2009 is making me soft
I had my haircut yesterday. It’s never a process I enjoy. I tend to dislike things that involve staring at myself in the mirror for a prolonged period of time, basic human interaction and sharp metal objects. Anyway, the place I go – which has a name which sounds like a kebab shop – has a small cheap TV mounted on the wall next to where I was sat. It was playing one of those American Jerry Springer-type shows. I think it was called ‘Sally’. I’d never heard of it before.
‘Sally’, if indeed this was her name, was some botoxed matriarch who presided over this circus of whooping, cursing and obesity. When I first arrived there was a skinny white girl arguing with an overweight black man on screen. I honestly couldn’t tell you what about. I’d only recently come from work and travelled on a train so I was doing my best to filter out humanity in general.
The telly people argued away while the barber – who looked alarmingly like a Turkish Jean Claude Van Damme – employed various tools to craft my hair into a respectable shape. On the screen next to me, ‘Sally’ took a commercial break. On its return it focused on a skinny redneck. The skinny redneck was sad. The skinny redneck had developed a massive gambling habit. The skinny redneck spent $60,000 of family funds. The skinny redneck had become a compulsive liar to the wife he clearly loved. The skinny redneck had come up with elaborate excuses and ruses to hide his problem. The skinny redneck erased answerphone messages from debt collectors. The skinny redneck lied about his income. The skinny redneck hid bills. The skinny redneck reminded me of the lengths I used to go to to cover up the fact I never did any work in my old job. The skinny redneck was there to break this news to his wife and beg for forgiveness…
The skinny redneck’s lip was all aquiver when he came clean to his wife. His wife looked blank, then shocked, then relieved and then gave him a hug. I don’t know what it was about this hug but it somehow broke through my barrier of detachment, coldness and hatred and somehow appeared as the most genuine hug I’d ever seen. The wife was angry with the skinny redneck but she wanted to comfort him, she wanted to help him and deep down it was clear that she really loved him. I didn’t want to let my macho guard down in front of Jean Claude but I had a pang of warmth and hope inside. Earlier in the week I’d openly wept when Mekhi Phifer (note well-researched spelling) copped it in ER and I was worried that 2009 was making me soft but I had warmed to the skinny redneck couple and their well meaning honesty. I figured that was something worth embracing in these strange and dangerous times.
I hope now to return to heavy drinking and serial killer fantasies.
