between the lines
You said, "So how have you been?"
You said, "I left some cheesecake in the fridge for you."
You said, "You're sunburnt... but it works on you."
You said, "I found that Cure CD you were looking for."
I said, "How do I put Special Orders through again?"
I said, "Can you change the receipt roll on reg 5 for me?"
I said, "I loved Fight Club... Edward Norton is brilliant... I thought the violence would bother me but I think it's more the psychological aspects of violence that I have a problem with: the desire to dominate -- like Norton's character in American History X -- in Fight Club the violence is between consenting adults, and it's not about dominance and asserting superiority, it's about... existential angst, or something."
I said, "Bright Eyes... Connor Oberst. He's been writing since he was about 13 and he's just put out two albums simultaneously. Kinda folksy, I guess. Acoustic sound, mellow introspective lyrics. He's playing the Byron Bay Blues and Roots Festival. I'd love to go, but I don't think my car's up to the journey..."
I said, "The worst job I ever had was working for an owner-operator of sorts... they're like dictators presiding over their own kingdoms. He was an ex-advertising CEO who calls himself a journo. Can't write to save his life. He had an army of girls (they were all girls) all with degrees in music and journalism and the arts... and law! taking dictation and typing up angry letters to his personal banker. He paid $12 an hour. He was a bastard... He worked out of home. It was just a way of funding long holidays for him. Journalism, my arse... We had long lunches when he went away on trips."
But what I meant to say was, "I like you. I like the skillful caricatures of customers that I find on the roster sheets after you've left. I like your concern for others. I like your way of seeing things. I like that you always share your bag of vending machine m&ms with whoever is in the room and almost always gesture me through the door first when we leave together after close. You're a saint dressed as a cynic, but you're not boring like most saints. I never know what you'll say next, but its always something essentially you. You've reminded me how exhilirating it is to want someone around just so you can see how they respond to things. I hear a song on the radio and want to know what you think of it, what you like about Charlie Kaufman films in particular, what you'll say next."
No, just "I like you." That's what I meant to say.
You said, "I left some cheesecake in the fridge for you."
You said, "You're sunburnt... but it works on you."
You said, "I found that Cure CD you were looking for."
I said, "How do I put Special Orders through again?"
I said, "Can you change the receipt roll on reg 5 for me?"
I said, "I loved Fight Club... Edward Norton is brilliant... I thought the violence would bother me but I think it's more the psychological aspects of violence that I have a problem with: the desire to dominate -- like Norton's character in American History X -- in Fight Club the violence is between consenting adults, and it's not about dominance and asserting superiority, it's about... existential angst, or something."
I said, "Bright Eyes... Connor Oberst. He's been writing since he was about 13 and he's just put out two albums simultaneously. Kinda folksy, I guess. Acoustic sound, mellow introspective lyrics. He's playing the Byron Bay Blues and Roots Festival. I'd love to go, but I don't think my car's up to the journey..."
I said, "The worst job I ever had was working for an owner-operator of sorts... they're like dictators presiding over their own kingdoms. He was an ex-advertising CEO who calls himself a journo. Can't write to save his life. He had an army of girls (they were all girls) all with degrees in music and journalism and the arts... and law! taking dictation and typing up angry letters to his personal banker. He paid $12 an hour. He was a bastard... He worked out of home. It was just a way of funding long holidays for him. Journalism, my arse... We had long lunches when he went away on trips."
But what I meant to say was, "I like you. I like the skillful caricatures of customers that I find on the roster sheets after you've left. I like your concern for others. I like your way of seeing things. I like that you always share your bag of vending machine m&ms with whoever is in the room and almost always gesture me through the door first when we leave together after close. You're a saint dressed as a cynic, but you're not boring like most saints. I never know what you'll say next, but its always something essentially you. You've reminded me how exhilirating it is to want someone around just so you can see how they respond to things. I hear a song on the radio and want to know what you think of it, what you like about Charlie Kaufman films in particular, what you'll say next."
No, just "I like you." That's what I meant to say.
posted by Calaloola at 10:24 pm
8 Comments:
calaloola, you had me gasping for breath there. that was utter perfection. you captured the essence of what i am right now--of having so much to say yet ending up saying nothing.
this was beautiful, so beautiful that i'm getting weepy. life is more moving when you hear it from another person's perspective. thank you for this.
Mel: Hey! Nice to see you again, girl :) I dropped in on your new blog based on that book that promises to change lives the other day -- how's that going for ya? And as for the many things left unsaid, I'm afraid they're going to stay unsaid for now at least. I have my reasons for this, and they're not ALL to do with a lack of courage...
trans: Wow. Thanks. You'll be happy to know that you inspired this post in a way. In a reply to one of my comments on your blog you said a lot of things, then said that what you MEANT to say was "hello" and "I missed you" (I think) and I thought "man! how often could our true feelings be simplified to one concise but sincere sentence? And how often is that sentence more open and honest than the verbal detruitus we exchange daily? (Not that I'm calling anything you type detruitus, girl! Far from it :), but you get my meaning... ;))
Oh yeah? Well I kept it all down last time so nyer. Gut of steel, thats me... well maybe not :)
Hey Jax, thanks for stopping by :) I'm in Melbourne, how bout you? Have you experienced the institution that is Schoolies' Week?
The world would be simpler if we could say what we meant, say it outright, but then there'd be no more ballads, no more sonnets, no more epic romance novels. Every story ever told would boil down to: a girl, a boy, they like each other, the end. Simplicity does not breed great art. You've got a slice of great art right here that's proof.
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Jay: "...simplicity does not breed great art." You're right about that one, Jay. And as much as the oblique-ness frustrates us sometimes, its part of the dance, is it not? As masochistic as it sounds I think the wondering, and the power of suggestion and second-guessing is part of our attraction. If we wore our hearts on our sleeves we would surely lose some of our allure.
At least that's what I tell myself.
Jax: Yup, I'm at Uni now. In my final year of a Professional Writing degree (altho all I seem to write these days are blog entries and shopping lists ;)) Yourself?
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