A. Apparently, I need to drink less. To save me. To save my friends. To save us. I was spoken to by a 16 year old, yesterday. Well known to both of us. Who has reached maturity levels, I can only dream of. He called me an imbecile. And much worse. But. B is right. Yet. He won’t understand. Just now. Yet. But. Will. At some point. How Hard Returns would have made this post look better.
H: How they created that guitar sound you’ll find explained on the internet.
B: Never heard of them.
H: Impressed?
B: …
…
H: Like for example, the one you’re listening to now. It’s not just the guitars, it’s the way it’s been recorded.
B: …
H: Don’t you love the electric energy coupled with the catchy melody?
B: Okaaay …. maybe.
H: I wouldn’t know, just expressing, just guessing, you’re the musician, I am the philistine.
B: The distanced-echoey effect?
H: Surely that’s the recording? And on purpose? And it’s brilliant, right?
B: I want to listen to it more first.
…
H: I’m not as daft as I look, you know.
B: Do you know you sound like my dad?
H: What does he make you listen to?
B: Oh My God, Bruce Springsteen.
H: Nothing wrong with that.
B: Not that he could hit my strings with his bow, Husten.
H: What about Hüsker Dü then?
B: Burn me a copy.
…
H: Sorry about the other night, by the way.
…
B: I need to get out of this place, Husten, you know, London or Berlin or something.
H: Down South, hey? So that you don’t have to fight off people like me?
B: Exactly, darling.
H: I know, I know … You’re gonna go far. I just know you will.
B: You’re sounding like my dad again.
H: I wish my dad would have said so when I was young. I’m sure he believed in me, but he was, ah, well, nevermind.
…
B: You’re missing A, aren’t you?
H: My dad, my family, my roots, my youth, my invincibility … aye, A.
B: You need a crash course in self-respect. You’re driving away all the friends that you made up here. All that drinking, for the love of God, Husten, come on!
H: A is still seeing me.
B: Precisely. She is too friendly, too nice and too insecure to get rid of you, Husten. What about your friends?
H: She is not insecure! What about my friends? They’re all still here. She told you this?
B: Some of them don’t even know about you and A. A is not too happy about that.
H: It’s so complicated, B.
B: I’m just saying that you have to be careful. With everyone.
H: Don’t make that gay … fake … camp … hand movement when … like you just did then.
B: Oh well, if you don’t want to listen to what I’ve got to say.
H: If I had a Chinese tourist souvenir fan, I’d give it to you right now.
B: You will lose her eventually, you know, if you continue like this.
H: I will lose her. No matter what I do or don’t do. Full stop.
…
B: Can I play something I like?
H: I hate it when people like you and A, you know, half my fucking age, try to lecture me.
B: You are such a sweet, pretentious, self-obsessed imbecile.
H: Play whatever you fancy.
B: Sufjan?
H: Absolutely. Let’s discuss your love life, hey?
B: Now we’re talking.
H: Been the sweet, pretentious, self-obsessed queen lately?
B: Oh Husten, after you were, hmm, forced to leave my birthday party, this gorgeous, skinny, Brazilian-looking guy came in and pierced his eyes straight at ….
H: Stop right there. Will you make it a bit less gay-cliche, please? I’m trying to write this down and it has to look good …
H: What are you reading?
A: Not reading. Just dreaming away, you know, looking at these maps.
H: What kind of maps?
A: That L printed off for our holiday to New York. He found them on some random blog.
…
H: A bit weird, aren’t they?
A: Fascinating though.
H: Strange maps always engage you to dream about worlds that are better than those we’re living in.
A: Ey? Don’t you fuck with me, Husten.
H: I fuck with you all the time. You may have noticed.
[giggle][more than ... a giggle]
A: I will miss you.
H: It’s only a couple of days, honey.
No.
H: I will miss you.
A: It’s only a couple of days, honey.
H: Don’t fucking honey me. And I don’t want no sight-seeing card. If L insists, tell him to shove it up his …
A: Don’t try and act tough. You’d love a card.
H: I would, lovely. To pin above my apple in the office.
A: Maybe I could map out all the places we’ve been?
H: I know somebody who’d be very keen to see the result.
H: You’re winding me up.
X: Didn’t A tell you?
H: Please tell me I didn’t.
X: Oh yes, Loverboy, you were trying to snog him.
H: How low can one fall?
X: It was amusing, Husten. No one took offense.
H: B’s kind-a cute I suppose.
H: I feel awful.
A: I’m not surprised. I have never seen anyone drink as much.
H: Why did you go to my flat all by yourself?
A: There was no reasoning with you.
H: You can’t just leave me at the mercy of gay teenagers.
A: You were amusing them, no end.
H: Oh God. B is barely 16.
A: After you got home you woke me up and insisted in making me taste your spaghetti bolognese while trying to rap in French with no trousers on.
H: Stop it, A.
A: Which was basically pasta with ketch-up and lots of spicy stuff.
H: Fucking hell. I can’t bear to see those people ever again.
A: You’re gonna have to. You invited them to taste your exquisite foreign cooking as you put it. Like tonight.
H: This is getting worse.
A: They loved you, Husten. You were the star of the party.
H: Like children love clowns?
A: Like I love you … (kiss) … need to go to work now.
H: Sorry about last night. L would never treat you like that.
A: No, he definitely wouldn’t … (kiss) …
X: I think not, Mr Husten.
H: Go on, just the little sip.
X: You will find, especially tomorrow, Husten, that you have had quite enough.
H: Are you trying to dare to take the fucking piss out of me?
…
X: Oh, Please. Someone save me from this drunken hetero beast.
H: Hetero, now am I? Let me …
…
Y: You’ve had too much, Husten.
H: I never have too much.
Y: Now you have. Come on, be nice, it’s B’s party and …
H: But he … Where’s A?
Y: Gone home.
H: With whom?
Y: Let me take you home.
H: Why? Are you gay?
Y: Don’t … you know better.
H: Fuck you. Where’s A gone?
Y: Told you. Gone home.
…
H: Why didn’t you tell me? Where was my goodnight kiss?
Y: A tried to, but you were ranting and raving.
…
H: Does anyone know, even come to realise, what an exceptional human specimen I am?
Y: Let’s go …
H Sissies. All of yous.
B + Y: Come on, Husten.
H: Am I the only one drunk in here?
B + Y: No. You’re the only one whose had enough.
Remember, A, when you heard me saying I couldn’t go on like this?
And I heard you telling me not to be silly?
I proved you wrong.
But then.
What does it matter?
Funny.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
Just funny.
On visiting high-street (Ann Summers) sex shops:
A: Will you behave?
H: Sorry.
A: You’re acting like a kid.
…
H: Maybe we should ask for what you need?
A: You’re making me nervous.
