We watched Black Swan on Thursday an it is as if the film has bled some of its starkness into my own life.
Even though it was my Saturday off, I had to collect something in the very centre of the city (one block south of Church Square) and then go to work to do some things there. Mid city traffic was chaos as always and I found an illegal parking spot not too far from the place where I had to collect. I left The One in the car to move it in case someone came to chase him off and ran half a block to collect the stuff.
When I returned, the car and The One was still there and we could just drive off. As I turned into Schoeman Street, some idiot sprinted for a parking spot on the other side of us. Apparently he had not seen us and I very narrowly avoided an accident. I should have stopped and shouted at him, but I was in a rush to get my work done because we still had to visit Mother.
Work went well and by 12:00 we left to go to Mother's. Apparently it was the day for bad drivers because on the way we saw this overloaded truck. It really looked as though it was about to fall over, but the driver and his two friends in the cabin drove merrily along the N4. Only in South Africa.
Anyway, apart from the terrible drivers on the roads, my day was also one of emotional chaos. We visited Mother and I had to face what I had abandoned her to once more. Dear Nettie Roos has been sick for a while; she really looks very frail and old. What a little angel she is. I remember I once wrote a poem about her.
So, Mother's waiting for the results of blood tests from her vet. I feel we've all been realising that a season of death is slowly moving across our lives again but I will simply not discuss that now.
One of the reasons we visited Mother, apart from seeing beloved Nettie, was to collect the boxes she had organised for us from a contact. She's very well connected, is that woman.
On the way home, car crammed with boxes for the move, we were both very silent. I had to concentrate on keeping out of the way of the savages on the road since I had serious thinking to do.
I thought about how I was leaving Mother behind to her own devices the way I feel I did more than four years ago. That had been my second life. My first life had started when I took my first raw breath; it ended suddenly and painfully when my father committed suicide.
My second life was shorter than the first and began the second my first life ended. This was a tremendously sad life with Mother, trying to rebuild our lives after a shattering and brutal death.
My third life started the moment that I met The One. For a while my second and third lives interfered brutally. Then, I broke the bonds (an extremely painful experience) and moved away. In this third life of mine, The One and I have built a near impenetrable microcosm around us and ours. Sadly, it is not perfect, our little two man society with its own laws and a style of gossip. Some things puncture our illusionary little world. Death still occasionally creeps in, mathematical certainty that it is. The One's illness often makes its ugly appearance. Vile capitalism dominates our lives when work and the people there grab the reins of my sanity.
I just cannot end the post on such a sombre note.
Earlier this week we'd seen this car; clearly, someone had been violently sick at a high speeds. That looks like too much red wine to me.
Written by I