Fictionalising the present
I wake up and roll over in bed. She’s gone. Hm… was she ever here? I fall back onto my pillow and close my eyes. As the fog slowly lifts from my mind, I grin, I slowly remember. Somehow I still feel worn out from the last few weeks but they gave me a new optimism. I feel refreshed.
The clock tells me its some time closer to lunch than breakfast but I don’t mind. I get up and walk (stark naked) across my room to open my blinds. I pull them back with more enthusiasm than might have been good at this point, for they thank me with a soft ripping noise. This was the first mistake of the day. The next followed instantly for looking out my window I look at the slightly astonished face of that nice old lady living opposite me. Pants. Well not much to be done than to leave her slack-jawed for another minute, as I scramble around my room to find a pair of pants…
The next little devil of misfortune must have been waiting for this moment, for most of my underwear is still damp hanging from my washing line. Well I’ll just have to go with these sexy neon green striped boxers that are completely worn out. Grab a pair of jeans from somewhere and head over to the kitchen… Stuff the t-shirt for now. I know that both my female flatmates are gone at the moment, so I enjoy running around half-naked while drinking my nice cup of Jacobs “par excellence” or whatever it is, coffee (prepared with my oh so lovely senseo (r) coffee machine) black. Actually I should need to spell out that period. PERIOD. Why? Well I’m out of milk. Rats! Need to pick some up from the grocers later. Actually now that I look, I’m out of every thing!! No bread, no nothing. My fridge has deserted me. Well actually I deserted my fridge, for some part of my mind was rational enough to clean it out before I went off for two weeks work in Bournemouth. That oh so sensible part of my brain that came up with such rational thought wasn’t then rational enough to tell me to get some food before the stores close. So much for that. Well anyway I take that close to perfect cup of coffee and sit down on the window sill, trying to outshine the sun by blinding any pervy onlookers with the pure non-scorched whiteness of my skin. The old lady has by now left her balcony. I wonder why, I mean its such a nice day…
What a day. What an interesting evening. Slowly as the caffeine makes its way up into my brain, occupying the waiting synapses and slowly forcing my mind into first gear, my thoughts start to drift. They drift back over the last two weeks, towards last night and on to the next couple of days ahead of me. Wait, scrap that last thought I’ll keep those unpleasant thoughts for later. No need to contemplate normality for at least another 42 hours. I rub my chin, that gives off a sound like an extra rough sandpaper sponge. I haven’t shaved in four days and I’m feeling a bit scruffy. Well is there a reason to shave? Am I dating anyone at the moment? Do I need to look especially flashy today? No! And so I wont. Anyway its time to regrow and change my facial ornamentation. Well that gives me something to think about for the next few hours.
What shall it be?
- How about an “Abe Lincoln”? Hm, retro and unusual, sure to impress the wrong type of girls. Some freaky historician bird, with thick rimmed glasses, wearing a oh so alternative skirt over a pair of jeans, looking kind of gypsyish. Naa not good.
- Back to the evil rocking 36 Crazyfists/Hardcore along the edge of the face only type of beard? Had it a couple of times and apparently I look like a blow-fish with that. hm… maybe.
- Clean shaven? Completely? Hm, haven’t had that since… uh… well… mid puberty probably. Hm, this definitely needs some more thought. The possibilities are close to endless.
That’s one of the few nice things about being a dude. You can sit on a window-sill sipping coffee, thinking about what type of facial hair you want to grow. I sort of understand women and their tick for hair-care products. Its the same with razors and male shaving products. What sort of shaving cream does my skin need? Or does it even need gel? What company makes the best? Do I have ultra sensitive skin? Do I need aftershave (gel, normal or milky textures are possible here) AND special skin soothing lotions? How many blades does a razor really need? And what sort of person actually admits that he uses an electric razor?
Lots of questions to be asked and many answers to be found. But for now, my brain is cut short by my growling stomach that tells me to go to the grocers and finally fill me and my fridge.
To be continued…