Giovedì, 11 Marzo, 2004 | Posted by Uncle Jozef at 06:58

As a little girl, Silvia's favourite relative was her Uncle Josef. Uncle Josef wasn't really a blood relative, but he loved Silvia like he was.

He had long card nights where friends would venture into the home laden with food and drink and leave lighter of wallet. These were rowdy nights of loud music and voices booming across cavernous rooms and shadows dancing on walls. Sometimes blood flowed along with wine.

Silvia often played under the table. Josef would scratch her rich auburn hair and claim it brought him good luck. However, that came from somewhere else.

Under the table just where Josef sat was a card strapped to the side of the old table. On its white base blazed a bright, red heart. It was this ace that was often brought out to clinch a hand.

Many years later, Silvia was wondering through an old gramaphone shop. There was one old gramaphone that she particularly took a shine to. As she neared it, she noticed the table it happened to be sitting on.

It seemed to be the same table she had sat under all those years ago while her uncle Josef played cards. There were those distinctive rounded legs that looked as if they had once belonged to the Michelin Man. She had often thought of this table fondly.

She dropped slowly to the floor. The assistant at the counter noticed her and move away from the register to get a closer look. Silvia seemed to have disappeared. He couldn't see her. He moved quickly to the table. Was she placing an item in her bag? He had already been fined by the owner for allowing a rare recording to disappear. He couldn't even remember the name of the artist, nor did he care. He just wanted to make sure that he had enough money to take out Rosalita as he thought this time he may get lucky.

Where did that woman disappear to? He raised his feet and started to race a little. His tap shoes sounded like a rapid accompaniment to the Bolero which was playing loudly in the background.

He arrived at the table just as Silvia was rising from below. In her hand was a playing card. On its white base was a blazing, red heart. On Silvia's face was a glowing smile.

"I'l take it", she said.

Venerdì, 19 Marzo, 2004 | Posted by Lionel Gerkin at 07:38

Uncle Jozef gave us that big smile of his. "Enjoy", he said with a happiness that sprayed over us. He closed the door and the room shut out the day, the dance factory, the dance, the word. Soft streams of light entered where holes in the old house had long ago not been seen fit to fix.

I sat next to Silvia, just the two of us alone and happy.

"Jozef, what are you doing there?" A voice passing by called out.

"Nothing, you old fool. I'm like you, just wasting my time waiting for someone to come and collect me from this world."

Our hands touched. I felt mine were slightly soiled from the dance factory. I had a toaster's electric circuits explode on me that morning and the signs of it were still there. Silvia placed her lips against the stain and it instantly cleared.

I could have had cancer and it would have been cured.

"Play something with that accordion of yours, Jozef."

"Oh, go away."

"Oh, go on".

As our lips met, the first notes of The Cure's "Pictures of you" sneaked in under the door.

Uncle Jozef sang with his thick accent:

I've been looking so long at these pictures of you
That I almost believe that they're real
I've been living so long with my pictures of you
That I almost believe that the pictures are
All I can feel

Silvia pressed close against me. I could feel her heart beating. I felt the curve of her back, strong.

"There was nothing in the world
That I ever wanted more
Than to feel you deep in my heart"

Her arms reached around my neck and drew me closer. She lifted herself and wrapped her legs around me.

There was nothing in the world
That I ever wanted more
Than to never feel the breaking apart

Our lips crushed together. Our bodies melted like cheap metal. Again the world exploded into a sea of lights. The atmosphere became heavy with a wonder that I cannot explain.

Remembering you, how you used to be
Slow drowned
You were angels
So much more than everything

I felt the warmth of her bare skin against mine. I followed the valley between her breasts as she sighed quietly. I reached out for her hand, to clasp it tightly. To hold it near. Never let it go. I couldn't find it.

Looking so long at these pictures of you
But I never hold on to your heart
Looking so long for the words to be true
But always just breaking apart
My pictures of you

Silence.

Pure silence.

"Thank you, Jozef", shouted a bystander. "That was so wonderful." said a woman. Jozef was quiet. I could feel his lips curl up at the edges in a smile of thanks. A dusky shadow fell over the room as the sun hid behind a cloud for a moment.

If only I'd thought of the right words
I could have held on to your heart
If only I'd thought of the right words
I wouldn't be breaking apart
All my pictures of you

Giovedì, 08 Aprile, 2004 | Posted by Uncle Jozef at 22:14

It was amazing. I could see it breaking up in front of me. Oh, dear, I thought...

What was it that I thought? ... Oh, yes, if I was to tell you how I knew it was not what was said, it was everything that wasn't said. There was:

no please

no sorry

no excuse me

no we

no I love you

no I love you too.

They were together because they believed the words to that song ... oh, for heaven's sake what is it called?

Wait, just let me find the tune on my pianoacordian.

It goes ... it goes ... "I ... I know ... I know a place ... I ... :

I know a place where we can go.
If you say yes I won't say no.
It's nice and sweet and noone cries.
A smog of love gets in your eyes.
The sun always shines in Happyland.
And they have no crime in Happyland.
More lesuire time in Happyland.
And everything rhymes in Happyland
Stores never close in Happyland.
Anything goes in Happyland.
And we keep it clean in Happyland.
You're part of the team in Happyland.

I think it's called Happyland.

It was obvious they belonged in Rhumbaland.

Lunedì, 07 Giugno, 2004 | Posted by Uncle Jozef at 20:14

It's a big, full moon tonight. I sit here and just look at the wonder of it. I wonder what Neil Armstrong thought as he stepped on the surface. Did he believe it was really happening or did he think it was just a dream?

Did he wake up in a sweat?

His mate on that day was Buzz Aldrin. Buzz's main memory was of:

"...The surface of the moon was like fine talcum powder. It was very loose at the top. As you begin to get deeper, a half inch or so, it becomes much more compact, almost as if it's cemented together, though it isn't. It just seems that way because there are no air molecules between the molecules of dust. When you put your foot down in the powder, the boot print preserved itself exquisitely."

That amazing trip. And what he remembers is the way that the dust preserved something for life. Buzz along with Neil are preserved for life, their footprint has left its imprint for ever. Up there, up there on the moon.

Funny, it's not like Hollywood Boulevard. People can't exactly walk past it and look down and wonder at it. You can have your photo taken in front of Neil's footprint in moon dust. It's just crazy isn't it. What is the point of being famous and no one can really see what has been done.

It's funny, it's just funny.