The Wall

I’m wondering how to merge The Fly by U2 with To Get Down by Timo Maas. I need to figure this layering out. These two songs work for me. “Work” meaning they lithely kick the mind into the absolute 100% efficiency mode. It’s awesome how it works. Mind just slips, slides and slithers into place. Everything crystallizes. Whatever wasn’t forming in my mind – forms. And it takes this wild, jagged, mad, energetic shape. It emanates this crazy ass energy. It’s solid. But it’s fluid.

So yeah, I’m thinking that if I merge the two – what would it do? Would it be like mixing drinks? A bad idea? Or would it be like that colour wheel thingy – where you mix the colours and some new kick ass shade comes through? Speaking of the colour wheel…I kind of really loved that discovery back in school. It fascinated me for a few months. In those few months, I kept making colour wheels. So many that the art teacher started to get worried. Speaking of the art teacher, I saw her in the mall a few days back and did everything I could do to avoid her. *shrug* Speaking of avoiding, I keep forgetting about the bird flu and keep ordering the chicken dishes. Speaking of ordering, I hate clients who tell us what to do when they don’t have anything better to do. Speaking of nothing better to do, I’m posting my second iLog of the day.

Very few people can push me to the point where I’d happily pull my hair out. Very very few. Currently, I know one such person. Conversation with him is an entirely new experience. It’s grueling. It’s frustrating. It’s usually monosyllabic. It’s painful. It’s stunted. It’s precise. We often refer to him as The Wall.

So one recent night when I was going through another one of my bored, masochistic moods - I met up with The Wall. I don’t know why I do these things. But, saving grace in this case would (could?) be that I didn’t invite him. He wanted to know what the ‘plan’ was. I tried to be him and replied in a monosyllabic way saying a dull, “Nothing.” He said, “Great. So we’re watching that movie then.” I’m monosyllable-ing still and pointedly say, “I am.” “Great, I’ll be over at 9.” “You’re not invited.” “I’ll bring something to eat.” “You are NOT invited.” “Great, see you then.”

I sat there thinking about what just happened. What happened? Something happened right? Yeah…something definitely happened.

Anyway. 9pm rolls by. In fact, 9pm trots over to 9:30pm. I realize that I’m waiting for him and instead of watching the movie, I’m watching some Keanu Reeves movie on cable. I’m waiting for someone I definitely didn’t invite over?? Anyway. He walks in. A Foo Fighters moment. Must interject with some Grohl lyrics:

I'm breathing in the silence like never before
This feeling that I get
This one last cigarette
As I lay awake and wait for you to come through that door..

He walks in, laptop bag in one hand and keys in the other. No food. Where the hell is the food? Loser. Not that I was hungry. But still. Before he even puts his bag down he’s looking at me accusingly and saying, “Put the movie on!” like he’s been there an hour and waiting. Amazing. Shockingly, I oblige. I comply. I reach for the remote to hit ‘Play’ but as I do that I notice how he’s figuring out where his bag should go and where his ass should go. I mean, what’s there to think about? Bag on floor, ass on couch I would’ve thought. But no. Bag on the couch I’m sitting on and ass on the other couch it was. How odd.

“Where’s the food?” I ask.

“I thought you said no food,” he says while taking off his jacket.

“I said ‘NO INVITATION’ but clearly that didn’t matter…”

I have no food in my house. My house is outstanding that way. I tell him there’s sweetcorn in a can if he wants some. He makes a face and expectantly turns towards the television to watch the movie. I’ve hit ‘Play’. Then, suddenly, he gets an idea to invite another friend over. This is a ‘normal’ friend. He speaks in verbose sentences. He makes conversation. As I said, he’s normal. I hit ‘Pause’ and call him and he says he’ll be over shortly. We sit with a paused screenshot staring at us. There is no conversation. I try to ask him a question I’ve been trying to ask him all day. I say ‘try’ because asking this guy anything is like talking to (as his name suggests) a wall. It may have ears but it just never talks back. He waves his hands and says he doesn’t “feel like talking about it”. He goes back to staring at the tv. I switch it off. Host hospitality alarm bells are ringing in my head as I do that but I still do that. He turns to look at me. Exasperated. I ask again. Gentle coercion I think. He laughs. He’s not falling for it. Jesus Christ.

Normal friend arrives. I almost hug him. I keep saying “Normal! Normal!” over and over when I see him. I ask him if he thinks “this one” is super cagey or not. He agrees. I hug his arm in glee. It feels so good to have someone reply immediately. And agree at that. Wow. How cool. The Wall just sits there shaking his head. He still doesn’t say much. I want to walk over to him, pull his hair (it looks good tonight) and maybe hit him in a not-an-overly-violent way. I do nothing but grit my teeth.

We watch the movie. The Wall laughed now and then. The Wall walked out to make what we refer to as ‘the legitimate’ phonecall (he makes one every time we meet; odd). The Wall was perturbingly unperturbed about any and every thing. As usual.

Infuriating.

I’m just exasperated. Yup. Word of the day: exasperated.

'Push'. What a weird nick. 'Push'. I just saw it on Chowk. Simple but conjures up imagery.

12/02/08; 3:57pm