Sorry

On Monday I was to go to Hannah Jane Walker’s show This is just to say at The Book Hive in Norwich. I was meant to be going with a fellow student and poet who shall remain nameless because I am learning that mentioning such things should be left to the bitter world of Blair and Chuck in Gossip Girl.  Part of me wishes I could be as big a bitch as Blair, so I guess I love her character because it feels so good to indulge in such fantasy.  Then again, I strive to be nice, partly because I want to be liked, but equally because niceness is underrated, and if everyone was a bit nicer the world would be a better place.  Maybe we’d make less apologies, or maybe we’d make more.

So, having had no response from two people I thought were going to the show, I ended up finishing the bottle of wine I started, with the logic that I would somehow go out afterwards, that at least one of these people would turn up and I’d have an amazing night without spending any more money.  However, I was alone with a group of strangers.  Then again, that was one of the points of the show.

We gathered around the table.  More wine. Great!  After two later-comers turned into no-shows, Hannah started the show.  She glided between poems and speeches about apologies, and in between the audience around the table interacted and we all made our own apologies; apologies we wanted to make, ones we wanted to receive, and some made up.

I was honest with my apologies.  Though I may have many more to make, it was to someone I feel deeply for and am simultaneously frustrated by and grateful for their friendship.  I’d had an argument with them months ago, which he later said was “water under the bridge” when I brought it up, so what did surprise me was that my apology was in relation to that: “Sorry I reacted when you said fuck off, because I love you” – a statement that can be taken two different ways, and even I’m unsure of which way I meant it. 

The second apology was in connection to someone I am no longer friends with.  Although the person remains in Facebook news feeds, like the roots of dyed hair, we both know the truth.  I was surprised that of all the apologies I thought I was owed, this is the one that came up – something which another member of the group also expressed.  Though I feel like I have moved on, I guess there will always be that hurt, and the sense of wasted time, and it comes out in my dreams… and on nights like these.

The whole evening is something I have never experienced as a poetry performance format.  It was really interesting to go to – unique and special.  Hannah’s poetry is always a pleasure to hear, but was very much suited to this intimate environment, gathered round a table, wine-pouring between strangers, with scattered fairylights and paper apologies.

After the show, I texted madly and confused myself in my drunken haze.  I ended up at the Rose Tavern where the LOL comedy show was on with a couple of university friends.  One act was described as a poetry-comedian.  I made a noise… not sure what kind of noise, half laugh, half pretentious-hah-so-you-call-yourself-a-poet-noise.  This drew attention to me, despite me thinking I wasn’t that loud, I think I misjudge my own volume when drunk.  I also had another glass of wine. Good one.  Not.

I don’t remember the details of conversations after that, but I started walking back home with the two guys I was with.  I must have forgotten they no longer live two doors down from me as I walked with them too far, and so decided to invite myself back to their house.  I entertained more of my friends with my drunken ramblings.  I was very embarrassed the next day, but at least they had a laugh before they went to bed.

What’s worse is that I ended the night repeatedly calling a boy to come out of his house to continue the night further at my house.  It wasn’t quite getting through to me that it was nearly 1am and he was in bed about to go to sleep to at least get a good 5 hours.  Oh yes, and this was all on the day I had my first NORCAS meeting (a drugs and alcohol counselling service).  Yes, I know, I’m not an alcoholic, I don’t have any more of a problem than the majority of university students.  However, I do want to cut down and stop the extremes situations I get into when I’m past-drunk.  So, it’s a bit of an experiment.

On another note, my hair is growing out and I’m thinking of getting another dramatic haircut in the new year.  I want to think of a short hairstyle that will suit me – curly hair doesn’t do short hair that well!

Anyway, I’ve said too much already!

xxx

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About carminamasoliver

I'm an ex-UEA writer from South London. Founder of She Grrrowls. Feminist Arts Writer for The Norwich Radical. BAR poet. Published by Nasty Little Press.
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