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Sat 7th July, 2012 "'We're completely at ease being naked in front of strangers and total fuckheads', she'd told him. Maybe that's part of what being a writer entails, Danny Baciagalupo found himself thinking on that rainy spring night."

Sat 7th July, 2012

Catherine (Part 1), Vienna 2008 The night before I went to visit Petra in Slovakia, I took a walk around some of my favourite places in Berlin & ended up drinking alone in 'the russian bar'. I sat underneath the oversized photo of a guy who looks very much like an owner of the place, holding a tommy gun & grinning maniacally at the cameraman who was no doubt shaking with fear or laughter as he pushed the clicker. Hearing the blonde girl to my left say something in English to a guy who was leaving, I pulled a standard "Hey, you English?" line which quickly developed into a fluttering discourse about our homeland & our reasons for leaving. I said I was going to Slovakia in the morning, she said she was going to Vienna in the morning. I heard "I'm going to Venice in the morning", as those two places were very confused in my mind at that point having never been to either, and after many drinks, getting closer in thought & space, she decided that it was best we didn't get to like each other too much as she was going to Vienna in the morning & I was going to Slovakia, and after that we'd likely never see each other again. Seemed a little sad, but my brewing protestation was interrupted by my phone ringing, a glance informed me it was Petra, I excused myself & stepped outside to make sure everything was still ok for my visit in the morning. "Glen, Glen! Please don't hate me.. you're going to hate me, oh God you're gonna hate me!" "Hey Petra, is everything ok? What's happening? Where are you?" "Glen, this fucking gay, this old friend of mine is graduating from some fucking homosexual college & I promised I would go.. it's this weekend, will you hate me if I go? You can stay with my parents in Slovakia or you can come with me to the ceremony in Vienna if you like, but you'll need to wear a suit, but you don't want to come to fucking Vienna do you?" Imagining a romantic ride in a gondola with my new friend who was waiting for me inside the Russian Bar, I was also very aware that it's hardly believable that, two minutes after she told me that we shouldn't get any closer because she was leaving for Vienna the next day, all of a sudden my phone rings, I leave for a few minutes & return with a new story about going to Vienna instead for a gay Slovakian's graduation ceremony? "Petra, I'd love to come to Vienna with you, don't worry I'll get a suit & look smart, see you tomorrow!" And rang off. I gingerly re-entered the bar, and took a seat next to the English girl. "Hey.. er, you're not gonna believe this but that was Petra, the girl I'm visiting in Slovakia tomorrow.. the plans have changed, we're going to Vienna now" "What? You're so full of shit, I should have known from the start with your bullshit about London, good-bye Glen" And she fucked off & left me there. She was right, we never saw each other again. I proceeded to celebrate my last night in Berlin, continuing the tour of bars in that area, and somehow made it home in time to gather some things & catch the train to Slovakia in the morning, on route to Vienna. Petra met me at the station in Novo Zamky, her hometown, and we had one night drinking with her family, where they cooked up some traditional goulash in a cauldron over the outside fire & in the morning I bought a suit for under 10 Euro in a charity shop, borrowed Petra's fathers shoes & we headed to Vienna on another long train. First thing I noticed when we arrived was the incredible shortage of gondolas. It wasn't even Italy. After setting my geography straight, I slowly got used to the feeling that I was in Austria (What the fuck was I doing in Austria?) and Petra & I arrived at the apartment of her gay undergraduate friend which he shared with his boyfriend. We walked directly into a very tense environment. I put my suit down next to Petra's father's shoes, and although it had been arranged that we could both sleep there for the weekend, the frequently slamming doors & weird combination of smiles & scowls directed at me helped me decide very quickly to excuse myself from the situation & allow whatever was happening to run it's course without my intrusion. I told Petra to call me later, and left, taking the nearest train back into the centre of the city. Where else do you go when you don't have anywhere to go? It was a beautiful day, and when you're neither North, South, East or West, you can't really be lost can you? I walked out into the centre of Vienna & had no idea where I was or what I was doing there. I was very lost indeed. I walked around for an hour or more and then got back on the train, fuck this, I was going home. Berlin home. The train pulled up at the main station where I could get a direct route to Germany, but as I was transferring weight to my feet, ready to rise, a stunning girl in the purest white dress got on the carriage, sat down opposite me & smiled. Was I too late to stay seated? Was it obvious that I was about to alight, and was now pinned to the spot by my fascination for this vision of a girl? Christ, maybe this was the reason I was in Vienna at all. It can't have all been for nowt. I relaxed back in my chair until the next station where it suddenly struck me - Glen, you are actually following this girl now. You are passively stalking her. This is a low, my friend, sort your life out. The voices were damning. They were right. I was resolved to get off at the next stop. The train slowed. The girl in the white dress rose & moved towards the door, and waiting for them to open, she turned to me & smiled again. I had no reason to stay on the train, no reason at all, but I'd resolved to stop following her & now, though it lay in my long & winding path, I felt guilty in my innocent decision to leave the train after her. I stood up, I approached the doors, they opened, and we both walked onto the platform. She turned to me. "You were going to get off the train a few stops back weren't you?" "Er, yeah, but really I don't have any reason to be anywhere right now, so there or here doesn't make too much difference. I'm waiting for a call from my friend about plans for a gay graduation ceremony tonight, but if I don't hear anything by the time I get to central station I'm just gonna go back to Berlin." "What's a gay graduation? Is it like a gay university or is he graduating into some higher strata of gayness?" "I really don't know, that same question has crossed my mind, I just felt a little shy asking, the mood was quite tense when I met them earlier. Where are you going, are you busy?" "I'm going for a job interview, but if you're still in the city tomorrow, maybe we could meet for lunch?" "That'd be great, I don't know anyone here & thought this was Venice until I got off the train, so it would be nice to spend a little time with a local before I leave." Lame I know, but it's the kindof bollocks we say to each other at such times isn't it. We exchanged numbers, and parted, and I felt like the luckiest man in the world. It all made sense now! This was why I was here - nevermind all that nonsense about a gay graduation ceremony, whatever on earth that was about, I was here to meet HER, and HER I MET. I had a date in the morning. I had a reason to be here in the morning, so I needed somewhere to sleep tonight. I turned a corner, and there was a hostel. Things were happening. I booked a bed, and went up to the room where a fat girl was getting ready to go to the opera. She invited me to join, I declined, and she said "So why did you come to Vienna?" and the story of the girl in the russian bar which led to the current situation flashed across my memory & I said "I've got no idea." She said "Fine, then sit in the hostel room & masturbate for all I care, I'm going to the Opera, seeya later" & fucked off, thank fuck. Then a message from Petra informed me that the tension in the apartment had been over her friend's boyfriend having a jealousy issue involving me. I certainly didn't want to be in danger of ruining his fabulous graduation ceremony, so I said she should go without me, masturbated over the girl in the white dress & dreamt about our date in the morning. Morning came. I waited until a respectable hour & messaged my date. She was sorry, but had forgotten that she had a dentist appointment today, and therefore couldn't meet. She was also busy later, but would I be in town long and could we meet in the next days? Of course we could, I said. I'd be here for a few days at least, it turns out. What the hell was I doing? What was I gonna do in Vienna on my own, go to the fucking opera? I went to the hostel bar, in the cellar. I bought some wine, found a dark corner, moved some cushions around & started writing in my diary. The following day, my fast evaporating date prospect evaporated completely when she failed to respond to my invitation to meet. I'd spent almost three days now in a place I never even meant to go to, and achieved nothing at all; this was not how things worked in my book. In my book, everything happens for a reason, so what was the point in my being in Vienna? A fucking Geography lesson? I refused to believe it, and was determined to discover what had brought me so far from my home from home. I doggedly booked the hostel for another night, downed a cubic ton of vodka in the bar & hit the road with the first of many travel beers. .. to be continued

Petra, Uxbridge 2004 Petra came to London, from a small village in Slovakia, to become a famous pop star, marry Garry Barlow & move to America with him. But first she needed a place to live. She found my advertisement for a tenant, and called. She was nuts, it was obvious, and she didn't have a job, but she was fun.. something I never could say no to. The first thing she did after moving in was get smashed on money I'd lent her for travel & give me a kindof lapdance, but she'd obviously put on some weight since the last time she'd attempted such a thing; far from being graceful, she knocked things over & split her pants, and we both ended up in stitches about the whole thing. I went to sleep grinning, knowing I'd found a nugget of gold & only little aware of the mayhem she would bring to my life.

Fri 6th July, 2012

Catface, Uxbridge 2005 I'd never had a pet before, save for a fistful of goldfish & a couple of hamsters that my sister got one Christmas. I used to slide them down the handrail between the wall & the staircase with the genuine belief that they loved it. I still kinda think they might have got something out of that, but people tend to disagree. This is one of the rare cases where people are probably right. Sorry about that little guys, if the road to hell is indeed paved with good intentions then doubtless I'm on a waterslide to way down low. Anyway, I had no idea what animals were, really. I still don't get it - they're hungry, fluffy maniacs with sharp teeth that are crazy for love, for the most part, and so sensitive that I've no idea how they ever survive in the wild. I suppose the teeth help in those circumstances. Anyway, one spring morning I was sitting at home, with the windows & doors open, listening to Joni Mitchell, and suddenly I felt an alien weight next to me on the bed. Nervously I glanced over, and there, close-by, was a mass of life, breathing softly & staring back at me with what can only be described as the face of a cat. Cat eyes, stupid weird cat nose, twitching cat ears, all amounting to a giant fluffy cat head. I was too scared to move, and he seemed comfortable enough to stay, so it was stalemate for over 30 mins while we both listened to Joni Mitchell until the record ended & an awkward silence spun to a start. When he got up & left, I felt an all new kind of lonely. I found myself thinking about his ludicrous face much of the following morning, and I played some Joni Mitchell to try to make sense of what had happened, and almost immediately the docile domesticat strolled in the back door & sat next to me again. He must've been a lonely Joni fan too, I guess. I struck up the courage to stroke the thing, and it purred lightly, breaking my heart in places I didn't know existed within me. The next time I was in the supermarket I passed by the pet food aisle, as usual, but once I'd reached the end I felt a pang of guilt about my new friend. Who did he belong to? Where & what does he eat? I bought two tins of catfood, and when I got home he was meowing outside my front door & jumped through the gap the moment I opened it. He remained my cat until his death two years later, and was known as Catface for the duration of his happy stay. I mean, we had our ups & downs, but that's another story.

Eden, New York 2009 I'd had no luck with Pull or Die for a few days, and was getting worryingly close to being down & out in New York proper. Stealing unattended drinks from bars had become such standard practice that I'd even bar-hop just to pick up whatever was lying around. Beer-bomb bar crawls deviated into situations where I'd try to pull a role reversal on girls in clubs, walking up to them & saying something like "Hey, wanna buy me a drink & I'll stick around?" This kindof behaviour was of course met with much confusion, and one initial success that led to nothing more than a free drink. Still; bonus. On one occasion my success at Pull or Die was so great that it actually backfired, when a girl (also called Evelyn) took me home but very soon fell in love with me, morally complicating the scenario even further. I could have lied a little to make my life a lot easier, but I chose to tell her the whole story, and that I was still so hopelessly in love with the original Evelyn, and finally I found my way back onto the streets with more tears on my conscience & fewer ideas about what I was looking for. These crawls often took place in an area of Brooklyn not far from original Evelyn's apartment, because I never knew when she might find it in her shadow of a heart to let me in, if only so that she could forage through my diary while I took a shower & find out what I'd been up to since she'd kicked me out last. On more than a few occasions I woke up on her doorstep, not at all sure if I'd tried to contact her or just drifted that way in a drunken haze & not mustered the will to go further. In addition to this reason for proximity, I was well aware that all bars close at 4am on weekdays in New York, which allowed me precisely the two & a half hours it takes to walk from Prospect Park area, across one of the bridges into Manhattan, and up to Central Park where I could sleep, often stopping off at a hotel on Lexington where I'd learned a secret way to get onto the unlocked rooftop where I'd have a little lie down if I got there before the sun came up on a night when it wasn't raining. If it was raining, I'd try grab naps in banks where my visa card would allow me through the door, and sleep on top of my guitar case while hugging my bag with all my belongings in. It was these experiences that taught me to travel light, very thankful that I hadn't anything like a suitcase to worry about, but I also experienced the way in which (some) New York police treat (one) homeless people (person), at least on this occasion. The first time I slept in a bank in Brooklyn, I curled up in the corner underneath a ledge that would be used in the daytime for writing out checks or some such financial penmanship, with my head on a rolled up pair of socks for a pillow, and after a long while lying awake & wondering where my life was headed, I finally drifted into exhausted sleep only to be kicked awake moments later by a black-booted female police officer. I hardly knew what was happening, and as I was putting the pillowsocks back into my bag she pulled me to my feet & pushed me toward the door, chopping down my request to get my guitar with threats of arrest if I so much as said another word & didn't disappear immediately. I was also starting to feel lonely as hell, walking the streets of New York night after night with fast evaporating luck which, undoubtably, was having a negative effect on my energy & optimism. I was beginning to look & feel like a homeless person, and from that state it was next to impossible to find a warm, welcoming stranger. I wasn't thinking clearly from lack of sleep, and my genuine affection & respect for Evelyn 2 was enough to keep me from reaching out to her, as I was quite aware of how she'd feel used by my accepting her hospitality, even though it was quite out of my hands when & how original Evelyn would open her own door, body & heart to me in varying combinations & degrees of obtuseness. So, one particular occasion, after an especially difficult few days in this wilderness of my undoing, I reached Manhattan long before daylight on a drizzly night in October. I'd long since ran out of drinking money, my bomb sights were rusty, and so the streets felt a lot less safe under the spotlight of sobriety, darkly highlighting dangers I'd previously remained blissfully unaware of. I'd had my monthly contact lenses in, without removing them at nights, for over three days & my eyes were bloodshot & dry. I couldn't take them out as they were my last pair, and I'd no liquid to store them in. The days were getting colder & the nights longer, and my situation was getting hopeless. I'd spent so much money on flights out to NY in the first place, and alcohol to sustain a ranking in Pull or Die that wasn't the latter, that I'd got myself horrendously in debt. I stopped someplace around 6th St. & looked around. I actually had no place to go or to be, and was alone. My hand was constantly gripping my phone in case of word from Evelyn that I could ill afford to miss, and completely un-afford to return. Standing there in the rain, I noticed the tail end of a line of people sticking out from around the corner of a building across the street. Popular culture insists that New York is the city that never sleeps, but it's not at all true - on a weekday at 5am, any sign of life that isn't a homeless person rummaging through bins, a madman falling into doorways (or me, in this relationship) is unusual to see. As I approached, this queue began to look more & more like normal people waiting patiently for entrance to some event or other. At this time? Guitar in hand, bag on two shoulders, I joined them. I felt safer in the queue, and, pathetically, less lonely. I didn't care at all what we were queuing for. I was in a queue; it was something to be doing, and that was the end of it. Then, out of nowhere, a very petite Chinese girl walked past, and turned to view the situation. Quizzically, she approached me. "Hey, what's the queue for?" Man, of all the questions, this one made the most sense to ask, and as the people around me turned to witness my (surely) obvious answer, my brain turned to complete mush. "I've absolutely no idea," Which was the plain truth, though it felt like complete madness to hear myself say it, and turning to the next in line I asked, innocently: "What are we all queuing for?" The situation was farcical at best, especially when the answer finally came & it turned out that we were all in a queue for a Jay Z album signing that was due to take place in the morning, and that people were waiting overnight to be among the first to guarantee success. The Chinese girl said it was doubly unusual that I was in this queue, as I had my guitar, and she thought it was interesting that somebody who played guitar would be a Jay Z fan. She clearly didn't believe that I was unaware of what I was waiting for, and probably imagined that I'd lied to avoid the embarrassment of admitting to be such a fan. In any case, she then went on to say that she plays piano & would love to learn to play guitar, and I told her how I'd always wanted to be a better piano player & could do with some lessons, so we agreed to do a swap of tutelage. She asked where I live, and I told her more about my situation, and before long she asked me to come home with her - I could stay there for a week or so while I sorted everything out. I would teach her guitar, she would help me improve my piano playing, and we would have a great time together. She kissed me on the cheek, said her name was Eden, took my hand & said "come!!" I went with her. Of course I went with her. She lived in student accommodation near 10th St, and we arrived there around 7am. There was a security guy at the front desk, I signed in as a guest, and we went up to her floor. She told me that she even had contact lens solution. I couldn't believe it, "Good Lord", I was thinking, "I really do have a tumultuous relationship with Lady Luck. One minute I'm hitting a real low in my life, and the next I'm here, in an elevator with a beautiful (Did I mention she was beautiful?!) Chinese musician who has welcomed me to stay with her for the next week." We were still holding hands. She let us in to her apartment, we stepped directly into the kitchen, and the first thing I noticed was a stack of boxes, from amongst which a very conservative-looking, middle aged woman stepped forward and explained to Eden, somewhat defiantly, that her daughter was moving out. There was a glow of pride & no quiet note of victory in her explanation that her daughter, Laura, missed home too much & had decided that art school wasn't for her after all. Eden went to tidy her room before admitting me, and this woman introduced herself, and asked who I was indeed. Full of the wonder of life, though tired to my bones, unflinchingly I told a brief account of how my girlfriend had kicked me out & that I'd met Eden just now on the street. Wasn't life amazing! She lost a little colour from her cheeks, and turned towards the door opposite that which Eden had left though, exclaiming: "That Eden has brought somebody home from the street, it's surely a good thing that you're leaving!" The rattling sounds of Laura packing the last of her belongings paused for the briefest of moments, then resumed two-fold. Turning to me, in a hushed voice, the mother added "I can see that you're a very acceptable & well meaning young man, but Eden is really putting the young girls in this building at risk by bringing people in off the streets like that. I can of course see that you're harmless & genuine in your way, but for all she knows, you could be a danger to my daughter and other girls here. Accommodation here is very expensive you know!" She cocked her head back in the direction of the clattering: "Hurry up dear! We're leaving now!" Her daughter emerged, carrying a suitcase & a hairdryer, which she put down on top of the boxes that stood in the middle of the kitchen. I introduced myself, and her mother winced the moment we shook hands. Then Eden emerged from her room, fluttering around saying "Is that the time? Is it 7:20 already? I have to go to school! " She said her goodbyes to Laura, a display which showed quite clearly that there was no affection between them whatsoever, told me to get some rest, said she would be back in a few hours, and left! The horror at being left alone with me was clear on the mother's foundation filled face, and I thought it appropriate to offer to help take the boxes down to her car for her. This, I hoped, would make her feel more comfortable that I wasn't planning to violate her & her daughter, or shake any more hands, but her look of distrust led me to believe that she was sure I was planning to run off with the suitcase, or at very least the hairdryer. It certainly looked like I needed it. Before she could respond, however, Laura said my help would be useful & made for the door, taking with her the smallest box & saying that I could probably take the lot in only 3 journeys up & down the escalator. On each of these short trips I passed by the security guy at the entrance, and after the car was loaded, the mother & daughter disappeared up 1st Ave with no thanks whatsoever & barely a goodbye. I was only happy that they were gone, and I could get some sleep. I went back upstairs where I'd left the door on the latch, closed it behind me as I entered, breathed deeply & let out a deep sigh. My first priority was to take my contact lenses out, which wasn't easy as they were so dry that they'd glued themselves to my eyeballs & needed quite some encouragement to disengage. They were out, and my eyes breathed. I was so tired that I decided to sleep first & shower when I woke, and the moment I lay myself down on the bed I fell asleep in my clothes. A moment after that, and there was a very loud knock on the door of the apartment. I chose to ignore it. The knock was repeated, even louder, accompanied by a somewhat aggressive voice that said "I know you're in there, I'm coming in!" & with that, I heard the front door open, then the door to Eden's room, and a middle aged, matronly woman stepped inside. "We've had complaints from the mother of a student resident here, she told us that Eden has been bringing people off the street & now we've lost another student because of it. These rooms are expensive you know! Now, you must leave. Who are you?" Who am I, indeed? "I'm Eden's guitar teacher", I attempted, lamely pointing at my guitar which she picked up, thrust toward me & repeated: "Now, you must leave." I took my guitar, and my bag, and she accompanied me out of the room, out of the apartment, down the lift, past the security guard & out of the building. She said "Eden will be allowed no more visitors" and the door closed behind her as she went to have words with the security guard. I was back on the street, I hadn't slept, I was still unclean, and it was barely 8am. That bitch, the mother! After I'd carried all her daughters boxes down to their car, she must have called the dorm immediately to put in a complaint about me. I didn't even have Eden's number; MAN, that was a dream that didn't last! She would come home to find me gone. Tyche you tease, flirty Fortuna & Copia reclaiming, strumpets one & all. But it was daytime, and the rain had ceased. I continued my journey North towards Central Park, and when I got there I slept in direct sunlight for the warmth & woke up in the afternoon with one half of my face suntanned & the other pale as death.

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