The man who would not die
no matter how much they tried to get him in the coffin
they called for help and the entire world came
to help push down the lid
and put him in the ground
like ants on food
him at the bottom
knocking on wood

This Moment

"The light saber arced through the air, incinerating molecules and atoms as it went. I somersaulted backwards, away from the harsh red glow of the deadly weapon.

No, no, no that's a stupid story, no one would every buy it. Maybe I should just stick to being a museum curator and give up on my dreams of writing a space movie. It's not a hard job, I see a museum, I curate. I've curated 100s in my time, sometimes 20 before lunch.

Now if only I could do something about my neurosis that forces me to narrate my life out aloud for everyone to hear."

I said to no one in particular.

"I think it'd be a wonderful story." said the stuffed polar bear in the corner.

"You're insane." I replied.

Rat In A Mess

So there I am right, running through this freaking maze because hey, it’s what we always do and the time right now and at this point is; always. Whiskers a twitter, I make it past the square bit through the more squiggly bit and into this long straight bit I hadn’t been through, swing a sharp left and there it is.

Cheese.

Fucking cheese. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m a rat, I love cheese, I love cheese on Monday through Sunday and I love cheese on the in-between days, I love cheese on its own and I love cheese wrapped in cheese then deep fried in cheese and spread on cheese. Cheese is ok in my book.

But seriously, this is it? I’ve been running through the same fucking maze for months and now that I’ve done it, there’s… cheese?

And I’m thinking all this while I’m nibbling and it just gets to me, like, really gets to me. I’m sure 99% of all the other rats out there would be like “Oh FUCK yeah, cheese” but maybe I’m just not 99% of all the other rats. So I say fuck the cheese. Fuck it. I’m not letting another fucking rat work and struggle and spend all that fucking time in that maze just so they can get a big piece of cheese.

I run back the way I came, I leave the cheese, because I know there’s more suckers behind me and I figure they deserve a break, they should at least know, it’s just a block of cheese.
The first rat I run into is one of those fresh faced fuckers you always see in the sawdust, they think they’re special, that they’re chosen, instead of plucked.

I say “Hey son, just so you know, if you keep going, if you ever make it all the way to the other end, it’s just a block of cheese.”
And he says “You’re trying to trick me aren’t you? You don’t want to share the prize. You want to keep it to yourself. Well, tough luck soldier, I’m smarter than you.”

He bites my fucking leg, we tumble and we both end up the worse for wear, goes to show where trying to do someone a favour gets you. He skulks off, bleeding and squeaking, in the direction of his glorious fucking block of cheese and I do the same in the opposite direction.
Bleeding and more than a little fucked up, I get round this corner and there’s this other rat, old guy, nervous, like the Woody Allen of rats and I tell him “Listen mister, I know you’ve been doing this your whole life and all, but if you ever do make it all the way through here, it’s just a block of cheese.”

He’s freaked out. Like really freaked, I can tell because he shits himself right there and then. Covered in blood and rambling about a block of cheese, I’d probably shit myself too.
“Thank you for your advice sir, don’t think for a single second I don’t appreciate it but I’m afraid I don’t really know anything else but this maze so if it’s all the same to you, I’m going to carry on. Please don’t hurt me.”

And so he scuttles past me, wet and reeking of fear. Fuck him.

I’ve lost a lot of blood at this point so I just drag my sorry rat ass forward, back the way I came, back past through the squiggly bit and the square bit and I realize I’ve never seen the maze from this angle before and everything’s new and as I’m dragging and bleeding, I see a tail round a corner. I follow it, I figure I’ve got just enough blood left to tell one more rat and if I’m lucky, maybe they can tell the others.

So third rat, as we’ll call her, is just wondering around sniffing the walls and there’s some light coming in over the side and I think she can’t be very smart because she’s way-way-way off from the square bit and the squiggly bit that takes you to the long straight bit where the block of cheese is and maybe I shouldn’t even bother telling her because she was never going to find it anyway but maybe one day she’ll get lucky so what the hell.

“Hey lady!” and she looks at me and runs over with these big red eyes and starts licking my wounds which I haven’t really had time to do yet so it feels good and I figure maybe this rat isn’t too bad.

“Thank you” I say “but listen, I might not be here for much longer, I’ve lost a lot of blood and I really need to tell you something. At the end of the maze, if you make it all the way through, it’s… it’s just a block of cheese.”

“But what else could it be?” she says. And I sigh because I’ve failed again for the last time and this is it, rats will be running through this god damn fucking maze forever and what’s worse, this rat is ok with the fact that it’s a block of cheese.

“So you’re going to carry on after the cheese?” I ask her.

“I was never after the cheese, I’ve just always liked this part of the maze.”

The people in the small town on the tip of Africa dream of coming to a city. And those in that city dream of Long Street in Cape Town. And they dream of Johannesburg. And they dream of Los Angeles. And the people in Los Angeles dream of living in a small town on the tip of Africa.

There are times when none of us are happy and all we can see is that place that is anywhere but here.

You were never willing to sacrifice what I was willing to sacrifice to be me. You wanted it easy. You wanted a perfect story. No good story is perfect.

More deep breathes. Less cigarettes.

A Pack of Things

New vinyl smell. Rain on a windscreen (windscreen wipers). Dog eared books. Spelling a word right the first time you write it. Someone else’s hair in your face. 12:00am. 11:11pm. Acoustic guitars. No top. Bubble wrap. Hot weather at 1:00am. The muscles in your shoulders. Empty roads on the way home. Sitting upside down, staring out the windshield in the passenger seat. A comment on your wall. Inside jokes. Sugar. Candles and power failures. Knowing where you’ll be a week from now. The expected, unexpected. Dichotomy. Serendipity. Words ending on an “e” sound. The whole day is in bed. 

Now And Then

Now I'm 5 years old and punching the boy who tried to take a picture up your skirt. 

Now I'm 11 and swaping spit with you in the shadows of the church after Sunday School. 

Now I'm 16 and walking you home at 6am so my mom doesn't catch us sharing a bed. 

Now I'm 18 and holding my hand against the glass between us, minutes away from a bus that'll take me far away from this town. 

Now I'm 23 and I'm living with you and we eat dinner together each night after work. 

Now I'm 24 and I'm giving you a letter one morning telling you why I can't do this anymore and we're spending one last night together, in tears. 

Now I'm 25 and you make me laugh and I make you laugh and we agree that our jobs come first and they do and you leave and I stay. 

Now I'm 27 and it's my birthday and we sleep in the same bed but we don't kiss and you're the opposite of everything I know. 

Now I'm 28 and I'm packing a car with everything I own, heading for a plane that'll take me far away. 

Now what.