Meeting People is Easy

“You creep!  How do you expect me to be able to concentrate when you can’t stop whispering?  I’ve been thinking about you since the first time we met.  It’s not because you’re in the band, you know.  I mean, anyone can play guitar.  Sometimes I just want to jump off this ride and pull the ripcord.  But knowing my luck the damn thing would fail, and I’d end up rotting away in a hospital like some vegetable.  So here’s the deal: you’re going to have to prove yourself, or I’m outta here.”
“I can’t.  It’s like -- all this time I’ve been writing a lurgee to commemorate the end of this whole thing.   Like we were just riding along all hunky-dory and we had some sort of blow out or something.”
“Well, when I’ve had too many cigarettes, and I’m lying in that hospital bed hooked up to my iron lung, maybe you’ll stop being the trickster.   Lewis, mistreated as he was, always took care of me.  He never had to play me this punchdrunk lovesick singalong you always do.  I just want to live somewhere where there’s a state of permanent daylight.  Besides, you never wash up after yourself, and your breath isn’t so sweet after all.  You could use a lozenge of love – to freshen your breath and your outlook on life.”
“What? Are we living on Planet Telex or something?  You brought me back to the surface so fast I got the bends, and now you want to leave me high and dry?  I can’t stand one more day in your sterile world with all of its fake plastic trees.  You make my bones ache.   Why can’t this just work?  That’d be a nice dream.  But you just… you do it to yourself, you know – maybe when my body gives up it’ll be you coming to visit my face protruding from my iron lung.”
“Well it would be nice if we were all bullet proof.. I wish I was.  But I can’t help it if I was drawn in by your black star.  And I hate the way you sulk all the time, as if you’d lost your street spirit and just wanted to fade out.”
“You know, I wish that airbag had failed when I had the accident.  Because then I wouldn’t have to deal with your Marvin the paranoid android routine.  I’m starting to feel like some sort of subterranean homesick alien, just waiting for the signal from home.  Won’t someone just cue the exit music so we can get off this stage?”
“My god, you are such a let down!  If there were such a thing as karma police, I’d be calling them on you right now.  Then maybe they’d lock you up so I could have a fitter, happier life.”
“Jesus!  You sound like you’re electioneering for the mememememe party!   I’ve been climbing the walls trying to get out of this dump of a relationship, but no surprises there.  You’re just lucky I’ve been there to pay the rent, but I’ve always felt like the tourist on this train wreck.”
“You know, there was a time when I thought we could get everything in its right place, but you’re such a kid.  A woman needs to be treated with respect, you know.  It’s like the national anthem – I pledge allegiance, blahblahblah…   It’s about time you learned how to disappear completely from my life.  After reading the Lord of the Rings, I used to think you had treefingers that would lift me above all this mess.  But now I’m not so optimistic.”
“We’ve been in limbo for a while now, ever since that night at the Idioteque when you saw me talking to that girl.   But now the morning bell has gone off, and we need to either hit the snooze button or get up and move on.”
“All these words seem like a motion picture soundtrack to me right now.  And we’ve been living our lives packt like sardines in a crushd tin box.  We may as well sing our pyramid song right here and now and stop spinning through the same pull/pulk revolving doors.”
“And what if I don’t want to?  Who’s going to stop me?  You?  You and whose army?   I mean, I might be wrong, but you’re not exactly the type to get your knives out at the first sign of trouble.”
“You’re such an amnesiac – don’t you remember all the dollars and cents I doled out for you over the years?   Trying to get you to take initiative is like hunting bears in Africa.  And balancing your checkbook is like spinning plates with lemon meringue on them.  Talk about life in a glasshouse – you’re the one with the stones in your hand.”
“And your logic is so scattered, it’s like George Orwell said, 2+2=5.  And you always want me to be some sort of manservant when we’re at those repulsive gallery showings.  ‘sit down, stand up’ – like I’m some trained monkey!  There was a time when all I wanted to do was sail to the moon with you, but now I’m left with nothing but memories, when my mind backdrifts to those sweeter times.”
“Really?  I can’t count the times when I wished you would just go to sleep and stop babbling.  Saying pointless things like ‘this is where I end and you begin’ … what the fuck does that mean?   Do you want to go back to being a teenager, roaming the streets with your goth friends, wearing long black trenchcoats and chanting ‘we suck young blood’?  There’s a thing my Russian grandfather called the gloaming, where they used to shear the wheatfields down close to the ground in preparation for the coming winter.  I’m quite prepared to do the same with you.”
“There there, sweet thing, don’t be so fatalistic about it.  If I can find a way to fix this, I will.  It’s like a punchup at a wedding; everyone knows it shouldn’t be happening, but it just does.  And before you know it, we’re like rabbits with myxomatosis, lazily hopping home, hoping to die peacefully.”
“I know I can be a scatterbrain sometimes.  But  I love you, and you know that.  And it wouldn’t be normal without all of this worrying.  After all, part of the reason I cling to you so dearly is that I’m just so afraid of one day finding a wolf at the door.”