Friday, July 11, 2008

In the throws of love

Hail,
And this post has nothing to do with that title, it's just that I love the phrase. Love throws you. And it gives me pleasant images of rolling around on tangled bedsheets with Sarah, very close. She is interstate at the moment, and I am showing signs and symptoms of withdrawal.

Anyway. Herewith a brief conversation with a client I saw the other day. He is a licensed painter-decorator, the kind of person another client once described as “not the sharpest bowling ball in the shed”. I had seen him previously and discussed cognitive and behavioural approaches to opiate dependence and relapse prevention. He seemed very pleased to see me.

And for those who don't know, ice is the local term for crystalline methamphetamine.

Mr Chu: “This’ll be the last time you see me, Doc. I’m doing all that stuff you said. I've changed the crew I hang out with, I've taken the numbers out the phone, I’m going somewhere where there’s no fucking heroin at all.”

Me: "I don’t know you actually have to –“

Mr Chu: “It's sorted. I’m heading south. Way south.”

Me: “Okay.... Tasmania?”

Him: “Better. Antarctica.”

Me: Stunned silence. Long stunned silence.

Him: “They gotta paint, they gotta decorate. They gotta want some people down there.”

Me: “Mate, I don’t know about – “

Him: "Made up my mind. Anyway, I was talking to a mate, he reckons there’s no fucking heroin at all. No smack, no speed, not even mull. He say's it's paradise.”

Me: “Paradise? Didn’t know that… there’s a lot of ice, though.” I grinned.

Mr Chu: "Really?

Me: “Tonnes of it. Saw it on the telly. Ice everywhere in Antarctica. Situation's out of control.”

Him: “You reckon?... That's horrible shit, that is. Fucks you up real bad. You sure?"

Me, slowly: “I'm positive. Ice. Lots of ice in Antarctica. Lying all over the place. Ice.”

Him: "How come?

Me, even more slowly: “I mean ice. Ice ice. Tonnes and tonnes of it. All over the place.”

Mr Chu, visibly devastated: "Oh, that’s bad. That's no good at all. You sure?”

Me: “Mate, swear to God. Antarctica is covered in ice. Has been for years.”

Him: "Well, that’s fucked that up. What do I do now?”

Me, after one of the longest pauses held by someone who has not actually taken Holy Orders: "Well, there's a weekly narcotics anonymous meeting in South Mordor…”

One of those conversations where I start to worry if it’s me that’s mad, not him. And for me, that's not good.

Anyway, I will post more later - probably not for the next few days, as we are moving house, and I, being too mean to pay for removalists, am moving us, our furniture, our two horses, twenty chickens, two goats and several score cats to our new house by myself. In the meantime I refer you to FW's blog, to which I would link if this bloody cookies thing or whatever was working. She is being all insightful and thought-provoky there. Damn fine stuff.

Thanks for listening,
John

3 Comments:

Blogger Ladyk73 said...

Good luck with the move! Are you going to pack the kittens and chickens in the armoire?

:O)

2:02 AM  
Blogger Foilwoman said...

Thanks for the reference. Coming from you, that's quite an honor. I hope the move went well, with cats, chooks, goats, whatever all resting peacefully now. Hogs, etc.

8:22 PM  
Anonymous Milo said...

Dearest BJ, sorry about Sara being away.... and also the docker's SHOCKING loss. hope the movement is going allright... Lots of regards, Milo

6:17 AM  

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