Life is a Parallel Universe (6 page)

Beatrice, with
her head on the side must have looked puzzled, so he explained
‘Friedrich Nietzsche was a controversial and interesting thinker
who challenged many basic assumptions.’ And, he added, “he said
things like ‘that which does not kill us makes us stronger and
whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he
does not become a monster’”. David’s eyes crinkled as he looked
intently into Beatrice’s ’eyes ‘ideas worth thinking about.
No?’

David had been
born in Scotland, but he had moved to Australia with his parents
when he was ten years old. Now, he was a student at the university
in Newcastle, but he felt uncertain and stressed by this choice
since the Hawke government had brought back university fees.

David, also,
played guitar and sang in pubs like the Lass O Gowrie and the Great
Northern Hotel. Sometimes, just sometimes, he could be found at
Uptown Circus, late at night, long after The ‘Hipslingers’ or the
‘The Crying Suns’ had appeased the tumbling crowds. Late at night
when moods had switched toward contemplation and reverie.

It became a
habit for David and Beatrice, to meet at the beach whenever they
were able. But, as the summer wheeled in, soaking the world in its
orange glow and piles of people massed and swarmed smelling of Reef
oil and Juicy Fruit gum, Beatrice would catch a bus to Tighes Hill,
where David shared a house. Once there, the pair would smooch and
gaze into each other’s eyes and David would teach Beatrice, whom he
always called ‘Bea’, the guitar, for which she found she had an
aptitude. Then, one day, he enticed her to sing and -just like that
- suddenly, she found her voice.

Come along and
see how our dear Sue Brown’s life is moving along, now that we have
moved into 1992 and serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer has been sent to
prison to die. But, first, let me ask you this: are such people
born? Or, are they made?

Yes. I know.
It’s a false dilemma.

Sue turned
eighteen: still being courted by her knight, Scott Smith. She is
still a maiden: of course. Sue assures her mother ‘I am saving
myself for marriage’. She never stops to consider what she means.
If Sue had been American, she may have taken a pledge and worn a
purity ring. But here, as yet, such shabby rituals have not hit our
shores.

Sue and David
go to the Tower Cinema most Saturday nights: ‘Groundhog Day’, one
of their favourite movies. Afterwards, they would wander over to
the Pancake Factory hand in hand, and reminisce about eating
sandwiches in the booths at Big Al’s or having dinner at The
Beefeater. They thought a lot about these memories in later years.
Nothing else seemed to stand out.

‘I am content
to live it all again
And yet again…’
Yeats

‘Groundhog Day’
was also one of David’s favourite movies too. He explained his
reasons to Beatrice…. ‘because it demonstrates Nietzsche’s concept
of eternal recurrence. And Bill Murray,’ he said, ‘is also like
Sisyphus, from Greek mythology, who must roll a huge bolder up a
hill, day after day, as punishment and then watch it roll down to
the bottom. Only to perform the same grinding exertions yet
again.

He
continued

“Nietzsche,
sees time as a circle and so the same events will recur again and
again. But within our ‘loneliest loneliness’, in moments of private
reflection, we may see this continual ‘succession and sequence’ as
an opportunity to reflect upon the way we live our lives and the
choices we make.”

Whilst Sue and
David were genteelly waiting, Lisa had moved on from Chook (Gary)
long ago. Men and sex were like the coming and going of a goods
train for Lisa.

Lisa was still
working inside the air-conditioned womb of Garden City, but she had
managed to travel to a few places with the available perk of
discounted plane fares. Recently, she had spent a week sloshed and
sexed out with a big group of guys and gals on Great Keppel Island.
What a time they had had! How they had partied. Hard. Lisa believed
that she looked stunning in her teensy, weeny pink bikini. She did,
but already she is developing fine lines around the eyes from the
sun damage and carousing. Meow!

School was
suddenly behind Beatrice at the end of 1992. Now, she wasn’t sure
what she would do with her life. University was an option, but she
had never had any real money of her own and a growing mound of debt
in her name simply filled her with intense anxiety. In the
meantime, Beatrice sang with David at the various pubs around
Newcastle and she had, much to her amazement, begun to gather a
battalion of fans. Luckily, the paths of Beatrice and her
tormentors had not crossed for some time.

It was repeated
around the traps for many years, that Mark Twain, that acerbic
American writer otherwise known as Samuel L. Clemens, visited
Newcastle in 1895 and supposedly said of our dear old town,
‘Newcastle consists of a long street with a graveyard at one end
with no bodies in it, and a gentleman’s club at the other with no
gentlemen in it’.

Whether this
anecdote is true or not remains a matter of conjecture. But, what
is on the public record is Twain describing Newcastle as a ‘rushing
town’. This is still true. And, yet, there are many almost secret
and slow places within Newcastle, where you can step away from the
fray. You can find your own secret alcove on some quiet beach and
spend the day lost in dreams; you can journey deep into husky
bushland to look at the birds: those modern day dinosaurs. And,
sometimes, you can sit still in the midst of crowds, in the very
nucleus of the town and be alone: still and quiet.

The crowds are
not there anymore.

When Beatrice
began to sing, she found that she had access to a great soup of
feelings from deep within, of: sadness, pain, longing and
melancholy. She found that she could draw upon this brew and infuse
her singing with emotion. And, she could make others feel too.
Suddenly, she could connect with ideas and thoughts greater than
her paltry self.

One Saturday
evening, David and Beatrice were walking through the darkened, damp
smelling town mall, when they suddenly came face to face with Lisa
and a bunch of her friends who were staggering on breakneck heels
over to Fanny’s night club. Beatrice felt her insides plummet and
her heart begin to thrash about like a dying fish. Lisa, though,
simply hardened her face and with eyes of zirconia stalked away.
When Lisa had passed the couple and was about to be swallowed by
the night, she half turned, lit by a slash of moonlight and yelled
‘bitch’. The lone word seemed to reverberate and take flight
through the town and the night, echoing like a malevolent bird
call.

Misery engulfed
Beatrice. She felt like she was looking down upon herself; seeing a
thing which was hated and despised. David won’t want to be with me
she thought.

‘What was that
about then?’ David asked softly, voice drenched with concern.

Beatrice had
underestimated him.

Haltingly,
Beatrice revealed to David the whole sorry saga; David was very
quiet for a long while. Then, he said slowly and with great
emphasis ‘To live is to suffer; to survive is to find some meaning
in the suffering’.

‘Let me guess -
Friedrich Nietzsche?’ said Beatrice quizzically.

In mock
surprise, David replied ‘You’re catching on lass. You are indeed
catching on’

And the
incident passed away.

O, I am
fortune's fool! -Romeo and Juliet

There are some,
like Lisa, who will say that ‘everything happens for a reason’: a
New Age interpretation of, ‘It’s God’s will’. Of course, Lisa
hasn’t thought much about her beliefs; she merely cites such
phrases glibly. After all, she is comfortable and she is privileged
and what does she know about the lives of others?

But humour me
for a minute and think for a moment about that scene which just
passed between David and Beatrice. And of course Lisa. What if
David had responded by rejecting Beatrice? Or, by telling her, that
she better stay with him because no one else would want her? Such
scenes as this play out every day, all around the globe.

Then, there are
those relationships where insidious violence and subtle strategies
of warfare are engaged. It is easy for some to say ‘leave’ and ‘get
out of there girl!’ But what if you have no one else? And what if
you exist as an unshaped being, with only a vague sense of
yourself? What if?

And so, the
years pass by. Lisa marries the new owner of the travel agency when
she is twenty five; an extravaganza of vanity and vulgarity.

The wedding
takes place at the Sacred Heart Cathedral on Hunter Street. And,
then, everyone moves on to celebrate and eat mountains of seafood,
at the yacht club on the lake; with its views over the busy water
and boats. The day perfect.

Lisa dazzles in
one of those strapless dresses: virginal white, with breasts thrust
into all eyes. It costs a bomb and clashes with an almost orange,
fake tan and peroxided up do (her hair darkened when she became a
teenager). But no matter, it’s a look that has become a meme. Daddy
pays.

The bride,
Lisa, glories in her ‘fairy tale’ day. She delights in the
attention and grows and ripens, in the gaze others. Scores of
photos are taken; lounging on luxury cars, sitting on thrones,
walking slowly by million dollar views, and lovers looking into
each other’s eyes without seeing.