After four years, seeing you is no ordinary occurence in my life. I can't be quiet about it, so first, forgive me, all apologies..
You know me. You know the parts well, unclear parts, unleashed parts, splinter, limb, my roles against yours.
Time teaches people each other; that's all time is good for, nothing else. My crooked finger, your scar, the night I fell off the porch and you screamed, headlights, earthquakes and there is more. Me as I am in your construction and mine is inevitable as well; the version of you who is more real than you yourself. So time moved on, finally, we pushed it, all the way out to here. Now it's here, now it's gone, you are not in it now, you are not in it now, it'll come back in a minute.. And then, limb again, hello scar, your mother's letters.
Time is useless. Other than this. This is time's job; today's coffee is time's job, your fragile voice, unaltered and uniform. Benevolence is time's job; it builds a gift that knows not to be given, then that same time compensates, it compensates for it's own lack, relief and out of either goodwill or empathy it disguises itself. What else can disguise 4 years? What else yearns for itself? The stone wants to remain a stone and whatever you and I do or whatever partial concern we throw at it, you and I are time's job. They do not have soy milk at this cafe.
Mirror, mirror on the wall.. Let's put that beauty junk aside for a minute. The beauty junk that exactly and specifically fuels time's machine. Let me understand myself first; necessarily understand myself. And you, too. Throw the mirror out for today's coffee. Mirrors are useless. I wake up like all men wake up, in the course of kindness, neighbors, business associates, friends, deal and bargain cutters, I will be asked what I am like. The question is simple and you hear it too; maybe slightly, only slighty more than you ask it yourself: What am I like?
Whether you are awake or asleep doesn't negate the question. It's simplicity kills you at hello. Am I kind? Am I understanding? Am I smart? Am I? Your gut feeling says yes or no, it says yes one day, no the other, yes to one another. It also preaches, your gut. Your gut says "you need to change". Mister. Lady. Your gut knows nothing. It's just a gut. Nevertheless, you let it speak. You say yes. You say no. You say mostly. Whatever you say, the second and simpler question shoots you in the forehead before you can even answer the first one. The second question: Enough?
Am I kind, enough? Am I understanding, enough? Am I smart, enough? Am I, enough?
That's enough. I am not going to go on deeper into this for it's not why I am writing. I am writing this because you are time's gift to me and I know that I am to you. You are my other gut; the one who knows me. In a world riddled with coincidence and circumstance, what we are will never be clear to ourselves. It will only be clear to those that time has picked for that job. I am not talking about love, desire or lust. Surely, they will come in this picture at one point or another but they will also go. What remains is the mirror that doesn't show anything; only knows it. Then, the useless bastard time has done it's job. I know myself because you know me. You know yourself because I know you.
So, old lover, precious friend, keeper of silent tremors, thank you. For the coffee, this hour, and reminding me what I am like.
See you soon or later. Better late than never. Whatever you do, don't die. I've already lost one.
P.S: Sorry about the soy milk.
1/12/08
Nikolai's Death Version I
There is no doubt I will be blamed for Nikolai's death. I get blamed for a lot of shit. It's always Bruno's fault. Bruno did this, Bruno did that.. Bruno said this to me, Bruno said that to me. Did you see Bruno do that? Were you there when Bruno?... I am used to it. I have never left a place or a situation without at least a few sentences being spoken after I've left. I attract blame. If a cat fell from the sky and bit everyone, it would be my fault.
The circumstances are too convenient. Nikolai and I have worked together for 11 years at the same harbor, everyone knows we quarelled quite a bit and as his second in command, I am now the new chief engineer. No one will even think for a second that Nikolai and I were actually friends.
I'll tell you the truth:
It was late. Really late. 5am. Most Saturday nights at the harbor are quiet. People go off in their social circles, some chase after women, some chase after men in order to be chased, some simply cannot stand an idle moment at home. Whatever their reasons, Saturday night is no night to be spent at the harbor. Once in a while, we do get a couple here and there who'd like to sit and stare at the moon. That's understandable; the moon has been romantic since day one and the harbor is no exception to the rule. We even have an advantage because our boats here add a special touch to the whole experience. Women have always loved sailors and men have always loved women staring at the sea. The reflection of the moon falling onto the water is really like the dressing on the salad. It completes the seduction game. Delicious.
Anyhow, there were no couples on any of the docks when I took my usual walk around 5. I walked all the way to the last dock.
My pockets were empty except some change and a large key I use to lock the gate. I should mention my shoes were wet because I almost fell in the water as I was trying to catch a couple of shrimp for breakfast by the large rocks at the north gate. It was quiet, relatively quiet. It's never quiet at the harbor. There's always some hustle going on somewhere though you can never hear or guess what it is. Somebody's selling oysters, the chinese are trading salt and pepper for salmon, the harbor hotel's owner is on the roof trying to fix the antenna, Leila is clicking her red heels together to attract customers. It's not loud here but it's not quiet either. Only the dirtiest of the dirty are around at this time.
As I reached the last dock, I saw a silhouette sitting at the end of it. It was Nikolai. He looked solitary and content. I watched him for a brief moment. I thought "look at you, Nik, sitting there quietly, not yelling at me or saving my life, so together, so wholesome, so posed.." I don't really know what people thought of him. He was not blamed for things like I am. He didn't really talk to strangers, didn't stick his nose into others' businesses except mine and most notably, he never took anything for granted. I turned around to see if I turned off the light in the office. I had. I turned back around. There was no Nikolai. So simple. So gracious. Gone in a moment.
That's what happened. I don't know what happened. It wasn't me.
The circumstances are too convenient. Nikolai and I have worked together for 11 years at the same harbor, everyone knows we quarelled quite a bit and as his second in command, I am now the new chief engineer. No one will even think for a second that Nikolai and I were actually friends.
I'll tell you the truth:
It was late. Really late. 5am. Most Saturday nights at the harbor are quiet. People go off in their social circles, some chase after women, some chase after men in order to be chased, some simply cannot stand an idle moment at home. Whatever their reasons, Saturday night is no night to be spent at the harbor. Once in a while, we do get a couple here and there who'd like to sit and stare at the moon. That's understandable; the moon has been romantic since day one and the harbor is no exception to the rule. We even have an advantage because our boats here add a special touch to the whole experience. Women have always loved sailors and men have always loved women staring at the sea. The reflection of the moon falling onto the water is really like the dressing on the salad. It completes the seduction game. Delicious.
Anyhow, there were no couples on any of the docks when I took my usual walk around 5. I walked all the way to the last dock.
My pockets were empty except some change and a large key I use to lock the gate. I should mention my shoes were wet because I almost fell in the water as I was trying to catch a couple of shrimp for breakfast by the large rocks at the north gate. It was quiet, relatively quiet. It's never quiet at the harbor. There's always some hustle going on somewhere though you can never hear or guess what it is. Somebody's selling oysters, the chinese are trading salt and pepper for salmon, the harbor hotel's owner is on the roof trying to fix the antenna, Leila is clicking her red heels together to attract customers. It's not loud here but it's not quiet either. Only the dirtiest of the dirty are around at this time.
As I reached the last dock, I saw a silhouette sitting at the end of it. It was Nikolai. He looked solitary and content. I watched him for a brief moment. I thought "look at you, Nik, sitting there quietly, not yelling at me or saving my life, so together, so wholesome, so posed.." I don't really know what people thought of him. He was not blamed for things like I am. He didn't really talk to strangers, didn't stick his nose into others' businesses except mine and most notably, he never took anything for granted. I turned around to see if I turned off the light in the office. I had. I turned back around. There was no Nikolai. So simple. So gracious. Gone in a moment.
That's what happened. I don't know what happened. It wasn't me.
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