5pm, Wynyard Station

A constant stream of faces milling about. Give me a chance. The words are furrowed into their frowns, mouths turned down, disappointment their normality.

Give me a chance.

If only's hang off their coats. The most dangerous words, words that lead directly to unhappiness. What if... and If only... -- how much happier we'd be if those words didn't sneak into our subconscious, unbidden.

Time wished away. I have to be here. I have to be there. How long until the train, the bus, comes. Moments filled planning how to fill other moments.

What would happen if everyone froze, in their tracks, no voices, no movement, and all they could do was acknowledge where they were and how they felt in that exact moment?

Would people's perceptions of themselves change if they suddenly didn't have the image of a future self to satisfy? If the need to prepare for the next moment was gone? Would we like ourselves exactly where we were in that glimpse of time? Would the moment make any sense of all if we suddenly took the qualifying future away from it?

A constant stream of faces milling about.

Scary Insight into Hooch's Brain #113

Conversation with o/s friend:

Me: blah blah blah

Him: blah blah blah

Me: blah blah

Him: The site I mentioned: www.greataupairs.com. They even have hot foreign guys if you want one of them.

Me: Even though it may be the only way I'd get one these days, the idea of blackmailing the poor chap to have sex with me or leave the country does quite do it for me.

Him: Just tell him you need him to look after your inner child.

Me: oops, that was supposed to be DOESN'T ... how's that for a freudian!!

Me: oh god, I would love someone to do all the 'grown up' stuff around the house.

Me: and now I have Howzat*/**/***/**** in my head. HELP!


Make it stop. Oh please, make it stop.


*Which I hated as a child
**And yet I it leaps into my head unbidden
***And for those that grew up blessed to have not been exposed, welcome to my hell
****And if you are a complete masochist, try this.

Spoilt (definition): see Hooch

I sometimes wonder if I deserve the generosity of the people around me.

The weekend was going to be rather routine. I had to work on Saturday morning, but I left early for my guitar lesson. I have a rule. I do not cancel my lessons for work. I will work before them, or after them, but I won’t cancel. It might seem inflexible, but seeing as I make myself available 24/7 every other day, I think excluding a two hour window for myself is not unreasonable.

So, I left for my lesson, arrived on time, had an ok one (trying to get the strum rhythm right on a pretty little song that’s received a lot of airplay), and then I went downstairs to wait for the Ex. We’d arranged for him to bring down some effects ‘stuff’ for me to play with, seeing as I bought myself the Strat. (I BOUGHT MYSELF THE STRAT!! YEEEEHAAAA).

I was waiting downstairs, wondering if he’d forgotten me, and sending a text to make sure he was still coming, when the owner of the shop asked if I’d seen the new studio they’d set up upstairs. Go and have a look, he encouraged me, check it out. Ah well, I thought, I’ll have a sticky beak. Of course, when I opened the door, there was the Ex, playing a guitar, cool as a cucumber. (That is probably the least cool phrase in the English language, ironically.)

The effects unit was set up and he handed over the guitar so I could have a play. I’ve never used anything like this before, and with things to press and levers to, umm, lever for volume and strength of effects, and ‘stuff’, lots and lots of ‘stuff’, there was enough hear to keep me locked in doors for the rest of the decade. Cool!

After I’d played around for a while, I told the Ex thanks for bringing it down, and it was then that he made a confession. This wasn’t his unit. This was MY unit.

Shit.

I mean, wow, fantastic, but still, Shit. It is a big gift to accept from anyone, but from your ex husband, well, I just wasn’t sure. I worried that it might be too much. Which I told him. And I also asked him if it would cause him trouble at home with his girlfriend. But as he explained it, he’d wanted to do this, to get me this gift for a very long time, and with his new job he had the money to do it, and to just shut up. I compromised. It’s a permanent loan, but should he ever need it back for whatever reason, it is his to take.

Although I know he won’t.

And what was the first effect I tried for… of course, the cheesy 1970s chicketa chicketa chicketa porn sound. I am nothing, if not all class.

And when we went down stairs and R., the owner, looked like a little kid, all excited because he’d been in on the scheme. It was really nice that these people had gone to the trouble to give me a nice surprise. He also said that the Ex and I were the best examples of divorce he’d ever seen, and if only everyone could be like us. As I’ve told him before, we get on really well as long as we aren’t a couple; no expectations, no disappointments. Makes it easy to be friends that way.

So, yes, I am spoilt rotten.

Out of bed, I look at my face in the bathroom mirror. When did that happen? When did my face collapse?

I peer more closely, to see if there is any promised improvement due to the cream I have started using.

Is that the sound of hooves galloping off into the distance?

I did something very out of character last week.

I approached a strange man in a café.

Alright, I probably should qualify this a little. The man in question is a bit of a local fixture in the area, as he has a rather noticable dog and attracts a lot of attention because of that. I see him in the local cafés on a fairly regular basis.

And I had also found out that someone I know, knew him. The little dog came up in conversation one day and that was when I discovered they had known each other for years.

So, he wasn’t exactly a stranger to me. Although, to him, I was.

I arrived after my lesson for a coffee at my preferred café, as I do each week, and it was particularly crowded. The only seat available was very close to this man and his little dog. So I took the initiative and introduced myself, saying we had a common acquaintance. I asked a few questions about his unusual dog, and it went from there. Surprising for both of us, two hours later we were still talking, and it was just the darkening sky and the café staff packing up the tables around us that really prompted the end of the conversation. It had been raucous and funny and quite that lovely mix of getting to know someone and feeling like you were old friends all at once.

It felt like there was a real potential for friendship.

Then he asked how he could see me again, and I panicked a little. I didn’t want it to seem like I had been trying to ‘pick him up’. It wasn’t at all like that. So, I told him that I was nearly always there at around 2 on Saturdays. He laughed and asked if he was expected to wait around in case I turned up. I just said it’s where I’d be, where I always was.

There’s a danger in these things. You get your hopes up.

I turned up, as per usual, this week, to discover the usual café was being renovated and wouldn’t be opening until the following day. So I sat across the road in another, much less enjoyable one. But one where I could see the comings and goings and would notice if a man and his little dog turned up.

In a Hollywood world, just as I was packing my things away, readying to leave, after waiting for an hour or so, a little dog would snuffle at my ankles and my new friend would be sitting, laughing, telling me about the comedy of errors that had made up his day.

Nothing has been lost. My day was just as it always was for a Saturday. I bought some cd’s, I wrote a little, I watched people coming and going, and I enjoyed it. But that little glimmer of hope for company had a flip side of disappointment that I can’t deny.

Chuckle

Search Term:

1. would do you knew my name if a saw you in geaven

2. hooch furry bags

I can't decide which amuses me more

(and I have no idea how number 1 found its way to Hooch's Spot).