To be blunt.
Written by @Andrometa and @Iseun1 (Jeremy you are a saint for doing this with me thanks so so much!)
To Be Blunt
Trudging into the cafe, Ethan wasn’t all there, but it was a Friday night, and there was nothing he wanted more after getting stoned than a double espresso shot with something sugary. He nodded at the clerk, who wished him luck for his recital today, but all Ethan wanted to do was crash and burn the same way he did when he lit his very first blunt that same morning.
***
Jeremy leaned onto the table, head on hand, and stared lazily at the scribblings on his yellow note pad. He crossed out this and that trying to make sense of his rambling. Hopeless. Sometimes the words just didn’t come together. He sometimes found that a Haiku would shift him back into the right mindset. He scratched one down quickly, hoping for some magic juice to flow.
Your poems are shit
They are not interesting
And they bore people
Jeremy sunk further down in his chair. Life just seemed to be working against him.
What is that smell? He thought. It was subtle from afar, but immediately distinct to those who knew it. He turned to see Ethan walk away from the counter, espresso in hand.
***
“Hey there dude,” Ethan smiled. Or, he remembered trying to smile. “Long time no see.” He sat down across from Jeremy and shook hands, hoping the faint smell of pot wasn’t so apparent. Jeremy smiled back.
“Yeah mate, it’s been forever,” His hand rested on his yellow notepad.
“Yo, you still carry that thing around? That’s amazing! That must mean you are gonna perform tonight, right?” Jeremy shrugged.
“We’ll see,” He sighed. Ethan nodded. They sit in silence for a time. Ethan tries to ignore the scalding his tongue is receiving, while also ignoring the violent trembling his hand is getting from the caffeine with no food. The MC goes to the mic after what seems like forever.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to tonight’s poetry slam. We don’t usually do it on Friday nights, but we have two very special readers who could only make it tonight, so thank you all for coming,” Applause. Ethan’s stomach lurches.
“Now, first up. He came in from Pennsylvania to be here. A youngster, but he has potential. Let’s hear it for Ethan!” A polite applause ripples across the crowd as Ethan nods to Jeremy, then shuffles over to the mic. The lights are dim, but Ethan still squints, his voice shakes, but he holds his own.
“So, initially tonight, I was going to do a recitation of Sweetness by Stephen Dunn. But I don’t want to do that anymore.” The audience chuckled a little. “I decided, that if I was going to drive 3 and a half hours to a city to spend only an hour there, it would be on my terms. So, this poem, will exemplify said feelings and... some other themes.” He takes a step back from the mic.
If you ever want my advice:
Don’t do what you want.
Don’t allow yourself the luxury
To fall in love with whomever you please,
Because your heart will be drug along
With guys versus girls,
And one or two or five secret dates,
Or those awkward moments when
You realized you fucked someone over
Because you did what you wanted,
And nothing for them.
If you ever want my advice:
Get at most 3 hours of sleep a day,
So when people see the empty look
You carry with you all the time,
You don’t have to lie and say your cat died,
Or it was a rough night at work.
Your cat can’t keep dying every day,
And your salary is very good, so just stop.
I can’t take the lies, the avoidance, it’s sick.
If you ever want my advice:
Ignore the first two pieces of advice I gave you.
Do whatever your heart desires
Carpe fucking diem, the world is yours.
Lie about how fine you are, when we all can see
Otherwise that you are deader than Mr. Whiskers.
But at 3 am, when you meet your real self again,
Don’t say I didn’t warn you beforehand.
Ethan bows slightly, and walks back to Jeremy’s table.
* * *
The lights dimmed as Ethan recited. Jeremy was still gazing at the page but the lines grew apart and doubled and his vision grew hazy. He sat back in his chair, arms folded and heard words being spoken. Words that wriggled on a line cast into the ocean of coffee splattered pages, where wordsmiths swam and waited, hoping beyond hope to be baited.
“So when people see the empty look
You carry with you all the time
You don’t have to lie…”
Jeremy was hooked. Each line more he felt the haze lift. The clouds in his mind seemed to disperse, and a way forward became clear as if a sweet song played by the piper guided him out from his forest prison.
The thought was sudden. He was working on the wrong poem. He swiftly paged through his notepad until he found what he was looking for. The finishing touch.
Ethan finished and descended the few steps to ground floor. There was a hearty applause, one Jeremy was eager to add to, but he could only bare to give a brief clap between his vigorous scrawling.
The MC came back on stage. “That was splendid, Ethan, very fine indeed”
The MC trailed on as Ethan sat down next to Jeremy, who smiled at him. Ethan took a sip of his espresso and gave a polite nod to the MC. Jeremy was still smiling at him
“What?” said Ethan, uncomfortable with this sudden unblinking attention.
“Thank you” was all Jeremy responded.
The MC continued. “Our next reader took some time off cooking ‘shrimps on the barbie’ to be with us tonight, so a big G’day to him.”
Jeremy rolled his eyes.
“Please welcome Jeremy to the stage”
Jeremy was already up and walking to the platform. He adjusted the mic slightly.
“I’m going to follow in Ethan’s footsteps here and detour from what was originally planned. You see, I’ve been stuck. I’ve been stuck for longer than I care to say. I knew if I could only write it, let it out, it would get better. But the words have evaded me for months. Listening to Ethan just now, I was struck with inspiration and now finally, the poem’s complete. This is called, Let it End”
I don’t know how to stop caring
Every thought just comes back to that moment
And everything that lead up to it
You got what you wanted
I’m left with what remained
A broken, bleeding mess
That out of nothing still spurts sorrow
Seeps the marrow of broken pride
Leaks the forgotten memories where I struggled and tried
And sucks the meaning from what’s left behind
And these few months later
The wound is still only loosely sutured
Because for some god damn reason
I can’t bring myself to let it go
It’s like a disease on the brain
That over time spreads and deepens
Until I got to that point
Where it’s just a constant numb fucking feeling
That digs deeper, tumbling, reeling
Succumbing to rock bottom, bowing down and kneeling
I’ve been so down for so long
And anger is so loud in my head, I couldn’t hear me
The real me inside that was crying
Yelling, ear-splitting screaming “JEREMY!”
Just sit still a moment and listen, dear me
You’re so frightened to be still and hear me
Just thinking about it still makes you teary
You’re the only one who cares now,
Honey, sweetie
This road leads only to catastrophe
So give it up.
That’s enough. Let it go.
No thought or tear is being shed for you
You’re chained to and drag a mighty weight
With which you’ve always held the key
Why haul something of no value?
That piercing, rippling red dusk descends
Release all of it, including your no-longer friends
With only your best wishes, you’ll send
Let it end, Jeremy, let it end.
* * *
Ethan wiped his eyes, not sure if he was still emotionally and mentally distraught, or if Jeremy’s voice, presence and words just cut him up. Jeremy headed rather modestly to the table, only to be met by the embrace of Ethan, who held his face between his hands. Ethan’s smile was wide, and the mix of coffee-pot breath was mingled with the pure happiness escaping from his lips.
“Dude,” He said. “Just dude. That right there was my whole life coming out of your mouth.”
Jeremy sputtered, and Ethan apologized and let go of him.
“Thanks mate,” He smiled. “Since you’re in town, you should stop by my place. We got some catching up to do.” Ethan nodded, but avoided his gaze.
“I don’t know yet, man.” said Ethan. “Things are...complicated these days.”
Jeremy made a face. “Still?”
Ethan sighed. They stood quietly for a moment, just looking at each other. Another person was already up on stage.
Jeremy puts a hand on Ethan’s shoulder, squeezing a little. “Take care my friend, you know where to find me.” Jeremy leaves, and Ethan takes his seat. The poem the young woman was reciting was Epilogue, by Robert Browning, Ethan recalled.
“Oh to love so, be so loved, yet so mistaken!
What had I on earth to do
With the slothful, with the mawkish, the unmanly?
Like the aimless, helpless, hopeless, did I drivel
—Being—who?”
Being who? He thought. He didn’t know. All he could say for sure, is that the someone he has missed for so long just walked out the door, and Ethan was not mistaken.