The Ned Wood Archive

I can’t see a thing

Till you open my eyes

The Nazz

It’s hot.  Me, Jo, Helen, and Annie are on the grass outside the hall.  In theory, we are revising.  At least, in theory, I am.  Those guys don’t need to revise for exams.  They’re just reading books – course work, they call it.  Reading books, I call it.  

I’m not revising.  I’m watching Annie.  I’m staring at her face.  I’m looking at her shoulders and the way her hair falls on them.  I’m watching her eyes dart backwards and forwards between Helen and Jo whenever they start talking.  I’m watching her face explode with delight at some joke they’ve spotted.  I’m listening to her shriek with laughter and then stop and apologise in my direction.

I’m still maintaining the pretence that that I’m working, but I’m not.  I’m watching Annie and I’m in heaven.

If this was a movie, this is where you’d get a montage of shots of me and Annie.  Me and Annie laughing over a cup of Charlie in the coffee bar.  Me and Annie sitting talking next to the campus brook.  Me and Annie hanging out on the lawn over at Glen or back at Chamberlain.  Me and Annie running across the beach holding hands as the sea comes in over our bare feet and other clichés.  And sometimes we’d be with Bernie or Viv or others and sometimes we’d be on our own just the two of us.

And, of course, there’d be our theme song playing on the soundtrack.  Maybe it would be something like “In the City” or “New Rose” or the Ramones or Television.  Or maybe we’d have something more subtle like the Electric Prunes “I had too much to dream last night” or the Amboy Dukes “Journey to the Centre of the Mind”.  Something to draw a subtle link between 70s punks and 60s hippies.  Or what about a real love song like Dusty’s “I Close my Eyes and Count to Ten”, although it would probably be a cover version so that they could market it and make a few bucks.

Anyways, while you’re watching the movie or listening to the soundtrack, I’m spending all my time with Annie.  Yes, it’s true. Sometimes we are at Glen on the lawn outside her block.  Sometimes we are next to the campus brook.  But mainly we’re in the coffee bar, sitting on the juke box side with our backs leaning against the wall. I reckon that’s where they’ll put my blue plaque when I get famous.

And we’re spending all of our time talking.  We’re talking in a way that I’d never talked like to anyone else before.  We’re talking about each other and we’re talking about ourselves.  And we’re being honest about what we want and how we feel and what makes us tick.  It’s a knack Annie has.  She asks the right question and makes me open up.  “Why did you do that?”  “Don’t you think this?”  “What about looking at it that way?”  Simple stuff, but effective.

And I’m saying, “I guess you’re right, I did feel like that,” or “I really did think that”.  It feels as if I’m getting to know myself better that I ever had because I’ve found a guide to help me understand myself.  It even seems she knows me better than I do.  How does she do that?  Any fool can ask you a question, but how many people can get you to give the honest answer, even when you don’t know what it is?

I’m completely taken over by her presence.  I feel at ease with myself.  I feel glad that I am who I am.  She makes me feel important, loved, and wanted.  At the same time, my body fizzes with excitement at being with her.  My skin tickles.  My heart bounces.  My whole being feels alive.  I want to be with her all the time.  More than that, I want to occupy the same physical dimensions that she does.  I want to hug her and squeeze her until our bodies melt together and become one.  When I’m with her, it seems as if some invisible arm has reached out from her chest and has grabbed my heart from within my breast and has physically pulled it next to hers.