Tuesday 10 July 2012

8 Boys, Girls, Men and Women From The North Country

JERRY

Jerry was 62, which wasn't old. At least, he didn't think so. But it was old compared to when he was 22, which he still thought he was until the doctor sat him down in a small blue room at 61 and told him the bad news.

He had weeks left on this planet, and he knew it. He had so few joys left come the end. The main one was the visits from his daughter Mandy with his Granddaughter, Ellen. The other, was listening to Bob Dylan's 'Girl From The North Country' repeatedly. He'd always been struck by how beautiful the song was. As death knocked on his door, the meaning changed. It amplified.

"I'm a wonderin' if she remembers me at all." That lined killed him then, and it was literally killing him now. His time was up --- and she could be absolutely anywhere. Did she remember him? Did she think about him at all? "She was once a true love of mine," he thought. On his deathbed, he realised that life is not a romantic comedy. He also realised that it's not because life is harsh, but because he never told her how much he loved her.

ELLEN

Her 14th birthday was not a great one. Jerry, whom she loved more than anything, was gone. She hid in her bedroom -- refusing to talk to anyone. She had secretly stolen his CD collection from the hospital. She was desperate to find that song that he kept listening to again and again. She needed to hear it, it was the only way to be closer to him.

When she found it, she recognised it immediately. It sounded like life itself. The opening lines -- "Well, if you’re travelin’ in the north country fair, where the winds hit heavy on the borderline" -- they sounded like heaven to her. She didn't know what the North Country Fair was, but it was where she imagined Jerry being.

She put it on a CD for Thomas. He'd ignored her last two CD's, but now she understood: boys don't want to hear lots of love songs, it freaks them out. She decided, with this CD, to keep it cool. The boys at school had been teaching her all about indie music, so this time she felt a lot more confident and in the loop. She knew that, if he gave it a chance, he'd listen to it. She just hoped he made it as far as 'Girl From The North Country', because then he'd know who she really was.

THOMAS

Ellen handed him the CD and he said "thank you", awkwardly. Why she kept giving him music, he didn't know. And it always sucked. Why was she always pestering him? He didn't have a clue.

When he got home from school, he put on the CD. The tracks flew by - it was a mixture of cool and predictable indie rock songs that Thomas was barely paying attention to. He was too busy messaging Jennie Fendell on Facebook, asking about her bra size.

And then 'Girl From The North Country' came on. "What the fuck is this shit?" Thomas screamed. He took out the CD and threw it across the room.

MAGGIE

Dear Diary,

I was looking for my shoes, the ones that go with my pink dress. They were, of course, in my brother's room. It's not that he likes wearing girls shoes (at least I don't think so), but that my Mother has a bad habit of putting shoes in only the wrong places.

The shoes happened to be place on top of a CD, which had a lovely drawing on it -- which I think was done by his girlfriend, Ellen. He doesn't admit that he has a girlfriend but I think he does. She always looks at him really funny and I think the way she looks at him means she loves him. It's like the look the girls gives the boys in the movies just before they end. You know that look?

Anyway, the reason I am writing to you is that I discovered a song! It's called 'Girl From The North Country' and I am almost completely sure it was written ABOUT ME! The first time I heard it, I cried for seven whole minutes and at least nearly all of the tears ended up on my shoes.

My parents love me, but they don't understand anything about me! Bob Dylan does. If you don't believe me, listen to the song. I want to be in love with him but I just looked at a picture of him and he is a ugly and probably a bit old. But I think maybe he could afford to buy me a lot of shoes.

If you don't mind me being completely honest with you: I am almost always completely depressed and alone. But this song makes me feel understood. It feels like he's singing about the world I dream about.

Love, 
Maggie 
(Girl From The North Country)

YUUSUF

Yuusuf was in England for the first time. The trains were big, and packed full of people who knew what they were doing. Yuusuf didn't know what he was doing. He was insecure about his English. He was great at reading it, and writing it -- he just wasn't very good at speaking.

He tried his best to fit in. He noticed a bizarre thing happening on the tube. It went like this: a man would read a newspaper, and when he was finished, he'd place it on the little space between the back of the seat and the window. And then someone else would pick up the newspaper, and begin reading it. He thought that this was lovely and kind and the exact opposite of what his brother had told him about English people on the tube.

Wanting to join in, he reached behind his head to pick up a newspaper. Unfortunately, it wasn't a newspaper. It was more like a notepad, a journal of some kind. He opened to the front page. 'Maggie's Secret Journal'. He knew immediately that it was private, and that he should not read it.

He flipped to the final page. It was a girl's diary. Some kind of love letter about a pink dress and shoes. Yuusuf was bored. But then he read the bit about her finding a song. He loved the romanticism of it. That the poor little girl thought the song had been written just for her.

He felt a strong urge to hear the song. But how? He didn't have a computer or an iPod or a CD player. He needed an internet cafe.

NAJWAN

They tried to kick Yuusuf out of the internet cafe. They thought he was trying to cause trouble. It was Najwan who saw what was really going on -- the guy was just frustrated. Najwan lent Yuusuf his headphones, and everything worked out okay.

Everything apart from the fact that Yuusuf ran out of the internet cafe while crying his eyes out. What the hell was that guy listening to?

Najwan looked at Yuusuf's screen. 'Bob Dylan - Girl From The North Country'. Interesting. He put the headphones on and had a listen. It was hard to get into, at first. This was not Najwan's type of music at all. But he kept listening.

But then a line GOT him. "Please see if she has a coat so warm, to keep her from a howlin' wind."

Then he found another version on YouTube, it was Bob Dylan with Johnny Cash. And that line hit home even more. "Please see for me if she's wearing a coat so warm, to keep her from the howlin' wind." It reminded him, of course, of Haneen, his beautiful ex-girlfriend. He couldn't handle the break-up, even from such great distances. The line brought home all the complexity he was feeling in his heart. He had this painful feeling that kept him awake every night. It was the feeling that Haneen was only a day or two away from meeting someone new - and that broke his heart. The anticipation, of someone else who would make sure she was staying warm -- how could he live with that?

(Drawing by Wintersnake)
TANJA

Tanja was annoyed with herself. For all of her liberal beliefs and 'love everyone' attitude; she really hated the Pakistani guy she was sharing a hostel room with. He was loud, and he insisted on having two hour phone calls in the room that always coincided with when she was trying to read. She caught these prejudiced thoughts flying through her head and she hated herself for it. Maybe everyone is a little racist, deep down, she tried convincing herself.

But she hated that Pakistani guy.

And then one night; something unexpected happened -- Najwan decided to read, as well. Peace in room 14b! Tanja sunk into her Bill Bryson book and Najwan sunk into 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows'.

It was a perfect night. And then Najwan put on some music. Why does he have to ruin it? wondered Tanja.

And then she listened. She'd never heard anything like it. It was like an honest confessional - a bitter love letter to someone long gone. She imagined it was how Marta would sing to her. That's what was so tough about the break up -- she had no idea what Marta felt. No idea what any of it meant.

She didn't have her girlfriend, but she had this song. It was filling the gap better than anything else she'd found.

"What do you think this song is about?" asked Tanja. 
"The love of my life," said Najwan.

Tanja smiled. She had the feeling she had just found a soulmate.

SARAH

"She's amazing. You have to come to the gig," typed Caren.

Sarah knew she would have to go. Caren was good at not really giving her a choice. It would be yet another average gig by an over-hyped singer song-writer. BORING!

The hype surrounding Tanja De Vries was bordering hysterical. Hysterical, at least, within their social circles. Sarah was comforted by the fact that even if the three song set sucked, at least the performance was in a book shop, which is Sarah's favourite place to be.

It didn't take long for Sarah to admit the truth: this girl was good. The first two songs were original compositions, 'Me Hidden Under Me' and 'Truthful Lies' - and they were beautiful.

"I'm going to end with a cover," said Tanja. "This is for anyone who's ever lost a true love who is no longer their true love but who is actually still completely their true love."

It was a solo acoustic rendition of a song that Sarah knew very well. She never liked it all that much -- but Tanja was reinventing it, making it her own. Tears began rolling down her face. How could one song capture everything about life?

She thought about everything she'd lost. Everyone who was gone. Everyone who meant something to her that she'd allowed to walk out.

'See for me if she is wearing a coat that is warm, to keep her from the howling wind'. What a beautiful line. She couldn't help but think of her husband, wherever he was. She was comforted by the fact that, whatever woman he was with now, he was probably too selfish to make sure she had a coat to wear.

Care to share?

Saturday 7 July 2012

Insomnia Pie

It's 2.52am. And I have a thought about insomnia. Don't you think it'd be so much better if the point of insomnia was to be awake for the delivery of some kind of pie?

For those who make it to 3.02am: apple strudel gets delivered. Maybe even a chocolate cake. It would revolutionise the insomniacs. They'd suddenly feel good about the long, pointless, existential nights.

A big truck. It miraculously knows where you are and that you're awake. It swings by before the sun comes up and delivers you a lemon meringue pie.

Everyone else wakes up a few hours later. Grumpy, bored and desperate for caffeine. But the insomniacs are alive! They're ecstatic! They've just eaten a delicious spongecake with a generous helping of vanilla ice cream.

Everyone would want to be us. They'd stay up all night, just for that moment. The magnificently glorious time of morning.

It's just gone 3am. A truck pulls up outside. Your pie is here.

Care to share?

Books

A great book comes along, not often enough. But when it does, it changes you. Takes you a little bit closer to where you're going.

Most of the time we're cynical. We don't think much of the writers, because they know the same stuff we know.

And then you read a perfect book, and the sentences make your insides jump around like electricity. They capture the spark of life that you've been so desperate to find. You look everywhere for it. In friends, in strangers, in flowers, in parties. You find it in the book. The one sentence that tells you who you are.

The best writers cut through everything and not only reach us, but change us. I'm not talking about Shakespeare. It could be some barely known paperback, but it's crafted perfectly. Prepared and primed for YOU to fall in love with. There's nothing like it.

Care to share?

Movie Kind of Way

I was desperate to meet a woman in the movie kind of way. By the movie kind of way, I mean any way that doesn't involve Facebook. Having said that, they did make a movie about the making of Facebook, so I considered making Facebook as a way of meeting women, but found out it's already been done. And the guy didn't meet any women.

I thought about reading a book on a train. It worked for that guy in 'Before Sunrise'. It made a lot of sense --  I would sit there with a fascinating book, and the lovely girl opposite wouldn't be able to resist saying to me, "Oh wow, you like Enid Blyton too?" Not that I like Enid Blyton. I mean, how can I? She's dead. I would have to be reading something that captures who and what I am. Or better yet, I should just read whatever it is I am currently reading. And what that is, is 'Hitler's Reich'. This probably is not something that will attract women. But then, what does? As it turns out, nothing. I spent two weeks on the train with a variety of books, but none of them noticed me (the women, not the books). I didn't take it personally, as they noticed NONE of the men. They were too busy reading 'Fifty Shades of Grey'.

I looked to my favourite films for inspiration. As much as I love 'Groundhog Day', I don't think becoming a weathercaster and repeating the same day over and again is advisable, so I've decided to do something more realistic. I've decided to work undercover for the FBI, like Leo DiCaprio did in 'The Departed'. That's how he got to talk to the lovely and seductive therapist.


Things got off to a great start. I joined the FBI and they sent me undercover with a Boston gang; and I had the greatest time. But still, unfortunately, my love life was suffering. I needed to meet someone in the movie kind of way. And that was when it happened: I got to see the therapist.

The therapist was incredible, everything I have ever dreamed of. And by that, I mean; everything I have ever dreamed of in a therapist. Not in a woman. Unless the woman you want is Robin Williams in 'Good Will Hunting', but it wasn't what I was after.

I realised that if I was to ever meet a woman in the movie kind of way, I would need to leave the FBI and live inside a rom-com.

It took three weeks of listening to the radio for me to finally come across a call-in show where people pour their hearts out. It wasn't the three weeks that bothered me so much, it was that there is absolutely nothing for a grown man to do in Seattle. That's when it hit me -- I wasn't meant to be in Seattle. Tom Hanks was in Seattle, but Meg Ryan was in a whole different town, like Alabama or somewhere. I needed to be in another State, to be the listener person who hears the call, and THEN I should head back to Seattle to find the man of my dreams, except that the man will be a woman because I'm doing it the other way around.

I remembered that Meg Ryan was in New York, and not Alabama, because of that whole scene at the end in the Empire State Building. I got to New York and immediately began listening to the radio.

Another three weeks went by.

Then I realised there was absolutely no logic to me being the Meg Ryan character. It would have been much easier for me to call up the radio show and pour MY heart out, and then a hot woman (who cries a little too much) would find me! Yes. This would be EASY! All I needed to do was head back to Seattle.


I decided to take a road trip on the way back to Seattle. After two days of solid driving, I stopped in a hotel. I couldn't stop thinking about the movie 'One Night Stand'. Wesley Snipes and that Natasha woman have a one night stand, in a hotel. And that was exactly where I was, a hotel! It was like destiny! I wanted love, not a one night stand; but a one night stand would do, at least to begin with. And anyway, their one night stand was quite romantic. And it only happened because they got mugged. It made them feel closer. I needed to meet a woman and find a way for us to both get mugged. 

This is how woeful my life is -- I can get mugged and beaten with ease, but try getting me to say hello to a pretty woman. I didn't know what my next move should be. The character I most relate to, who gets the girl, is Paulie Bleeker in 'Juno'. But he'd already met the girl at the beginning of the movie, which is unfair! If my life is a movie, it began the moment I was born, and frankly I was in no state to be chatting up women.


I got depressed. I am so old school and romantic. I just want LOVE! That's why I was so desperate to find a wonderful woman and take her directly to a violent mugging. Or to hear a woman crying on a radio show, so that I could cross the country just to find her and tell her she's the love of my life. Why don't women share these values?

Care to share?

50 Things I Like - The 1000th Post on KITFR

The smell of popcorn.
A fully charged phone.
Fruit smoothies.
How supportive my parents are.
Empty cinemas.
Full cinemas.
Tea.
Comments from you guys.
Boobs.
BBQ sauce.
Being unbeatable at football games on the Xbox 360.
Tea with Stephanie and her daughter.
Watching documentaries with my brother.
Comedy.
Walks with Charlotte.
Talks with Charlotte.
New York City.
Thinking about New York City.
Skype calls with people far away.
The Prince Charles Cinema in London.


Going to press screenings of bad films with Tom, during which we sneakily text each other insulting messages.
Writing at 2am.
Stepping off a plane in someplace new.
Ice cream with Carl and Pete.
Meeting my mates every week for FOOD.
Guitars.
Obstacles.
When an actor nails my line.
Pizza on set.
Pizza anywhere.
BBQ sauce on pizza.
Pretty girls with great personalities.
Motown.
When my room smells like old books.
Old books.
Meeting people who like Chaplin.
Meeting people who don’t like Chaplin who then end up liking Chaplin.
A freshly printed screenplay.
Grapes.
Sunshine.
Rain.
My favourite film score, which I shouldn’t have because it was never released, but the composer secretly sorted it out for me.
When someone wonderful pops up on Facebook chat with ‘hello’.
Leaving the phone at home.
Steak.
Night.
Being alone.
Being around people.
Walking days with no set destination or time limit.
Family.

Care to share?