or
Joey’s Rush to I-net Café
To drink a cup of coffee = to drink a glass of coffee liquor.
To have a bath = to fish out a sock fallen into the sink yesterday.
To do exercises = to search under the bed for shoes. And to get a pack of smack hidden in the chandelier. (Smack from shoes has been consumed during the night.)
To wash his hair = to spit on his palm and sleek his hair.
Seeing the bird off is just controlling to be sure she has really left and didn't take anything on her way like a memory. A souvenir, you know.
(In other words that she fucked off without demanding payment.)
Well, he payed her but she could take his precious leather jacket lying on the floor in the corridor, right? Or a precious wallet from the pocket of the precious jacket...
And polishing the whistle is just a good tradition, he doesn't want to leave his fingerprints anywhere.
Dressing up... searching for mobile... checking missed calls...
Searching for cigs, searching for lighter, searching for found cigs again...
Putting the very last from the pack into mouth (after reasonable searching for mouth). Thinking about going out for another pack of cigs... Abandoning the frightening idea, desperate search for another pack around the room.
Finding a half empty bottle.
Finding two empty bottles.
Finding pieces of a bottle.
Finding someone's knickers, throwing them to the window. Taking them from the window sill and more thorough throwing. Throwing bottles, throwing lighter.. oops, trying to get the lighter back. More or less successfully, but he grazed his arm. So now he is searching for iodine or some spirits. Actually he would like to wash the arm but the sink got clogged cupla days or weeks ago and he doesn't want to rummage in dirty water with a grazed arm.
He gets a call so he drops the butt into the sink and returns to the room. By the end of the talk he has absolutely forgotten about his arm and can't figure out the origin of blood on his sheets and shirt, the babe wasn't a virgin for sure... So he resorts to his usual practice saying fuck it and forgetting about it. And switching to another exciting excercise – changing shirt.
First of all he tries to open the broken door of the wardrobe, then peeps into the almost empty wardrobe and desperately tries to close the broken door of the wardrobe. There are loads of shirts on chairs, armchairs, couches and under the bed. But most of them are dirty too, the rest with torn-off buttons or sleeves. Actually the one without sleeves appears to be usual undershirt, so called wife beater, so trying to abandon unnecessary associations, he decides not to put it on. And proceeds to the bathroom, hoping to find something there. Something like a shirt.
There are cupla dirty shirts too and trousers and in the trousers pocket he finds a pack with four cigarettes!!!! But where is the lighter... It is not a problem, there must be another one somewhere, in jacket or jeans.. or... well.. somewhere.
(Maybe he could try to find a crushed box of matches?)
Maybe, but he starts with searching jacket pockets and finds a card reminding him about an urgent call he was supposed to make two days ago, so he gets back to the room and to his mobile, which got lost somewhere again. And to find a silent mobile is much harder then to find a ringing one, right? So he fucks off to the toilet where he really finds a box of matches under a pile of porn mags - have you been there?! how did you know about it? What did you search for under a pile of porn mags?
(For rare old books.)
The light in the toilet is too dim for rare old books and reading them there. But enough to examine delights of birds on the covers... just a minute, he is getting out!
So all he needs now is a <relatively> clean shirt (desirable) and a mobile (necessary).
(Would he like to discuss poetry via phone with his Muse?)
You mean Shane?
(No, Shane cannot use mobile phone. To discuss poetry with Shane, he uses a simple walkie-talkie.)
Maybe to discuss prices on stock exchange.
(But he still has no mobile, his cig is gone and the cleanest shirt he can find has a tomato splash on the back – no, not thrown by an angry FoSer, he just nonchallantly leaned on a vegetable stall during his last walk. So?)
He rolls up bloody sleeves of the last, so it looks quite good now.
(Fine - one problem solved.)
And what is another?
(He forgot again? A minute ago it was mobile.)
Aaa... OK, mobile. Where can it be.... actually everywhere.
(Or nowhere...)
Hey! He used it cupla minutes ago!
(Maybe an hour already. Time flies by and the only progress is one smoked cig...)
Two! And a grazed arm!
(And deftly improved shirt. So three. Isn’t he tempted to find a comp now and upload his newest masterpiece to his livejournal?)
After having some smack, why not.
(Smack is in the chandelier. Hope he can reach it from the bed.)
Aha! The mobile was in that mess under the blanket.
(And it still works after he trod on it?)
Looks like it. But are you sure he is ready to leave his dirty but cosy and safe room?
(It is not a matter of "want". Creativity urges him.)
But the aversion for fresh air and bright light keeps him at home.
(Look outside! The sun hid behind clouds, it is not bright anymore. And J. is an artist, he cannot stop the desire to create...)
OK, smack, the rests from the bottles and he is ready!!!!
(Shoes. Don’t forget about shoes.)
Yes! Aren't they on him already?
(Of course not. As he and the bird were feasting on the shoe-smack all night long.)
Ah, here they are! On the bed table! At least one...
The other one is in the corridor, next to the jacket. Looks like someone was in a hurry yesterday coming home. Well, but he still needs cigs. The one in his mouth is the last.
(On his way to the iternet cafe, he can stop in a tobacconist shop and buy a new pack. Or cleverly pinch one while chatting charmingly with the shop asssistant. Isn’t it enough of a motivation to fuck off from the seedy room?!?)
Of coz! We are leaving, where is the mobile?
Aha, here on the belt already. OK and where are the keys?
(Under the rag. As always.)
Nah. He was in a hurry yesterday... Here, on the corridor floor too.
Oi, money!! Where is the money!!!!
Ah, here, it’s enough for cigs, and the rest will find be found later! Leaving!!
© MacRua, with prodding questions by Zuzana, 2005
photo © unknown
