The Ancient Shark Of Despair's blog

Tuesday, April 21st 2009

The internet doesn't seem as fun without @groombridge around. I've stopped looking for things that he'd like so I can show them to him. I took away a lot of bookmarks for the sites he liked today. I don't think I'll go to them if he's not around to tell me when there's something good to see.

I mailed Sarah and told her most of what we covered in the meeting on Sunday. I didn't tell her anything about Monopoly's phone. While I waited for her to reply, I decided to tidy up my kitchen a bit, but all the sponges and cloths had a bad smell on them and I had to throw them away. I'll have to get the grocery kid to buy me some new ones so I can do the cleaning next week. Instead of that, I had a look through the back room to see if maybe I could pack or sort through something and when I went back there I realised that all the garbage from Sarah's week as the grocery kid was still there. I couldn't do anything about it today because Monday is the day for taking the garbage out and if I did it on a Tuesday I'd have to answer a lot of questions.

I got my statue of the landlord, which is a work-in-progress, out from behind the dishes and I tried to find a place to work on it. It's kind of brown now, but I can work with that. Thing is, the best place to work on it is the kitchen table and the kitchen table is full of mess. So that's another thing I can't do right now.

Then it was about time for the landlord to call me and leave a message. The message came and on it he said he wouldn't be visiting me today since he's helping a very old tenant move out. I wondered who it was and where they were moving to. If there was one place in the world that I'd like to move to, it would be the Abrahm's old house down the road, which is where Celene lived-in and worked, back in the day. I only saw it the one time, just after the Abrahms got kicked out and Celene came back to live with us. It was so big with these pillars outside on the stoep that held the balcony up and it was painted in all these colours you wouldn't expect to see on a house, like blue and pink and purple. I asked the landlord's mother if we could paint her house up like that but she said it was gross and we would never do anything like that. Then I joked, well what about my house next door? She didn't like that. She hated it when I pointed out that the house next door was mine, even though technically they were both mine but we didn't talk about that either. The whole thing became a non-issue quite soon after that, though, when she teamed up with the grocery kid and turned both houses into the apartments. I didn't want to paint the apartments. They all looked ugly and small.

I thought that maybe this very old tenant who moved out today was moving into the Abrahm's old house. Maybe I could live there too and Sarah could look after the tenant. Maybe he wouldn't let me in and I've have to sneak inside and live secretly in the attic. I'd only be able to watch TV at certain hours or he'd hear me and send someone to catch me. I can't really wear headphones.

So Sarah mailed me back. She'd been at the Department Of Home Affairs all day trying to get visa forms. She said that it hurt her. She was tired and stressed and she was sorry she didn't come on Sunday but she wasn't feeling very well. She said it is getting difficult to leave the country now and there it a lot more for her to do.

When I did that sort of thing, going from one country to the next was really simple. You just had to tip everyone and you got where you wanted to go.

Monday, April 27th 2009

When the grocery kid came round yesterday I asked him how his daughter was doing. He seemed surprised by this.
“Why the sudden interest?” he said, kind of sarcastically.
“I was reading one of your books,” I said, “I think it's my favourite one of your books – Die Boeremeisie Teater”
“I don't remember that one,” he said. He shook his head. He was uncomfortable. I went to go find the book so he'd know which one it was. I found it under my bedcovers. I handed it to him and he got a look at the cover. On it, a young bride was standing on the altar, getting married to this guy. She is looking over her shoulder and is looking over her shoulder at us. She is not happy. She wants us to help her. The bride and groom and the whole wedding is taking place on a stage. The audience is applauding. I showed him the cover but he just shook his head again.
“I've written so many of these things, honestly, and I never even look at them after they send them.” he said.
“It's about a father who wants his daughter to get married as part of a play for all his drama friends to see,” I explained. That didn't work either.
“Oh,” was all he said. He really wanted to go.
“They live on a farm and they have all these problems,”
“That happens all the time,” he said, looking anywhere but at me or the book.
“Your daughter's old now, isn't she?” I asked. He looked back at me.
“She's not that blumming old. She's nearly forty. She's a spring chicken next to you or me.” He was almost laughing.
“In the book, the wedding didn't work out because another guy found her message. Her marriage didn't work out either in real life, right? Did a better guy find her? A guy you didn't like?” I said. He turned to me and slowly took the book out of my hands.
“This book's not about her. I never wrote any of these about anything worth mentioning. I don't write 'about' anything any more. I'd prefer it if you didn't read them at all.” He handed the book back and I looked down at it. The picture seemed different. It wasn't 'about' anything now. It was just a bad drawing. It didn't contain any secrets.

He brought cloths and sponges and a new brush, just like I asked. I tried to thank him for it but he took it all the wrong way.
“You'll have a lot of cleaning to do yourself from now on,” he said. I quite like cleaning up, really. It's like meditation for your brain and shows progress.

“You could have fooled me,” he said.

Tuesday, April 28th 2009

So Mr. Hardly-There-Any-More came over today. The landlord. It's been over a week.

“Oh, I guess you've just been really busy with all the exact same stuff you do every day,” I said. I was being sarcastic.
“Sorry Shark, but I've been run off my bloody feet all week. All the tenants have left the move right till the last minute and now I have to run around and help them,” he said. I had my doubts about this.
“Don't they have another six months still?” I asked. The landlord looked at me harshly.
“They had six months to move out six months ago. All the leases end at the start of May. You and me have to be out of her on the first of June.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said. “You told me.”
“Yes, many times,” he said. “You haven't really gotten yourself very ready yet,” he let that hang in the air and after a while he began on a different part of the topic. “I helped that friend of yours, Bradley, and his mother move out all the way to Wynberg. Shame, his mother's quite ill. I've known her for a long time now, she's a good woman but she's not done a very nice job with that child.: He looked at me to check if it was okay to talk about Monopoly this way. I nodded to make him continue. “I heard on the radio the other day that in America you can go to prison for wearing your trousers too low. Did you know that?” I didn't know that. I don't listen to the same shows as he does. I don't have to because he tells me all about them anyway. “They'd send that Bradley to prison straight away. One look at him and – vuuu!” he pointed at the window.
“Monopoly would go to jail?” I checked. I had to check because it didn't seem very realistic. I was actually a little bit thrilled because the landlord is always so realistic and I would have liked to have caught him in an unrealistic mood where you could joke with him.
“Yes. In America, it's the law now,” he wasn't being unrealistic. Though I don't think that jail would stop Monopoly from wearing his jeans like that. He'd keep them low every day no matter how much it annoyed the wardens. He's uncompromising.

Man, just thinking about it, I know Monopoly would kill at jail. He'd know all the right things to say and would team up with the right teams and become the right people. He'd get into a hiphop jail group with his cellmate and some other guys and they'd form a tiny community where everyone wore their pants like that and they all help each other out with their problems. Really late in the night and the dark, when all the other prisoners are asleep, Monopoly's cellmate will tell him exactly how to get along with his ex-wife and what to do if she finds out he's dating again. In the laundromat, the whole gang will sit down when they should be working and will figure out a better way for the education system and the schools to work. They'll talk about which blender is the best kind for your kid. They'll help each other write better dating profiles and they'd all go out with girls from the internet who know what's going on because they don't get all of the information from talk radio.

“So, about the money you're going to let me have – can I have it all at once please?” I said while he was making lunch. This made him stop making lunch and come into my room and say:
“We talked about this. I don't think it's a good idea. You know how you are with money, it's – you're just not very careful.”
“I know but do you think I could have the money all at once, please?”
“I don't think it's a very good idea, Shark. I don't.”
“Yeah, but can I have it all at once please?” I smiled. He shook his head and didn't say anything till lunch came out. Then he talked about how Cape Town and the Western Cape should become its own country. After he was done talking about that he had to go do some garden stuff.
“I don't know why I bother now,” he sighed. “It's all going to get paved over in a few weeks. There's not even much of a garden to bother with.”

I think he's pretty close to giving me the money. When Monopoly gets out of jail we are going to make the best TV company in the world.

Friday, May 1st 2009

I've tried going back to all the things I used to do on the internet before I met @groombridge but they're just not worth it anymore.

I tried reading the personal blog of a girl who is sick of trying to lose weight and thinks it's time that the world accepted her for who she is. I didn't like the way that blog made me feel. I couldn't get behind the girl and urge her on with my mind. It was like that with all the blogs I went on and all the discussions about music I saw on IRC. I just couldn't get that feeling of community to appear in my mind. I don't know if the problem was with me or my mind or the kind of people who are on the internet now. I tried to regress further, to use the internet the way I did before I'd met Mow, but that's a funny idea because there was no internet before I met Moe.

It was a really frustrating time so I deceded that I needed to take a break and meditate. I went in to the kitchen, broke out the new cloths and sponges and cleaned the whole room, all by myself. I got really into it and I cleaned the taps and the windowsill and all the things you don't think need cleaning but they do. I even cleaned the top edges of the tiles, because you think that they're flat but they've got sides and top and dust can collect there. I thought about all kinds of stuff while I was cleaning, but I kept coming back to what the landlord had said about the garden being paved over and that made me think of all the time and energy that the landlord had put into that little patch of garden now being redundant. I thought about the whole building being made redundant when the developers come – all those times it got cleaned and painted, every time the alarm got set and the windows closed, whenever he took care of the plants and swept the floor and fixed the bannister or took out the garbage – none of that is going to count for anything any more. He might as well have not done any of it. They're going to pave over everything and it won't mean a thing if the taps are clean or the grass kept nice.

I decided that I wouldn't clean out the back room today. Instead I called the landlord and asked him to come over for lunch. I had to ring him a few times before I heard running and doors from downstairs and he picked up his phone.
“Shark! What's wrong?”
“No, nothing's wrong.” I said.
“Oh, okay. Jesus, I thought something was wrong.”
“No, I was just asking you up for lunch.”
“Oh. Oh, Shark – ag, I'm sorry. I can't come for lunch today. I'm helping everybody move out. Today's the day everyone goes. I don't know if you've seen all the trucks outside, but today's the day.”
“Well do you think you could come up for lunch anyway? You don't do it much any more.” I said. But it was no use. He was busy and it was important. He was sorry, but I just had to stay in the place where nothing mattered.

I sat back down at my computer and I wrote a new e-mail to David. I didn't plan it or anything, I just felt like I had something to say. Here's the mail:

---- Hey man,

Just thought I'd drop a line to say hi. I cleaned my pad today but there's no one to around to see it. Where's the justice, hey?

Things are coming along pretty well with the TV company. I've hired a manager who can get things sorted. I think you'd be pleased with the person I chose. He's a musician but no more hints!

David, I just wanted to warn you that the world is a pretty brutal place. You can spend your whole life trying to accomplish something only for it to be wiped out and paved over before you can even finish it. The best thing you can hope for is that you won't be around to see it when everything you tried to get right gets wiped out. I'm not saying this to scare you, but the person or people who will be responsible for ruining you – they might not just be a group of guys who own more land than you. It could be anyone. You might have met them already. You might be friends with them right now;. It could be Sarah or anyone. It might be me. Some day, someone is going to hurt you so much that your life won't even matter any more.

I saw naked pictures of Sarah on Monopoly's phone. Monopoly says they rank a seven or eight. I can send them to you if you like. I have them right here. Just reply back and say you want them and they're yours.

Peace,
The Ancient Shark Of Despair

---------

For the rest of the day I watched the people who used to live here load up their things into their cars and then leave, one by one. There were a lot more of them than I had thought.

Saturday, May 2nd 2009

Today I got Sarah to come round. It was hard to do and she only stayed for twenty minutes or so but we got to making plans.

“Sharky, I can't come round today, I'm meeting Nikki and we're going to see a movie.”
“I'll drive you.” I said. I meant it.
“No, it's okay, Nikki's driving us,” she said. I waited for a lot of seconds after that. It was uncomfortable.
“Everybody's moved out. They're all gone and nothing that I did in my house matters any more.”
“Sharky...”
“Can't you come round before your movie?”

She came up with Nikki. They were in their 'going out' clothes and I could smell them from all the way down the stairs. They looked so beautiful. They looked like they were simultaneously younger and older. Nikki actually looked better than Sarah this time – it's like she only makes the effort when she really means it. They came in and sat down. They refused tea.
“The movie starts in twenty minutes,” said Sarah.
“How're you doing?” said Nikki.
“I've got a lot on my mind,” I said.
“I know hey,” said Sarah, warming up. “I've been having all these problems getting my visa. I think I'm going to have to just start bribing people,”
“That's how it works, unfortunately,” said Nikki.
“And my parents are being weird about letting me go, they're changing their minds all the time,” she said. I nodded. “I'm going to go no matter what though. I can't be around them forever, it's damaging.”
“There's a girl I know who's stuck on a farm. Her father won't let her leave,” I said.
“A girl? What girl do you know?” smiled Sarah.
“She's not so much a girl,” I admitted, “She's about forty. But she dreams like a girl. She dreams of getting off the farm. She dreams of not marrying the guy her father wants her to marry.”
“Oh, the one who's father forces her to get married as part of a play he wrote. That's a weird one hey, I loved that one,” said Sarah.
“Yes, but I know the girl,” I said.
“You do? Is she based on a real person?” asked Sarah. She leaned in close so that she could hear the truth sooner.
“She's the grocery kid's daughter,” I said. “She's a lot like you. He even said so.”
“Are you serious,” said Nikki, “Did he really write a play about his daughter getting married to someone?”
“He wrote it as a prediction,” I said. “It's going to happen soon. After I move out of this place.”
“When's that, Sharky?” said Sarah mildly.
“Next month. That's when I'm hitting the road. That's when I'm going to find her. She's got all the answers.”
“Where is she?” she asked. I couldn't answer that yet.
“You're going to have to come with me. You two are linked. You're the only one who can find her.” I said.
“Can I come too?” asked Nikki. We were all smiling.
“You can ride in the front,” I said. “I'll drive.” I said it in a cool-dude way and we all laughed at the way I said it. Then Sarah sat up straight and didn't look at me.
“Now Sharky, I know how you get carried away with these jokes you make and your stories, so I just want to make it clear, all right - ” she started, then she licked her lips and looked at me. “We're not actually going to come out on a trip with you in your car to find the grocery kid's daughter. We're just joking.”
“I know that.” I said it straight.
“That's good, because sometimes you get carried away, I'm just saying.”
“I was just joking,” I said. “Come on.”
“No, it's okay. Just checking.” She looked at Nikki then she looked at her cell phone. “We've got to go, our movie's about to start. I looked at the time. She didn't have to leave right then but she did anyway. She said 'goodbye' quite nicely though so I guess she didn't mean it all in a bad way. They probably left early because they aren't very good at driving and keep getting stuck in places and so need a few extra minutes to get everywhere. That would add up to a lot of extra minutes over a whole lifetime.

When we rescued the grocery kid's daughter, she just got in the car and told us to drive. It's not like we were doing her any real big favours by breaking up the play and stopping the marriage. That could have been her only chance to get married. Everybody's running out of chances. We drove for fifteen minutes, heading nowhere in particular, waiting for the chase to start when she reached over to the radio and turned on the music. Sarah's mix-tape played. She liked it instantly and the two of them got talking.
“They've got so much in common!” said Nikki in the front seat, amazed. Sarah and the grocery kid's daughter were too engaged in their conversation even to hear her say that. But I heard. I looked over to Nikki then looked away.
“They're not the only ones,” I said.