Email me

Sunday, May 22, 2011

202nd email

From: Dom Borax
To: Stacey Marchenkova
Sent: Friday August 2nd, 1999 13:04 PM
Subject: RE RE RE RE RE I actually feel a little guilty

Stacey, you made me dance. Yep, I danced without music around the study. I picked Oftenbark up by his paws and led him around the desk until he gave me a look of sheer embarrassment.

But I don't care.

I can still dance by myself.

I can tap.

See, you made me Fred Astaire as I tapped to the corner of the room, up the walls and onto the ceiling.

I tapped around the light fittings and the cobwebs.

Skip ball change and shuffle onto buffalo, finally returning to desk, the chair and the computer – exhausted, delighted and thirsty but not done. Just needing a moment of pause, an interval, if you will, to catch my breath and take it all in.

Which is always dangerous, for in that afterglow the devil of reflection takes a seat beside you and gloats; not in the glory of your hoofing but in fog of reality.

Devil: You can’t dance! She can dance. She does it for a job. But you cannot dance. You are inflexible, clumsy and uncoordinated.

Me: I don’t need to dance professionally.

Devil: But you do need to pick a partner.

Me: Just one?

Devil: Just one.

Me: Can’t I dance in a group? Some dances are made for groups.

Devil: Really?

Me: Really.

Devil: Name this dance.

Me: Let me think.

Devil: See you are wrong.

Me: I’m thinking.

Devil: Stalling more like. See, I am right. I am always right. In your
face, Dom. Right in your face--

Me: The Conga line.

I then pick up a chewed-top-pen from my accidental collection I thrust the tip into his red tail.

He screams and he’s gone.

I am alone again wishing to see you more than ever.

But I can’t sneak out tonight, darling.

I have to go to Elsa’s parent’s house. It’s their wedding anniversary and the family are meeting in their country home for a catered dinner and booze up.

And we have to stay the night.

God I don’t want to. I know I’ll be thinking of you the whole time. I’ll be thinking I want to come home.


PS Yes they have a country home, can you believe it. It’s amazing; a large wooden palace with wrap around verandas inland and up the North Coast. They’ve even given it a name. I can’t remember it but it’s Gaelic for home, I think.


  1. My heart danced a little when Dom danced.

    But seriously? The Conga line?? Make a decision Dom!!!

  2. I think I'm starting to get rather impatient here. Dom just needs to get rid of Elsa so this sort of stuff doesn't continue to happen.

  3. yeah what Pete said...Dom is just being a dick.

  4. Pete and both Anons are right - he needs to make a choice out of his poorly veiled metaphor for choosing between his two ladies!
    Also, is it just me that thinks it's a little weird that in one email he says how cool Elsa's parents' house is, and that he has to go to their wedding anniversary with her, and then saying that he loves Stacey and wishes he was with her? I dunno. Strikes me as odd...


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