Doppio Zero, Greenside

Sunday, May 02, 2004

Service: * * * 1/2
Food: * * *
Ambience: * * * *
Babe Count: * * * *

Phone: +27 11 646 8740

I was on my way to the Fullstop again this morning, laptop stowed in the boot, screenplay printout in my bag. But something made me choose Doppio. Probably cos I was going to have supper here last night, but it was full, and I hadn't booked.

So I park, and make my way inside.

There's Damon and Wendy. Which is a wonderful coincidence, cos I've just smsed Damon to let him know that I'm venturing forth into the world of coffee-shops with my laptop, and that today is the day I'm going to finish HOME, my feature film screenplay.

And it's also coincidental cos last night I was at The Radium Beerhall with Damon, watching Wendy play ultra superb music yet again.

"Uh!" says Damon when I draw up a chair. "Stop procrastinating!!!"

"Breakfast first," I say, "and then writing."

"I'm totally starving," he says.

I order a breakfast from Laura, our blonde, young young young waitress. Yumph. She's divine.

"But Laura," I say, trying not to see if she's wearing a g-string under her white, tight pants, "can you please make sure I don't have any mushrooms with this?"

"Can we give you a second sausage?" she asks.

I'd like to give HER a first sausage. Then a second. Maybe even a third. Depends how fit she is. "That'll be great," I say, "as long as they're beef sausages, not pork, and as long as the chef cuts them open and burns them slightly." See, if you're offering me breakfast, you'll find it safe to assume that I want EVERYTHING well done. Hard eggs. Crispy bacon (no fat). Very brown toast (made with brown bread). Burnt sausages.

Damon orders the vegetarian breakfast. And Wendy gets an awesome sandwich.

The decaff cappuccinos are possibly the best in Johannesburg, and I have my first of the day before the food arrives.

After breakfast, which is exactly as I ordered it, and absolutely hits the spot, I get up and search for a table that has a plugpoint nearby. Laura shows me to one just inside the door. Perfection.

Smooch smooch air kisses with Wendy, a nice assertive hug with Damon, and I'm on my own. Me and my laptop. And my screenplay. In a world I've been living intimately with for the last four or so years.

Last night I printed out a copy and bound it. Slept with it in my bed, where Jacqui would have been sleeping had I been in a relationship with her still. Woke this morning, reached over, and fondled it. Would have been right where Jacqui's squiggly bits would have been.

When Mariaan smsed me yesterday to ask if I wanted to do coffee with her, I was deeply engrossed in being unbearably solitary, and very sad. I spent the day thinking about Jacqui. And one-night stands. And how love doesn't go away. Hence no real squiggly bits to fondle this morning.

So, directly after fondling my script, I read it.

And I have to admit to feeling rather impressed with myself.

I've known for some time that I only have about ten or so pages left to write, and that these pages are very much setup pages that have come about as a result of the way the story changed in mid stream while I was writing it. So the ending I've written needs various bits and pieces to be inserted early on in the story and rippled throughout the screenplay.

What I hadn't realised is that I've written a very tight film, one that I'd love to see onscreen. It's a film I feel I'd be able to say, "I wish I'd written that!!!" after seeing it.

So I spend the entire day, till about 7 o'clock, finessing, honing, tweaking, adding, removing, fussing. And at that magical time, I type the most beautiful words the in the English language (except when used in the same sentence as 'Roy and Jacqui'): THE END.

I rock! I rock and roll! I am a god! I am a genius!!! I cook!!!!!!! I am awesome!

I've finished my feature film screenplay!

The first person I want to phone is Jacqui. And I don't. I don't sms her. I don't do anything. I don't email her the script. Why? Because she's asked for no contact at all. None whatsoever. She's said it'll be cool if we bump into each other somewhere. She won't run away or hide or anything. But no active communication between us.

Which I find odd, cos she reads this site. I can't imagine how it must feel for her. This is a woman who loves me dearly. So reading about my exploits must be unbearable for her. I would find it very difficult reading about her exploits. And it's very difficult for me. Cos I love her dearly. And I don't want her to be hurt. But I want to move on. I want to find a way to get her out of my system. Because as senseless and obscene as this breakup is, that's how it is. It's final until proven otherwise. And that's just not going to happen.

So I feel odd with this outpouring. Knowing that she and hundreds of other people are reading this stuff. As Mariaan said on Wednesday, it's weird. But Zahava, my therapist, reads it too. And thinks it's incredibly good therapy for me. And I agree.

But right now, sending an sms to Eran, Damon, and Janet -- my three first-readers -- feels very empty. And the accomplishment of finishing my first major screenplay feels a tad hollow. All I really want to do is curl up with Jacqui and Sheepy and cry.

Instead, I'm heading off to Rosebank to watch SWEET OBLIVION, a movie about people who don't fit in.

Now. Where's that sweet, sumptuous waitress of mine? I wonder if I can persuade her to pose naked for me?