Another Sunday Morning / Dimanche Matin avec ftv

[ Waking up with Defects in GotaloNia ]

Final days of August 2003

 

Sunday morning brings the dawning of a new time. That's what the Velvet Underground almost said in one of their first songs. And that's how most Sunday mornings feel to you. The birth of a new opportunity, whatever it may mean to you. And sometimes, well, most of the times it just means nothing.

Yes, waking up on a Sunday morning to the loud sound of ftv is always a good start of the week. Log on to the Internet, read some newspapers, visit some portals and download a freeware application for your operating system of choice. That's one of the ways to greet eficiently Sunday mornings. But there are other, more violent ways. Like waking up with a severe headache and a general feeling of unease. And that probably means Saturday night was spent with a lot of alchool. But not always. Things can be a little different; even if you don't drink a drop of alchool you can always wake up on sunday morning with those violent symptoms. You can swallow speed pills or ecstasy. And waking up after that is always a weird, if not bad, experience.

Breakfast is always an important part of Sunday mornings. Even if you don't have it at all. Generally what tastes good is a big cup of black coffee and a few cigarettes to go along with it. Some people prefer to eat a cake or a sandwhich or toasted bread with butter. Well that may be a bit too strong sometimes... But let's forget about that for a moment or two.

Low volume radio playing The Velvet Underground. Your first thought of her spring up in your head. Birds and dogs make a sort of annoying low noise outside. Your downstairs neighbours clink and clank away on glasses and dishes from the night before. A door opens somewhere in the building and then closes with a big bang. A girl outside laughs. You wonder if it's Natasha. The long time ghost of a past life. You wonder if it's anybody you know at all. You start to think in a weird way and finally get up from bed. You wash your face, comb your hair and brush your teeth. Turn off the radio and turn on the tv with the sound muted to a distant whisper. Telephone rings three times. You don't answer. Sweet sofa time and a glance at the cityscape from your favorite window. Fog all over the sky sets you out for a pack of cigarettes, outside. You wonder if it's gonna rain today. Not that it would make much difference, no. And you wonder what is Natasha doing right now, at this very moment. Maybe taking a shower or having breakfast while watching the news on tv. Or maybe she's dancing with herself to the sound of VonMagnet or somebody else's music. And there's also a very strong possibility that she might be reading the new york trilogy by Paul Auster. Who knows? You don't, that's for sure. And it doesn't matter how hard you think about it. Those thoughts won't bring her back to you.

A distant sound brings your attention to the soft day light that pours through the stained glass window on the kitchen. The soft day light of a warm Sunday morning. You prepare a sugar sweet black coffee. No milk and a lot of wind when you open the window. Fresh air to be the reason behind a good early mood, or a mild set of mind. And a stainless steel spoon to mix it all into a bright beggining of another blazing speedy week. With all the help of caffeine this will surely be a bright day. You head towards the stereo unit and press play. Turn the volume three or four points up and let yourself be flooded by this new rythmic ambient. Your brain starts to move along this rythm and new thoughts spring up in your recently awaken mind. And then, suddenly, you think of Natasha with a red dress that she used to wear when you went out into the GotaloNian night. You're not even too sure about the colour of the dress but it really doesn't matter to you, does it? And as you stare into the glowing surface of the black coffee you realise that colours are just an interference of reality. Everybody should, at some point in their lifes, look at life in black&white. It would be beautifull and simple. Dog vision pops up in your mind. You sip once more on the cup then you light up the second cigarette of the morning. The smoke reminds you, strangely, of the foggy city outside.

Meanwhile, the music intensity rises one notch. A mix of a tribal ancient rythm towards an electronic trance one. Which is a bit too much for your brain, right now. Maybe later it'll make you feel better, but not at this moment. A change in sound is due as fast as possible. The phone rings again. Nothing can disturb your peace of mind. It's too early and it's Sunday morning, who would call you at this hour? You start to get really curious and wonder about that for a long time. And you wonder if it's really Natasha trying desperatly to contact you. You smile in desbelief and lie down on the couch ready for a second shot of sleep. Closing your eyes. Falling further and further down into slumberland. You disappear from this world of noise and you find yourself in a silent and quiet place and then you start dreaming of her. And all along, in your apartment, the phone keeps ringing every hour or so. The loudness of the phone rings always turn to silence inside you, so you never wake up because of that. You only wake up because you set the stereo unit to start automatically at 6PM with a CD of your choice: Air's Moon Safari. Life is good when you wake up to such sounds. And another coffee is ready to be drunk, and maybe a small cake too. Well, to tell the truth, whatever lies at hand in the kitchen table will do... But first, maybe a shower will make you feel even better. And you bathe while you think of her disappearence. Where the hell did she go? That's been haunting you for quite a while now. Kelly Watch The Stars is playing out loud making the windows' glasses shake once more to a vibrating sea of bass lines. Water is all over you making a cold body turn warm.

Five minutes later you finally taste the coffee for the second time today. And, sadly, it tastes of nostalgia. Maybe you were wrong about the right quantity of sugar this time. Or maybe it's because the cake you're eating is just too sweet, when compared to the black coffee. Whatever. You think of a magazine ad that says "Nostalgia Expresso". You smile when you imagine Natasha reading the ad and buying that coffee brand next time she's in the super-market. She loves everything that has nostalgia in the name or smells like it. Oh well, all these thoughts seem to bring you a bit down, so you shift your mind set once again. You think of the future. But the future doesn't think much of you...

Your first thought is a simple one: what will the future bring you? You already know the generic answer to that. And it's very simple; the future will bring you good things as well as bad stuff. First, let's start with the good things that might happen to you. The first thing that crosses your mind is the reunion with Natasha. That would be great. That would really be the whole world to you. If that would happen someday, you wouldn't want anything more. It would be enough. And now the bad things. A lot of shit can happen in a very short period of time, as you already know. But all the bad stuff makes you stronger and all those clichés that you know so well. Althought clichés, you know it to be true. So, after all that thinking, you're not really afraid as to what the future might bring regardind bad stuff. The only bad thing that you're afraid of is the exact opposite of the only good hope you have about the future; the reunion with Natasha.

The future, the future. You're too fucking tired of the future not happening. Supecting secretly that it, definatly, won't happen any time soon. You begin to think you can no longer wait for anything. Not even for the simplest things. You don't even have the will to keep on searching for her. You are slowly realising that you really have no clue to her whereabouts. The more you search the less you find. And this situation has been going on for far too long now so, you'll have to do something about it fast, and the fastest you can may not be fast enough.

Anyway, this is not a good time to let things slip down and out of control. You have to react but not on a Sunday, right? Wrong. And you know it's wrong. So you decide to get decadent with a twist of good taste. And what's better and more stylish than a trip to the cinema? Probably nothing. So you begin to dress up having in mind a bright, funny and happy-ending Hollywood film. Once again, without knowing it, you are so very wrong. When you arrive at the cinema theater you stumble against a very large billboard annoucing a french film. How disapointing. And it seems that you're not allowed to go to other theaters because you simply won't make it on time, you're already late for this session...
"Fuck it, I'll watch this damn depressing french thing and I'll laugh with pleasure". Well, that's what you think. Unfortunatly for you, the most part of french filmography is filled with depressing stories and shitty/serious dialogues. And the film's title doesn't promise a happy, relaxing story; "Je m'enfoute".

It's raining hard after you exit the theatre. Hunger invades you as soon as you get home. A frozen pizza exits the refrigerator and enters the oven at supersonic speed. In another 20 to 25 minutes you'll be feasting with delight, or so you hope. You pour into one shiny glass a bit of vodka and try to dissipate the anxiousness that's still growing inside. Sunday is almost gone into Monday. You set a timer on the computer to remind you to turn off the oven and then eat the pizza. And while you're at it, you glance at the mail program to check for new messages. Zero, after all it's Sunday night. And who on earth emails anybody on Sunday? Not too many people, you guess.

Adding a bit of coke to the half full glass of vodka that sits in the table waiting for your lips. Trying to think as logical as you can about Natasha. You must ponder one important thing; the reason why you and Natasha went apart. And you know that when you'll be able to answer that question you'll be free to be with her again. Youl'll find her in no time. You'll be surprised how easy it is to find her once you solve your own inner mistery. But being a little afraid of reality doesn't help at all.

All that's left of Natasha is one cigarette lighter that she left once in my house. Rounded, better still, in the shape of a circle. Shinny and metalic. With a well known tobacco brand carved in. So what does this have to do with Natasha? Apparently, nothing. But you could be wrong. And everybody knows you're, indeed, wrong. Another ghost haunting you whenever you happen to look at it. Sometimes you pick it up to light up a cigarette and then drop it in respect or whatever you feel when you realise what you've done.