Читать книгу War/Peace - Matthew Vandenberg - Страница 11

'I'm at . . . the suburb where I live!'

'Where?'

'I ain't tellin' you where. Think I just give out my address to anyone? Look, I had a real nice night. It was great, excellent. You're a beautiful girl but . . .'

'When will I see you again?'

'I don't know. Actually, to be honest, probably never. I'm just that traveler who came into your life for a night. Look, could you not call me . . .'

I flip my phone shut: 'Ok. Call block. Never really had to do this before. Ha. Kind of cool, I guess. Um' – I glance at the camera – '. . . that was my . . . uh . . . ex? No. No, what do we say? One night stand girl? That was the girl I fucked last night. Simple. Yeah, she was a babe but she was just a babe, emphasis on the indefinite article, and let's also draw an analogy between the girl and this type of article shall we? Yeah, we shall. And now she's practically stalking me. It's never the ones you'd expect, is it?

'Let me set the scene, I'm at Gosford. This is where I live, nowhere special. It's early morn. And I'm well enough to walk home on my own because I was totally sober last night. I don't have a choice anyway, I'm always alone. In fact, that got to me last night when this chick asks me just who my friends are. I lied of course, told her I've got a whole heap of mates who go to Ourimbah University, and some more who go to some High Schools on the Coast. She left it at that because she don't live on the Coast, she lives in Beecroft – more on that sorry suburb in a minute. Anyway, I'm thinking about this on the train back, I'm thinking: do I want friends? Do I need friends? Like permanent, non-transient friends? BFF's? Friends for life? Probably not, but it would be cool. I'm very hedonistic, I don't deny this. I enjoy the pursuit of pleasure, having a great time, and live by the theme and title of that old N*Sync album: No Strings Attached. Heck, I even walk like JT when I'm high, no kidding. I got the stroll down to an art form, I write cursive on the pavement, thoughts the same pitch as the whiny voice of MJ singing “Can You Feel It?*” And when you have friends then you have commitments and not as much freedom. Maybe you gotta be in Sydney by noon the next day, at a party by dawn, and you gotta buy gifts, of course, every second week. Don't get me wrong, I love it when friends talk to me about their problems, makes me feel like I'm some psychologist or something, like I can make a difference, like I can help. And I love helping, I love empathizing with others, and the feeling you get when you've done something nice for someone, the feeling which I also get after I fuck some poor bitch, especially if I was never actually attracted to her . . . or him. Little off topic here, because the girl I fucked last night was totally fine, but I'll stay on this line of thought for a bit longer, on the train even though I've stepped off the platform and I'm walking across the car park, but bare with me. Ok: so I love it when I get to play doctor, I like the feeling you get when you're with a good friend, and I've had many – past tense. But I also like freedom just as much as GM, and I also happen to think that all you haters are probably just as hedonistic as I am but won't admit it.

'Gluttony – excessive eating or drinking. I'd say that really refers to excessive stimulation of any of your sensory organs. Those who don't fuck, taste, sniff, and watch things, or fantasize about watching things, in order to get high. But who gives a fuck anyway? We're all sinners.

'Look – there's a reason why, right now, I appear to be having a go at people who are morally righteous or, rather, those who act as though they are, for only Buddha or Jesus can really say they were totally morally righteous, yeah? By the way – just as an aside – I believe that Jesus would have been a prostitute if condoms were around in his time. Know what – maybe he was. Anyway – I shouldn't go there. This is why I refuse to accept friend requests on my FB page, coz I don't want no shit to hit the fan. But the reason why I'm having a go at all you young Christian or Moslem guys and girls is because Beecroft is such a boring place . . . Ok, this argument's weak, I won't deny that. That's coz I am not really against religions or the practice of them, but basically just hate being bored. I have to speak at at least 200 spa, syllables per minute, as I'm doing right now, whenever I ain't doing something interesting because otherwise I'm bored as fuck. I've totally got ADHD big time.

'So, back to the spine of my story: I met her at Macquarie University on November 23. I went back to her house in Beecroft on November 23. I left this house on November 24. Right now it is November 24. I was at the house for one night and we fucked once. Hence, I believe such events satisfy the conditions for what is commonly referred to in chick lit and popular culture as the one night stand. What can I say, the girl is obviously a Christian. She's calling me more often than that guy calls the Shakaya singer, and she's telling me we're meant to be together. When I left the house, a quaint little dwelling in a tree lined street not to far from the station, I bumped straight into a church – Adventist, and then another – Protestant, and then another – United, before finally meeting the station, who greeted me with a grin that told me he was less than satisfied at my tardiness. I tried to convince him that a group of churches were out to get me, that they had formed a gang and were intent on catching me and eating me in the way Ke$ha eats men, but the station refused to listen and sent me home on the train I recently alighted.

'So I hate Beecroft. There's a good Thai restaurant there though, and this all you can eat pizza bar, a couple great bakeries and some damn fine girls but I'm telling you, I'm warning you, there are more churches in the district than there are females so that's gotta tell you something. Didn't see a Mosque though. In other words, Beecroft is in North Sydney, just shy of Hornsby. Oh – it's named after not one but two wives of Sir Henry Copeland, who happened to be sisters. So don't preach to me about monogamy Beecroft and your churchy tongue, you're a fuckin' sinner yourself. Fuck it, long live sinning. And I'll tell you a place that I totally love: Macquarie University. I think I might go there when I finish High. Screw the University of Newcastle, this uni is so much more prestigious. And everywhere you look there's either some fine babe or a beautiful naked stretch of lawn, not to mention heaps of tranquil forests with signs posted with details on the flora and fauna of the area, and throughout time. I'm addicted to this joint: totally right next to a massive mall as well. And yes, if you're me – or just like me -, if you're that handsome, prototypical sleazebag, then you'll find her, she'll be sitting at a small table in one of the quads, or bathing on the grassy area, by herself with one finger pressed against her bottom lip, deep in thought. Her name is . . . shit! What was her name? Oh well.'

******

References

1 Hey Ya – OutKast

2 Imagine – John Lennon

3 Outside – George Michael

4 *Can You Feel It? – The Jackson 5