Friday Flash - Hairshirt In Reverse

Some days, you eat the bear. And some days, well, the bear, he eats you.

This has been one of those weeks where the bear wore a bib. A blocked week. I left my Thoughtballoons strip to the very last minute, and paid for it in the comments. And as for Friday Flash, inspiration failed to strike.

Rather than force it, or leave you without my weekend sermon, here's another old Elephant Words story, dusted off from 2007. Enjoy... and if you can't enjoy, endure. For me...

(Image by Austin Andrews.)



Hairshirt In Reverse



Have you seen my shirt?

“Which shirt?”

You know perfectly well which shirt. Which mean you must also know where it is. Must in fact be responsible for where it is. Something else you know: how much that shirt means to me. It used to mean something to you too.

1995. Like a million other sixteen year-olds before me, suddenly I’ve got this hard-on for individuality. I don’t want to listen to the same music as everybody else, or read the same books. I certainly don’t want to wear the same clothes. There was this odd little second hand shop in the back of the Corn Exchange. I was in there every Saturday, spending the peanuts I made stacking shelves Friday nights in Asda. Most of the time, I was their only customer.

Antique cuckoo clocks. Dusty old Serge Gainsbourg records. Coffee mugs with women on the side who lost their clothes when you filled them with liquid. (There’s a joke there somewhere, but I’m not in the mood.) Authentic Japanese Godzilla posters. In the window: a vintage 48 key concertina, a working Hornby 00 Gauge train set, and a French policeman’s hat like the one Claude Rains wore in Casablanca. A tag claimed it was the exact same hat. I never believed it.

Of course I remember the day I bought the shirt. It was the afternoon prior to our fourth date. Our third, three nights earlier, ended later than we expected. Just me and you and the swallows, we had Marigold Park all to ourselves. If the rain hadn’t stopped us, that could have been our night. We ran home laughing. I could see your parents in the front room watching telly, trying not to glance out into the street. You made such a big deal about kissing me goodnight. I knew it was for their benefit. I’ll say this for you, though: you knew how to keep a bloke interested. Do you remember what you said to me that night?

“Fuck, Porter – you’re going to get so lucky this weekend.”

It was the first time I'd ever experienced spontaneous human combustion. Good job it was raining. I walked home in another dimension. The shirt I had on got soaked, ruined. I couldn’t wear it two dates running anyway. I needed something new. Special. I worked overtime Friday, on the frozen food. My fingers lost all sensation by the end of the shift.

The thing is, there wasn’t anything special about that shirt. Not to look at it. Just a plain white thing with short sleeves and no collar. It wasn’t what I was looking for. I can’t tell you why I bought it. When I held it to my chest in the mirror... it just felt right.

Saturday came and your parents were up in the Lakes. You made fresh avocado salad, and we split a Bounty while listening to Nick Drake. It was the first really hot day of the summer, and after tea we walked up through the cornfields behind your house, looking for a place to set down our blanket. I started to take off my shirt, but you put your hand on my chest and told me not to.

“Keep it on.”

The thing is, your first time’s supposed to be all weird and hesitant and bungling… I don’t know about you, but that’s what I expected. When it wasn’t, when it… I mean, where do you go from perfection? Afterwards, you flicked a greenfly off my collar and told me you loved me. I reckon astronauts could see me from space that night.

When I got home, I hung the shirt on the curtain rail to catch the breeze from my bedroom window. I was worried Mum might smell us on it when she threw it in the wash. Except, by morning, I’d made up my mind. That shirt wasn’t ever going in the wash. I know you don’t believe in such things, but sometimes I think that’s where the magic came from. The magic that kept us together.

I took the plastic bag off one of my dad’s suits, just back from the dry cleaners, and rolled it over the shirt. I had this crazy romantic notion I’d get it out again in fifty years and wear it for our golden anniversary, but I needed it sooner than that. After we tried and failed to get into the same university... I had to take something of you with me to Bath. You hear about all those couples who split up while they’re away at college, I didn’t want that to be us. So whenever I got lonely, whenever some crazy girl turned my head with a look or a laugh or a keen knowledge of Chomsky… I’d go back to my room and unwrap that shirt, put on some Nick Drake, and remember.

And yeah, if we’re being brutally honest now, the times we did meet up… weekends, holidays, after you fought with Laura and almost dropped out… they were good, they were great, but they weren’t always quite as good as I imagined they'd be. But I told myself that once we were together again full time, things would be different. Better, I mean, better even than that night in the cornfield. But maybe I was kidding myself. Because we’ve been living here – what, twelve years now, and all we do is argue over who gets to open the new jar of coffee and take the first sniff, how it drives me insane that you have to screw up your shopping list and start again just because you’ve spelled ‘quiche’ wrong, and... I mean, god help me if you buy one more pair of culottes…

But no, I don’t want us to split up, and do you want to know why? Because whenever I put on that shirt (and OK, yeah, it smells a bit now—

“It stinks.”

–and there are stains I don’t even want to think about), I know I couldn’t ever meet anyone who’d make me feel half the way you did that on legendary evening in June, ‘95. So please, I’m going to ask you one more time – and don’t lie to me, Clare, because I’ll know if do. Please…

What? Have you done? With my shirt?

This Time It's Personal Meme (Part 2)

From Sunday Stealing...

(Part 1 back here.)

21. If you were to live your life without your best friend, what would change?

I don't have a best friend. Don't get me wrong, this isn't one of those "woe is me, nobody loves me" answers. I have a number of good friends. I just never had one who I was closer to than any other. I often wonder what I'd do were I ever to get married. I wouldn't have a clue who to ask to be my best man.

22. Tell us about a era of your life that you really miss.

I've thought long and hard about this question and can't really arrive at a satisfactory answer. There have been some great times in my life, but usually when other not-so-great things were either going on too or just around the corner. I prefer to live in the now and hope for a brighter tomorrow.

23. Have you ever been betrayed by someone that came as a complete surprise? Without revealing the person, if yes, tell us about it.

Yes. My first serious girlfriend was cheating on me, behind my back... with another woman. It wasn't the bisexuality that came as a shock, but just who that other woman was... and the true story of how she and my ex had got together. It's the kind of story I'd consider writing up as a Hollywood thriller a la Fatal Attraction or Basic Instinct (without the murders), yet the whole thing would seem just too implausible. Truth is stranger than fiction.

24. Do you ever think it's a good idea to hide your feelings?

Yes.

25. Tell us about your favorite year when you were a student.

As I've mentioned before, I have major regrets about my time at uni. I should have gone away to study rather than staying at home and working nights to pay my way. Yes, I walked out without any student debt, but I definitely missed out on the social life... which might have made me a different person.

If I could go back and visit any of my student days, it'd probably be Sixth Form. We had a laugh.

25. When was the last time you were in a very good mood? What caused it?

A very good mood? How long have you been reading this blog? My memory doesn't go back that far.

26. Have you ever had a romantic relationship with a sibling of a good friend?

No. Mike's brother was never interested. (That was a joke. I don't know anyone called Mike.)

27. Tell us about the last thing that you did that you truly regret.

Well, I came to work this morning. I always regret that.

28. When did you laugh today?

When I finally saw the new Grinderman video. Nick Cave and his Great Balls of Fire.



29. Do you trust easily?

Didn't we answer this one already?

30. What do you care about that you wish more people would?

Stopping distances.

31. Is it easier for you to go without food or go without sleep?

Hmm... I'll say food. I'm no good to anyone if I've not had a good night's sleep. Some would say I'm no good even if I have.

32. What non-alcoholic beverage do you enjoy drinking the most?

Canada Dry Ginger Ale.

33. When you walk into a room full of strangers, generally how is your confidence?

Depends why I'm there.

Generally, though, pretty low. But I'm working on that.

34. Does talking about sex with anyone but your lover make you uncomfortable?

Not really. Not that I do a lot of talking about it with anyone else. So maybe it does.

35. Do you tend to believe members of the opposite sex mostly behave the same way?

No. I don't believe members of my own sex mostly behave the same way, so why should women?

36. Did you drink any alcohol this week? If yes, what?

Not for the last ten years.

37. Would you ever consider being a vegetarian?

I have considered it in the past. I respect and admire anyone who can do it. But I don't think I can.

38. Do you believe there’s always room in your heart for someone?

What an odd question. Everything depends on circumstances. I almost posted a Living In A Box video in reply to this, but I resisted the temptation.

39. Do you believe in the concept of soul mates?

No.

40. Last week, we had a few players criticize our victim’s questions. Which is fine to do and we value your opinion. Would you ever consider writing questions for Bud and me to post on a Sunday Stealing?

You've already posted two of my memes, dude. Question answered.

I believe this particular meme isn't yet finished. I'll be back with Part 3 later.

This Time It's Personal Meme (Part 1)

Stolen from Sunday Stealing...

1. Are you happier now than you were five months ago?

Hmmm... yes. Just about.

2. Have you ever slept in the same bed with someone you shouldn't have?

No. But I have slept in a different bed to someone I shouldn't have. Many times.

3. Can you sleep in total darkness?

Yes.

4. Your phone is ringing. It’s the person you fell hardest for, the one who got away, what do you say?

"Ms. Winslet? How did you get my number?"

5. What do you think about the weather this summer?

Summer appears to have changed forever, doesn't it? Summer now seems to involve a nice warm May followed by two months of rain, wind and clouds like tarmac - with an occasional teasingly bright spell, but nothing to compare to late Spring.

I'm hoping for a brighter Autumn.

6. How many people do you trust with everything?

I trust no one with everything.

7. What was the last thing you drank?

Black coffee.

8. Is there anyone you want to come see you?

Well, Kate Winslet did just give me a call... but no, I had to turn her down. Again.

9. Name one thing you love about winter?



10. Have you ever dated a Goth?

Sadly not. That's not to say I didn't try, in my younger days, but I was just too miserable for her.

11. What are you looking forward to tomorrow?

Going to see The Expendables.

12. Name something you dislike about the day you’re having?

Work.

13. What's the longest that you have committed to one person and one person only?

As long as it'll be until Louise finally wises up and kicks my ass to the kerb.

14. What’s the first thing you did when you opened your eyes today?

Closed them again.

15. Has anyone ever told you they never want to ever lose you?

Tina Turner and Gloria Estefan. Those girls were always fighting over me.

16. Is there anybody you wish you could fix your relationship with?

Audi drivers. I wish I could fix it so they behaved like civilized, considerate human beings.

17. Could you go out in public, looking like you do now?

I just did. Why, what's wrong with me?

18. Do you think things will change in the next 3 months? How?

Yes. I'll suddenly become an overnight success, after only 20 years trying.

19. Do you believe that you never know what you've got 'til it's gone?

Sadly, yes. Conversely, I also believe you never truly know what you want until you get it.

20. Do you have a friend of the opposite sex you can talk to?

Yes. What am I, a neanderthal?

The Wrong Knickers

Louise comes downstairs while I'm eating my tea.

"There's a pair of white knickers - from Primark! - in the washing you did over the weekend that AREN'T MINE."

"Well," I splutter, "they're not mine!"

I've never been accused of infidelity before, and though I don't believe Louise is seriously accusing me of it now, the very suggestion still makes me feel insanely guilty. I can feel myself blushing, stammering out possible explanations, getting all needlessly defensive... how the hell can I feel guilty about something I've not actually done? God help me if I'm ever up on an erroneous murder charge.

"But I didn't kill Tom Hanks!"

"You're going down, sunshine!"

Before I continue: a little history. I have never been unfaithful to anyone. I have however been cheated on twice - by two previous partners - so I know exactly how shitty it feels. As a result, no matter the circumstances, I wouldn't ever do that to another human being, particularly not someone I care about. Besides, I'd be rubbish at it. If an unfounded suggestion fills me with this much guilt, imagine what I'd be like if I was actually culpable?

The problem with any such accusation - even one made in jest - is that there's no way to answer it. If you deny it... well, that's exactly what you would do, isn't it? If you make a joke of it... oh, so you think it's funny, do you? The more defensive you get, the more guilty you seem. I really would make a hopeless criminal - but I'd be even worse as "an innocent man charged with a crime he didn't commit".

"But I wasn't anywhere near the building where Bono, Russell Brand and Chris Evans were killed in that suspicious explosion - I swear! The one-armed man did it!"

"Guilty as charged."

However, all that said, if I were to turn heartless cad-bastard overnight, I certainly wouldn't be running around with someone who wears white Primark knickers! Give me some credit! It'd be Anne Summers or Agent Provocateur all the way! And the same goes for if I were to take a sudden turn to transvestism. Stockings and suspenders, darling. Only the best.

Likewise, I think I'd be a bit more careful than to cast my strumpet's nether garments into the weekly wash. And even if I were that stupid, I certainly wouldn't take them out of the wash and hang them on the clothes horse to dry! What am I, a complete idiot?

Fortunately, Louise appears to have answered that question for herself. Or perhaps she's secretly relishing the idea that some other unlucky chump might be about to take me off her hands. As to the mystery knickers, they remain just that. Perhaps they've been left by a malicious prankster out to sow disharmony in Meltham Towers. Or perhaps Louise is so embarrassed by finding such unflattering knicks in the bottom of her drawer, she's blanked out all memory of ever having purchased them. Or perhaps one of our neighbours is sneaking into our house and depositing their tighty-whiteys in our laundry basket because they're too idle to do their own washing? Rest assured, we will get to the bottom of this...

Important Artifacts And Personal Property From The Collection Of Lenore Doolan And Harold Morris, Including Books, Street Fashion And Jewellery

Leanne Shapton's book, the full title of which I've written once and will not do so again, has a wonderful concept. It's a catalogue of lots for an auction held on Saturday the 14th of February, 2009 (there's a clue) at a New York auction house. Each of the items on sale, few of which would have any real value at auction, represents a different stage in the relationship between two people, 26 year-old cookery columnist Lenore Doolan and 39 year-old travelling photographer Harold Morris.

It begins with photographs and a party invitation and ends with collections of dried flowers. Make of that symbolism what you will. In between you'll find everything from mixtapes to diary pages, braziers to pyjamas, china dogs to salt shakers, books, ties, umbrellas, cocktail mixers, cake stands, menus, travel clocks and post-it notes... all meticulously documented with lot numbers, images, dimensions and reserve prices. It's the ephemera on which we build our lives, yet it tells an all too recognisable story of the rise and fall of a love affair, finding heartbreaking detail in the minutiae. There are times when that level of detail bogs us down - maybe not every one of these lots is entirely necessary - but after finishing this book I felt I knew these characters inside and out... though some details of their relationship are left to the reader's imagination / speculation.