Tuesday, August 8, 2006

The Rebirth of Cool

Sylvia just sat and listened as Archie talked. They drank coffee as the world wept around them and formed rivers down the concrete channels beside the road.

Beside them and all around, the world kept on doing its thing.

Last night I held my stomach but I didn't cry, Archie started. I almost felt relief. It was like getting the tattoo, I was so nervous beforehand, of the pain I mean. And it fucking hurt, but then it was done. And now...now I'm marked. And it's okay. I mean, I feel...almost too calm. Can you dig that pussycat?

I can dig it Arch.

It's true. No more mess. No more mess. I've had mess, I've attracted mess, I've CREATED mess. I've been a messy fucking guy Lady. But today, I feel reborn. It's like I've opened my eyes for the first time and everything seems so...


Real. Everything seems so real. All the things that I have done and that have been done to me. It all has to stop. I'm making a promise to myself today. All of this will stop.

He held out his arm and rolled up his sleeve. He placed his left palm over the marking of his mother which lived on his right forearm.

Since...this...I've been destroyed and have destroyed. I've hurt others and hurt myself. That is not, NOT, right. It's not right. I need to lead. Need to live up to the expectation that I have of myself. I'm a good guy, but I've been a messy guy. And my ego tells me I'm intelligent, but fuck me sometimes I act dumb. Real fucking dumb. Oh man I've done some dumb arse shit. And this calm, I don't know how long it's going to last...but I know it's RIGHT. I know I'm in the place that I'm supposed to be, right now. No more mess. No more hurt. Just...doing the right thing. By other people, but most importantly...by myself. I swear on this motherfucking tattoo, that I will try and follow this principle.

That's beautiful, she said. It's...infectious.

Archie shook himself out of his reverie and just smiled his big dumb grin.

But I'm still allowed to have fun right? I can still streak and dance and play air guitar behind the bar and flirt and be crazy. I just...I want people to think, there's that crazy guy, and then when they meet me, I want them to say, wow. I want them to say wow.

Trust me, sylvia laughed, they already do.


I moved house. I put all of my belongings into a suitcase and some boxes and I moved to my little country oasis in Brunswick. And when I wake up there's a black fella and a trazpeze artist sawing and sanding a brand new deck made of oak and other "procured" timber. Dave, the black fella, is up from Sorrento until the job is done. He's staying in the backyard in a tent which is always ready in his car. He has a stove, a mattress and a tent. I like that. I like that a lot.

I moved house but my belongings weren't the only baggage I brought with me. And so today, I'm having a ceremony. I'm taking all of that internal baggage and piling it up in the centre of the back yard...and letting the wind take it. Not burning it, just letting it free. Free of me. And I free of it.

My feelings remain. I hope they always do. But the baggage has got to go.


Archie sat in his backyard smoking a rolled cigarette and watching the gentle rain wash the sawdust of his porch. The sky looked dark and beautiful, compassionate but firm.

Hi. He said. Hi.

And the rain welcomed him home.

1 comment:

  1. Decks are good aren't they? Richmond v Lions you wanna?