18th email

----- Original Message -----
From: Dom Borax
To: Stacey Marchenkova
Sent: Saturday, May 8th, 1999 4:49 AM
Subject: I am so sorry part 2

Lost track of time there – not sure what I wrote about but had a lie down and thought I might have indulged my free thinking. Anyway I wanted to say –

What was it…?

Oh yeah…

I think it was near the end of the night. The Band had taken a break and the room was a little sweaty. You'd had enough to drink.
You wanted a water.
And a Vodka and Tonic.

I came back with the drinks and you said;

"You always go to the bar for me." said Stacey.
"I know. I've been doing it for years." said Dom.

And then we pretended to be a really old couple.

I liked how you thought we should shake it up a little and sleep on different sides of the bed.

I think at one point I confessed to having an affair and you confessed to knowing.

I liked how we forgave each other and remembered our wedding.

I liked your choice of music – Easybeats and the reading you gave of some Liverpudlian poet – Roger someone.

I hoped you didn’t mind that I insisted on wearing a home made chain-mail-suit at the altar even though it was summer and I was already suffering back problems.

The reception was good from memory.

You admitted that your father was embarrassing (as always) trying to plant the flower girl in a rose-bed because he didn’t like the way she scattered petals. And if we were lucky, when the new season came, new and better flowers girls would grow there.

I thought that was funny.

I appreciated that you didn’t mind that my speech was delivered in beat poet style (read; no punctuation).

And even though I waxed lyrical about you in mixed metaphors you still clicked your fingers in appreciation.

I know we skipped talking about the wedding night and rightly so – but it was lovely when you seemed genuine that my sense of the romantic was never cloying.

Anyway…

What was my point…

I can’t remember but I have an awful feeling that I’m--

I’m going to bed now…
To sleep on your side, right?

Dom

17th email

----- Original Message -----
From: Dom Borax
To: Stacey Marchenkova
Sent: Saturday, May 8th, 1999 4:24 AM
Subject: I am so sorry

Okay I know you shouldn’t speak on the telephone, send telegrams (how old am I) or e-mails when you’re still drunk, but I feel utterly compelled to do so.

I feel utterly compelled to say I’m sorry.

I mean I thought the night started out well. I was so happy when you won 100 bucks on the poker machine. And the band was good. And when you said you liked their ‘Navigation Song’, I thought there was a real connection. It’s my favourite too…

“Together we set sail, separately
Afloat on the deepening, darkening sea
With Superb Navigation”

And David (the guitarist) is such a sweetie. And sorry for pushing him to try and dedicate a song to you on my behalf. Poor form.

And sorry I drank too much. Drinking makes me talk. And I feel I excelled myself.

One huge monologue.

I know went too hard about how I think my gender is full of knobshiners. Hey!? I did. I reckon I did.

But in truth – it is how I feel. I really do. I’m a self hating guy.

My gender are fools. They prance around hiding behind the fogscreen of mateship – half time orange sucking and testicle tickling.

"At the going down of the sun and in the morning we will remember them"
(or whatever it is)

This is the time, I reckon all the fighting, cruelty, dumbassedness, non-showering, perving, lack of respect, jingoistic fuckknucklery isn’t actually remembered at all.
It’s actually forgotten.

'Cause it’s easier that way. It’s easier to stick a yellow sheet over your scurfy scalp and say – hey I’m not going to remember the small things and say sorry for my male pack terrorism.

No - I’m going to remember war. I’m going to remember the glory. I’m going to weep mud and blood and yell YOU DON”T UNDERSTAND - even though you weren’t there either.

'Cause the brotherhood is all important, right, a Brotherhood of little Masons with their aprons hanging over the conservative uniform of daddy’s boys - polo shirts and pleated pants.

Not men. Not like those footballers who ate each other in the Andes to stay alive.
I love them those guys.

Nah, I’m talking about the Friday night Rowers and the Saturday night romantics.

These guys, who when you strip them down, say ‘mate’ when they mean ‘fuck her.’ (or him – you seat warming public school hypocrites)

Once I spent a weekend at a Surf club when I was 14. My folks were away and the only place I could stay was with a ‘mate’ who was hanging with his uncle.

Over the weekend – in this club - I saw mateship.
I saw the gang push this one guy to drink beyond.
I then saw the gang make the guy run through town naked, hose him into the urinals, stick his genitals in engine grease, stick a snooker cue up his rectum and finally cut himself with the fragments of the mirror they made him smash with his own head.

Why!?

Because it was funny, it was a laugh; it was mateship.

Cricket teams, Football teams, Dungeon and Dragon teams (okay maybe they inhale a dodecahedron dice and swarm around wizards instead) do it too.

And even then - they blame it on initiation.

Initiation into what, I say!? The Catholic skinned penis brigade?

The gang that worships the slag they will have as the sun goes down and boot out in the morning?

‘Cause in the morning, we remember them… right?

Wrong!

We forget them. We forget it. We were too drunk. And even if a glimmer of memory remained we will laugh at the common enemy and say:

“God, I love my mates. They understand me. They let me get away with murder.”


Dom

16th email

----- Original Message -----
From: Stacey Marchenkova
To: dom borax < mailto:printthisplease@printthis.com >
Sent: Friday, May 7th, 1999 16:05 PM
Subject: RE RE RE RE RE RE RE RE RE WOW You’re up early

Dom,

See you tonight :)

And stop making me like you.


Warming
Stacey

PS Yes I did write the poem.

Didn’t realise it was a poem at first…cause I’m crap at poetry…then when I re-read the email…realised it rhymed…so made it a poem…then just this moment…realised I kinda just rewrote Auden’s ‘stop all the clocks’...so maybe later…I might just rewrite ee cummings with justification and upper case…far and wee…

PPS why do I always put off getting ready ‘til the last minute? Having a shower can be so boring. Okay signing off…showering etc…far and wee (but not in the shower).

15th email

----- Original Message -----
From: Dom Borax
To: Stacey Marchenkova
Sent: Friday, May 7th, 1999 14:31 PM
Subject: RE RE RE RE RE RE RE RE Wow, you’re up early

Stacey, I wish I could magically appear in your house without any planning or warning. Just so it would be the moment. (oops that sounds way creepy)

Anyway, I guess by wishing it – I blew it. So strike that. (message to self – don’t pretend to understand – it only feels patronising)

And please – don’t feel any pressure about turning up tonight.

What if I don’t turn up either? That’d make it easier, wouldn’t it?


Dom

PS did you write that poem? I love it.

I’m going to smash all the clocks,
toast some bread,
make a tent out of my doona
and stay home in bed.

14th email

----- Original Message -----
From: Stacey Marchenkova
To: dom borax < mailto:printthisplease@printthis.com >
Sent: Friday, May 7th, 1999 11:29 AM
Subject: RE RE RE RE RE RE RE WOW You’re up early

Dom, I just want to prepare you…I might not be there tonight…

having a moment of panic…I kinda feel sick and I’m not sure - but this morning, I think I saw a rash forming on my skin that looks like letters…I’m not joking…I looked in the mirror and I swear I could see the word ‘doubt’…

and not only that I could see punctuation too…a semi colon…really…and it made me think of time and rhythm and perhaps I was truly betraying my values…that maybe this moment we had decided to share was an semi colon…a break in the random pattern where anything can happen…a moment to take it in…pause…reflect…and then start to fear, hate, judge and doubt…fuck I’m sure it said doubt…

So I bought some camomile lotion and it seemed to calm me a little…I even drank a little of it and feel better… :)

But if it flares up again:

I’m going to smash all the clocks,
toast some bread,
make a tent out of my doona
and stay home in bed.

And truly it has nothing to do with you…you wouldn’t want to spend the night with a fuck-up like me anyway.

Anxiously
Stace’

Ps or maybe the collectives for collectives could be… a church of collectives…?

12 and 13th email

----- Original Message -----
From: Stacey Marchenkova
To: dom borax < mailto:printthisplease@printthis.com >
Sent: Thursday, May 6th, 1999 10:45 PM
Subject: RE RE RE RE RE WOW You’re up early

Okay I looked this one up…
An Intrusion of Cockroaches.


----- Original Message -----
From: Dom Borax
To: Stacey Marchenkova
Sent: Thursday, May 6th, 1999 10:59 PM
Subject: RE RE RE RE RE RE Wow, you’re up early

An Intrusion of Cockroaches, huh? Are you saying something about me here? Or am I being paranoid.

Something I should confess about myself. I do suffer from a little paranoia.

Indeed I can be kinda paranoid about the word paranoid.

Well not the word paranoid. The Word Paranoia!

It took me a while to learn how to spell it, see. Those three vowels on the end throw me. I had to make up a mnemonic to remind me of how to spell it.

The mnemonic was: Oh, I Am so Paranoid…
See I took the O from oh
the I from I and the
A from am
OIA - the last three letters of paranoia.

Now I feel quite secure with it. Generally.

Until those moments of paranoa (sic) creep in and I’m paranoid that I’ve misspelt it.
Hopefully see you tonight.

I’ll be the one without a collective.


Dom

PS I reckon the collective for collectives would be: A redundancy of collectives…

8 - 11th email

----- Original Message -----
From: Stacey Marchenkova
To: dom borax < mailto:printthisplease@printthis.com >
Sent: Wednesday, May 5th, 1999 2:42 AM
Subject: RE WOW You’re up early

How about a Mischief of Monkeys.


----- Original Message -----
From: Dom Borax
To: Stacey Marchenkova
Sent: Wednesday, May 5th, 1999 2:12 PM
Subject: RE RE Wow, you’re up early

A Murder of Crows…


----- Original Message -----
From: Stacey Marchenkova
To: dom borax < mailto:printthisplease@printthis.com >
Sent: Wednesday, May 5th, 1999 11:23 PM
Subject: RE RE RE WOW You’re up early

Isn’t it a Murder of Ravens…?


----- Original Message -----
From: Dom Borax
To: Stacey Marchenkova
Sent: Thursday, May 6th, 1999 9:11 PM
Subject: RE RE RE RE Wow, you’re up early

Not sure. It’s def’ a murder of some kind of bird.

Actually I think it can be a murder of ravens too.

The other collective for ravens is an Unkindness of Ravens.

Okay, how about a shrewdness of Apes…?

7th email

----- Original Message -----
From: Dom Borax
To: Stacey Marchenkova
Sent: Tuesday, May 4th, 1999 3:34 PM
Subject: Wow, you’re up early

Dear Stacey,
I just noticed the time you sent your e-mail. So you’re a night owl.

Interesting tangential thought: The collective for Owls is Parliament. A Parliament of Owls.

I really like that. I really like collectives. What’s a collective of collectives? Hmmmm… note to self find out…

Anyway…

I’m very happy you’ll be there.
Even if only as an idea.

Dom
PS A Committee of Ravens is another of my favourites.

6th email

----- Original Message -----
From: Stacey Marchenkova
To: dom borax < mailto:printthisplease@printthis.com >
Sent: Tuesday, May 4th, 1999 3:23 AM
Subject: RE RE RE laurie anderson

Okay, I’ll be there… as an idea, anyway. But please don’t hold it against me if I don’t… it’s not personal… it’s the moment…

Stacey

PS I think Romanticism is a doctrine…it has ism at the end.

5th email

----- Original Message -----
From: Dom Borax
To: Stacey Marchenkova
Sent: Sunday, May 2nd, 1999 11:02 AM
Subject: RE RE laurie anderson

Dear Stacey,

Okay, I’m willing to take the chance. Do you know the Club, Van Gogh’s Missing Earlobe in Woolloongabba?

Maybe we can have a quick drink next Friday. I believe that Friends of the Iguana are playing. They’re a local band. Two guitars, one cello.
Quite beautiful.

They have one song; The Navigation Song, which is my favourite. I know the lead guitarist (David) kinda, and I think I could swing a couple of comp’ tickets. And the first round is on me.

Say Friday; 9:00pm?
Fingers crossed

Dom

PS I don’t think the band believes in anything either. Well maybe romance. Is that a doctrine?