Part 3-4
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It wasnt like I wao, you know, grab life in a passionate embrad vow o let it go until it let go of me. In a way, it makes things worse, not better. Once you stop pretending that everythings shitty and you t wait to get out of it, which is the story Id been telling myself for a while, then it gets more painful, not less. Telling yourself life is shit is like ahetid when you stop taking the Advil, then you really tell how much it hurts, and where, and its not like that kind of pain does anyone a whole lot of good.And it was kind of appropriate that I was with my ex-lover and my ex-brother at the precise moment I realized, because it was the same kind of thing. I loved them, and would always love them. But there was no place where they could fit any more, so I had o put all the things I felt. I didnt know what to do with them, and they didnt know what to do with me, and isnt that just like life?
I never said anything about finishing with you because you werent going to be a rock star, said Lizzie after a while. You know that really, dont you? I shook my head. I didnt know, did I? You guys back me up on that. Not on this story have I ever owned up to any kind of misuanding, deliberate or otherwise. So far as I was ed, she was dumping me because I was a musical loser.
So what did you say, then? Try again. And Ill listen real hard this time.
Its not going to make any differenow, because weve all moved ht? Kind of. I wasnt going to admit to standing still, oing backwards.
OK. What I said was, I couldh you if you werent a musi.
It wasnt such a big deal to you at the time. You dont even like music that much.
Youre not hearing me, JJ. Youre a musi. Its not just what you did.
Its who you are. And Im not saying yoing to be a successful musi. I dont even know if youre a good o was just that I could see youd be no use to anyone if you stopped. And look what happened. You break the band up, and five minutes later youre standing oop of a tower-block. Youre stuck with it. And without it youre dead. Or you might as well be.
So… OK. Nothing to do with being unsuccessful.
God, what do you take me for? But I wasnt talking about her; I was talking about me. I never looked at it that way before. I thought this whole thing had been about my failure, but that wasnt it. And at that moment I felt like g my fug heart out, really. I felt like g because I knew she was right, and sometimes the truth gets you like that. I felt like g because I was going to make music again, and Id missed it so much. And I felt like g because I khat making music was never going to make me successful, so Lizzie had just ned me to ahirty-five years of poverty, rootlessness, despair, h plan, cold-water motels and bad hamburgers. Its just that Id be eating the burgers, not flipping them.
<strong>MARTIN</strong>
I walked home, turhe phone off and spent the forty-eight hours with the curtains drawn, drinking, sleeping and watg as many programmes about antiques as I could find. During those forty-eight hours, I would say that I was in grave danger of turning into Marie Prevost, the Hollywood actress who was discovered some time after her death in a state of disrepair, due to her corpse having been partially eaten by her dachshund. That I had no dachshund, or indeed any domestic pet, I remember being a source of some solation in those couple of days. I would certainly die alone, and my corpse would certainly be in a state of advanced decay by the time anyone found me, but I would be plete, apart from the bits that had dropped off through natural causes. So that was all right.
Heres the thing. The cause of my problems is located in my head, if my head is where my personality is located. (dy and others would argue that both my personality and the soury troubles were located below rather than above my waist, but hear me out.) I had been given many opportunities in life, and I had thrown each of them away, one by ohrough a series of catastrophically bad decisions, eae of which seemed like a good idea to me - to me and my head - at the time. Ahe only tool I had at my disposal to correct the disastrous course my life seemed to be taking was the very same head that had caused me to fuck up in the first place. What ce did I have?
A couple of weeks after Jesss Jerry Springer show, I read some notes Id made during that teriod. It wouldrue to say that Id been so drunk Id fotten Id ever made them, and in any case theyd been lying around the flat in plain view. But it was a fht before I possessed enough ce to read them, and once Id done so, I was almost pelled to draw the curtains and reach for the Glenmie once again.
The object of the exercise was to analyse, with the only head I have available to me, why I had behaved so absurdly that afternoon, and to list all possible respoo that behaviour. To give my head its due - to be fair to the lad, as sports pundits would say - it was at least capable nizing that the behaviour had been absurd. It just wasnt capable of doing very much about it. Are all heads like this, or is it just mine?
Anyway, on the backs of several unopened envelopes, mostly bills, there was depressingly clusive evidence of the circularity of human behaviour. WHY HORRIBLE TO NURSE? I had written. And then, underh: ) ARSEHOLE? HIM? ME?
) HITTING ON PENNY?
) GOOD-LOOKING AND YOUNG-PISSED ME OFF?
) ANNOYED BY PEOPLE.
This last explanation, which may have meant something brilliantly precise when I hit on it, now seemed startlingly did in its vagueness.
On another envelope, I had scrawled COURSES OF A (and please note, by the way, the switch from o letters, a switch presumably meant to indicate the stifiature of the work): a) KILL MYSELF?
b) ASK MAUREEN NOT TO USE THAT NURSE ANY MORE c) DONT And C stopped there, either because I fell into a stupor at that point, or because Dont was a cise way of expressing a profound solution to all my problems. Think about it: how much better things would be for me if I didnt, wouldnt and never had.
her envelope inspired much fiden my powers of cogitation.
I could see that they had both been written by the man who had retly wao tell a select group of people - a group that included his own young daughters - that all male nurses were effeminate and self-righteous: the word ARSEHOLE would surely provide a forensic psychologist with all the evidence required for that dedu. And similarly, the man who had spent some of New Years Eve trying to work out whether to jump from the roof of a tower-block was exactly the sort of man who might jot down KILL MYSELF? in a Things To Do list. If thinking ihe box were an Olympic sport, I would have won mold medals than Carl Lewis.
Quite clearly, I wo heads, two heads beier than one and all that. One would have to be the old one, just because the old one knows peoples names and phone numbers, and which breakfast cereal I prefer, and so on; the sed one would be able to observe and interpret the behaviour of the first, in the manner of a television wildlife expert. Asking the head I have now to explain its own thinking is as pointless as dilling your own telephone number on your own telephoher way, you get an engaged signal. Or your own answer message, if you have that kind of phone system.
It took me an embarrassing amount of time to realize that other people have heads, and that any one of these heads would do a better job of explaining what the purpose of my explosion might have been. This, I supposed, was why people persisted with the whole notion of friends. I seemed to have lost all mine around the time I went to prison, but I knew plenty of people whod be prepared to tell me what they thought of me. In fact, it seemed that my propensity for letting people down and alienating them would actually serve me in good stead here. Friends and lovers might try to throw a kindly light on the episode, but because I had only ex-friends and ex-lovers, I was ideally placed. I only really knew people who would give it to me with both barrels.
I knew where to start, too. Indeed, so successful was my first phone call that I didnt really o speak to anyone else. My ex-wife erfect - direct, articulate and clear-sighted - and I actually ended up feeling sorry for people living with someone who loved them, when not living with someone who loathed you was so obviously the way to go. When you have a dy in your life, there arent even any pleasao wade through: there are only unpleasantries, and unpleasantries are an essential part of the learning process.
Where have you been? At home. Drunk.
Have you listeo your messages? No. Why? Oh, I just left you a few thoughts about the other afternoon.
Ah, now, you see thats exactly what I wao talk about. What do you think it was all about? Well, youre unbalanced, arent you? Unbalanced and poisonous. An unbalanced, poisonous tosser.
This was a good start, I felt, but it lacked focus.
Listen, I appreciate what youre saying, and I dont want to appear rude, but the unbalaosser part I find less iing than the poisonous part.
Could you talk more about that? Maybe you should pay someoo do this, said dy.
You mean a therapist? She snorted. A therapist? No, I was thinking more of one of those women who will pee all over you if you pay her enough. Isnt that what you want? I thought about this. I didnt want to dismiss anything out of hand.
I dont think so, I said. Its never appealed before.
I eakiaphorically.
Im sorry. I dont really uand.
You clearly feel so awful about yourself that you dont mind being abused. Isnt that their problem? Whose problem? These men who need women to… Never mind.
I was dimly beginning to perceive what she was driving at. It was true that being called names felt good. Or rather, it felt appropriate.
You know why you turned on that puy, dont you? No! You see, thats precisely why I called you.
If dy had known how much damage she could have done by stopping right there, the temptation would have been too much for her.
Luckily, though, dy was determio go all the way.
I mean, he was fifteen years youhan you, and much better-looking. But it wasnt that. Hed done more with his life that afternoon than youve ever doh yours.
Yes! Yes! You ponce around on television and screw schoolgirls, and he pushes disabled kids around in a wheelchair, probably for the minimum wage. Its no wonder Penny wao chat him up. For her, it was the moral equivalent of going from Fraeins moo Brad Pitt.
Thank you. Thats great.
Dont you dare put the phone down on me. Ive only just started. Ive got twelve years worth of this stuff.
Oh, Ill be baore, I promise. But thats plenty to be going on with.
You see? Ex-wives: really, everybody should have at least one.
MAUREEN I feel a bit daft explaining what happe the end of the intervention day, because it all sounds like too much of a ce. But I think it probably only sounds like a e. I know I said before that Im learning to feel the weight of things, which means learning what to say and what not to say in case you make people feel badly for you. So if I say that nothing happened in my life before I met the others, I dont want to make it sound as though Im grumbling. It was just how things were. If you spend all your time in a very quiet room and someone es up behind you and says Boo!, you jump. If you spend all your time with short people, and you see a six-foot-tall poli, he looks like a giant. And if nothing happens and then something happens, then the something seems to be peculiar, almost like an Act of God. The nothingness stretches the something, the happening, out of shape.
Heres what happened. Stephen and Sean helped me get Matty home; we hailed a black cab, and the four of us just about squashed in, although the two nurses and I were pressed up against each other in the seat. And even that seemed like something. A few months ago, Id have gone home and told Matty about that, if he hadhere with me. But of course if he hadhere with me, thered have been nothing to tell. I wouldnt have ephen and Sean, and we wouldnt have been there in a taxi.
Id have been on a bus, on my own, even supposing Id gone anywhere. You see what I mean about something and nothing?
Once we were all settled, Stephen said to Sean, Have you got anyone else yet? And Sean said, No, and I dont think Im going to be able to. And Stephen said, Its just the three of us, then? Well get slaughtered. And Sean just shrugged, and we all sat looking out of the window for a little while. I didnt know what theyd been talking about.
And then Sean said, Any good at quizzes, Maureen? Fancy joining our team? It doesnt matter if you dont know anything. Were desperate.
Now, thats not the most amazing story youve ever heard, is it?
I listen to Jess and JJ and Martin, and that sort of thing happens to them all the time. They meet someone in a lift or a bar, and that someone says, Would you like a drink?, or even, Would you like intercourse? And perhaps theyd been thinking that theyd like intercourse, so it could seem to them that being offered intercourse, just when theyd been thinking they might like it, is the most amazing ce. But my impression is that this isnt how they think, or hoeople think. Its just life. One person bumps into another person, and that person wants something, or knows someone else who wants something, and as a result, things happen.
Or, to put it another way, if you dont go out, and never meet ahen nothing happens. How could it? But for a moment, I could hardly talk. Id wao take part in a quiz, and these people needed someone for their quiz team, and I felt a shiver go down my spine.
So instead of going home, we took Matty to the respite home. Sean and Stephe w, but they were friends with all the people who were, so they just told their friends that Matty was staying there for the evening, and no ourned a hair. We arrao meet in the pub where they do their quizzing, and I went home to get ged.
I dont know which part of the story to tell you about . Theres another volved, so I dont know whether to put it here, in the ces se, or later on, after Ive told you about the quiz. Maybe if I separate the ces out, push them further apart, you might believe them more. Oher hand, I dont care whether you believe them, because theyre true. And in any case, I still t decide whether they are ces or not, these things: perhaps getting something you want is never a ce. If you want a cheese sandwid you get a cheese sandwich, that t be a ce, it? And by the same token, if you want a job and you get a job, that t be a ce either. These things only be tal if you think you have no power over your life at all. So Ill tell you here: the other person oeam was an older man called Jack, who has a newsagents just off Archway, and he offered me a job.
Its not much of a job - three ms a week. And it doesnt pay very well - ￡. an hour. Aold me Id be on probation at first. But hes getting on a bit, and he wants to go back to bed at nine, after hes opehe shop and sorted the papers a with the early-m rush. He offered me the job in the same way that Stephen and Sean had asked me whether I wao join the quiz team - as a joke, out of desperation. IweeV round and the sport round, he asked me what I did, and I told him I didnt do anything much apart from look after Matty, and then he said, You dont want a job, do you? And a shiver went back up my spine.
We didnt win the quiz. We came fourth out of eleven teams, but the boys were quite pleased with that. And I knew some things that they didnt know. I khat the name of Mary Tyler Moores boss was Lou Grant, for example. I khat John Majors son married Emma Noble, and I khat Catherine Cookson had written about Tilly Trotter and Mary Ann Shaughnessy. So there were three points they wouldnt have ght there, which might be why they said I could e again. The fourth chap is unreliable, apparently, because hes just got a girlfriend. I told them I was the most reliable person they could possibly hope to meet.
A couple of months ago, I read a library book about a girl who found herself falling in love with her long-lost brother. But of course it turned out he wasnt her long-lost brother after all, and hed only told her that because he liked the look of her. Also it turned out that he wasnt poor. He was very rich. And on top of that, they found out that the bone marrow of his dog matched the bone marrow of her dog, who had leukemia, so his dog saved the life of her dog.
It wasnt as good as Im making it sound, to tell you the truth. It was a bit soppy. But the point Im trying to make is that Im worried Im starting to sound like that book, what with the job, and the quiz team. And if Im starting to sound like that to you, then Id like to point out two things.
Firstly Id like to point out that getting care for Matty costs more than ￡. an hour, so Im not even as well off as I was, and a story that ends with you not as well off as you were isnt really a fairy-story, is it? Sedly Id like to point out that the fourth chap in the quiz team will turn up sometimes, so I wont be in every week.
I was drinking gin and bitter lemons in the pub, and the others wouldnt eve me buy a round; they said I was a ringer, and had to be paid for.
Maybe it was the drink that left me feeling so positive, but at the end of the evening, I khat whe again on March st, I wouldnt be wanting to throw myself off the roof, not for a while. And that feeling, the feeling that I could cope for now… I wao hang on to that for as long as possible. Its going all right so far.
The m after the quiz, I went back to the church. I hado any church since we were on holiday, and I hado mine for weeks and weeks, ever since Id met the others on the roof. But I could go baow because I didnt think Id be itting the sin of despair for a while, so I could go bad ask fods fiveness. He only help you if youve stopped despairing, which if you think about it… Well, its not my busio think about it. It was a quiet Friday m, and there was hardly anybody in. The old Italian woman who never misses a Mass was there, and there were a couple of Afri ladies Id never seen before.
There were no men, and there were no young people. I was nervous before I went to the fessional, but it was fine, really. I told the truth about how long it had been since my last fession, and I fessed to the sin of despair, and I was given fifteen Decades of the Rosary, which I thought seemed oeep side, even for the sin of despair, but I wont plain.
Sometimes you fet that God is infinite in His mercy. He wouldnt have been infinite if Id jumped, mind you, but I hadnt.
And then Father Anthony said, we help you with anything? we ease your burden in any way? Because you must remember that youre part of a unity here at the church, Maureen.
And I said, Thank you, Father, but I have friends who are helping. I didnt tell him what sort of unity these friends beloo, though. I didnt tell him that they were all despairing sinners.
Do you remember Psalm ? Call upon Me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you shall glorify Me. I went to Toppers House because I had called and called and called, and there was no delivery, and my days of trouble seemed to have lasted too long, and showed no signs of ending. But He did hear me, in the end, and He sent me Martin and JJ and Jess, and then He seephen and Sean and the quiz, and then He sent me Jad the newsagents. In other words, He proved to me that He was listening.
How could I have carried on doubting Him, with all that evidence? So Id better glorify Him, as best I .
<strong>JESS</strong>
So this bloke with the dog didnt have a name. I mean, he must have had o some stage, but he told me he didnt use it any more, because he didnt agree with names. He reed they stopped you from being whoever you wao be, and once hed explai to me, I could sort of see what he meant. Say youre Tony, or Joanna. Well, you were Tony or Joanerday, and youll be Tony or Joanna tomorrow. So youre fucked, really. People will always be able to say things like, Oh, thats so typical of Joanna. But this geezer, he could be like a hundred different people all in one day. He told me to call him whatever came into my head, so at first he was Dog, because of the dog, and then he was Nodog, because we went for a drink in a pub and he left the dog outside. So hed had two pletely different personalities in the first hour we spent together, because Dog and Nodog are sort of opposite types, arent they? Bloke with dog is different from bloke with no dog. Bloke with dog has a different image from bloke in pub. And you t say, Oh,.９9liｂ?hats so typical of Nodog to let his dog shit in someones garden. It wouldnt make sense, would it? How odog have a dog that shits in someones garden, or any dog at all, e to that? And his point is, we all be Dogs and Nodogs in a single day. Dad, for example, could be Notdad whe work, because whe work hes not Dad. I know this is all pretty deep, but if you think about it hard, it makes sense.
And in that same day he was Flower, because he picked me a flower when we were walking through the little park down near Southwark Bridge, and then Ashtray, because he tasted like one, and Flower is the opposite of Ashtray, too. You see how it works? Human beings are millions of things in one day, and his method uands that much better than like the Western way of thinking about it. I only called him one more er that, and it was dirty, so that one will have to be a secret. When I say it was dirty, I mean it will sound dirty to you out of text sort of thing. Its only really dirty if you dont respect the male body, and that in my opinion would make you dirty, not us.
So this bloke… Actually, I see one advao the Western way of thinking, which is that if someone has a name, you know what to call them, dont you? Its only one small advantage, and there are millions of big disadvantages, including the biggest one of all, which is that names are really fascist and dont allow us to express ourselves as human beings, and turn us into ohing. But as Im talking about him a lot here, I think Ill call him just one name. Nodog will do, because its more unusual, and youll know who Im talking about, and its better than Dog, because you might think Im talking about a fug dog, which Im not.
So Nodog took me back to his place after wed gone for a drink. I didnt think hed have a place, to be ho, what with the dog and everything. He looked like the sort of bloke who might be iween places, but I obviously met him at a good time. It wasnt a normal sort of a place, though. He lived in a shop round the back of Rotherhithe station. It wasnt a verted shop, either - it was just a shop, although it didnt sell anything any more. It used to be like an old-fashioned er shop thingy, so there were shelves, and ters, and there was a big shop window, which he kept covered with a sheet. Nodogs dog had his own bedroom at the back, which must have been a sto once upon a time. Shops are actually quite fortable, if you put up with a bit of disfort. You put your clothes up on the shelves, put your telly up on the ter where the cash register would have gone, put your mattress on the floor, and youre away. And shops have toilets, and water, although they dont have baths or showers.
Whe there, we had sex straight off, to get it out of the way. Id only had proper full-on sex with Chas before, and that wasnt any good, but it was all right with Nodog. A lot more things worked, if you know what I mean, because with Chas, his bits didnt really work and my bits didnt really work, so it was all a bit of an effort. Anyway, this time around, Nodogs bits worked fine, and so mine did too, and it was much easier to see why anyone would want to do it again. People go on about the first time being important, but its the sed time that really matters. Or the sed person, anyway.
Look at what a fool I was the first time, all cut up and sobbing and obsessed. See, if Id been like that a sed time, Id have known I was going to have problems. But I really didnt care if I saw Nodog again or not, so thats got to be progress, right? Thats much more the way things should be, if yoing to get on in life.
After wed finished, he turned his little blad-white TV on, and we lay on his mattress watg whatever, and thearted to talk, and I ended up telling him about Jen, and Toppers House, and the others. And he wasnt surprised, or sympathetic, or anything like that. He just nodded, and then he goes, Oh, Im always trying to top myself. And I was like, Well, you t be much good at it, and he went, Thats not the idea, though, is it?
And I was like, Isnt it? And he said that the idea was to like stantly offer yourself up to the gods of Life ah, who were pagan gods, so they were nothing to do with church. And if the god of Life wanted you, then you lived, and if the god of Death wanted you, you didnt. So he reed that on New Years Eve Id been chosen by the god of Life, and thats why I never jumped. And I was like, I never jumped because people sat on my head, and he explaihat the god of Life eaking through these people, and that made perfect seo me. Because why else would they have bothered, uhey were like being guided by invisible forces?
And theold me that people who were brain-dead, like Gee Bush and Tony Blair, and the people who judged Pop Idol, never offered themselves up to the gods of Life ah at all, and therefore could never prove that they had the right to live, and we shouldnt obey their laws heir decisions (like the Pop Idol judges). So we dont have to bomb tries if they tell us to, and if they say that Fat Michelle or whoever has won Pop Idol, we dont have to listen to them. We just say, No she didnt.
And everything he said was so true that it sort of made me regret the last few weeks, because even though JJ and Maureen and Martin had been o me, sort of, you wouldnt really describe them as brainy, would you?
Its not like they had any answers, in the way Nodog had answers. But the other way of looking at it is that without the others, Id never have met Nodog, because I wouldnt have bothered with the intervention, and thered have been nothing to walk out of.
And I suppose thats the god of Life talking, too, if you think about it.
When I went home, Mum and Dad wao speak to me. And at first I was like, Whatever, but they were really keen, and Mum made me a cup of tea, and sat me down at the kit table, and then she said that she wao apologize to me about the earrings, and that she knew whod pihem. So I went, Who? And she goes, Jen. And I stared at her. And she was like, Yeah, really. Jen. So I said, So how does that work? And she went off on one about how Maureen had pointed out something that was actually blindingly obvious, if you thought about it. They were Je<q>?99ｌib.</q>ns favourite earrings, and if theyd gone and nothing else had, then that couldnt be a ce. And at first I couldnt see what differe made, because Jen still wasnt around. But when I saw what differe made to her, how much calmer it made her, I didnt care why. The main thing was, she wao be o me.
And I was even mrateful to Nodog then. Because he had taught me this deep, clear way of thinking, the way that allowed me to see things as they really were. So even though Mum wasnt seeing things the way they really were, and she didnt know that for example the Pop Idol judges couldnt prove they had the right to live, she was seeing something that could work for her, and stop her from being such a bitch.
And now because of Nodogs teags, I had like the wiseo accept it, and not tell her it was stupid or pointless.
<strong>MARTIN</strong>
Who, you might want to ask, would call their child Pao? Paos parents, Harry and Marcia Cox, thats who.
May I ask how you got your name? I asked Pao when I first made his acquaintance.
He looked at me, baffled, although I should point out that just about any question baffled Pao. He was large and buck-toothed, and he had a squint, so his lack of intelligence articularly unfortunate. If anyone ever he pensation of charisma and good looks, it ao.
Howjer mean? Where did your name e from? Where did it e from? The idea that names came from anywhere was clearly a new oo him; I might as well have asked him where his toes came from.
Theres a famous film actor called Pao.
He looked at me.
Is there? You hadnt heard of him? Nope.
So you dont think you were named after him? Dunno.
You never asked? Nope. I dont ask about no ones name.
Right.
Where e e from? Martin? Yeah.
Where did it e from? Yeah.
I gaped at him for a moment. I was at a loss. Apart from the obvious answer - that it had e from my parents, just as Pao had e from his (although even this piece of information might have amazed him) - I could only have told him that mine was Fren in - just as his was Italian. As a sequence, I would have found it hard to articulate why his name was ical and mine was not.
See? Its a hard question. Dont mean Im thick, just because I t a.
No. Of course not.
Otherwise youre thick, too.
This was not a possibility that I felt I could rule out altogether. I was beginning to feel thick, for all sorts of reasons.
Pao was a year-eight pupil at a prehensive school in my neighbourhood, and I was supposed to be helping him with his reading. I had volunteered to do so after my versation with dy, and after seeing a small advertisement in the loeer: Pao was my first stop on the road towards self-respect. Its a long road, I accept that, but I had somehow hoped that Paight have been positioned a little further along it. If we agree that self-respect is in, say, Sydney, and Id begun the jour Holloway Road tube station, then Id imagihat Pao would be my ht stopover, the place where my plane could refuel. I was realistiough to see that he wasnt going to get me all the way there, but volunteering to sit down with a stupid and unattractive child for an hour represented several thousand air-miles, surely? During our first session, however, as we stumbled over even the simplest words, I realized that he was more like Caledonian Road than Singapore, and it would be awenty-odd tube stops before I even got to bloody Heathrow.
We began with an appalling book he wao read about football, the large-print story of how a girl with one leg overcame her handicap aeam-mates sexism to bee the captain of the school team. To be fair to Pao, once he saw which way the wind was blowing, he was suitably ptuous.
Shes going to score the winning goal in a big match, innit? he asked with some disgust.
I fear that might be the case, yes.
But shes only got one leg.
Indeed.
Plus shes a girl.
She is, yes.
What school is this, then? You may well ask.
Im asking.
You want to know the name of the school? Yeah. I want to go up there with my mates and laugh at them for having a girl with one leg ieam.
Im not sure its a real school.
So its not even a true story? No.
Im not fug b with this, then.
Good. Go and choose something else.
He snuffled his way back to the library shelves, but could find nothing that might i him.
What are you ied in, actually? Nuffink, really.
Nothing at all? I quite like fruit. My mum says Im a champion fruit-eater.
Right. That gives us something to work on.
There were forty-five minutes of our hour remaining.
So what would you do? How does one begin to like oneself enough to want to live a little longer? And why didnt my hour with Pao do the trick? I blamed him, partly. He didnt want to learn. And he wasnt the sort of child Id had in miher. Id hoped for someone who was remarkably intelligent, but disadvantaged by home circumstance, someone who only needed an hours extra tuition a week to bee some kind of w-class prodigy. I wanted my hour a week to make the differeween a future addicted to heroin and a future studying English at Oxford. That was the sort of kid I wanted, and iheyd given me someone whose chief i was iing fruit. I mean, what did he o read for? Theres an iional symbol for the gents toilets, and he could always get his mother to tell him what was on television.
Perhaps that was the point, the sheer grinding uselessness of it. Perhaps if you knew you were doing something so obviously withbbr>藏书网</abbr>out value, you liked yourself more than someone who was indisputably helping people.
Perhaps Id end up feelier than the blond nurse, and I could taunt him again, but this time I would have righteousness on my side. Its a currency like any other, self-worth. You spend years saving up, and you blow it all in an evening if you so choose. Id done forty-odd years worth in the space of a few months, and now I had to save up again. I reed that Pao was worth about ten pence a week, so it would be a while before I could afford anht oown.
There you are. I finish that sentenow: Hard is teag Pao to read. Or even, Hard is trying to rebuild yourself, piece by piece, with no instru book, and no clue as to where all the important bits are supposed to go.
JJ Lizzie and Ed bought me a guitar and a harp and a neck rack from one of those cool shops in Denmark Street; and when Ed and I were on the way to Heathrow, Ed told me he wao buy me a plaicket home.
I t go home yet, man.
I was going along to say goodbye, but the tube journey was so fug long that we ended up talking about something other than which crappy magazine he was going to buy from the bookstall.
Theres nothing here for you. Go home, get a band together.
I got one here.
Where? You know. The guys.
You think of them as a band? Those losers and fug perverts we met in Starbucks? I been in a band with losers and perverts before.
Werent ever no perverts in my band.
What about Dollar Bill? Dollar Bill was our first bass-player. He was older than the rest of us, and wed had to unload him after an i with the high school janitors son.
At least Dollar Bill could fug play. What your buddies do? Its not that kind of band.
Its no kind of band. So, what, this is for ever? You got to hang out with those guys until they die? No, man. Just until everyones OK.
Until everyones OK? That girl is derahe guy ever hold his head up in public again. And the old woman has a kid who hardly fug breathe. So whehey gonna be OK? Youd be better off hoping they all get worse. Then they jump off the fug building, and you e home. Thats the only happy ending for you.
What about you? What the fucks any of this got to do with me? Whats your happy ending going to be? What are you talking about? I want to know what kind of happy ending is available to the rest of the population. Tell me what the gap is. artin and Maureen and Jess are all fucked, but you… You got a job hooking people up with cable TV.
Where you going with that? Im going where Im going.
Yeah. Tell me where that is.
Fuan.
Im just trying to make a point.
Yeah. I get it. I got as good a shot at a happy ending as your friends.
Thanks. Do you mind if I wait until I get home before I shoot myself? Or you wao do it here? Hey, I didhat.
But I did, I guess. When you get yourself in that place, the place I was in on New Years>.</a> Eve, you think people who arent up on the roof are a million miles away, all the way across the o, but theyre not. There is no sea. Pretty much all of them are on dry land, in toug distance. Im n to say thats how close happiness is, if we could only see it, or some bullshit like that. Im not telling you that suicidal people arent so far away from people who get by; Im telling you that people who get by arent so far away from being suicidal. Maybe I shouldnt find that as f as I do.
We were ing up to the end of our y days, and I guess Martins suicidologist guy knew what he was talking about. Things had ged.
They hadnt ged very quickly, and they hadnt ged very dramatically, and maybe we hadnt even done muake them ge.
And in my case anyway, they hadnt even ged for the better. I could holy say that my circumstances and prospects would be even less enviable on March st than they had been on New Years Eve.
You really going through with this? Ed asked me whe to the airport.
Through with what? I dont know. Life.
I dont see why not.
Really? Shit, man. You must be the only one who doesnt. I mean, wed all uand if you jumped. Seriously. No one would think, you know, What a waste. He threw it all away. Cos what are you throwing away?
Nothing at all. Theres no waste involved.
Thanks, man.
Youre wele. I just tell it like I see it.
He was smiling and I was smiling, and we were just talking to each other the way weve always talked to each other about anything thats gone wrong in our lives; it just sounded a little meahan usual, I guess. Ba the day hed be tellihat the girl whod just broken my heart preferred him anyway, or Id be telling him that the song hed just spent months w on iece of shit, but the stakes were higher now. He was right, though, probably mht than hed ever been. There would be no waste involved. The trick is to see that youre still entitled to your three-score years and ten anyway.
Busking isnt so bad. OK, its bad, but its not terrible. Well, OK, its terrible, but its not… Ill e bad finish that senteh something both life-affirming and true aime. First day out it felt fug great, because I hadnt held a guitar in so long, and sed day out retty good, too, because the rustiness had gone a little, and I could feel stuff ing back, chords and songs and fidence. After that, I guess it felt like busking, and buski better than delivering pizzas.
And people do put money on the bla. I got about ten pounds for playing Losing My Religion to a whole crowd of Spanish kids outside Madame Tussauds, and only a little less from a bunch of Swedes or whatever the day (William, It Was Really Nothing, Tate Modern). If I could only kill this one guy, then busking would be the best job I could hope to find. Or at least, it would be the best job that involved playing guitar on a sidewalk, anyway. This guy calls himself Jerry Lee Pavement, and his thing is that he sets up right o you, and plays exactly the same song as you, but like two bars later. So I start playing Losing My Religion, aarts playing Losing My Religion, and I stop, because it sounds terrible, and theops, and then everyone laughs, because its so fug funny ha ha ha, and so you move to a different spot, and he moves right along with you. And it doesnt matter what song you play, which I have to admit is kind of impressive. I thought Id throw him off with Skyway by the Replats, which I worked simply to piss him off, and which maybe een people in the world know, but he had it down. Oh, and everyohrows their s at him, because hes the genius, obviously, not me. I took a pop at him once, in Leicester Square, and everyoarted booing me, because they all love him.
But I guess everyone has someo work that they do along with. And if youre short on walkiaphors for the stupidity and futility of your w life - and I appreciate that not everyone is - then you have to admit that Jerry Lee Pavement is pretty hard to beat.
MAUREE in the pub opposite Toppers House for our h Day party. The idea was to have a couple of drinks, go up on to the roof, have a little think about everything and then go off for a curry in the Indian O on Holloway Road. I wasnt sure about the curry part, but the others said theyd choose something that would agree with me.
I didnt want to go up on the roof, though.
Why not? said Jess.
Because people kill themselves up there, I said.
Der, said Jess.
Oh, so you e on Valentines Day, did you? Martin asked her.
No, I didnt enjoy it, exactly. But, you know.
No, I dont know, sa<u></u>id Martin.
Its all part of life, isnt it? People always say that about unpleasant things. "Oh, this film shows someoing his eyes pulled out with a corkscrew. But its all part of life." Ill tell you what else is all part of life: going for a crap. No one ever wants to see that, do they? No one ever puts that in a film. Lets go and watch people taking a dump this evening.
Whod let us? said Jess. People lock the door.
But youd watch if they didnt.
If they didnt, it would be more a part of life, wouldnt it? So, yes, I would.
Martin groaned and rolled his eyes. Youd have thought hed be much cleverer than Jess, but he never seemed to win an argument with her, and now shed got him again.
But the reason people lock the door is they rivacy, said JJ. And maybe they rivacy when theyre thinking of killing themselves.
So youre saying we should just let them get on with it? said Jess.
Because I dont think thats right. Maybe tonight we stop someone.
And how does that fit in with your friends ideas? As far as I uand it, youre now of the opinion that when it es to suicide you should let the market decide, said Martin.
Wed just been talking about a man without a name called Nodog, who told Jess that thinking about killing yourself erfectly healthy, and everyone should do it.
I never said anything about any of thats— Im sorry. I araphrasing. I thought we werent allowed to interfere.
No, no. We interfere. Interfering is part of the process, see? All you have to do is think about it, and after that, whatever. If we stop someohe gods have spoken.
And if I were a god, said Martin, youre exactly the sort of person Id use as a mouthpiece.
Are you being dirty? No. Im being plimentary.
Jess looked pleased.
So shall we look for someone? she said.
How do you look for someone? JJ asked her.
Theres probably someone in here, for a start.
We looked around the pub. It was just after seven, and there werent many people i. In the er by the gents, there were a couple of young fellas in suits looking at a mobile phone and laughing. At the table he bar, there were three young women, looking at photographs and laughing. At the table o us there was a young couple laughing about nothing, and sitting at the bar there was a middle-aged guy reading a neer.
Too much laughing, said Jess.
Anyone who thinks text messages are funny isnt going to kill himself, said JJ. There isnt enough going on internally.
Ive seen some fun messages, said Jess.
Yeah, well, said Martin. Im not sure that really disproves JJs point.
Shut up, said Jess. What about the bloke reading the paper? Hes on his own. Hes probably the best we do.
JJ and Martin looked at each other and laughed.
The best we do? said Martin. So what youre saying is that we have to dissuade someone in this room from killing themselves whether they were thinking of it or not? Yeah, well, the laughing cretins arent going to go up there, are they?
He looks more, like, deep.
Hes reading the rag page of the f— Sun, said Martin. In a moment his mates going to turn up, and theyll have fifteen pints and a curry.
Snob.
Oh, and whos the one who thinks you have to be deep to kill yourself? We all do, said JJ. Dont we? We had two drinks each. Martin drank large whiskies with water, JJ drank pints of Guinness, Jess drank Red Bull and vodka, and I drank white wine. Id probably have been dizzy three months ago, but I seem to drink a lot now, so whe up to walk across the road, I just felt warm and friendly. The clocks had gone forward on the previous Sunday, and even though it seemed dark when we were down oreet, up on the roof it felt as though there were some light left somewhere iy. We leaned on the wall, right o the place where Martin had cut through the wire, and looked south towards the river.
So, said Jess. Anyone up foing over? No one said anything, because it wasnt a serious question any more, so we just smiled.
Its gotta be a good thing, right? That were still around? said JJ.
Der, said Jess.
No, said JJ. It wasnt a rhetorical question.
Jess swore at him and asked him what that was supposed to mean.
I mean, I really do want to know, said JJ. I really do want to know whether its… I dont know.
Better that were here than that were not? said Martin.
Yeah. That. I guess.
Its better for your kids, said Jess.
I suppose so, said Martin. Not that I ever see them.
Its better for Matty, said JJ, and I didnt say anything, which reminded everyone else that it wasnt really better for Matty at all.
Weve all got loved ones, anyway, said Martin. And our loved ones would rather we were alive than dead. On balance.
You re? said Jess.
Are you asking me whether I think your parents want you to live? Yes, Jess, your parents want you to live.
Jess made a face, as though she didnt believe him.
How e we didnt think of this before? said JJ. On New Years Eve?
I hought of my parents once.
Because things were worse then, I suppose, said Martin. Familys like, I dont know. Gravity. Stro some times than others.
Yup. Thats gravity for you. Thats why in the m we like float, and in the evening we t hardly lift our feet.
Tides, then. You dont notice the pull when its… Well, anyway. You know what I mean.
If some guy came up here tonight, what would you tell him? said JJ.
Id tell him about the y days, said Jess. Cos its true, isnt it? Yeah, said JJ. Its true that none of us feel like killing ourselves tonight. But like… If he asked us why, if he said to us, So tell me what great things have happeo you since you decided not to go over the edge… what would you tell him? Id tell him about my job in the newsagents, I said. And the quiz.
The others looked at their feet. Jess thought about saying something, but JJ caught her eye, and she ged her mind.
Yeah, well, you, youre doing OK, said JJ after a little while. But Im f— busking, man. Sorry, Maureen.
And Im failing to help the dimmest child in the world with his reading, said Martin.
Dont be so hard on yourself, said Jess. Youre failing at loads of different things. Youre failing with your kids, and your relationships… Oh, yes, whereas you, Jess… Youre such a f— success. Youve got it all.
Sorry, Maureen, said JJ.
Yes, excuse me, Maureen.
I didnt know Nodog y days ago, said Jess.
Ah, yes, said Martin. Nodog. The one unqualified achievement any of us boast of. Maureens quiz team excepted, of course.
I didnt remind him about the newsagents. I know its not much, but it might have seemed as though I was rubbing it in a bit.
Lets tell our suicidal friend about Nodog. "Oh, yes. Jess here has met a man who doesnt believe in names, and thinks we should all kill ourselves all the time." Thatll cheer him up.
Thats not what he thinks. Youre just taking the p—. What did you want t all this up for, JJ? We were going to have a good night out, and now everyones all f— depressed.
Yeah, said JJ. Im sorry. I was just w, you knoere all still here.
Thanks, said Martin. Thanks for that.
In the distance we could see the lights on that big wheel down by the river, the London Eye.
We dont have to decide right now, anyway, do we? said JJ.
Course we dont, said Martin.
So how about we give it another six months? See how were doing? Is that thing actually going round? said Martin. I t tell. We stared at it for a long time, trying to work it out. Martin was right. It didnt look as though it was moving, but it must have been, I suppose.
AOWLEDGMENTS Thanks to: Tony Lacey, Wendy Carlton, Helen Fraser, Susaersen, Joanna Prior, Zelda Turner, Eli Horowitz, Mary itch, Caroline Dawnay, Alex Elam, John Hamilton.
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