As I was putting together a computer from second hand parts, I found the old hard drive hadn't been erased.
This included the previous owners emails.
I felt conflicted about reading them.
But this passed quickly.
To my delight I discovered a correspondence between two people dating back to 1999.
They were truthful, touching and a little funny.
I became addicted and felt compelled to share it. Unedited.
Currently the uploading is on holidays. But Bored Olives will return 22nd April 2012. In the meantime you can read all the emails at http://boredolivesarchives.blogspot.com and subscribe to the next chapter at boredolives.com in the new year.
From: Dom Borax
To: Stacey Marchenkova
Sent: Monday August 17th, 1999 20:31 PM
Subject: My new home
Okay here I am back in my parent’s house. It feels weird to be back. I’ve been out of home a couple of years and I’m fighting this feeling of failure as I sit at my old desk, looking at old views and smelling the residue of old dinners.
My mum was sweet about the whole thing however. She bought some comfort food – Custard Cream biscuits and bacon for some sandwiches tomorrow morning. There were clean sheets on my old bed and a Goblin Teasmaid set up so I can wake with a hot cuppa. Now there’s luxury.
My dad was sweet too. He suggested we watch some old films like we used to do when I was younger. So ‘Von Ryan’s Express’ is teed up in the machine and ready to go when I finish this email. If we’re really lucky we might even get a chance to watch‘Where Eagles Dare’ too.
To their credit, my parents have been discreet. They haven’t talked about Elsa or Crisps at all. I appreciate that.
They did ask about Oftenbark and I told them he was staying with a friend.
They hoped that maybe he could stay with them. They love Oftenbark, see.
And I imagine it’d be easier for you too.
So would it be okay if we picked him up tomorrow?
I understand he gets under your skin but you’ve done so much already and I’d hate your Real Estate to find out about him and jeopordise your home.
Now you might have noticed I called you ‘friend’ a few paragraphs up. As in ‘he was staying with a friend’—
Let me explain—
I contemplated telling them about us. But I don’t think they’d understand and though I feel a little cheap about accepting their sympathy it is nice to have the odd parental ‘there-there’.
And to be honest I know they’d judge us. They are quite old parents – now sixty. They had me late in their lives. I am their only kid. And they’re quite conservative – you know - standard bearers of the synthetic fabrics, pinapple, ham and benzadrine suburban set.
But I also know they are kind and protective and if we reveal ourselves at the right time they will embrace you. I promise.
So please don’t take it personally that I’m keeping our connection clandestine still.
You’ll get rewards in the end. Mum will introduce you to the convenience of tuppaware: So handy for little blue pills. And Dad will seduce you into some kind of rotary club while never taking off his hat. Except indoors.
So with this in mind, will it be okay if we pretend to ‘just be friends’ when we pick Oftenbark up?
I know I will find it difficult because the first thing I will want to do is kiss you. It’s been a week since I last saw you and all I want is to touch your cheek or the soft lightly freckled section between your shoulder blades. I so miss that part of you.
Anyway call me or email me back if it’s cool to pop ‘round tomorrow.
And when this is all sorted out here, I’ll fudge an allnighter excuse and defect to your apartment with a stolen toothbrush.
Miss you
Dom
PS Forgot to answer your question you asked on the phone. Yes I did end up seeing Elsa yesterday. It was awkward. She was apologetic about everything. Even us. Though she did say she still hit me if the moment happened again.
What she said she would change was how she revealed her affair with Crisps and understands that our shared friends will more than likely side with me.
I did ask her how long it’d been going on with him. She told me it had been on and off for over a year. But since your birthday they’d been seeing more of each other.
That stung, strangely. She asked about us and for some odd reason I said the same; since your birthday party.
Not sure why.
I guess I’ll never see them again. I guess that’s what getting older is all about; a training ground for losing people. They all fall away in the end, I suspect.
From: Stacey Marchenkova
To: dom borax < mailto:printthisplease@hotmail.com >
Sent: Monday August 5th, 1999 20:21PM
Subject: couldn’t help myself… answered anyway
I know that you won’t read this for a few days…but force of habit …it was so good to talk tonight…you seem to be taking it really well…I was a little worried… god, I miss you…
Anyway…forgot to mention in the call that Oftenbark and I had a good walk this evening… he’s good on the lead…though protective…anyway we were walking down Brunswick Street…passed that massive dodgy video store you love…too much porn’ right?
Well just past it was this new club that’s opened up near that Roxy stretch opposite the brothels... It’s called something like Zaggers or Ziggers or Zippers…began with an z…so there I was with your dog and this guy from the club was passing out free drink coupons…he insisted I take one…free drinks for the next half hour, he hollered…I motioned I had a dog…surely a dog isn’t allowed inside…he shook his head…and gave me a free drink coupon for Oftenbark too…
Hell, I thought…let’s do this…me and Ofentbark into a club…couple of free drinks…maybe a wee dance and home…
So we climbed the stairs…the walls where purple, the fittings new, the brass handrails shiney… the carpet still unsullied by late night purging…and the pulsing music getting louder and louder as we ascended this techno heaven…
I was a little concerned that Ofentbark might not like the bashing bass…but his tail wagged more with each riser…
We entered the club…It had an old skool feel to it…banks (banks might be an exaggeration – more like a trio) of lights swirled in time with the rhythm in the dark and empty space…
Yes it was empty…only me and Ofentbark…this guy behind the bar and this thin speed-freak DJ...Oftenbark and I sauntered over to the bar…I yelled…two free drinks! The bar-guy blinked; holding up one finger…I shook my head…held up two and passed the coupons over…he scrutinized them…and though I couldn’t hear, I’m sure Oftenbark picked up a sigh of annoyance…
“What do you want?” He eventually asked.
“Vodka for me. Water for the dog.” I replied.
He shrugged once more and handed over the drinks…
Shortly after Ofentbark and I found a high rise table with elevated stools near the dance floor…I patted one of the stools and Oftenbark managed to perch himself brilliantly…I pushed the glass of water forward him…he cocked his head…I sipped on my vodka…he got the idea and lapped at the chilled liquid that was sweating in front of his nose…
We sat there for about five minutes…some old music was playing…maybe Dead or Alive…something awful…Oftenbark quite liked it I think as he was tapping his back paws in time with the music…
…what the hell have you been musically conditioning him on…?
Anyway…it was driving my crazy…I slammed down the vodka in one go…told Oftenbark to stay and moved to the DJ…
…I don’t think he was aware there was actually folk in the club… for when I tapped his kingdom; he jumped like a prince and nearly scratched his records…
“Please play something else!” I asked.
He looked at me…his gesture saying ‘what’ while his eyes said ‘save me…’
“Underworld…do you have underworld…?”
He understood…immediately changed the music…breaking the cardinal rule of clubbing by introducing silence for a beat into this sad, sad place…
No one seemed to care…the bar-guy’s tense shoulders noticeably relaxed…
And then it came on:
“Drive boy, dog boy
Dirty Numb angel boy...”
Oftenbark perked up. I perked up. “I love this song!”
We picked our handbags up and placed them in the middle of the dance floor and proceeded to bliss out, dancing around them to the extended mix of this classic piece…
…it was magic, Dom…real magic…
The song came to the end…we’d worked up a sweat…I bought Oftenbark a water and we descended down the steps to the purgatory of Fortitiude Valley.
What a night…nearly perfect save for your absence…
Anyway I hope this story might cheer you up when you plug in your computer in your new home…welcome there too…
From: Dom Borax
To: Stacey Marchenkova
Sent: Monday August 5th, 1999 11:31 AM
Subject: You look beautiful when you sleep
Stacey, I didn’t want to wake you.
You look so beautiful when you sleep.
You look beautiful when you’re awake too.
But something about the peaceful glow and the soft breathing is truly magnificent.
It was so nice to sleep next to you – even if it was for only an hour.
You’re warm and soft. I never want to let you go. I think from this day on I will always feel lost in the sheets without you as my guide.
Anyway, I’ve left some fresh tea in the pot and there’s fruit salad in the fridge.
And I know I shouldn’t have but I fixed the washer on the tap in your bathroom too. That dripping must have driven you crazy. I also changed a couple of light bulbs and fixed your kitchen drawer.
Handy, aren’t I?
Hey and sorry for waking you earlier; eight o’clock in the morning is no time for visitors. But I thought you’d be worried and wanted to let you know as soon as possible.
And don’t worry; I’ll ring you tomorrow when it’s all sorted out.
And I might not be able to email for a few days with computer in boxes and all. So please don’t get too stressed.
Also, thanks for looking after Oftenbark for a few days. I know he feels comfortable with you and Elsa never liked him really.
Anyway, I’ll see and speak to you later, sleeping doormouse.
From: Stacey Marchenkova
To: dom borax < mailto:printthisplease@hotmail.com >
Sent: Monday August 5th, 1999 00:14 AM
Subject: A new day?
Okay I’ve just finished Dracula…not sure why I chose to finish that book tonight…as now I’m a little worried and think that the Count has taken you…maybe I should have finished Confederacy of Dunces instead…been trying to finish it for six months…but Bram Stoker won out in the end…
It’s funny how I do that…I never read one book at a time…I’m always reading five or six books at a time…it’s not that I don’t like them…I just want some kind of variety or something…it’s like channel surfing with lit’…and there’s always one that emerges anyway…and Dracula was that tonight…have you read it? It’s really good…I was so caught up in the other retellings of the story that I had no idea the book was so good…no one’s really made a decent film out of it…and if folk aren’t reading the book because they think they know the story already…think again, folk…you’re wrong…pick it up today and read it immediately….
Now I’m raving…can’t sleep at the best of times…and with you…out there…after Elsa said that stuff at the party…so publicly…with your friend…I keep hearing her words when she announced it – I can’t get it out of my head;
“At least he doesn’t make me feel like an idiot”
And then you told her… and she hit you… and it all feels like an afternoon American soap opera…
At least Marcus doesn’t know…
…should I tell him…?
From: Stacey Marchenkova
To: dom borax < mailto:printthisplease@hotmail.com >
Sent: Monday August 5th, 1999 03:11 AM
Subject: it’s so quiet
Don’t you love the wee small hours? It’s so quiet like you could be the last person left on earth…I’d love to be the last person left on earth…or at least the last gaggle of folk…I think that’s why I like the lighthouse doctor who episode so much…it’s like they’re the last people left on earth…actually not really…but as a kid…I fantasized about living on a lighthouse…just me… some supplies… a dog... and a healthy dose of mist…
I think I’m a little tired…
From: Stacey Marchenkova
To: dom borax < mailto:printthisplease@hotmail.com >
Sent: Monday August 5th, 1999 06:59 AM
Subject: dawn
The sun is rising…haven’t slept…gone a little mad and eaten all the salty snacks in the house…I tried to sleep but couldn’t…I wanted to be here in case you called…I hope you’re okay…I’m okay…I’m wearing felt-soft terry toweling clothes…toasty warm with dinosaur slippers…sorry they where a gift from my mother…but they do growl when I walk and as much as it shouldn’t - I’m still amused by them…
I also drove around for a few hours last night…I love driving at night…no one around…just me…I have no direction, I turn when I want to turn and stop when I want to stop…I drove past your house…but the lights were off…I think I saw Crisps car…anyway I ended up by the river…I always end up by the river…north where they still have that old wooden crossing-barge-like-thing…not sure what they call them…anyway ended up there…cranked up the stereo and listened to the News….god I love singing along to the news…
“Everybody now… hundreds dead in a Chinese Mud slide… He-di-hee...hi-di-ha...”
Okay that’s just poor taste…the garbage trucks are now in the street….men with fat voices yelling over the loud mechanics…clash of tin and metal and the stink of rotten food and lavender bin liners…okay now I am truly raving…I might put my head down…
From: Stacey Marchenkova
To: dom borax < mailto:printthisplease@hotmail.com >
Sent: Monday August 5th, 1999 7:21AM
Subject: Maybe you’re at work…
Maybe you’ll be at work (kinda just wrote that twice – once in the subject and now in message line itself…fuck, Stacey…why are you rationalizing and telling him everything…whatever…just thought you might be at work…you start at 9:00, hey? Okay, I’m going to try you at work…
I wonder if Oftenbark knows where you are…
From: Stacey Marchenkova
To: oftenbark < mailto:ofentbark@hotmail.com >
Sent: Monday August 5th, 1999 07:37 AM
Subject: Where’s Dom?
Oftenbark, do you know where Dom is? Give him a lick for me if you see him...
(Sorry that sounds wrong)
I’m going to sleep now…good boy…good girl…good us…
From: Stacey Marchenkova
To: dom borax < mailto:printthisplease@hotmail.com >
Sent: Monday August 5th, 1999 7:59AM
Subject: Maybe you’re at work…
Okay, I think I’ve worked it out…you must be plotting revenge…I’d be plotting revenge…after what she said…what they did…I mean, I know we’re not that much better…but we didn’t rub their faces in it…but…
God is that better…? Are we better? Are we the same? I think we’re the same…maybe sneakier…maybe we’re worse…it’s all so complicated…
I don’t know…
Actually I do know…
I know telling everyone at the party that she was seeing your best friend is wrong… I know she was drunk…but still and all…why would you stand there and tell you that was she cheating…and then to hit you…man those dancers can choreograph a great beating…I don’t know if you saw Crisps face (stupid name by and by) but he was ashen, wan and washen…
I mean what a way to clean out a party…
...and just to be clear…this wasn’t your fault…you didn’t make her do it…you didn’t turn her to him…you didn’t make her hit you…I know we are the same…but she didn’t know…not then--
From: Stacey Marchenkova
To: dom borax < mailto:printthisplease@hotmail.com >
Sent: Sunday August 4th, 1999 20:31PM
Subject: I’m going mad
It’s a few hours now and I still haven’t heard…I did try to give you a call…but it just rang out…where are you? Maybe you’ve moved out instead…god if you’ve moved out…how will I contact you…maybe you’re under a bus…or hit by a train…or beaten up by wayward men…or Elsa and Crisps have cut you into little pieces pickled you, stuck you in larder…never to eat you…looking at regifting you…
oh God…maybe you’ve done a runner…maybe you’re in Prison…maybe you’ve killed Crisps …maybe you’re not real…and I’ve been emailing myself over the last few months…
I’ve gone mad!!!
Okay Stacey, breath, breath…this isn’t about you…it’s about Dom…okay, refocusing now…looking back toward you… and I’m going to read and wait for you…I hope you’re okay…
Maybe you’re at the Hitlon…
From: Stacey Marchenkova
To: dom borax < mailto:printthisplease@hotmail.com >
Sent: Sunday August 4th, 1999 21:11 PM
Subject: Not at the Hitlon
Okay so you’re not at the Hitlon…felt like an idiot ringing there…but you never know…I’d hate you to spend a night alone in a King Sized bed…
...god... I’m a whore…what’s wrong with me…I’m sure that’s the last thing you’re thinking of…anyway…I feel so hopeless…I’ll wait a little longer…
From: Stacey Marchenkova
To: dom borax < mailto:printthisplease@hotmail.com >
Sent: Sunday August 4th, 1999 15:01 PM
Subject: Stalking now
Okay I couldn’t wait an hour… and I’m still not ringing…please email me back and let me know you’re okay…I just feel awful ringing if Elsa’s still there…man...
...I feel awful if Crisps (dickhead) is there too...
...I can’t handle this…I so want to be there for you…I feel useless...
...Marcus is ringing but I’m not picking up…I know he just wants to gossip about it…arsehole…I mean he’s not an arsehole…he doesn’t know all the details…
...but still and all…what if I came over…? Okay I can’t come over…that’s crazy…email me…please…
From: Stacey Marchenkova
To: dom borax < mailto:printthisplease@hotmail.com >
Sent: Sunday August 4th, 1999 13:21 PM
Subject: That was weird
Dom, are you okay? God I hope you’re okay…do you want me to ring? I think I should ring…but you might need time…if I haven’t heard in an hour…I’m ringing…
s
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