These are no clear directions – by Lars Rogers

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You turn left at that old shop. There used to be a man who lived inside it. Every time I saw him he had a cigarette slotted in his mouth – poking through a giant beard. I remember hearing something about a hand surgery. Or was it a heart surgery? I suppose it doesn’t matter now. I am pretty sure he was the Dad of one of my mates. We used to smoke out the back of the science lab. That was what we did. My mate was always concerned – either by the fact that we were smoking, or that a teacher might catch us. I didn’t know. I could never figure it out. I’ve been having a little bit of trouble lately. The orderly… people don’t use the word orderly enough these days – now it’s always nurse. They were always telling me…the nurse, I mean…that I had a strong mind. I don’t really know what that meant in this context. I just wanted to get it out. That’s all I have ever wanted – it made me want to cry. But I couldn’t cry; there wasn’t enough time to cry.

After turning left at the old shop, you drove straight for a while. There was a raspberry patch about halfway along the road. I remember wanting to sneak in there. Steal some raspberries like a lizard. I love lizards. Always have. They are dinosaurs except small and callous. Eating raspberries all day, being a lizard – it was my dream life. I loved dinosaurs as a kid. It’s common among boys, but a girl liking dinosaurs? It wasn’t unheard of. In fact, it was perfectly fine for a girl to like dinosaurs. I just never wanted to be a dinosaur. For a girl to want to be a dinosaur, that would be insane. Dinosaurs were extinct. You couldn’t be something extinct.

After the raspberry patch you turn right. Except it isn’t really a right, it’s one of those turn-offs. The kind where you fly around the corner, and all the people in the back slide into one another. It was a game. That was what we did growing up. We were fuckheads. The orderly doesn’t like it when I swear. But that’s okay. I didn’t like it when they grouped me in with everyone else—sat me in front of that broken TV. That was how they kept us calm. We weren’t allowed to see our family, and we weren’t allowed to watch TV. Doing either would make us feel… confused? I suppose I wasn’t actually sure. My grandson and my great-grandson had smooshed together in my head. The orderly told me I should use the word conflate. That I had a habit of conflating my grandson and great-grandson. I thought that the orderly was a fuckhead. A fucking nurse. Nurses have such hard jobs. They get battered and get paid fuck all. Trying to keep people alive or waiting for them to die. Is it fun for them? I doubt it. Maybe if you are a fuckhead it might be fun. Who growing up wants to be a nurse? Good people usually. The reality of it all – it made me want to cry.

After the corner, we would drive up a big hill littered with trees. The school bus didn’t have enough grunt to get all of us kids up the hill, so it would pull up, and we would all get out. That was how we got to know one another. She was taller than me, always playing a Gameboy. Walking up the hill, I’d stare at the back of her head and point out how some of the trees looked like our teachers. When we grew up a bit, she got a tattoo of a Gameboy. She was cooler than me. We were only fifteen at the time. That’s how I got into smoking and kissing. I loved kissing her. She told me she would only kiss me if she could smoke first. I thought, sure, if she was going to smoke I may as well smoke. Later I would be the one trying to swat her away. We both got jobs at the aged care facility. We were orderlies. She was better at it than me. She was cooler than me. Somehow both caring for all the old people and still sneaking off into the kitchen wanting to smoke and make out. I miss her so much. When I can’t remember her – I feel sick. It makes me want to cry. But sometimes I can remember her. She is all I can remember.

Our house was at the end of the road. The one up the hill with all the trees. We bought it because it reminded us of where we grew up. Both our parents had raised us along this hill littered with trees. The school bus would drop us off at the bottom of the hill, not having enough grunt to take us all the way home. Our parents didn’t mind that we were together – despite it being a small town. They celebrated the way we loved one another. We grew a raspberry patch out the back of our house. A couple of lizards would sneak into there and eat all the low-hanging fruit. I didn’t mind. I thought it was cute – the way life was meant to be. She thought it was a little annoying. She really liked raspberries was the thing, but she came round eventually. We both got pregnant at the same time. We found a donor online and paid them to send us a couple of samples. It was fun being pregnant – like being a bouncy bowl except delicate. She was such a good mother. I miss her – I want to cry. All the time—I want to cry. But I couldn’t cry. I had to let it out before I saw her. Climbing up our hill, we had a date after school. I was so nervous. She had stolen a pack of cigarettes from her Dad, and we were going to smoke them. He lived in the old shop at the corner. She had written down some directions to where we were going to meet. They weren’t very clear. It was all rather exciting.

Image: Cordylus - Flickr


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Lars Rogers

Lars grew up and lives on the North West coast of Tasmania in Yolla. He is famous for having the biggest head born out of the Burnie Hospital in the year 1997. He doesn’t really know what the hell he is ever doing but enjoys the process of getting things wrong. His work explores what it means to be wild and how failure is essential. He’d like it very much if people would stop being fucking horrible to one another. But if they can’t—that’s okay too. His Substack is called Stray Dogs of Stoney Steps, where he posts weekly. 

https://larsrogers.substack.com/
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