Archive for March, 2010

… the ugly truth?

Posted in Uncategorized on March 17, 2010 by moderngatsby

As I spent most of Monday morning recovering from an incredibly eventful weekend mostly occupied by my latest obsession, I got to thinking of the secrets that we keep and the reasons why we tend to hide them from those who should naturally share in them. As a rule I am by nature a secretive person – from what exactly I do for clients to the people I do it with – but what happens when your world becomes a series of secrets that threaten to spill over from the darkness of rooms where dirty deeds are done dirt cheap into the daylight?
There are times in a day that my hands feel tied, and my mouth gagged and all I want is to scream out into the wind what I wish I could say. There are days when I see the same look on other people’s faces and wonder why? How do we manage to chain ourselves to loyalties that don’t exist, bonds that aren’t real and fantasies that fade before the smell of thier cologne does on the pillow their head recently occupied. Perhaps there are reasons for this, perhaps not but following everything we know the truth is an ugly thing to hear.

… ons vir jou?

Posted in Uncategorized on March 3, 2010 by moderngatsby

As we sat there, eating our salmon sashimi in one of the most unlikely restaurants, the conversation thankfully turned from judicial enquiry to strangers walking past in a crowded shopping centre, and one handsome stranger from the past that we both had in common. Best remembered as an absent friend who had been responsible for our introduction and subsequent lifelong enduring friendship between us. Every so often, I find myself doing something and my mind wonders to memories of him, and similar moments shared, and wonder if he ever found the happiness he wanted.

One of those typical Afrikaner Brahman, (yes a recurring theme that seems to capture my imagination) he was a SAP procurement specialist on a consortium project we were both working on at the time in the hallowed halls of government. It took a while, but in a few weeks of working together, we found reasons to spend time together rather than alone at our desks and in that time we discovered we actually had things in common despite disagreeing on everything else. Most notably our passion for passion and the things that it brings to those seeking something more than what they have.

Slow at first but then almost immediate the distance between us was wedged apart inch by inch; the cracks that time and circumstance had weathered became the abyss that we fell in to. He transferred to another project and I remained and although we kept in touch there would be no more ice cream at lunchtime as we sat on the grass beneath the leaping bronzed statues of the Oppenheimer fountain or antique shopping over the weekend for his beautifully restored home in Meuckelneck. Perhaps my appreciation and even romanticising of Sunday morning rituals was because of time spent with him and even though I had forgotten why, the who will always be there.


Posted in Uncategorized on March 3, 2010 by moderngatsby

A month into the New Year, it seems like just the other day that I sat down and wrote out all the things that I wanted to achieve. Places I wanted to visit, books I wanted to write and yes, even a movie that I wanted to make. Nevertheless, between the words eloquently notarised, the inaction of my ambition fell short, and all that is left are the echoes resounding through an abyss. These past few months have been a series of highs and lows, and like all passionate creative people, the highs have been atmospheric and the lows catastrophic. I have survived (*… perhaps the perfect theme for a song with a disco tempo?) and keep moving forward towards something, somewhere that I seem to be drawn to – like a ship in the night towards the moonless horizon.

Not all is lost however as I discovered in the packing and unpacking of a life’s travels, I reintroduced myself to an old CD by a now defunct French collaboration that stormed the charts over a decade ago with their dance/Gregorian electronica music. Loaded onto my iPod I find myself listening to it repeatedly while gardening, out mountain biking or now as I sit in my study writing these words in the comforting semi-darkness that the room has become since the sun set some hours ago. A bowl of home made pasta in a fresh tomato and basil source sits unfinished next to a glass of red wine besides my Moleskin notebook that was a birthday gift from my Beloved. And while struggling to find the rights words I am drawn to the reassuring sight that is my Great Dane sprawled out on the Persian carpet that almost covers the parquet flooring.

There is an ancient saying [badly paraphrased and I apologise] that a dog is one of the most Noble creatures because it will never break Faith with you. As I get older, I become more and more certain that this belief to be true. To me the idea or belief in Faith is an absolute unlike the concept of unconditional love. I do not believe in unconditional love because all emotion is conditional – the very idea lends itself to be originated in something else rather than in a truth. Therefore, when it comes to the truths of man, I find it a convenient deception that we wear like a mantle around ourselves as we resist the onslaught of our despairingly ordinary lives. Perhaps this admission sounds cynical or even a little jaded but it is a truth I have held to for many years despite being swept up periodically into the frenzy of a new romance or even an old one as the case sometimes turns out to be.

A few months ago, I was reintroduced to someone from my scholastic past. Considering that in a city like Jo’burg is not an uncommon thing the trouble is that I find my interest in his younger, much gayer brother could very well stem from their physical similarity – the fact that they look alike. Almost as if delicately sodomizing his younger brother to within an inch of his most imaginative expectations, it would somehow be the same. The thing is despite the heterosexual posturing the claxon sirens that blare whenever I am around him are seldom wrong in other cases more determined than his. They say, that if you can’t be with the one you love than love the one you’re with but when they sit in the same room as each other it does make the decision more difficult when you look at the politics not just of the past and the present, but the future too. And not just my future either.

As the skyline flashes with streaks of lightening and the house shivers with the thundering clouds above, my eyelids became heavier and heavier as my eyes strain to continue moving forward into the early morning darkness. As I head off to bed I am reminded that the right guy is out there. Somewhere lives a man. He’s a bit of me, and a bit of whom I’d like to meet. An idea of a person that comes to mind whenever I get dumped, go on a bad date, or have sex of the ordinary kind like I did earlier this evening. He has no clear features or name. He’s the one.

The only problem is that I think I have already met him and let him go too easily.

… once, in a blue moon?

Posted in Uncategorized on March 3, 2010 by moderngatsby

 I think the one thing that scares me the most is that I don’t have the courage to tell the one person, the one thing that I wish I could. Coming home from a screening of ‘A Single Man’ where part of the narrative deals with fears that remain unseen, my heart beat just a little faster as you do perhaps when you’re about to do something for the first time. And with a week of firsts behind me, perhaps being honest is the one thing left to try out. Even if it is a bit tight in the crotch for comfort.

There are days between us, when we still manage to find pockets of intimacy that can seem either hopeful or outright selfish. Selfish for both of us because he already has what he wants and I do not need anything more than I have. Our eunuch hearts stand at a phantom gate that we cannot cross because in the daylight the truths we choose to believe are less romantic than when whispered between two lovers as they lay breathing heavily, sweaty and immortal.

I have tried to plaster over the wound that seems to fester and spoil, but as we go further down the line things seem to be getting worse as we deny what there is when we’re not together. You can go through your entire life never knowing truth, but then when you find it even for a mere moment, it’s hard to let it go for a lie told to a handsome stranger in the darkness where dirty deeds are done dirt cheap and in the morning you are left alone again with the memories of that first morning.

That first morning when you realised that eternity passed between your fingers, like a lock of dirty blonde hair or when you walk away into the rain, grateful that the salty tears streaming down your cheek are superficially mistaken for what they are not. When they called it a ‘broken heart’ I thought it was figurative, but as the scarred cavity once in my chest heals, the memories still scrap along the edges like a blunt shard of glass against your soft, pliable wrist. When you see him smiling with the lover after you.

But in the darkness, when you think less about the moment and more about the future you have to wonder if anyone ever gets what they truly want or only what they deserve? Moments like these cross my mind as he sits on yet another seat to yet another far-off destination discovering parts of himself while I cower amongst the glamorous parties, the beautiful young things that distract me long enough to forget that once, not very long ago I was loved enough to have had eternity contemplated in the embrace of my arms.

Sometimes I think it really is true that to have loved once, and lost is the lesson we have to experience. Then again, sometimes I think it’s all just a load of shit. What I do know is that once I gave up on love and lost the girl of my dreams. This time around I’m not giving up on a love like ours, because this kinda love only strikes once in a blue moon.