My weekend really started last Thursday night.
I drove to Melbourne and caught up with The Sculptress at an art exhibition in Port Melbourne. Because this time I didn’t know the artist personally, I was confident that I wouldn’t feel compelled to buy anything, but yet again, under the influence of the free wine served by a particularly cute gallery chick, that whole Pavlov’s Dog thing came on. I think I understand those people who get addicted to Pokies – they claim it is largely due to the sounds and the flashing lights – because I think I have some sort of compulsion to the red dot at an art exhibition. At least this time I had the wherewithal to not spend so much and I did a Homer Simpson and bought the second cheapest artwork.
The Sculptress and I then went to Mario’s for tea (she, the salmon, me, the turmeric chicken risotto) and then on to see some bands at The Evelyn (Inverto: ace / Jackson Jackson: meh). I got home at 3am.
Worked Friday, went to bed early.
Saturday, back to Melbourne and caught up with The Drummer and we went to the footy to sit in the freezing cold and watch Richmond lose again. At one point, a six year old kid turned to me and said, “They’re not very good.” I looked back at him and said without any condescension, “No kid, they’re not.”
Off to Mum and Dad’s for fish n chips, more footy on TV and I stayed the night.
Mothers’ Day I went to my sister’s apartment with Mum and Dad for lunch. My sister has had some problems (pokies, prescription drugs) but is now mostly back to normal, except she can’t/won’t work. But the fact she can make us lunch is exciting because she hasn’t been capable of that for many years. Her son, my nephew, was also there. He’s just out of jail (two years, which was a year after spending another two years in jail) and he must’ve been working out in the prison gym because his shoulders were wider than the desert. He was in good spirits, and had bought his mum a giant teddy bear for Mothers’ Day. Crims still love their mums.
I drove back to Lorne and attempted my bi-annual roast beef. Dry again. I can’t keep a roast beef moist! How’s it done? Though the veggies were exemplary. I got into my pyjamas, fed the cat and watched a DVD, and fell asleep.
Yes, yes. A bland but comfortably safe weekend. No sex, no chance at sex, no gossip. But I have three points to make.
1. I did some things, which I have struggled to do in the past month... you know, things have been a struggle.
2. Throughout the weekend I was reading the essays of Schopenhauer, because I’m all highbrow and shit, and he says The Fall is the only thing in the Old Testament that makes any sense, and as such, we should regard mankind as, “...a being who exists only as a consequence of his culpability and whose life is an expiation of the crime of being born,” and what’s more, on the vanity of life, he writes, “...to our amazement we suddenly exist, after having for countless millennia not existed: in a short while we will again not exist, also for countless millennia.”
I don’t think we should regard Schopenhauer as negative. His words have the opposite effect on me. I was buoyed. Life is fleeting, and whether we sit around watching the dust settle, or go to the footy, or achieve great or charitable works, or amass fortunes or amass debts, or go to jail or not... it doesn’t matter, really, to anyone else, and certainly not to the Earth. We’re all guilty, or not, and vain to presume our actions have any consequence to anything or anyone. Which brings me to Point 3.
3. With my newfound energy to go out, and the words of Schopenhauer backing me up, I’m proudly going to see the Star Trek movie next weekend. I'm even going to try to get a date. Nerd, you say? FUCK. YOU.
*** UPDATE ***
Also, as part of my Schopenhauerian "I don't care what anyone thinks because it doesn't matter anyway" epiphany, I have, after years of being told I should, put up an RSVP ad for myself. I'm giving it two weeks.