Hoop-la and ban-pa. Ring dings and fast cars. IN and out, left and out, back and forth the beat swayed back and forth and JUMPED up it did, the beat did.
Another job interview, another lousy effort. I have skills. I have qualities some employer would like, I have worked before for fuck’s sake! Maybe I need to just relax, chill the fuck out.
‘Christ Rudy, why don’t you just relax a little, here have a coffee,’ Marty says sliding one over to me. ‘You look really unhappy man.’
Marty invited me out for drinks, at the Berwick Inn with some of his friends, and even though it was a Wednesday night, they were still planning on a big one. Thongs, sun glasses in their hair and fluoro, lost of fluoro. I felt out of sorts.
No fluoro.
‘So, its funny you are wearing that colour, fluoro, hang on, is fluoro a colour? I don’t think it is, but anyway, that colour is funny cos, its funny… funny …yeah, cos there is a soccer player in Italy called Floro Florres.’ I was pretty drunk already. But she was polite.
‘Wow Rudy, that is amazing, really. Marty said you were a bit odd, and by the way, I am not wearing fluoro. Or Floro for that matter.’ She laughed at this, and I smiled a little.
‘I think its spelt with ONE “R”.’ I yelled the “ONE” out. ‘Just onnnnnne “R”… I can see you’re not on Floro, but I have forgotten your name already?’ I smiled that stupid smile when you realise you are an idiot. I waited, and she looked at me, like I was joking, and then shook her head and walked away.
‘So, poetry, is such a wonderful impression, an impression of your soul, you know. The passion is like condensed you know? Smaller than a book ‘cos they have to be. I mean, I don’t normally like poetry ‘cos its hard sometimes, but, when I get it, I get it don’t I? My friend Guido, his an Inter fan, lent me his copy of Bu-kow-ski, you know Factotum by Bu-kow-ski right?’
‘Yeah, I have heard of him. Didn’t he write that film Matt Dillion was in or something?’ I don’t even remember who this person was, but I wanted to punch in their stupid fucking face.
‘No, he didn’t write it friend, he wrote the book the film is based on. Bu-kow-ski… Really depressing. Whenever you think things are working out well, or he has a chance to make it, he fucks it up, he fucks it up! And the writing, it’s like so fucking personal. Bu-kow-ski doesn’t even to pretend HE isn’t the protagonist.’
‘I don’t think I liked it much. I saw it and then saw X-Men 3 the next day. That was way better.’
I forced a laugh, forced a hearty laugh which drew stares. Fuck this dude was a dick, or maybe I am What was his name?
‘Beautiful poetry man, beautiful,’ I said. I don’t know who kept buying me drinks, but oh how they flowed, towards my thirsty lips. And then, she was back.
‘Hey there Rudy. How is your night progressing,’ said the nameless beauty. I was in that particular state when all things look good at night, even Sebby: very drunk. I don’t know how late it was, or early either.
I raised my glass, ‘Fine, fine indeed. I AM fucking drunk, I spoke with an idiot about Bu-kow-ski and I am pretty sure the song that just finished was by Earth, Wind & Fire. How are you?’ I drooled.
‘Not as drunk as you I think. Who was the idiot?’ I pointed him out, and she rolled her eyes as she looked back at me, ‘Yeah, I should have warned you about him. Sorry.’
I leaned back and made my face frown, not scowl, I did not want to be scowling. ‘You are sorry? I don’t believe you did anything wrong. Oh, and about the name thing, I don’t think it is that bizarre or odd and certainly not rude, that I forgot your name, these things just happen. The manner in which I made you aware of my inability to recall your name was however, rude and rather silly. I apologise.’ The frown/not scowl went away and was replaced with a smile.
Alana mirrored the smile, ‘Do you always talk like that, or does it require a certain level of intoxication to force such eloquent words from your lips?’ Smirk.
‘Well, I think a certain level of inebriation certainly facilities certain aspects of my conversational technique, but I can wank on like this at most times I think.’ We both laughed. ‘Now, here is the crux, would you like to join me as I venture outside and light up a fag.’ Alana laughed again, ‘Is that a Harry Potter Crux some crazy, incantation of ‘rub’? Get it, now here’s the rub?’
‘Is that King Lear?’
‘I think so. Let’s go outside.
It was dark of course, and a little chilly, but the smoking warmed us. We chatted about a few things, none of which are worth repeating, but then we stumbled upon a topic I had wrangled with on many an occasion, and never sufficiently concluded.
‘So,’ I said, ‘They need blood to survive, sure. Blood is their food. But the act of feeding is also their sexual intercourse, and when they are done feeding, they are full of blood, that is their orgasm isn’t it. More traditional renderings of vampires have always depicted the act of feeding essentially as intercourse, and once they have fed, they are in a state of short lived euphoria you know? I am still waiting to see the image of a vampire smoking a cigarette immediately after they have fed. Bram Stoker, may his soul burn in hell and all his children’s children be shot dead, was fixated on this sexual/feeding act. ‘
‘Of course he was, but he was obsessed with sex, and by all accounts a real fucking prude. Some of his essays about morality and women are terrible. He was fucking repressed.’
‘Yes, so he creates Dracula as his alter-ego, the coooool version of himself, and has his way with the world. Pleasure, lust, ecstasy, orgasm. Everything his Protestant, English stiff colour bullshit Calvinistic world view won’t let him experience.’
‘Funny, but I don’t think he was a “Calvinist”? So, what you are saying is the intake of blood, the feeding should just be that, feeding. They eat. Once they are full or satisfied, they stop. And then they can have sex if they want? Kinda like in Blade I think.’
‘Yes, make them more like us. Hmmm. I have had many a delicious meal, and eaten well and all that, but I have never orgasm-ed after a great fucking lasagna.’
We laughed, ‘I can’t recall the last time food made me come either Rudy. Fuck, you are a strange guy.’
‘Thanks’.
‘So you want vampires to be just like us, to fuck and eat and not have them e one and the same? Not very interesting or romantic is it?’
‘Alana yo, they still cannot go out during the day. The still drink people’s blood. And they live forever. I think that makes them still interesting. I just hate Bram Stoker so much, I really do.’
It got cold at some point… just remmembered suddenly feeling cold, feeling much cooler than beforeCool. Yeah, cooool. It wasn’t Earth Wind & Fire in my head now, it was something else but somehtin else....
I decided to walk home, one leg infront, two words, of the other, drunk, eyeys closed, drawling my feet through thae grass, leaning against walls that weren’t built or made you know but Alanna, toooooooooo many N’s gave me a lift. I snored maybe, I slept kinda, I don’t know how she knew where I lived, bt she wasn’t far off either b. It is cold, ice cold.
I think I got her deets, I think, not much able to process, just wated to slee[. Cant type, cant get online, too fukked even for a wank ha! I can still ha! HA!, I think I threw up at some point OF COURSE or several points, stumbled around, woke the fucking dog and landed a heap on my bed. Too slo[py to get undresde, to tired to take me clothes off
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