Sittin’ in the mornin’ sun
I’ll be sittin’ when the evenin’ comes
Watching the ships roll in
Then I watch ’em roll away again, yeah
Otis Redding
She arrived home safely. And by this we mean that no Martians absconded her body to some remote part of Mars for future experiments, this allowed her persistent fear of being kidnapped to be put to rest for another day, she paid the confused Uber driver and jokingly thanked him for not kidnapping her. Once ensconced in her charming little apartment in Upper Gardens (or Lower Orenjezicht- depending on the market value of one’s ego) her thoughts meandered to what this really was all about; the ease of attraction and its naughty cousin; sex, this refection coupled with the past couple of days of yummy romance confused her. There is something dismally sad about realizing that your journey up to this point in time has been a continuous lie formulated on a spiral of perpetual blunders, this realization slapped Lisa across the gills like the resounding thwack of an unscaled fish. Furthermore, there was a considerable amount of precious cargo involved; A dishy music teacher and the added promise of forming a music band. Not your regular flotsam and jetsam that is usually discarded when one abandons ship. Lisa drifted off from this mental conundrum to ascertain the time of day, she gazed at the clock, wondering if a wee dram of whiskey in her coffee would upset her inner scruples – it was 10.35am.
At 10.36am, Lisa began to experience thoughts and emotions usually reserved for the condemned as they shuffle towards their place of execution. It began with a resounding, “What is one to do when staring at the innards of one’s comeuppance?” Heavy stuff indeed. Forging ahead, she sought answers to this quagmire, waiting for another lucid moment to fast forward this post-yoga workout platitude; “Rectitude seems like a long swim across a great lake” Gawd. It didn’t end there, “The misgivings of one’s youth is like the voyage we need to take but are not ready for” With eyes gazing heavenward, she was stunned by further silence. She sat with these emotions for a while, owning them and allowing the thoughts to wash over her as some sort of cleansing ritual. “Oh, fuck it!”, she exclaimed after the obligatory five minutes of self-reflection and belly gazing.
At 10.41am she cracked open the whiskey.
The elixir of Jim Beam Whiskey and Lavazza Crema e Gusto had the desired effect of lighting up all those necessary little receptors that conveyed control, inspiration and general vivre la vie. And with that resounding victory ; she undressed with a flourish consisting of swift and dexterous hand movements that left a pile of clothes on the bedroom carpet, she walked away towards the shower thinking that the clothing aftermath resembled a shedding reptile.
“I am the Lizard King
Retire now to your tents and to your dreams
Tomorrow we enter the town of my birth
I want to be ready”
Jim Morrison
She stood under the powerful jets of water, rinsing the love from her body and replacing it with a fair quantity of soapy balms and lotions. She exited the steamy shower room and dressed with the required accoutrements so deemed by social norms. The internal chatter continued; life in its ability to churn out rancid butter to milkmaids of human kindness or even to throw unhittable curve balls to major league baseballers, can leave many bereft of the ability to pick up the milk pail or reach for the big swinging Louisville Slugger. Lisa liked to think she had her croissant buttered just right. When it did fall apart, she usually added more butter. And it was this butter that seemed to have congregated around her waist and thighs, it was a like a lover that silently climbed up the drainpipe to visit for the night, only to leave in the early morning with unwanted regret. She resolved to address this weighty issue right away, her ADD brain shrieking with delight.
So, on the second day of her rejuvenation, she found herself again facing the ubiquitous Google logo on her quickly-dying ACCER laptop, she deftly typed in the words “Fitness Training” after 0.86 seconds, there appeared 4 610 000 000 results. “Well, I only need one”, she told herself and again to no one else in particular. Sadly, the paid searches took her immediately to flashing neon light gyms, resplendent with gym equipment and other gym hardware, that somehow resembled a military armament factory preparing for the final push as they prepare to invade a small neighbouring country. She soldiered on, tentatively scrolling down and scanning the contents to find something more salubrious and less “shot-gun-to-the head” boring than waiting in line for a turn on the leg press machine.
Scroll, scroll… merrily, merrily, life is but a scheme …
The unattractive list continued ad nauseum; Body-Pump, BoxFit, Zumba, Pilates, more Pilates and some more Pilates (eyes now firmly cast towards the heavens)
“Can there be anything less appealing than these sorry excuses for exercises”, Lisa commented to the monitor in front of her – the only audience in the room.
“Yikes, no wonder we have a couch potato society” continuing the conversation with the monitor.
“Oh, great Zeus! Please help” she implored.
She looked at the lampstand and began a conversation, “How did the Greeks combine the pursuit of poetry and physical exercise?” Her ADD addled brain jumped onto another Google search. History of physical training (5 840 000 000 results 0,66 seconds),
“Oh my!”, she exclaimed. “They used to train in the buff!” she guffawed with animated arms waving about. She continued her conversation with the lampstand, adding; “All those wobbly bits, bouncing around in all directions”, Lisa at this stage nearly upending herself and now squawking in an absolute tizz. Realizing that she still hadn’t found an agreeable exercise pastime resulted in an audible “Aargh!!”, that was probably heard by the lampshade as well.
She briefly regained her composure whilst deciding that the route taken by her ADD distraction and further encouraged by her inquisitive mind was by no means reaching any consensus to a solution. Whilst the PC cursor flashed in wonderous merriment, awaiting its next command, the electronic ping on her phone’s notification alerted her of another incoming message on WhatsApp. Which these days we treat more like an important communique from the president. It wasn’t from the president but rather a missive from her recent paramour. It stated, concisely and without any emojis:
Ode to a single man
The visage of a goddess
The splendour of a dress
The shift of her head
That makes you wish you were dead.
The smile that could send a thousand men to war
And make them believe they should run back to her door.
All this for a promise of afternoon delight
That may, or may not, last into the night.
So be quite thou beating heart
Do not fall for the nearest tart
She is out there
The one that you seek.
So, do not despair
It will only make you weak.
Followed by a second text – still without any emojis:
She is out there … and she just walked into my life.
She read it again.
Oh my!” she gushed.
“He may like me!”, now telling the dumbstruck lampshade. Clearly, she needed to answer forthwith and preferably with some fanciful wit forcing through. She wondered what elixir the scribes of old imbibed to allow the creative juices to bubble forth. How soon could she indulge in her second cup of fortified coffee? After numerous scribbles and hair pulling, this first draft produced itself:
Found in the fire
The will of desire,
The need of trust,
The want of lust,
The security of love,
The peace of a dove.
A space meant for me,
A passion that burns,
A heart that yearns,
A smile that lightens,
A spirit that brightens.
All in a man I just met.
“A bit rich”, she wondered. “But that is all I could muster under this time constrain” She promptly thumb texted it onto his WhatsApp profile and sent it on its way. And she waited, single tick, double tick (now online) and (bingo!) double blue tick! She waited, giving him enough time to read it. “Good lord!”, she exclaimed “How long does it take for him to read it!” She waited a few more moments, and blurted out; “either he’s writing a sonnet or he just decided to ghost me”, as these words were spoken, the digital saviour typing … appeared on her screen to reveal this:
Anche io (also me)
There are emollient creams,
There are drugs that slay dreams,
There are whiskeys that make you neglect,
And wines that make you forget.
There are stray bodies to entwine and find comfort,
To blunt the hurt,
While we convert,
To someone’s desert.
And perhaps some hobbies to stay fat.
You and I will never be that.
She stood still for a couple of seconds. “Well fancy that, he really likes me”
She sat and stared at the Google search of “Fitness Training” and with a gentle closure of her laptop, she declared to no one in particular; “He likes me as I am!”
She reached for her bass, called the Uber driver (her fear of being kidnapped no longer a pressing thought) and headed to the big block of Flats where her lover lived.