Peter the sculpture artist
Peter the great
He took out a small zip-keep filled with weed took a small piece aimed it at me and tossed it without a second thought.
“Here you go, I have been smoking up every night for 60 years….. wait no 55 years, I give you a joint….. you enjoy this one! I used to give some to my therapist after he asked me to stop the pills and take some dope” – Said peter a 68 year old man on a chill Monday afternoon after he had tossed me some weed in the middle of a crowded restaurant. “We should smoke up together, you guys give me a call and I’ll invite you over. I bake some good pizza here!” Peter left us alone with leaving an adequate amount of illegal drugs on the table.
Peter was a French artist who had spent most of his life in Australia but what made me envious that day was that Peter did not seem to give a fuck, his favorite phrase was “So I said fuck it and I just left” that was the explanation for all crucial transitional moments of his life. Peter was care free, he was dating a woman 40 years younger than himself and he’d throw weed at (very thankful) strangers if he had found them amusing.
The old French artist had no sense of honesty he’d narrate stories of his life with weird timelines which were conflicting and surreal. He had spent years studying in Kashmir and had a family who hated him back in Australia. Peter was free, he did not care who we were and what we thought of him. He gave us a free joint said ‘fuck it’ and hopped on his Vietnamese girlfriend’s motorbike and rode off.
Peter the not so great
A few days passed by and one afternoon when I was off to enjoy my affordable coffee, I stumbled upon an abnormal shadow, a man on the outer side of the main door struggling with the door lock.
The lock that we are discussing here isn’t one of those troublesome ones. Like not one of those that makes you look like you are robbing your own house. And definitely not one of those which makes the mood super unpleasant and puts to waste all the convincing you have done when you are taking someone you are hoping to spank home. It was a fine lock, it was a very user friendly lock.
Even then the unlucky old man was struggling to lock the door. I interfered, opened the door from inside, suddenly I faced a shaking old man who had random scars on his head and legs with a cheap blue cubic shaped plastic bag next to him, which I assumed he had all his valuable belongings in. It took me some time to recognize Peter, this time he was looking like an uncool scared old man. I asked him how he was and without any hesitation he replied: ” devastated, got into an argument with my girlfriend then I got so drunk, ended up losing my wallet, all my cards…..” then he put his head down as if now he was talking to himself and said “I got so drunk…. like really drunk…. fuck it… what is she gonna do? I take a flight back to Australia”.
I pitied Peter but had not much sympathy for the guy, Peter had a family who hated him, they were in Australia. In that moment Peter did not look so free, he knew he had fucked up and he was afraid of loneliness. Peter smoked up regularly, he was cool and in shape for his age, had a family in Australia and a girlfriend in Vietnam and he had lived an eventful life for 68 years, when I saw him confronting the possibility of getting dumped by his girlfriend and facing loneliness he was shivering, remorseful, obedient and bleeding.
Well all it comes down to is that, there always must exist a couple of people we need to give a shit about and make sure they do it vice versa. It could be a sibling, a very close friend, maybe a spouse or two a bunch of life-sucking kids who’d hate each other for the rest of their lives over inheritance. I guess everybody loves their own funeral to be filled with people who’d be feeling immensely sad because they can’t talk anymore.
I don’t really know why but a lot of people have happily minimized their interactions with acquaintances and families. I am sure you all have had one of these conversations with a parent:
“Did you call your 5th cousin to congratulate them on their new born?”
“It is their eighth child mom, Am I supposed to talk to them every year because they don’t know contraceptives exist? I have liked half of their Baby photos on Facebook! ok… I am gonna leave a short and nice comment and that’s it!”
*starts typing* ‘ Lol Nice kid’ *leaves a comment*
Social media is a weapon to hash out and at the very same time maintain unpleasant friendships. You can just talk to all of your distant family members dodge their annoying personal questions about why you are 40 and still single while you are lying naked on your bed.
What peter did was slightly different, we were just neighbors who rarely knew each other. Peter allocated half an hour of his precious time to us and pretended that he gave a shit. I personally felt the connection and the friendship. If Peter was on Facebook for a 68 year man we can assume his profile picture would have gotten at top 10 likes, considering his family hating him you can automatically cut 4 likes from those 10. Two of the likes are probably from an account he has created for his dogs and the other are for 4 other people who believe Peter is their Father. But he clearly does not give a shit and he just walks around makes meaningful human connection and moves on.
I am not really sure if this post concludes that Peter is a cunt or hero who understands and deeply values human connection. This is just one those open ended articles that the author does not really feel like trying to make a conclusion and pretends that he relies on the intelligence of the readers to make their own decision, or in other words as Peter would have said ” Fuck it, I am just going to leave!”.