Getting what you settle for
Joey, do you like movies about gladiators?
Apologies for the following, but I have been watching too many Turner Classic Movies on Cyta’s MiVision. Kudos if you can name the poorly ripped off films:
Sit down, we need to talk. There’s no easy way to say this so I’ll get straight to the point. I’m leaving you. Why you ask? It’s not you, really, it’s me. Things just aren’t working out, I’ve tried to make it work, but there are just too many words and not enough papers. Yes, there’s that. I’ve been writing for other magazines, don’t play coy, you’ve been reading other people, I know you have. Those glossy weeklies, those newsprint jezebels, those imported magazines featuring their exotic columnists. That’s cool, we’re adults, we’ve taken the necessary precautions. I’m sure that you’ve avoided paper cuts, and I have been using various forms of antiviral software… but that’s not the point. Greener pastures beckon and it is time to move on.
Please don’t (finger to lips), don’t say anything. What we’ve got here is… failure to communicate. It’s over don’t you understand? Over! “But if you leave where will I go, what will I read?” I hear you cry. To which I can only respond, frankly my, dear I don’t give a damn. Tomorrow is another day, and remember, we’ll always have Seven. Sure I could stay and try something else but I don’t know nothin’ about birthin’ babies. So its time to get busy livin’ or get busy dyin’.
“Go, and never darken my towels again!” you say. “Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries.” Well sure. I can understand you’re hurt. But you’ve got to understand, it’s not personal, Sonny. It’s strictly business. Fat, drunk, and stupid is no way to go through life. Here I’m only reminded that I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am, let’s face it. I’m looking for sanctuary! Sanctuary! The other day I was looking back on my time here in Cyprus. All me life flashed before me eyes …it was really borin’. But now is the time to be looking forward my friends. We are all interested in the future, for that is where you and I are going to spend the rest of our lives. And remember, my friends, future events such as these will affect you in the future…
Highlights from my time in Cyprus
Developments on The Political Landscape – “Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.”
Encountering The Makarios Street Shopper – “Would you be shocked if I put on something more comfortable.” (Yes I would.)
Run-ins with the Local Utility Authorities – “You hear me talkin’, hillbilly boy? I ain’t through with you by a damn sight. I’m a get medieval on your ass.”
The Hospital System – “Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy night.”
Meeting The Police – “Badges? We ain’t got no badges! We don’t need no badges! I don’t have to show you any stinking badges!”
Finding Work – “Show me the money!”
Visiting Ayia Napa – “Gimme a whiskey, ginger ale on the side. And don’t be stingy, baby.”
So, to be clear – I am off. That’s it. I’ve packed up my troubles in the old kit bag. Well nearly. Its amazing how much can be accumulated in a year and a half. This morning I announced to the assembled crew that we’re gonna need a bigger boat. Maybe something titanic. This moving lark is stressful.
But exciting my precious, exciting.
It’s not just the sifting through belongings, it’s the memories that getcha. Arriving somewhere new is the stuff that dreams are made of, so you expect it to be rosebud, but the reality is, fitting into a culture different from your own is hard work; two weeks in and you realise, Houston, we have a problem. I guess that’s why you read letters to the editor by disenchanted ex-pats who realise there’s no place like home so often in the paper. But all good things are worth toughing it out: giving it your best shot. Maybe it didn’t work this time, but times change, people change. If not – move on, have adventures anew (‘the adventures’, a medical term for a nomadic illness. Untreatable, and sometimes fatal.)
You get what you settle for, and I’d rather have thirty minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special; so I and three extras leave these sandy shores. We’re working without a safety net, we’re of no fixed abode, but I have always depended on the kindness of strangers. It will all be OK for I am Spartacus. Now, open the pod bay doors HAL.
Hasta la vista baby.
I won’t be back.
Here’s looking at you, kid.
Credits rolling.
FIN.
There are forty four (mis)quotes… in case you were counting.
??
??
??
??
