The Soothsayer - Intermission

Ann Heights Studio Apartment unit 413 - Melbourne, Australia. Year 2005.

'No? Ever? Come to think of it. Yeah. No recollection of you ever.'

'I don't cry.'

'It's ridiculous.'

'Believe what you want. I don't cry. I can't. I don't know why.'

'Wow. What it felt like?'

'What? The crack?'

'Unable to cry. What it feels like?'

Asked Masaki.

Rain battered on the window panes of the dark apartment of the two foreigners. Within the loud echos of youngsters having raunchy sex in the television to the empty living room, the harmony of the house remained unperturbed by the growing storm. A dozen of candle lights held the orange visibility shakily upon the wet tiles, sketching quivery silhouettes on the bathroom walls. In the foamy waters of rose petals, the two tenants sat facing each other at each end of the bathtub. Their legs lapping each other's in soft and moist intimacy in close confinement. Sarah Qwek, a Singaporean was here on a scholarship laid out powdery cocaine on the slick edge of the tub and started snorting it with a rolled sheet. Her friend of mixed heritage at the opposite end, Jane Masaki was half Japanese and Canadian. Masaki already drunk with too much crack in the depth of her system was nursing a bottle of Vodka dreamily.

'Horribly numb in a good way. Or invincible in the bad way. Either way, I don't really two fucks.' Replied Qwek, shaking her head like a wet puppy. 'This shit is kicking me real hard. Where did you get them?'

'Justin. Whoa! Talk about mood killing. Who turn up the porn next door?' Exclaimed Masaki, 'Wait. I was the one. Now why did I turn on my own porn? God. I'm so high that I don't know what I'm saying right now!'

'I think it's weird watching yourself having sex on the telly.' Said Qwek laying her head softy on the corner of the wall and lighted up her weed. 'Who the fuck is Justin?'

Masaki covered her eyes with her palms for a long time and smiled, 'The lighting guy. He's very dorky. Pretty much like you when you get all studious during exams, in your bottle coke glasses and stuff. But he's sweet. Did I tell you that I have this thing for man who cry. Well, I suppose now I have. Justin cries after he ejaculates. I never seen a man cries after sex. They were all like smoking and bitching, but Justin is different. Oh did I ever tell you I'm wild over weird people. Whoa! At first, it was freaky. But after that, it gets kind of endearing to watch him sleep in his tears. It brings out the naturing side of the female minds. Yeah. He's sweet, in a freaky way.'

'It's pretty much free for all in the porn industry huh?' Said Qwek as she pulled near a candle. Its blight shone weakly on the tribal tattoo on her left deltoid. 'You guys have no professional code or rules of conduct on co-workers relations?'

'Porn sets are like the athletic villages in the Olympics.' Said Masaki as she played with the bubbles in their bath, 'Everyone is so beautiful. Everybody glows.'

'Even the lighting people?' Asked Qwek as she put on her thick glasses.

'Justin? No. He's very meek and tiny. And I like that. I don't need superheroes. I'm surrounded by them everyday. I just need a teddy bear. A cuddle. A snuggle.' Replied Masaki. 'Though I must say Justin always came too soon. He could really work on that.'

'You lusty bitch!' Grinned Qwek, 'He's fucking a pornstar for crying out loud! Give that poor folk a break! You expect him to measure up?'

'Well. You know what?' Smiled Masaki as she moved in the bath towards Qwek beneath the drawing shadows of the candlelit storm. 'You look pretty tasty tonight.'

'Yeah?' Beamed Qwek, drunk with intoxication.

'You know. With your geeky glasses, I can so see it now. Sarah the Catholic School Girl waiting to get bone by her bestie and the school professor! You should so do porn!' Screamed Masaki.

'You know I'm really catholic right?' Asked Qwek.

'Yeah but... It doesn't work that way. You know it doesn't.' Reminded Masaki, suddenly awaken from her seduction. She drew back in the bath back to her corner. 'You can't be gay and catholic at the same time.'

'Says?'

'God? I don't know! Can you?' Said Masaki exasperatedly.

'No. I don't know either. But I think faith shouldn't build on concepts and ideals of others. I believed in God and my belief in Him and every ways are intimate. Just between Him and myself. It should go beyond what other people expect about the religion.' Explained Qwek softly, 'But that being said, it's always a mortal wound to get raised in a Catholic family and grow up to believe that I will burn in Hell because of my preference. It used to be such chore. Is being gay wrong, or is the religion just stupid? I don't care. I simply doesn't now.'

'Babe, you need this more than me.' Masaki handed over the heavy bottle of Vodka. 'You think people who did amateur porn will ever get into Heaven?'

'Nah.' Shook Qwek as she downed the Vodka, 'People who do sex for money or to the wong gender won't. The homosexuals and the pornstars get bounced out from the pearly gates. Or so says the Pope.'

'Good, at least we still have each other.' Offered Masaki, lighting up two cigarettes and passing one to Qwek. 'To hell with heaven. Just like that book you've been reading.'

'Aw... You noticed my book list. You are indeed a bestie.' Grinned Qwek, reaching over the foamy water for a quick hug. 'That old bean is something I encountered while researching for that fucking fucking fucking, fucking school debate about the purpose of Hell, that I'm only so glad that it's over. Heck! I had thrown away everything that were to throw into the trash so that I don't have to relieve those agonising moments again. Saved this book. It's an odd book. I could never use it for the debate though. It's so weird that I actually like it. You will like it. Because you like weird stuff. It's so freaky that you probably want to jump in bed with.'

'I have Justin to fuck, you can fuck the book yourself.' Said Masaki. 'What is it about?'

'You really want to know?'

'Why not? I read stuff. Sometimes. But I read.'

'Right. Erm. It's written by this French bloke called Bou Blanc. Somewhere in eighteen fifties? I'm guessing the only book he ever wrote. It was bad. It was like hungry, freaky children in a candy shop, loose. The flow of plot was deranged and unconvincing. Coupled with confusing verses and stupid rhymes that refused to rhyme. It was so bad that I can't believe that someone actually published it.' Paused Qwek sucking into her cigarette and felt the veins at her temples pulsating. 'Anyway I'm glad that someone did. Man, that poor publisher. The book was banned from at least a hundred country. It was so fucking controversial.'

'Your point, your point. You are trailing off in your ramblings.' Lectured Masaki, 'And stop getting the ashes into the water!'

'Anyways. Supposingly in the same league as the works of Milton and Dante,
building of pure fantasies of the Christian after world. But Blanc
never did receive any recognition for his effort, he was virtually
unknown in the literally world, scoffed off by churches, rejected by all religions, wheelchair bound on social welfare and
vanished totally at the end of the century. Unlike Dante and Milton, he
didn't dwell too much on biblical history, but babbled about an unknown
war between heaven and hell.' Said Qwek catching her breath back with another deep suckle of her dying cigarette.

'What's wrong with wars? I mean, wars ain't special anymore. War is this red button beneath the scalp, just next to the left tragus of ear. War is the natural mechanism in mankind. You have Nam, Gulf, Europe, Korean, Africa. The penises, the vagina. Everyone are fighting wars with themselves every day. Michael fought the first war in heaven.' Reminded Masaki, 'Tell me things I haven't heard of.'

'Blanc said that Heaven went and invade Hell.' Gave Qwek.

'Okay. That's better.' Said Masaki. 'And?'

'It made them look really bad. The angels. Being good christian soldiers and everything, I guess bloodlusts and ambitions are considered blasphemy from where they were. God? God was away and so was Satan. When the cats are gone, the mice start to play. That's the backbone of Blanc's literature. Seemingly. Because the whole story, I felt actually served as this metaphorical backdrop of fate versus destiny. Are we mere puppets incapable of driving our lives? Can we choose and live the lives we want? Are we suppose to get larger than life? Is it really impossible not to get lost in our paths? As the angels fought in rivers of blood and fire in the wailing lurid underworld for their selfishness, I can't help but to feel for them and us, too. The naiveness and the dangers in believing in ourselves.'

'You finished it?' Asked Masaki, 'What happened in the end? What did the French say?'

'I haven't finished it. It's a nasty read. It's like it's half a book while you have to fill the rest with the spoils of your imagination, deciphering and interpretations.' Said Qwek. 'But I can lend you the book thereafter?'

'Nah. You are the one with brains and you have troubles reading it.' Laughed Masaki, 'Just tell me how it end.'

'The way I see it. People like Blanc are sadists. They are obsessed with depravity and decays of life. The downhills.' Offered Qwek. 'It won't be a happy one.'

'Sarah. I never believed in the happy ones.'



To be continued...