I have this neighbour..
I have this neighbour – he lives in the basement of the house next door -single – bleached blonde hair, long enough to give him that wild look, but not long enough to call it well, long. Age – old enough to be my dad – exact number is unknown – however he could be a lot younger than he looks. His skin is of a man who spent the entirety of his days on board a ship – heaving in loads of tuna fish whilst sipping a cold one out of his back pocket. He reminds me of a raunchy rock n’ roller who lived for drugs and rough sex.
His story, to me at least, is a mystery, as I tend to keep my distance from him. Early Saturday mornings I will sometimes see him, and we will cross paths on our walks to the coffee shop. We will exchange friendly hello’s but that is usually as far as our “conversations” go – aside from my explanations for crossing his lawn “hehe..my cat is missing” – or “gorgeous day, eh?! Something about him gives me the creeps. I feel like if I am too friendly with him, I’ll wake up one night to find him at my toes – FRIGORAMA! I was always hopeful that he would be into beards and not bras – however, this thought was deflated after seeing women come out of his little sliding door, wearing t-shirts barely covering their crotch, smoking cigarette. Aside from the little information I know of him, mostly gained through observation – However mysterious he may seem, his story can be left on the shelf – there are other authors worth my time… in my mind at least.
I know summer is his favourite time of year – most of the neighbours would agree with me. When the sun is shining, and the weather is hot, he prances around in his backyard – or sits– reclined, head phones on,topless with blue speedo (sometimes black). He starts whaling the lyrics to his songs… in between songs he’ll say stuff like “wow man, that was an amazing song” or “fuck, what a song, love that”. I giggle when I hear these little comments…
He groans and moans whales and screeches, with no care in the world as to who might be listening in to his private concert, or even peering into his private dance.
Today I’m carefully peeking around the corner at him – his head back on the chair – arms crossed over his head – his face covered in pure joy… the sun beats down as he welcomes the rays with raw skin – as he whales out the lyrics he’s smiling – I can tell he is really feeling this within his soul – A feeling of guilt washes over me… However creepy I find him – these feelings are my own insecurities being brought forward – my own fears of letting my guard down – my own resistance to the unknown – Who am I to judge this man? So soulfully, so truly, he projects himself outwards into the world around him. Jumping, and swaying to the seemingly invisible beat, he truly looks supremely happy and at peace – I’ve always wished I were more out going, and here is Steve doing exactly what I would love to do. Just dance, sing and be free.
Steve can teach me something about being myself however my self wants to be in any given moment. About feeling free to dance and sing in your own backyard, inviting the whole world as my audience…. Steve teaches me to judge less, and look for the underlying, translucent lesson in even the most mysterious situations.