Random: (n) a rush, full speed; uncontrolled or unguarded state, freedom; haphazard; elevation of a gun; irregular masonry.
As we can see from these definitions, it is far more envigorating to be random than chaotic. Thus I join this community ^_^
Random stuff that happened to me this weekend:
1. I was jumped upon by a portugese guy who engaged me in a very free-ranging conversation in three languages about Greece beating the Chezks in Euro 2004, his two small children and headaches. When asked why he was asking me out for a drink, he said because I moved. Started laughing. I think he meant because he liked the way I moved rather than the fact that I had legs. Possibly it was a mistranslation. Agreed to have a drink with him some time, after which he held my hand ecstatically for about 3 minutes then wandered happily off having forgotten to ask my name or my number. That was amusing.
2. I became totally addicted to the manga Fruits Basket and bought the first 5 volumes. Am now poor, unsurprisingly.
3. Saw the opera of Gormenghast and had hysterics as characters appeared and apparently sang such songs as "humans are sexier than lemurs", and white fluffy toy cats were dismembered and thrown onstage at the climax of the story.
And someone mentioned short stories? Here is a perfectly upbeat, perfectly harmless short story I wrote at some point... I believe I was meant to be doing revision at the time...
"Don't go for the cute ones," Lulu sighed. I sighed too.
"Too late," I admitted regretfully, staring into space as was proper for such an occasion. "He's cuter than any other guy I'm likely to fall for round here." Lulu didn't reply, just groaned. Doris, who was hanging around with us ancient hags because her usual crowd had left her in the lurch, shrugged nonchalantly. It was all a front, of course - she was dying to hear the gossip, pick our brain nodes for the neighbourhood's dirt. At the back of it was the nagging feeling that we used to have about our superiors: underneath all our wise-cracking anecdotes were revealing snippets and tips on how the world worked.
Unfortunately, tonight the man-problem had reduced us both to boozing strumpets, so far as Lulu and I could claim to be strumpets, so it was very unlikely that our rants would make any sense at all, let alone contain tid bits as to the Meaning of Life. Her enthusiasm, hidden ineffectually under the exterior of callous youth, would soon meet with a sticky end if she stayed in our company. Speaking of which -
"Exactly how much are you into this guy?" It was the wrong question. It opened up endless possabilities for melodrama to me. This was more like a real friday night! I settled myself more fully into the emotional mire of my love life and sighed again, even more deeply than before. From the corner of my eyes, I saw Lulu signalling to the nervous young waiter. Two Cointreaus and a lime and vodka appeared, apparently without the waiter coming within three paces of our table. Lulu pouted, and Doris rolled her eyes. "He's heard about you, you cradle-snatcher!"
"Nothing wrong with going for younger men," murmured Lulu demurely, throwing come-hither glances at the waiter, who was studiously ignoring them.
"There is the way you do it," snapped back Doris, stirring her poisonous green drink. "Quick gratification and then it's over. And you're meant to give them a chance."
"Look, do you want to hear about this devestating love affair of mine or what?" I was feeling left out - it was my crisis, dammit. I was the one who had initiated this whole night. I was the one who'd called them up, who'd mournfully waved my wallet and cried, "Let's commiserate! With intoxicants!" So far, they hadn't even asked me his name.
"Ok, so what's his name?" Two sets of eyes watched me impatiently. I shot a furtive look at the waiter, who was hanging around within ear-shot, but out of reach. Men always listen out for each other whenever there's a girls night out, the sneaks. "Drew," I imparted in a low voice.
"Oh God," muttered Doris, "not another show-boy?" I glared at her. "Cripes, it is."
"Don't say cripes, Doris, say Bloody Hell or something. You sound like an affected kiddies book character."
"Do you mind?"
"Sorry Rizzie. So. This Drew-"
"-Cutest thing on earth-"
"- and a pretty-boy from the clubs. Right." They paused in their assessment. "So what do you see you two doing on an interesting date?"
I looked from one to the other. They had both assumed business positions, leaning forward and as nosy as girls can get. "Stop leering! It's not funny!" I took a deep breath and let them have it. "I want to have his babies."
General Uproar. "Oh God, hon!" Lulu clipped my one on the back of the head, then lunged in to hug me fiercely as the waiter drew back in horror. Doris blew bubbles into her drink, impressed with the scale of the problem. "Are you crazy?" she demanded. "Everyone knows that's no way to approach a relationship! It's so...morbid."
I shrugged hopelessly, sinking into their sympathy. The best thing about girlfriends is this wonderful, warm empathy, this synchronising of wavelengths. Even Doris was shocked. "It's a no-goer," she warned me, drawing back a little. "All you'll do is cause yourself grief. And him," she added thoughtfully. She looked at me, indecisive and troubled. "You're meant to give them a chance," she repeated finally, almost reproachfully.
"She doesn't understand yet," Lulu whispered to me. I guess she didn't. Too young. Had she even gone the Whole Way yet? Maybe she was just going through the period of doubt which assails us all at some time. Wondering if she's maybe one of the ones who can't bring themselves to do it, who can't associate with it; one of the ones who prefers girls. No need to go the Whole Way with girls, it's not natural or necessary. And we all think how much simpler life would be that way, even if we know deep down that we can't just change what we are.
"Well, it happens to the best of us." Lulu summoned another round, which were delivered even quicker than the last, if that were possible. I wondered idly how the waiter would manage when it came to paying the bill. "You got him nervous," remarked Doris. "He'll be jumpy all evening, and he'll tell all the other guys, so I've no hope of pulling tonight." She smiled lazily. "They'll have calmed down by tomorrow, bless their short-span memories. What say we go completely bollo and just get totally smashed, a real hen night - oops, sorry Rizzie." I broke off glaring at her to down the Cointreau. "The kid's got a point, Lulu. Can you buy by the bottle here?"
A couple of rounds later (no bottles, but doubles!), Doris pushed back her chair and carefully balanced herself on it. "So why," she started slowly,"do we have to go through all the gloopy stuff, all the emotional slime?"
"Oh, that!" Lulu and I exchanged glances. "It's from way back when, in the darkest kinks of our evolution."
"Kinks is right," Doris interrupted darkly.
"At least we feel something," Lulu tried to comfort her with the same stuff we heard when we asked. "Some get by with even less than that. We're pretty lucky actually, feeling love and affection. Could be a lot worse. A lot...lonlier."
"And we believe that!" Doris shook her head morosely. "There's got to be a better way."
We looked helplessly at each other, then at her. "Well," she said, pulling herself together, "I don't see why we shouldn't go for the cute ones - unless," she amended, "we're in the same sorry state as Rizzie is, in which case I totally understand."
"Oh cheers," I muttered, though more for show than anything, since the Cointreau had gone a long way towards cheering me up.
"Well." Lulu leaned back and swilled her shot round the glass, assuming the role of matriarchal dispensor of wisdom. "There are all sorts of good reasons, not least of which being that cute guys who knock you out are almost all, without exception, bastards; stopflirtingwiththewaiter." Doris looked vaguely guilty and attempted to seem fascinated and attentive despite the alcoholic fireworks I could see behind her eyes. "The main reason," Lulu concluded, downing her shot and smacking her mandibles, "is it's just too damn heart-breaking when you bite their heads off."
Doris sighed and leant her own head prettily on one side, the dim light lending her carapace a hard blue-black shine. She was still eyeing the waiter, who was definitely looking edgier by the minute.
"It's tragic," I offered after a pause. "I don't know how we've survived as such a sensitive species."
"Yeah, well;" Doris closed all her eyes and folded her first two pairs of legs behind her head, achieving instant drunken buddhahood. "Having said that, I could murder a boyfriend."
If you're interested in reading some of my other stuff:
smile if you like quoting The Princess Bride
(the contents of this site do not necessarily match the criteria for stories set by this community, therefore downbeatness & PG-17 ratings possible!)
*skips off to avoid history revision even more thoroughly*