[ssf] dda vii)

adam adam at diamat.org.uk
Fri Aug 21 05:12:13 BST 2009


     vii) sweet thing

     azadeh started singing that day
     to her own surprise

     she'd always been a big reader
     and was able to confuse herself
     easily in time and space
     and get in to the characters
     of an unfolding story

     she imagined being on board,
     one of the hijacked jets

     why there, rather than on a beach
     somewhere, is a matter of speculation
     in deed, prior to consensus
     some commentators stock in trade
     was to query whether, azadeh's work
     was nothing other, than just one
     very long, suicide note

     azadeh used to giggle at the thought
     in memory of her mother's usual comment
     when ever her dad had sang 'all my colours'
     around the house, when she was young ...


               'don't you know any happy songs'


     'yes, shimbo
      this is one of them
      it's far happier
      than a lot i know'



     ... just as it is known
     that many contemplated
     what their own reactions would have been
     and imagined themselves to be
     a character playing a part
     on that fateful september day
     it is equally well known
     that many people felt angry also

     in azadeh's imagined entrapment
     she throw a virtual toffee hammer
     first at the head of the dominant male
     bad guy, and then in disgust
     at one of the many windows
     which of course, were pressurised ...

     ... but it wasn't a real toffee hammer
     that she lobbed repetitively with her mind,
     on the holodeck of the crashing jet
     whilst dancing in her kitchen
     for part of her mind
     was back on a train journey
     when she'd seen a glass encased hammer
     mounted on the carriage wall
     and asked --

          'what's that for'


               'it's a toffee hammer' -- had replied her mother


     'ye mam's messing luv
      it's to brek that window
      in case of emergencies' -- had said her dad


          'why'


     'why what sweetheart'


          'why would anybody want to break that window'


               'look at it ...' -- said her mother --
               '... just look at it
                i want to break it now
                it's obviously not been cleaned
                and as for this table top ...'


     -- her dad giggled
        and said to aza --

     'we best be careful
      she'll be breking us next'


          -- aza giggled too, and asked --

          'is there any toffee daddy'

     'no luv, just in yer mam's head
      why, do you fancy some,
      or is that a daft question'

               'i haven't got toffee in my head'

     'no aknow luv, but it you who's got
      the toffee hammer in there
      somewhere, so you can
      understand the confusion'

          'what emergencies daddy
           like a fire'

     'well maybe, or just one
      where we couldn't get out
      through the doors, so we decided
      to try the windows
      like er, a crash i guess'

               'yes, like i say
                toffee hammer, look at it
                neither use nor ornament'

     'chomp'
      -- says aza's dad
          passing over a small wrapped
           chocolate covered toffee
            to her, she unpeels it
             and happily obeys --

     'what'
      -- says aza's dad to her mam
         who is now staring a hole
         in him  --
     'they're only small
      and it's gonna be
      a long journey
      init'

               'where did you get that from'

     'a shop'

               'when'

     'in the past
      have got another
      if you want it
      or is that a daft question'

               'yes, swine'

     'chomp
      i think aknow what you're thinking though
      about that hammer, it's very light
      you'd rather see a sledge up there wunt ya
      but it has does have a point'

                'so does a tooth pick
                 -- replied her mother
                    tapping the nail of her left index finger
                    against the table top --

      'careful sweetheart
       that table's minging'

           -- aza giggled --

               'swine'

     'chomp, aza do you know
      you could propel this straw
      through a brick wall, if you knew
      what you were doing, and gave it enough force
      it's pointy enough, here, feel this
      tell me when it begins to hurt'


          'ow'


     'oh sorry honey, but you see what i mean
      we could hurt that window too, if we wanted to
      with a point and enough force behind it'


               -- aza's mother took the straw
                  and stabs the window with it ...

                  ... the straw buckles --


     'woh, what's the window
      ever done to you ...'
      -- sez her dad --
      '... dunt hurt it
       is it because of all the finger prints'


               'no, but that's why i'm using a straw
                has you would say, it's minging ...'
                -- replies her mam --
               'but you could never push this straw through glass
                you'd be hard pushed to pierce your book with it'


     'yea aknow, but i know it could be done'
      -- states her dad --

               'bollocks'
               -- states her mam, and then
                  looking up from her knitting
                  and directly into the eyes
                  of anyone watching, and the ears
                  of anyone listening --
               'oh, pardon my french'


     'they hung a monkey in hartlepool allegedly
      because they thought he was a french man,
      some folk
      have very powerful imaginations you know'


               'what of it'

     'nayowt, but it just shows to go ye, dunt it
      look, aza, look at this book ...'
     -- her dad rasps the pages ends
        with his thumb, on the opposite side
        of it's spine --
     '... do you remember when we med that flicker book
      with the little birdie, it's like water int it
      the pages flow, and the picture moves

      and it's this liquid nature, that meks it strong
      here too, as far as that proddy straw's concerned

      it's like, ten little branches
      tied together in a bundle, you can bend them
      but it teks a lot to snap um
      more than it does, to brek one branch
      of the same area of cross thickness
      that window's similar
      but it's brittle, glass is when shocked

      hey, a reckon i could do it with water'


          'what, freeze it daddy'

               'rubbish'
                -- states her mam --


     'would you like ice ice baby
      but no, i'd keep it fluid
        oy, what do you mean 'rubbish'
        dunt ye think mi french is up to it
        but a cud, have seen it dun
        or similar stuff
        high pressure water jets
        used to mine stone
        pssssss'


               'rubbish, or rather manure'


     'how d'ya mean'


               'do you have one of these
                higher pressure jets
                on you do you'


     'might have'


               'manure'


          'daddy
           do you have any ice'


     'might have
      but i might have
      something else
      you might like, like
      what do you like
      shall we play a game or something
      like i spy, you go first yea
      have a good think ...

       ... 'manure', i remember a joke
       where the moral is that
       the new boss of a garden centre
       shouldn't expect one of the workers
       to stop calling manure manure
       too quickly, and start calling
       the product fertilizer instead, because
       it had took them some years
       to call it, anything other
        than horse shit ...'



          'p daddy'


     'okey cokey'


          'no, p daddy
           i spy with my little eye
           something beginning with p'


     'princes'


          'noo'


     'pudding'


          'no'


     'ah, photograph'


          'oh, no'


               'where's a photograph'


     'on front of that magazine'


               'oh, well that's not a photograph
                is it then, it's a magazine'


     'yea aknow, beginning with m
      with fofos in it, begging with f init'


               'pictures'


          'no'


     'paragraphs'


          'no'


               'paper'


          'no'


     'can you gi us a clue'


          'no'


               'people'


          'no'


     'penelope'


          'no'


     'pit stop'


          'no, stop it daddy'


     'p'porcupine'


          'no'


     'p'p'p'p'p
      pa'pa'pa'pa
      pe'pe'peppi pe'


          'no, daddy
           you can't just make sounds
           you have to guess words'


     'can't i'


          'no'


     'pepper'


          'no'


     'pancakes'


          'no'


     'pineapple'


          'no'


     'puree'


          'no'


     'pistachio'


          'no'


     'p'pancakes'


               'you've said that once already'

     'i know'


               'and there's no pancakes around here
                is there'


     'i guess not'


               'well then, why did you say p'pancake'


     'i said p'porcupine
      and there's none of them around either

      hey, did you hear about that fight
       between the rat and the hedgehog
        it went the full distance
         the rat was pretty mean
          but the hedgehog won on points'


              'funny, that rewinds me
               did you hear about that big fight
               last night inside the chip shop
               very sad, well over a hundred fish
               got battered ...'
`


       aza had been on many such journeys
       as a child, she had moved, flitted
       with her parents, four times in
       as many months, immediately prior
       to this particular journey, traveling light
       most of their possessions, boxed in storage
       coming along later, if they settled
       if not, on again, on again, jig, jig, jig

       the *transition generation*
       she'd not heard this term used
       until her late teens, and then expressed
       in what she felt was
       a gothic portrait of victim-hood
       but she had remembered it, nevertheless
       the term had struck a chord in her
       and she thought it both true and sad ...



          'homesick' -- says azadeh out loud
                        and stirs marcel
                        who is warming her lap presently
                        in his slumber --

          'like i say, nostalgia
           do you know, before consensus
           i used to feel homesick
           even in my own bed

           completely out of sync i was
           i suppose many felt
           that way out
           one way or another ...'


       truth be told, she was feeling homesick
       again now, she was missing her partner
       and it had become difficult for her
       to feel settled without their presence


          'soon, soon, soon ...'
          -- she thinks --
          '... everything comes
           to those that wait, but i don't want
           everything
           do i'


       she is having an argument with herself
       or rather, replaying one
       she'd heard before ...


               'what do you mean
                everything comes to those that wait
                nothing comes to those that wait'
               -- her mam had stated in frustration --


     'doesn't it'


               'no, it certainly doesn't'


     'oh, i meant be patient'


               'well why didn't you say that then
                rather than promising the child the world'


     'did i'


               'yes, you did, you promised her everything'


     'ah, but she's only after ice
      and me to work out, something
      beginning with p, i was generalising
      but specifically, to the hear and now ...'



       she had spent the majority of her life
       when small, in the company of her mother
       and other older folk, and rarely with
       kids at all, her dad was
       at the time of the train journey
       a recent addition

       he'd just appeared one morning
       curled up, snoring, next to the tv set
        it was bright, she'd got up
        knew not to disturb
         her mummy or aunties
          and had gone down stairs
           to watch a video


          'maybe mummy's got me something'
          -- she'd thought
             as she descended --


       her mother had often left her
       little pavlovian presents
       in the fridge or
       on top of the telly

       once there was a rose
       and on one occasion
       even her auntie billy
       had left her a lilly

       but now, nothing, no little
       chocolate treats, collected for her
       from a small plate, late the prior evening
       courtesy of a restaurant bill

       just, this covered thing sleeping
       under, or in, some kind of pelt
       type blanket, dark in the light
       generated by the open refrigerator

       she put on a video
       and prods the amorphous shape

          'are you the new cat'
          -- she inquired --
          'mummy said, she was going to get me
           a new cat'


     'good morning to you too ...'
       -- had answered the furry thing
          with a sleeping question --
     '... and what's your name then'


       azadeh was sure she had told the cat
       her name, yet the cat replied:


     'lilly, that's a nice name'


          'no, not lilly silly
           i said azadeh'


     'ok, me silly, lilly azadeh
      i'll try and remember ye

      what's your mam's name'



        azadeh, told the cat
        the name of her mother
        and at that the cat stopped
        short and said:


     'ah, well then
      i guess i might be the new cat
      you never know you luck in a raffle
      hold on a minute
      what happened to the old cat'


          'leukemia'


     'never, poor old thing'


          'he wasn't old'


     'oh, dear, well sometimes ..
      poor young thing

      listen, what's that you're watching
      the tape's sticking'


          'alice'


     'here, do you know sometimes
      if you stop a video ...'
      -- said the cat
         reaching for the box
         and pawing eject --
     '... and bang them
      like this
      against ye knee

      dang, dang, dang ...

      i think it loosens them
      on their reel ... '
      -- the cat put's the tape back in
         with feline finesse --
     '... here, let's try it now
      that's better ...'



            transition



                  'listen'
                  -- she heard her dad say
                     some years later --
                  'you can't have it all
                   it's to share'

                     'but, but, it's not fare'
                      -- had replied her baby sister saoirse

                  'well it might not be fair
                   but it's not raining is it...
                   oh blubbering ummer
                   it is now, dunt be like that saoirse
                   there's loads to go round'

                     'but it's mine'

                  'it's not, it's to share'

                     'no it's mine, all of it
                      because, because ...'

                  'because what ...

                   because why saoirse'


                      'mummy's right'
                       -- azadeh stated --
                      'saoirse thinks
                       she's the most important person in the world
                       that the why'


         azadeh missed her sister,
         and felt sad that she'd ever had
         a hand in making her cry




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