Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS writer.
I have been a bit restless of late, really sleeping badly. Well that’s a lie really, I have always been hopeless at getting the standard government recommended eight hours or forty winks whatever way it’s measured. Usually it’s forty wanks before I can finally visit the land of nod. I mean, I can readily inspect the other side of my eyelids but that does not mean my mind is switched off. Restless nights run in my family. It’s the same complaint but only from the males, being my father and my only brother as firm reference points. We are always getting up late, moping around yawning, eyes like we have just been 10 rounds with Mike Tyson in a bad mood or being accused of doing Panda impersonations.
But that’s just the root of my problem. The thing that really disturbs me is that the most comfortable position in bed for me is in the shape of a swastika. I know it sounds contorted and awkward and before you start wagging your finger it’s not quite the subconscious preamble to joining the KKK or other like-minded organizations. One little problem is that this sleeping position takes up most of a queen size bed and that really annoys any other person sharing it but that is not my primary concern either. You see I am fervently anti- Nazi. And I should mention that I have an obsession of drawing Celtic triple spirals ever since I saw that long haired Scottish TV historian Neil what’s-his-face, whispering to camera while pointing one out on the wall of a dank dripping grotto somewhere in South Wales and saying how cool they are. Drawing triple spirals has a therapeutic effect on me as they don’t have any sharp corners and angles (like swastikas) and seem to flow from the hand through the pen onto paper gracefully (with a little practice anyway). Whoopy-fucking-doo.
Anyway I read a book by the late great Spike Milligan called ‘Gunner Who?’ It was his diary of his WWII experiences in the British Army. He wrote a part of the book under the name Adolph Hitler and delightfully described Adolph’s antics with the hapless Eva Braun. “We screw in the shape of a swastika” he gleefully boasted. After getting over the visual of Adolf and Eva going at it in patriotic fervour I started to seriously consider trying it myself, forgetting just for a minute that Spike was a master comedian and expert bullshit artist. By the way, I haven’t tried it coz I am a bit nervous about suggesting that to any woman especially without first checking she is not a member of the Labor Party anti-fascist committee and/or Jewish.
But the dilemma with my far right sleeping position is that it contributes to one of my other hang ups – Zionism. I don’t regard myself as anti- Semitic and I can usually put my geo-political hang-ups to sleep (unlike myself) at least until I see the carnage on the seven o’clock news, but now find myself stewing over the Gaza strip situation when adopting the aforesaid sleeping position. And that, as you can guess, contributes to my restlessness.
And then there’s my Jewish neighbour Elias who lives alone in the apartment above mine. I have never seen him with anyone else since moving here 15 months ago. I like Elias without getting to know him. He acknowledges me in the elevator and doesn’t seem to be anti-social with us gentiles. He works as an IT nerd. I know when he is at home because I can hear every footstep he takes. He never seems to take his shoes off (he always wears black hard soled shoes) and tip toeing is not one of Elias’ talents. I could say something to him but I don’t want to come across like the whinging neighbour so I grin and bear it and he goes to bed at a decent hour anyway. Maybe I could solve the problem and buy him some sneakers but that might send the wrong signals and freak one of us out.
But these old Melbourne places are about as sound proof as paper bags. I can hear the other neighbours talking, arguing, the clatter of their utensils at meal times and not to mention their screwing and snoring. But while I am lying on my bed in the fascist position I start wondering if I have misjudged Elias and he is really a voyeuristic creep who has drilled a spy hole through his floor above my bed (conveniently forgetting the incriminating wood shavings that would have dropped onto my doona). Like he would really do that but my meandering thought processes render me vulnerable at night and I become more paranoid and speculative hence my restlessness. I lay there wildly imagining Elias going down on all fours, pressing his face onto the floorboards expecting to have a good wank watching me go hell for leather with some wanton wild weapon I picked up at the footy. But instead Elias is left flabbergasted and feeling menaced at the sight of his fellow lonesome neighbour (and let’s face it, all men who live alone are considered dangerous weirdos) consciously contorting his body into the most fearsome insignia in recorded history. Poor Elias, thinking he was safe in Melbourne but finding he has a budding SS storm-trooper as a neighbour. The thought of the awkward moment of our next meeting in the confines of the elevator just don’t induce any Zs. Back to square one.
Well it might feel comfortable being in the shape of a swastika but it has not brought me any peace and come to think of it, that sign never brought anybody any peace anywhere. I will just have to try another method to dominate my own little twilight world.
Good night.