Sunday, October 23, 2005
Anansi Boys
Her thoughts flashed across the screen.
She felt that something was wrong with him; with the way he communicated - she had never had this problem, she said, with anyone else.
He thought silently to himself, I have never had this problem with anyone else...
except when I wanted to.
She expounded. (big word)
You use too many big words, too complicated... no emotions. Confusing.
He listened and felt a mounting sadness for her.
She was a child, in many ways - an oxymoron. He remembered watching her read a textbook in her personal search for answers - that someone in her position wouldn't have been expected to seek out -- but words still confounded her, and somehow her thirst for knowledge didn't extend quite far enough.
(He had wondered at the irony of it all, then. All his life he had been an excellent communicator, and now she felt that he was flawed. In response to his suggestion that they came from different worlds... bewilderment. What do you mean?
That was answer enough.)
He tried gently to explain to her how words were an art, a form. How they encompassed emotions as well, how in their subtlety they gave rise to commmunciation - you have but to learn.
But he knew it was a path she had to walk alone.
And he knew that she never would.
*****
His phone buzzed.
He wondered what his ringtone sounded like... he hadn't had it on in the longest time.
The words, as always requested a favour.
Only the way they were couched - as always - as a statement, rather than a request. Will you be doing this. I was thinking of this.
It had irked him, every time - it irked him tonight, again.
They were not on terms as intimate as that - their friendship was, at best, at this tiem - tenuous. There is a correct way to do things, and this was not the way.
He put his phone away for a while to calm himself, to watch the woman downstairs radiant, animated, and effusive with her many thoughts and guile, practically manhandling people into getting their hair celebrity-styled.
He picked out his phone and wrote :
I have no plans to... but I can help to ask for a favour - if that is what you are asking for.
She replied. Casually.
You try lor. If you can't then I can always find another way, it's not that hard.
No thank you. No please. Almost as if it should have been his honour, to do her a favour - this, between two people whose relationship he could best describe as acquaintences... who had once been friends.
He put his 'phone away again.
Without grace - we are ugly, inside.
Perhaps even dead.
*****
Daisy, from Anansi Boys charmed him - and she wasn't even real.
*****
She, as always, dazzled; slightly manic, very effusive... sparkling, over dinner at Iggys.
Slightly insane, and quite, quite charming.
Dessert, of course (as always) was humbly proferred - off the menu, a special favour from the chef to this radiant creature...
Naturally, it was excellent. More than excellent.
He realised then that this was right - this was as it should have been, a long evening ago.
And later, in the company of the Prince and herself... he realised that this was where he belonged... in present company.
Not there, in the other world, where words were... frightening, and unknown.
*****
Dinner at DFS.
Plastic lillies.
Plastic trees.
Plastic... food?
But no - the food was simply exquisite...
(Sam Sui Chicken - I didn't know there was such a thing. I thought they were women with little red hats.)
... enough to make me forget, for a while, about an ungraciously demanded favour... enough to make me forget the realisation that I... don't wish to help anymore.
The number may have been re-added to my mobile... the nickname to my msn messenger.
But things are different now.
*****
They relaxed to after dinner (and movie) jazz...
The rather pretty singer (who looked rather like the prinecess of fairies) was imploring the audience to fly her to the moon...
She commented. Your friend seemed rather hyper...
He nodded.
She seemed happy...
He paused.
And then he shook his head.
*****
He read her pain, yet again. Yet again.
I dunno if you know this Dozer.... but I really, really wish things could work out for you.
Everytime I read your heartbreak... mine breaks a little more, too.
*****
I stand by the shoreline, waiting.
She felt that something was wrong with him; with the way he communicated - she had never had this problem, she said, with anyone else.
He thought silently to himself, I have never had this problem with anyone else...
except when I wanted to.
She expounded. (big word)
You use too many big words, too complicated... no emotions. Confusing.
He listened and felt a mounting sadness for her.
She was a child, in many ways - an oxymoron. He remembered watching her read a textbook in her personal search for answers - that someone in her position wouldn't have been expected to seek out -- but words still confounded her, and somehow her thirst for knowledge didn't extend quite far enough.
(He had wondered at the irony of it all, then. All his life he had been an excellent communicator, and now she felt that he was flawed. In response to his suggestion that they came from different worlds... bewilderment. What do you mean?
That was answer enough.)
He tried gently to explain to her how words were an art, a form. How they encompassed emotions as well, how in their subtlety they gave rise to commmunciation - you have but to learn.
But he knew it was a path she had to walk alone.
And he knew that she never would.
*****
His phone buzzed.
He wondered what his ringtone sounded like... he hadn't had it on in the longest time.
The words, as always requested a favour.
Only the way they were couched - as always - as a statement, rather than a request. Will you be doing this. I was thinking of this.
It had irked him, every time - it irked him tonight, again.
They were not on terms as intimate as that - their friendship was, at best, at this tiem - tenuous. There is a correct way to do things, and this was not the way.
He put his phone away for a while to calm himself, to watch the woman downstairs radiant, animated, and effusive with her many thoughts and guile, practically manhandling people into getting their hair celebrity-styled.
He picked out his phone and wrote :
I have no plans to... but I can help to ask for a favour - if that is what you are asking for.
She replied. Casually.
You try lor. If you can't then I can always find another way, it's not that hard.
No thank you. No please. Almost as if it should have been his honour, to do her a favour - this, between two people whose relationship he could best describe as acquaintences... who had once been friends.
He put his 'phone away again.
Without grace - we are ugly, inside.
Perhaps even dead.
*****
Daisy, from Anansi Boys charmed him - and she wasn't even real.
*****
She, as always, dazzled; slightly manic, very effusive... sparkling, over dinner at Iggys.
Slightly insane, and quite, quite charming.
Dessert, of course (as always) was humbly proferred - off the menu, a special favour from the chef to this radiant creature...
Naturally, it was excellent. More than excellent.
He realised then that this was right - this was as it should have been, a long evening ago.
And later, in the company of the Prince and herself... he realised that this was where he belonged... in present company.
Not there, in the other world, where words were... frightening, and unknown.
*****
Dinner at DFS.
Plastic lillies.
Plastic trees.
Plastic... food?
But no - the food was simply exquisite...
(Sam Sui Chicken - I didn't know there was such a thing. I thought they were women with little red hats.)
... enough to make me forget, for a while, about an ungraciously demanded favour... enough to make me forget the realisation that I... don't wish to help anymore.
The number may have been re-added to my mobile... the nickname to my msn messenger.
But things are different now.
*****
They relaxed to after dinner (and movie) jazz...
The rather pretty singer (who looked rather like the prinecess of fairies) was imploring the audience to fly her to the moon...
She commented. Your friend seemed rather hyper...
He nodded.
She seemed happy...
He paused.
And then he shook his head.
*****
He read her pain, yet again. Yet again.
I dunno if you know this Dozer.... but I really, really wish things could work out for you.
Everytime I read your heartbreak... mine breaks a little more, too.
*****
I stand by the shoreline, waiting.
