than most people, actually. When everybody still seemed to think it was some kind of stunt, she was going to the supermarket and stocking up on batteries, canned food, torches, electric blankets and anything she could possibly think she might need in case of a big disaster. But the day came and gone and nothing happened. Well, not exactly nothing. The sky had been grey all over the world for over two weeks, breathing was hard and it was getting colder and colder. Some people had died already. The last time she had dared to watch a news program, the exhausted looking anchor had said scientists predicted another three weeks at most before the atmosphere collapsed completely or something dramatic like that. And when everybody started going crazy, she suddenly got calm. So everyone was gonna die. Big deal. If anything, it was kinda cool being part of the last bunch of humans to exist. She had even made a playlist on her computer of songs she wanted to play when everything went down. Where is My Mind by The Pixies was a favourite.
Six hours and one too many episodes of America’s Next Top Model later, Janet decided to go to the university meeting. She was running out of pot, and Cherry always brought more than enough to share with everybody. Might as well go stock up for the week. Grabbing her coat and a loaf of bread to trade with Cherry, she left.
- Hey, did you bring any milk?
- Oh, hello, Janet. I’m great, how are you? – Scott’s roommate wasn’t the most polite person in the planet.
- Yeah, whatever. Did you bring it or not?
- Nah, pretty much every store is closed or has been broken into. Just go next door and ask Gary.
- Gary left. He went back to his parents’ house.
- And so we lose another one. Are you going to that university thing tonight?
- I don’t know, maybe. There’s only like another three people going. – Some students back at Janet’s university had weekly meetings where they talked about stuff. It was kinda like group therapy, except they only did the therapy thing for ten minutes, and then someone would take a joint out. It was quite fun, but lately hardly anyone showed up. Everybody seemed to be getting back to their families.
- Well, just wake me up if I’m sleeping and you don’t go. There’s a documentary about lions on tonight, and I bet it’ll be awesome stoner television.
- Sweet, will do.
As Scott went to his room, Janet turned on the TV and snuggled in the couch. TV was good. Most channels had given up on covering the end of the world, and just played re-runs of their best shows. The night before she had spent a blissful thirteen hours watching a Friends marathon. Not a single thought had gone through her head.
It didn’t use to be like that. Back when the first news broke out, she freaked out. Earlier than most people, actually. When everybody still seemed to think it was some kind of stunt, she was going to the supermarket and stocking up on batteries, canned food, torches, electric blankets and anything she could possibly think she might need in case of a big disaster. But the day came and gone and nothing happened. Well, not exactly nothing. The sky had been grey all over the world for over two weeks, breathing was hard and it was getting colder and colder. Some people had died already. The last time she had dared to watch a news program, the exhausted looking anchor had said scientists predicted another three weeks at most before the atmosphere collapsed completely or something dramatic like that. And when everybody started going crazy, she suddenly got calm. So everyone was gonna die. Big deal. If anything, it was kinda cool being part of the last bunch of humans to exist. She had even made a playlist on her computer of songs she wanted to play when everything went down. Where is My Mind by The Pixies was a favourite.
Six hours and one too many episodes of America’s Next Top Model later, Janet decided to go to the university meeting. She was running out of pot, and Cherry always brought more than enough to share with everybody. Might as well go stock up for the week. Grabbing her coat and a loaf of bread to trade with Cherry, she left.
Tuesday, 24 January 2012
Scott.
Just something I've been writing for a while now. It's one story divided in parts, and I have no idea where I'm going with it. Here's the first one:
Scott hated Sunday mornings. The last time he remembered waking up on a Sunday morning without a death defying hangover was at least six months ago. He shielded his eyes from the grey light coming from the open window and surveyed the room. Clothes were all over the floor, an empty pizza box lay on top of an empty night stand and next to him laid some guy he had never seen before. Not that he could remember anyway.
Trying his best not to wake up his unknown bed companion, he got out of bed and started gathering his clothes. As luck would have it, his underwear was nowhere to be seen. Oh well, it wasn’t the first time he left some guy’s house leaving behind a souvenir to be remembered by. He was just about to put his shoes on when the guy in the bed woke up.
- Hey. – He didn’t look much better than him at that moment, but even through the eye gunk and the messy hair Scott could see he was quite gorgeous. Prettier than any guy he’d managed to pick up sober.
- Hey.
- Are you leaving already?
- Yeah, I’ve got some stuff to do. – A lie. The plan for today was the same as any other Sunday: lie in the couch watching Oprah re-runs, drinking water and cursing the invention of alcohol. But if Scott ever learned anything from eavesdropping the “women talk” his mum had with his sister whenever she felt like passing life lessons, was that men only keep what was hard to get in the first place. A failed reasoning, he knew, since he was standing in the guy’s room with no underwear on. But it was worth a try.
- Ok. I’ve got to go meet a friend too, so I’ll just jump in the shower. See ya. – And tossing the blankets away, he stood up, gloriously naked, walked over to the bathroom and shut the door.
Feeling that he would be quite insulted if it weren’t for the pounding headache he had to contend with, Scott put his shoes on and left.
There was a girl sitting in the couch at the living room. Scott half-nodded to her but she merely looked at him for a moment and went back to staring vacantly out of the window. Her eyes were red and swollen. She looked like she had been crying for days. Which she probably was. Lots of people cried nowadays.
Outside, barely anyone was on the street. A homeless woman pushed a supermarket trolley with a dog inside, mumbling quietly to herself, or maybe to the dog. A man walked with a girl no older than four on his shoulders. She looked ecstatic, licking an ice cream and carrying a teddy bear. The man seemed distracted; every now and then he would stop and look at a house, or a tree, or anything else in his way, and his eyes would swell up. But whenever that happened, the girl would poke his head and tell him that they should keep walking.
Scott shivered. Looking up at the sky, which had been getting greyer and greyer in the past two weeks, he wondered how much longer they had. The news had said it would all be over in ten days, but ten days had come and gone and everything was still there. Things were going to end, no doubt about it, but it seemed like the impending doom was playing with humanity, like a cat with a cockroach, giving them a sense of relief only to snatch them all up when least expected. With a sigh and a slight feeling of embarrassment over his tendency to come up with cliché metaphors for everything, Scott started making his way home.
Scott hated Sunday mornings. The last time he remembered waking up on a Sunday morning without a death defying hangover was at least six months ago. He shielded his eyes from the grey light coming from the open window and surveyed the room. Clothes were all over the floor, an empty pizza box lay on top of an empty night stand and next to him laid some guy he had never seen before. Not that he could remember anyway.
Trying his best not to wake up his unknown bed companion, he got out of bed and started gathering his clothes. As luck would have it, his underwear was nowhere to be seen. Oh well, it wasn’t the first time he left some guy’s house leaving behind a souvenir to be remembered by. He was just about to put his shoes on when the guy in the bed woke up.
- Hey. – He didn’t look much better than him at that moment, but even through the eye gunk and the messy hair Scott could see he was quite gorgeous. Prettier than any guy he’d managed to pick up sober.
- Hey.
- Are you leaving already?
- Yeah, I’ve got some stuff to do. – A lie. The plan for today was the same as any other Sunday: lie in the couch watching Oprah re-runs, drinking water and cursing the invention of alcohol. But if Scott ever learned anything from eavesdropping the “women talk” his mum had with his sister whenever she felt like passing life lessons, was that men only keep what was hard to get in the first place. A failed reasoning, he knew, since he was standing in the guy’s room with no underwear on. But it was worth a try.
- Ok. I’ve got to go meet a friend too, so I’ll just jump in the shower. See ya. – And tossing the blankets away, he stood up, gloriously naked, walked over to the bathroom and shut the door.
Feeling that he would be quite insulted if it weren’t for the pounding headache he had to contend with, Scott put his shoes on and left.
There was a girl sitting in the couch at the living room. Scott half-nodded to her but she merely looked at him for a moment and went back to staring vacantly out of the window. Her eyes were red and swollen. She looked like she had been crying for days. Which she probably was. Lots of people cried nowadays.
Outside, barely anyone was on the street. A homeless woman pushed a supermarket trolley with a dog inside, mumbling quietly to herself, or maybe to the dog. A man walked with a girl no older than four on his shoulders. She looked ecstatic, licking an ice cream and carrying a teddy bear. The man seemed distracted; every now and then he would stop and look at a house, or a tree, or anything else in his way, and his eyes would swell up. But whenever that happened, the girl would poke his head and tell him that they should keep walking.
Scott shivered. Looking up at the sky, which had been getting greyer and greyer in the past two weeks, he wondered how much longer they had. The news had said it would all be over in ten days, but ten days had come and gone and everything was still there. Things were going to end, no doubt about it, but it seemed like the impending doom was playing with humanity, like a cat with a cockroach, giving them a sense of relief only to snatch them all up when least expected. With a sigh and a slight feeling of embarrassment over his tendency to come up with cliché metaphors for everything, Scott started making his way home.
Sunday, 1 January 2012
Bottoms up
Currently in a state of "Fuck everything. Fuck you, fuck the world, fuck Wellington, fuck everything.". If I were 13 and if this was 2006 I would totally have a greasy fringe over my eye and Simple Plan playing on repeat. But I'm 20 and this is 2012, so I'm just gonna lock myself up in my room for a while til I feel like I can leave without murdering someone.
And here's something I wrote ages ago and forgot to post:
- Hey.
- Hey.
- What are you doing?
- Spending some quality time with my friend Jack Daniels.
- It’s 2 in the afternoon, dude.
- So?
- So… That’s not very good.
- Not everything in life is.
- Very poetic. What happened?
- Pissed some people off. Having a bad day. Took the first drink to forget, and when it didn’t work I thought I might as well go ahead and have the next twenty four.
- Why are you doing this?
- I believe the technical term is “self-medication”.
- Don’t go all cynical on me. It’s not cute.
- Not cute. Ha. Good one.
- Stop being a jerk. We can talk about why you’re having your liver pay for your mistakes or you can go ahead and start planning your schedule around your soon-to-come A.A. meetings.
- I heard they serve pretty good snacks.
- Oh Rick. You’re a riot. Now, seriously, what happened?
- I told you. Pissed people off. The wrong people. And now I don’t have a job, I can’t pay rent and my life is pretty much over. But hey, on the bright side, I’ve thought of quite a few witty things to write on my signs when I start begging on the street.
- Just look for another job.
- Please. You know how long it took me to get that one. If I start looking now I might be able to find something around 2034.
- So you’re just gonna spend all the little money you have left on booze and then go sit at some street corner asking people for money so you can buy more booze, is that it?
- Well, not entirely. I might turn some tricks too.
- Fuck it then. Drink your misery away. Call me tomorrow if you don’t end up drowning on your vomit.
- Will do. Although, having my very own Jimi Hendrix moment is starting to sound pretty good right now.
- I know what you’re doing by the way.
- Really? And what am I doing?
- Crying for help and masking it with sarcasm so not to look weak while doing it. Really Rick, I expected more from you.
- Yeah well, you don’t seem to be doing a particularly terrific job of helping me, now are you?
- Excuse me for not wanting to be abused. You want help, sober up and ask for it.
- Well darling, we both know I’m not gonna sober up for a while. Tell you what: why don’t we start working on levelling the playing field and you sit down and have a drink with me?
- Seriously?
- C’mon. Jack here is quite the charming companion after you get to know him.
- And when does that happen?
- Around the fifth shot. Come, drink. Let’s celebrate the end of my happiness. We can mourn the death of all my ambitions tomorrow over a jug of water and a few aspirins.
- Fine. But don’t ever say I’m not a supportive friend.
- I would never say that, honey.
- You pretty much did 30 seconds ago.
- Did I? Well, maybe it’s starting to work and I’m finally forgetting. Now, bottoms up!
And here's something I wrote ages ago and forgot to post:
- Hey.
- Hey.
- What are you doing?
- Spending some quality time with my friend Jack Daniels.
- It’s 2 in the afternoon, dude.
- So?
- So… That’s not very good.
- Not everything in life is.
- Very poetic. What happened?
- Pissed some people off. Having a bad day. Took the first drink to forget, and when it didn’t work I thought I might as well go ahead and have the next twenty four.
- Why are you doing this?
- I believe the technical term is “self-medication”.
- Don’t go all cynical on me. It’s not cute.
- Not cute. Ha. Good one.
- Stop being a jerk. We can talk about why you’re having your liver pay for your mistakes or you can go ahead and start planning your schedule around your soon-to-come A.A. meetings.
- I heard they serve pretty good snacks.
- Oh Rick. You’re a riot. Now, seriously, what happened?
- I told you. Pissed people off. The wrong people. And now I don’t have a job, I can’t pay rent and my life is pretty much over. But hey, on the bright side, I’ve thought of quite a few witty things to write on my signs when I start begging on the street.
- Just look for another job.
- Please. You know how long it took me to get that one. If I start looking now I might be able to find something around 2034.
- So you’re just gonna spend all the little money you have left on booze and then go sit at some street corner asking people for money so you can buy more booze, is that it?
- Well, not entirely. I might turn some tricks too.
- Fuck it then. Drink your misery away. Call me tomorrow if you don’t end up drowning on your vomit.
- Will do. Although, having my very own Jimi Hendrix moment is starting to sound pretty good right now.
- I know what you’re doing by the way.
- Really? And what am I doing?
- Crying for help and masking it with sarcasm so not to look weak while doing it. Really Rick, I expected more from you.
- Yeah well, you don’t seem to be doing a particularly terrific job of helping me, now are you?
- Excuse me for not wanting to be abused. You want help, sober up and ask for it.
- Well darling, we both know I’m not gonna sober up for a while. Tell you what: why don’t we start working on levelling the playing field and you sit down and have a drink with me?
- Seriously?
- C’mon. Jack here is quite the charming companion after you get to know him.
- And when does that happen?
- Around the fifth shot. Come, drink. Let’s celebrate the end of my happiness. We can mourn the death of all my ambitions tomorrow over a jug of water and a few aspirins.
- Fine. But don’t ever say I’m not a supportive friend.
- I would never say that, honey.
- You pretty much did 30 seconds ago.
- Did I? Well, maybe it’s starting to work and I’m finally forgetting. Now, bottoms up!
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