The unexplainable randomness of being

I read a lot of Murakami. And sometimes just sometimes I wish I was in a character in a Murakami book, all his heroes and heroines seem so cool. Strange happenings in late night coffee shops. Philosophical conversations on the nature of love and life.That's what I aim[ed] to emulate. Romantic romantic stuff.

Of course there is a really fine line between being a character in a Murakami novel and a character in a David Lynch movie. Also lots of late night coffee shops and philosophical conversations but more likely than not a midget will come up to you and talk backwards.

Last night, I was a character in a Lynch movie.

I went to bed at eight because I had an early morning shift but for some reason I woke up at one and just then, my phone rang.

Drunk diallers. Saturday night. Right on time.

It was my friend Piratehead and he was smushed and talking about.. possums and old people and all the stuff that drunk people find infinitely amusing and sober people don't understand. I could get the absurdity however.

Anyway he wasn't in any condition to do anything so he asked me out to have a coffee and I agreed. Partly because I was concerned about him, partly because the romantic in me sees midnight jaunts as adventures and partly because I was awake and I knew that if I didn't move I would spend a long long time staring at my phone like a looney. [Am I being proactive about being ignored again? no.]

So I picked him up and we spent a little time in the coffee shop and he was really really far gone. But my head was sort of not really there either, it was kind of off with someone else on the other side of the city. So if the conversation was stilted at some points, I'm thinking that it's my fault.

And then somewhere down the line he sobered up and started very earnestly arguing about Eminem being the new Elvis and I wasn't really arguing back just because well I wasn't in any real headspace to put together a proper argument and I didn't know of the chances of him remembering it tomorrow!

I think he was disappointed I wasn't biting actually. I don't know if I was just tired but I felt it was very out of body to be sitting there at three in the morning pseudo-arguing about Elvis.

So I dropped him back and as I was about to park in my space, I saw a body collapsed on the ground.

Now you know I'm a huge believer in circularity, and I figure if Piratehead hadn't asked me for a coffee, I wouldn't have driven home at that time to rescue this guy [sort of, as you will] and so everything happens for a reason- but I'm not sure what this reason is. It just fits in with this plan which seems random but is not. That didn't make any sense. Let's just say I came at the right time ok?

So I parked in the middle of the road and I shook him, you know that when I get nervous I start to babble.

"Hey dude, wake up. Wake up. You can't sleep here- someone will run you over and it's not going to be me, although it's a good thing I didn't. I have to go to work tomorrow. Do you want to at least move? Where do you live???"

So I called Piratehead

"He's collapsed in my parking space! What do I do?"

[And this'll teach me to ask a drunk guy for advice]

"Move him to the grass and leave him there."

"That's not very helpful." And I hung up on him.

About another fifteen minutes of cajoling and babbling and finally I said

"Ok, if you don't move or at least try getting up, I'm calling an ambulance!.. I'm dialing!...."

He groans and starts to mumble "Alright, alright I'm getting up."

And he's a young guy in what looks like a tuxedo, and he reeks of Jim Beam. Good Ol' Jim.

So I help him up and he's like "Where am I?"

I ask the requisite questions

Me:Where do you live?
Him:I don't know. Down there.
Me:Where are your parents?
Him:I don't have any.
Me:An orphan. Fantastic. Where are your friends?
Him:None.
Me:I figure.

So he's leaning on me and I'm dragging him down the street. He is not walking straight at all and I say to him [assumingly]

:You really shouldn't pop so many pills.

He gets indignant: I didn't pop any pills! And this wouldn't be the reason that I do pop pills.

:what.

So we do more of this leaning, walking, zig zagging down the road and I'm getting exasperated and I say to myself out loud:

How do I get myself into these situations where I'm dragging a eighteen year old pill popper down the road at four in the morning?!!!!

he looks at me and says: I'm not eighteen, I'm twenty.

Me: That is not making a huge difference to me right now!

We finally get to the end of the road and he pings. He literally pings, turns to me and says "I've come to!"

Me: Great, where do you live?

Him: Kurraba Point.

Me: This is Kurraba Point

And he points back down toward where I just dragged him from, I live down there!

And then he kind of dances/ Willy Wonkas his way down the street [I'm serious- he just woke up like nothing I'd ever seen. Totally reanimated]and disappears into the building next to mine.

And I'm just kind of left gaping at him and what the heck just happened there?

I've wandered into a black hole of completely random events. Which for the life of me have to mean something.

I park my car- sleep for an hour and then go to work. I'm just baffled by the night and pretty sure that I don't want to be a Murakami character anymore.