ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
An unrushed young man from our town’s cosmopolitan French Quarter has lamented the absence of stress and anxiety in his life, so in order to find some, he plans to have an 8 p.m. coffee this evening and watch the Ashes action.
The final passages of play are proving to be extremely nerve-racking for all involved, and by his own admission, Gilby Clarke’s nerves haven’t been rattled for years.
The 32-year-old lives at home with his parents, who still enjoy each other’s company for some sick reason. They treat Gilby like he’s a placid 14-year-old. They let him live in their home for free; they even do his washing. Most nights, he gets fed. In the morning, there is always food in the fridge, and his mother’s 2018 Toyota Kluger Grande is often available for Gilby to use at his disposal. Despite all of this, his father treats him with a base level of respect that is higher than most people could achieve in a lifetime. In a few years’ time, Gilby will be shoehorned into the property market by his parents. He makes $80k a year and has not much in the way of savings. His life is unrushed, and he wants for nothing.
At least that’s what he tells his parents, but deep down, Gilby says he longs for adversity.
“I’m not an idiot,” he said.
“I know that if you give a kid everything, they don’t get no dog in them [sic]. I want to have that dog in me [sic]. I want to feel something. Even if it is stress and anxiety. It’s better than just coming home to a $4m home in the suburbs with a restaurant-quality meal hot on the table when you get in the door. I haven’t earned that, I just got shot out of the right penis into the right uterus. Now look at me. 32 years old and never really had to struggle or suffer for anything.”
“So, in order to feel something, tonight I’m going to watch the Ashes. With Warner, Smudge, and Marnus all back in the pavilion, it’s anyone’s game. If the Poms do us in the end, I’ll fucking die. Poms are the worst, man.”
More to come.
