The Ancient Shark Of Despair's blog

Thursday, November 20th 2008

So Sarah e-mailed me again and said how people in her class are still talking about her matric dance and what a splash I made. I meant to tell you guys about it as soon as it happened but I only typed out half of the story and I got distracted and I guess I just kind of gave up.

But it makes sense that people would still be talking about it. I did and said some really profound things that night. We danced. I'll tell you the whole story pretty soon but not now. I want to tell it right and I'm a bit tired right now. I had this crazy dream last night where I pulled out a lot of my own teeth so that I could clean the rest of them better – turns out there was a lot of gross guck stuck between them. So I did clean them out and it was really satisfying but then I tried to put my teeth back in. I thought that they'd heal back into place. Sarah told me that wasn't the way teeth were and I felt so stupid about pulling them out in the first place. I looked stupid with all these gaps in my mouth.

You know, it is quite difficult for me to clean my teeth. It takes a long time and I usually get a cramp in my neck or my side. The funny part is that shark teeth are infinite. I can never run out of them because they always grow back. I only clean them so my breath doesn't smell. If I really wanted to, I could make a little house out of my teeth. Sure, it would take a long time, but I've got time.

I'm nearly completely out of food now – it's tuna and beans until the grocery kid does a shop on Sunday. My supplies haven't really got back into balance since he took that weekend off. I could fire him an get the internet to deliver my groceries. That way I wouldn't have to put up with his nonsense. I bet the guys from the internet would put the bags of groceries right onto the counter too. I could get food whenever I want. My system would become much stronger.

Friday, November 21st 2008

Here's the thing – I don't quite believe that Moe -has- quit. I just can't picture him doing anything else other than delivering pizza to families and other people and getting these tiny glimpses of their lives, leaving their gates open by accident and getting tipped extra when it's raining. Every time he sees a new person – which is dozens of time every day – he understands the sum total of humanity a little harder. He knows that everyone is pretty much the same. Not in a bad way – everyone eats, everyone is trying to get the hang of this family thing, everyone doesn't want the future to get them today. You're cool with the way people are. You understand. Don't brag about it or use your understanding to get ahead of people. You're Moe. You can't help but stand apart from people. It's all part of your system. Just keep going, Moe.

So I tried telling this to the pizza punk (that's what I call them) who came by today with my dinner. I was quite clever about it. I didn't put the money in the usual place, in the plant. This time I had the money with me behind the door. He had to listen to me before he could get it.
“Do you know Moe? He works with you.” I asked.
“Nah, nah, Mike quite a few months ago. Where's the money?”
“Does he work for a different pizza company? I'll call them.” You could hear I was joking in my voice. I was smiling. I was cracking codes.
“The sheet said the money is in the plantpot usually, bru. But I'm checking and there's no money here.”
“I've got the money in here with me.” I said, casually.
“No way. I'm not coming in there. We've all been warned about this place.”
“What's wrong?” He probably thought I was going to eat him. I bet Moe told everyone that I was a shark. The landlord would be so mad if he found out about that.
“Mike drew up a whole sheet of instructions and put them on the wall. We know, bru. We know all about you. Give me the money.”
“Where's Moe now?”
“I'm going. I'm taking these pizzas and going. You can keep being childish, you can keep the money.”
“No, wait.” I said. I put the money through the box and he took it, dropped the pizzas and walked. I didn't tip him though. He shouldn't have called me childish. Later I felt pretty bad about not tipping him. I'll tip the guy who comes next week. I hope he's cooler than this last guy.

Sarah says that Moe is doing Sound Engineering at college now. I said that my landlord used to be an engineer and she said that this is different. This is creative. I guess things are generally more creative these days.

Sunday, November 23rd 2008

So guys, it's Sunday. There's nothing much on TV, the landlord's come and gone, there's no one on IRC and I'm not in the mood to work on stuff for my television company. I'm in the mood to write about what happened at my matric dance. Sarah's going to finish exams next week and we'll be hanging out all the time after that so I probably won't have time to write so I'd better clear the backlogs.

I spent just about all day getting ready. I showered twice and used all the best facewashes and shampoos and stuff. I put on a bit of that perfume I've been saving. I was really excited and kept running from room to room because I had so much energy to burn off. I didn't want the excitement to show up on my face so I practiced some calm faces in the mirror until I could look totally stable whenever I wanted to. I was like a rock.

I gathered up all my things – my keys, my wallet, my important photographs of places and people that you don't even know and all of the stuff in my house, but in miniature form. I had a little monster that you could bend and stetch but which would never break. I could fit all of it in my pockets. I could go anywhere.

The first place I went to was downstairs. I went out through my door, down the hall, round the corner, past the trapdoor to the attic and I passed Mr. Roberts on the stairs. Yeah Mr. Roberts, no towels. I'm wearing a suit, so what? Yeah Mr. Roberts, I'm going to a matric dance with this girl who totally knows what's going on. She's got a tattoo on her ankle, Mr. Roberts, but I bet you couldn't guess what it is. I bet that you wouldn't know what is was even if you did get to see it. It would just be shapes and squiggles to you. You wouldn't get the meaning. Goodbye, Mr. Roberts! Out I go!

I heard whistling as I strode out into the courtyard. I thought that it might be coming from David, sitting over there on his plastic char, sipping his coffee and insightfully smoking a cigarette just like he used to do. But David wasn't there. He moved out. But don't worry, I thought I'll meet him later. I knew.
So I pulled opened the gate and stepped out into the street. My car was waiting outside. I'd prepared it the night before. It was washed clean and the engine was running. As I got in, I noticed that I hadn't closed the gate. Then I saw the landlord standing just by the front door. He looked so small and far away.
“That's fine, no, leave the gate open,” he said proudly. I wound down the window. I was smoking a cigarette. “Let me close that for you!” he was saying this quite loud because he was all the way over by the door. His arms were by his sides, fists were forming. I looked at him straight.
“I'm so scared!” I shouted and then I flicked my cigarette out of the window at him (I didn't hit him, don't worry), gunned the engine and before you knew it I was at Sarah's house. I didn't even close the gate!
Sarah was waiting for me at her own gate. She was all in blue – an old timey dress that she said belonged to her grandmother. She waved at whoever was watching her back in the house and got in the car.
“What music is this?” she asked. She was in the back seat and smelled like youth and beauty and a kind of flower that was probably really nice, which old-timey grandmothers would have harvested every morning before breakfast. “It sounds so sad and beautiful and about girls, like a dream I forgot years ago and just remembered all in a flash.” I offered her a cigarette before I answered. I turned around in my seat and looked right into her face as I lit her cigarette off mine and said,
“It's Leonard Cohen.” She accpeted this and leant in closer to me and the radio so that she could hear better, even though the speakers were in the back.
“This is nothing like that other music you listen to – that Burdum guy,” she said.
“No. I've always been more of a Leonard Cohen type of guy than a Burzum type. It's too angry."
That got us talking. She told me about music, how enough of it can change you. She told me about how this one band played so magically that they dropped the crime rate in the area for a whole month. I told her a little story I knew about a band that shows up to their gig but just spends the whole time setting up their instruments and never actually plays anything and then the janitor who worked at the concert hall sees this and he really wants to be in the band too. He believes in what they're doing. But then no one will turn up to their concerts anymore because they don't 'get' it like the janitor did and the band, which was all rich kids except for the janitor, breaks up and the janitor has nothing. No bad, no job. Life is really tough, especially if you're poor, I say. Just as I finish the story, we drive by the homeless shelter that I always pass. Sarah looked out of the window and she saw them. The homeless. They were trying to get inside for the night but they couldn't because they were four minutes late and the landlord wouldn't let them in. The janitor was with them. He looked the saddest of all the homeless. He'd tried so hard and he'd taken his big chance but man, I'll say it again, life's tough if you're poor. Sarah looked away from that horrible scene and up into the mirror, at me, with tears in her eyes. I did a smile. The smile said, “We're young and crazy. We'll find a way to make life count. Together.” She laughed joyfully when she read that smile and hugged me right through the back of my seat. I laughed too. We were in love and life wouldn't get us today.

I heard the whistling again as I got out of the car and opened the door for Sarah. We were at the Riverside Club. It was the venue. Inside would be an amazing time and a three course meal and a cover band and lots of emotions – good and bad. Parents were dropping their kids off and telling them to have fun, meaning it. Some parents were staying in their cars right there in the parking lot. They were waiting for their kids to finishing dancing and having fun so they could take them straight home. Sarah pointed them out to me so that I could be in on the joke.

We didn't go inside straight away – they were still getting everything ready – so we hung out in the foyer and Sarah introduced me to all of her friends. She has so many! They said all the usual things like, “We've heard so much about you,”
“Is that your car?”
“Can you get us cheap / free pizza?” and,
“You better not break her heart!” This last one was a joke but I took it very seriously. I looked at the girl who had said it and said,
“If Sarah's heart were to break, for any reason, mine would break too. It would kill me. We're linked together through love, through togetherness.” It was a romantic thing to say and everyone could hear me say it. Just as her friends were catching their breath, the doors opened and it was Dance Time. I don't think I can really describe how magical is was. The ceiling went up forever and there were stars twinkling up in the roof. There was detail everywhere – folds of gold on every pillar and doorway, blue drapes that matched Sarah's dress perfectly. I can imagine all these workers and decorators spending hours on hours on putting all this detail in because they just want people to feel like they're in a place that people have spent a lot of time on. The band was still setting up, but the colour and the chatter from people was music enough, in a progressive sort of way. I was almost dizzy when I sat down at my place. I knew it was my place because there was a little piece of card with my name on it right there at the table. They'd used a special pen to make it. You can't buy those pens at most places. There were also three round chocolates waiting for me, covered in foil. As a joke, Sarah ate mine and I ate hers. They were more delicious than anything. Everything was talking about all sorts of things – mostly about other people. There were people everywhere – most of them were young and nervous, but there was an occasional boyfriend who was old and, upstairs, watching over us in case we misbehaved, were Sarah's teachers and a few volunteer parents. They looked so pleased with us. It was just, 'Hey guys, you've earned this. Sorry we've been such jerks to you up to now, but you made it. GO HAVE A LIFE.' It must have been such a relief for them every year. It's like they get to be young and pretty and romantic and getting it for just one night but also to see these people they've put all their hope and love and time into just relax and do their thing.

Then the food came out. They had these really classy vegge-bakes and whole turkeys with purple juice to drink. I didn't have too much purple juice because I thought it might make me sick. I just needed the energy. Then I noticed that I could recognise a lot of the people at our table. There were two girls and a boy who all used to hang outside with David and Sarah in the old days. They smiled and waved and I gave a little wave back and then I heard that whistling again and looked around and there he was – David. But the whistling wasn't coming from him, it was coming from somewhere else. I moved up and down and around, looking for the sound. I checked until the table but my hair got in my eyes but then David spoke to me and I stopped and came up.
“Hey, listen,” he said. He looked like he had something heavy to get off his chest. I brushed my hair out of my eyes and lent in closer so I could hear better.
“I just wanted to say that I'm sorry, to you and to you, Sarah. I never meant to be such a lame-o. I brought these back to you,” he took an envelope out of his pocket and slid it across the table towards Sarah. She opened it and I saw the photos. They were of her. She had given them to David make him love her, long ago. He turned back to me. “I can't imagine how hard it must be an Ashkenazi. I imagine you must feel alone all the time – totally separated from those around you, from your family. Not many people 'get' you. I tried, but I failed. I didn't have what it takes. But I think Sarah 'gets' you. I believe that with all of my heart.” Sarah looked at me and I caught her glance and looked back at her. She smiled, blinking back the tears that were so happy they couldn't breathe. "Love is when you say someone's name and you just know that any other name wouldn't fit.” I said. I looked into the mind behind her eyes and mouthed 'Sarah' over and over again. She said 'Moe' over and over again. We kissed and when we had finished, David was gone. He'd gone to live up in the attic. We didn't see him again that night. His part was done. But that didn't matter. Sarah took me by the hand and led me to the dancefloor where we danced so romantically and well that it led so naturally into us making love. Everyone was cool with it and it wasn't a big deal, even though it was beautiful. Some people were watching and they became inspired by our love. Up on the top level, among the parents and the teachers and a couple of the old boyfriends who were friends with the parents and teachers, Ric and Carolyn embraced as they watched us on the dancefloor. They put their heads together and their cheeks touched and the smiled. Burzum was there too, leaning over the railing and laughing with all his heart. He was crying and the tears were getting on his light brown suit, turning it jet black. Then Leonard Cohen came up from behind them and hugged them all at once and squeezed them so hard and laughed so heartfully and he was as big in real life as he was in their imaginations. The band were still setting up, just piling more and more instruments onto the stage and checking the wires over and over, but that didn't matter because the room was filled with whistling and everyone was dancing to that. The whistling was coming from me.

So the dance ended but every second of it counted. Sarah was under my arm and her friends were all laughing and talking. We went outside in the night but the air wasn't cold, the air was alive with the connections between people and all the hope that has ever been felt in the world. That was when I saw him. The Ancient Shark Of Despair, out there in the parking lot, covered in damp towels, waiting in his car along with all the other parents. I don't know why, but I got really angry right then and ran up to the car and banged on the window. I wanted to shake him up a little but he got really scared and drove off and screeched his tyres.

When I got in, I lay down on my bed and put on Sarah's music. I wanted to play it all at once and fill the room with her thoughts and feelings but it won't let you do that. You have to do it one at a time.

Tuesday, November 25th 2008

Today I asked my friend on IRC if he'd help me get my internet shopping set up. He said he would and I gave him ops. He's been wanting those for some time.

My relationship with my friend on IRC (I'm going to call him by his nick-name '@groombridge' from now on, since he's got ops) is pretty interesting.
It all started when I banned him for talking about Leonard Cohen in my music chatroom. But then, hey, I had a change of heart and I think that Leonard Cohen is good now. I talk to @groombridge almost every day and not always about Leonard Cohen. It's funny because – even though I've known the landlord for a bit longer than I've known @groombridge, I feel that the things I talk about with him are more real than the things I usually talk to the landlord about.

It's like this – the landlord will come in and he'll ask me if I'm fine – I'm fine – and then he'll tell me if the alarm accidentally went off the night before or if anyone in the building is getting visited by the kids or has a new grandchild or fell over and or anything like that. Then he'll talk a bit about how messy my room / the courtyard / the garage is and how I should maybe sort it out (he means hire a cleaner – yeah, about that...) and then maybe he'll move onto something he heard on the radio that upset him. A few weeks ago he was all worried about a story he heard about people hacking into people's pacemakers and stopping their hearts. “I can't imagine anything worse!” he said. “Some nerd killing you like that on his computer!” then he looked at my computer and made a face. Usually after that stage of the conversation we'll basically run out of things to say and he'll hang around for a few hours and then he'll either make some food or leave. If I try to talk to him about Moe or any of my friends or my blog or anything I've found on the internet, he either gets kind of stressed out or doesn't believe me.
But @groombridge is -on- the internet. He even lives in America. He's wise to what's going on out there. He knows about blogs and Leonard Cohen and he's a parent too, so he knows all about real families and how they hurt sometimes. This is why he's going to help me get internet shopping.

The most complicated part of internet shopping is that I don't have a credit card and they don't do it like pizza, where you pay the guy who comes to your door. You've got to pay before the food even gets here, before you can even see it. What if you get the food and some it isn't right? Like if it's been opened or burnt or something. What if you change your mind and no longer want any of the food that isn't right? You can't change your mind. It's a new world. You must be resolute.

I don't know anyone with a credit card. Well, no one except for @groombridge. We'll work something out. I know it. He's connected. He's got access to all sorts of knowledge. It's like he's got superpowers and everyone else has these superpowers except the landlord.

Oh, I forgot to tell you guys, but on the weekend the landlord brought me a box of stuff that he'd found when he cleared out his mother's little granny flat. He said that I should sort through it and pick out anything that was mine or that I'd want to be mine. I reckon I'll do that tomorrow. I'm going to do a big sort-through of all the stuff in my room and in the back room and in the box too. I'm going to have all these piles: Keep, Throw Away and Not Sure. The landlord will be really pleased when he sees those piles. It'll be progress.

Wednesday, November 26th 2008

When the grocery kid came round with the landlord to hang out today I told him that I would no longer be requiring his services. I slipped it into the conversation really casually so it didn't look like I'd planned it. People hate it when you plan things that affect them emotionally. It went like this:

“That blumming doctor – I'm going to see him next week about my back but now he says I've got to fill out some forms on the internet first.” This is the grocery kid talking.
“On a computer?” said the landlord.
“They've got this new system,” spat the grocery kid. “It's all computers now.”
“What's wrong with the old system?” smiled the landlord.
“It's all donders deurmekaar, that's what it is.”
“Looks like you'll have to let him use your computer,” said the landlord, looking at me and using this big hoho voice. I smiled.
“Good thing you told me now – he won't be able to use it next week!” I said. I told him why. I'm firing the grocery kid and doing all my shopping on the internet from now on. I can buy whatever I want whenever I want and it will be a lot more efficient. My friend in America will pay for it and I'll pay him back with a cheque. I've got it all figured out.
“Oh no, Sharky. Not this rubbish again.” said the landlord. The grocery kid didn't say anything.
“It's not rubbish,” I said, correctly. “He always buys the wrong thing and I always run out of food before he does a new shop.” The landlord just shook his head.
“No. You're not firing him. You know, -you- never actually -hired- him, Shark. Celene did.” They both looked so angry. It was a mistake to do this with the landlord watching. He gets so emotional and his stronger emotions beat my logic because I like to keep things polite. I could have handled the grocery kid on his own. I outnumber him. I looked at their faces and they looked old and ugly. Then I smiled.
“Hey, you guys can't even take a joke, you know that? Sheesh!” I said and I went back to my websites. The grocery kid left and the landlord didn't make any food and left earlier than usual. I got really hungry and ordered pizza even thought it wasn't a Friday. I felt kind of naughty doing it. The pizza was a bit cold when it got here but that's okay, really. I kind of like it like that. I almost always burn my mouth when it's hot.