MEET EDO AT THE PAWNSHOP
It’s roughly eight am when the man with the neck beard strides in. Edo smooths the countertop with his palms to cool his skin and wipe the dust away. Neck Beard presents a packet of spaghetti and two opened bottles of vinegar, he spreads them on the counter like assorted treasure. Edo takes a moment to assess the wares and offers ten dollars for the lot. Neck Beard shakes his hand, ‘hartelijk dank,’ and strides out. Edo chucks the lot in the bin.
Out the back, the dry store smells like a homeless man’s collar. Edo unpacks boxes; the cardboard chafes his hands. He works without interruption for three hours. Lunch sits stubborn in his stomach; his hangover reaching the cliffhanger to what-happens-next. He remembers the vagrant from last night who had given him matches. In return, Edo had given him his shoes.
After a night on Pisco, it was unusual not to have any regrets. However, Edo’s feet are delicate and oriental, hardly the substitute for size eleven slabs, thickened by the years.
Anxiety settles in around half past two. The day isn’t over yet. Edo is expecting the expected before he can go home to his cat, Monika. At three, Patchoulia burts into his store and almost through her tracksuit. She buys books to read with her headlight. Her smile is greasy and her perfume clings in the air like toilet freshener. Edo holds his breath and leans on the counter for support. Lunch is moving on up; Edo digs in his heels. Patchoulia leaves the shop in a spin of midnight rose and musk. Just in time for Edo to reach the small plastic bin in the dry store. Beef stroganoff or something similar pours out of Edo’s head. It is hot and painful, like his first time. He checks his reflection in the metal shelving, wipes his mouth and brow. A head squarer than he is used to, greets him with a wink.
‘It’s almost four,’ the head assures.
Edo checks his watch — it’s only three.
Stranger presents, Peter Van Hoesen, at New Guernica on Friday 27th September
Peter the raver, the Bent Object — Peter from Belgium.
Did you see him this European summer? Oh please, tell us all about it.
Peter likes a long play, somewhere between a cool five to eight hours.
He lives a quiet life in Berlin.
His mixes are pleasure, mindful, and forceful formations.
It’s time to express himself.