Daylight Savings Time was written during a period starting several months after I had graduated from college while I was living in Lake Forest, IL through the entire period that I lived in the Lakeview neighborhood of Chicago, from January 2006 through August of 2007. The rough draft was finished no more than a week before I would flee Chicago for Los Angeles and foolishly squander everything that I had saved up to that point. That attitude may be apparent in the text, particularly in the later chapters. It was written in the wake of an event that caused me no small psychological dismay and is addressed in the early chapters in referencing a broken friendship. That is not the theme of this work, however. I was trying to write something like Bret Easton Ellis would. A bunch of young people in the city who don't have to worry about how they're going to afford to live and don't really have any serious plans for their own future. I set out to create something that would define an aesthetic, a characteristic, the idea of Being Carefree, that I saw rapidly disappear as my friends and I finished college and melded with the real world. They all had a better idea than I did of what they were doing.
To be sure, DST takes an idealized view of dating. Yes, the thing to do is to meet your mate in college, and if you don't, well, some people have no problem whatsoever with meeting someone in an unstructured setting, but my few experiences proved wholeheartedly depressing. As I wrote DST, I wanted to portray a world that was simpler, where the stakes weren't quite so high, where people could do what they wanted and not worry about being judged for it. DST depicts the Group or Clique mentality, whereby a collection of a dozen or so personalities that cling to one another allow each individual within that collective to achieve greater freedom (and respect) than they would as a wholly independent being. That was my true aim in this work--to show how a community can bolster an individual--which I'm sorry to say, I don't see very often in this increasingly isolating society we call USA 2009. But that's probably my own fault now isn't it?
There may be questions about whether or not this book deserved to be published. Overall, I think it's simple to say: it doesn't. People will find its narrative format intimidating and frustrating, but I still believe it is a work of (some) serious value. It is not a masterpiece, and I know I have done better since, but there are ideas within it worth communicating, I think. I unsuccessfully tried to pitch it as a screenplay while in Los Angeles in one ill-advised e-mail query to an online ad where I attached a young Hollywood actor to every role in the story, and while that didn't work and while I am not going to spend my time twisting it into a screenplay, I do believe this is exactly the type of movie that would be a "definitive account of this generation"--whatever you want to call it, Y2K (it's been a while since I've seen a term applied to those born in the early through mid-80s)--and would be able to make someone a lot of money if they knew what was good for them. Unfortunately it seems as if my time has passed and I already feel hoplessly outdated and worn out at 26 and my conceptions about this generation's attitudes towards a variety of subjects in life no longer hold any water.
Thus, as a timeless document, there are sections worth reading that will not be adversely affected by changing times. I am particularly proud of "Halloweeness"--the longest chapter in the novel, describing the day of Halloween. One particular passage I read from it for my writing class earned the praise of one distinguished class member, who later wrote me an e-mail telling me she really enjoyed it. Every chapter after that, I believe, is strong as well. Some of the concepts towards the end I would develop further in my second novel. I also like the sprightly way it begins and some of the random, prophetic elements that would occur in the months after I completed it (I would have a co-worker named Penny, there would be an incident involving a "bum" of some type, and the "Economy Watch" would prove more prescient than I realized). "Satyrs" is probably the most offensive chapter in the book and might cause people to think I am anti-American but I would just like to remind everyone about the period in which it was written--that is, mid-2006, when frustrations in this country reached a certain pitch about the ways things were being handled. There are other chapters that I enjoy for the feeling of exuberance they represent, and again, most of them lie near the end.
I had a good time writing this book and even though it led to nothing I am glad a few people read it and derived some small pleasure out of it. The greatest gift that a book can bestow on a reader is the sense of total abandon that the author has opened up their entire personality and given their full depiction of our world and the way they experience it, to be compared with the reader's own senses. I may not have done as good a job in this first novel as I did in my second in communicating that entirety, and I may be clueless about certain matters that help define a "real life" or a "serious life," but this was a learning experience for me, and one that I feel accomplished its goal, whether or not I am ever "seriously published" in my lifetime. At least there is this.
-Christopher J. Knorps
Winnetka, IL, May 18, 2009
Monday, May 18, 2009
Daylight Savings
DAYLIGHT SAVINGS
It had been the week in October to turn the clocks back an hour and it was the time of day when it became prematurely dark for the first time and all one had were foreboding thoughts. It was Friday, and the work was done for the week, and when he had left the office, the night had fallen. A week earlier, the drive home had been all pinkish-orange hue sunset, anticipation, good fortune, green thoughts, and wistful determination. Today it was blue-black, with faint, scraggly lines of red clouds at the extreme horizon. The summer was finished and autumn had kicked the door open. Autumn had held a gun to summer’s head and blew its brains all out at the far, far end of the sky. And he was driving in his car, driving home from work, and he knew it would be a long time before there would be good cheer. And he knew love, formerly at an arm’s length, would continue to elude and cheat and fool, like a plastic worm at the end of a fishing pole.
He was ten minutes away from work, thirty minutes from home, when he saw the highway illuminate into a deep and severe red. Five minutes after crawling along at the speed of a dying deer, a sign appeared which informed him that it would be sixty minutes until he arrived home. He took out an American Spirit from a drink holder in between the two front seats. He turned up his stereo and rolled down the windows as his car rolled to a stop. He flicked the lighter.
“This is going to be a long night,” he said to himself.
It had been the week in October to turn the clocks back an hour and it was the time of day when it became prematurely dark for the first time and all one had were foreboding thoughts. It was Friday, and the work was done for the week, and when he had left the office, the night had fallen. A week earlier, the drive home had been all pinkish-orange hue sunset, anticipation, good fortune, green thoughts, and wistful determination. Today it was blue-black, with faint, scraggly lines of red clouds at the extreme horizon. The summer was finished and autumn had kicked the door open. Autumn had held a gun to summer’s head and blew its brains all out at the far, far end of the sky. And he was driving in his car, driving home from work, and he knew it would be a long time before there would be good cheer. And he knew love, formerly at an arm’s length, would continue to elude and cheat and fool, like a plastic worm at the end of a fishing pole.
He was ten minutes away from work, thirty minutes from home, when he saw the highway illuminate into a deep and severe red. Five minutes after crawling along at the speed of a dying deer, a sign appeared which informed him that it would be sixty minutes until he arrived home. He took out an American Spirit from a drink holder in between the two front seats. He turned up his stereo and rolled down the windows as his car rolled to a stop. He flicked the lighter.
“This is going to be a long night,” he said to himself.
The Longest Line
His mother was taking a bottle of suntan lotion out of her handbag.
“You need more lotion, Lu.”
She spread some on his face, and didn’t rub it in deeply enough. He could have been dressed up as a ghost for Halloween. He could have been a young dead boy inside The Haunted Mansion.
The two were at the Magic Kingdom. They were waiting in line for Dumbo. The wait had been posted at sixty minutes, but his mother had checked her watch frequently, perhaps every single time she had found herself trying to eke out the last drops of her bottle of diet cola. The sign was wrong. They had been waiting for ninety minutes, if not more. And there was nothing between them and the sun. Luckily, they weren’t far from the front.
“How much longer, Mom?”
“Judging from the length of the ride, and the amount of people in front of us, I would say, oh, five, ten minutes.”
“What does judging mean?”
“Making an informed decision based on different sets of variables.” She was grinding her teeth.
“What?”
Five minutes later, they were fastening their harnesses inside the Dumbo wearing the yellow hat. His mother let him control how high or low the flying elephant went. As they took off, and little Luther started laughing, all was suddenly right again.
“You need more lotion, Lu.”
She spread some on his face, and didn’t rub it in deeply enough. He could have been dressed up as a ghost for Halloween. He could have been a young dead boy inside The Haunted Mansion.
The two were at the Magic Kingdom. They were waiting in line for Dumbo. The wait had been posted at sixty minutes, but his mother had checked her watch frequently, perhaps every single time she had found herself trying to eke out the last drops of her bottle of diet cola. The sign was wrong. They had been waiting for ninety minutes, if not more. And there was nothing between them and the sun. Luckily, they weren’t far from the front.
“How much longer, Mom?”
“Judging from the length of the ride, and the amount of people in front of us, I would say, oh, five, ten minutes.”
“What does judging mean?”
“Making an informed decision based on different sets of variables.” She was grinding her teeth.
“What?”
Five minutes later, they were fastening their harnesses inside the Dumbo wearing the yellow hat. His mother let him control how high or low the flying elephant went. As they took off, and little Luther started laughing, all was suddenly right again.
The Program
He parked his car in the basement garage and took the elevator up to his studio apartment. He looked at his watch. 6:17. Not bad for having sat in an horrendous traffic jam. The floor display said 12, 15, 18. It stopped on 22. He walked out and to the left, stopped at unit #2202, took out his key, unlocked the door, walked inside, and closed it behind him.
He dropped his bag, collapsed onto the couch, and hit the flashing button on his antiquated answering machine.
A robotic voice said, “One…new message.”
And then immediately began a male voice, slightly digitally distorted so that it wasn’t immediately clear who it was.
“Luther, are you back from work yet? You should pick up the phone. I know you’re in your apartment and you’re listening to me leave this stupid, boring message. You’re a jerk. If you won’t pick up for your last one, true friend, I’m sorry but I don’t want to talk to you. Anyways when you get over whatever you need getting over, call me up, we have to set the program for the evening.”
The program, Luther thought. He opened up a cabinet in the table next to the couch and took out his snuffbox. Inside were five intricately rolled joints. He lit one, and turned on his stereo, and thought about what kind of program he was in the mood for. A mellow evening? A night of crime? The typical bar scene? Crashing a party? Something completely uncharacteristic? A rave?
Halfway through his spliff, he set it down and called Rory, the aforementioned male, digitally distorted voice.
“I am thinking of a program that involves making an absolute mess that we do not have to clean up.”
Rory was intrigued. “You want to make a mess. That’s not like you.”
“I know a party that we weren’t invited to. I say we repay their snub with a diabolical scheme.”
“You’re very imaginative tonight.”
“Well, get ready, get over here, we’ll pre-party, we’ll lay out our plan, and we’ll execute ruthlessly.”
“Right on. I’ll head out in five minutes. Just have to put some things away.”
“See you later.”
He dropped his bag, collapsed onto the couch, and hit the flashing button on his antiquated answering machine.
A robotic voice said, “One…new message.”
And then immediately began a male voice, slightly digitally distorted so that it wasn’t immediately clear who it was.
“Luther, are you back from work yet? You should pick up the phone. I know you’re in your apartment and you’re listening to me leave this stupid, boring message. You’re a jerk. If you won’t pick up for your last one, true friend, I’m sorry but I don’t want to talk to you. Anyways when you get over whatever you need getting over, call me up, we have to set the program for the evening.”
The program, Luther thought. He opened up a cabinet in the table next to the couch and took out his snuffbox. Inside were five intricately rolled joints. He lit one, and turned on his stereo, and thought about what kind of program he was in the mood for. A mellow evening? A night of crime? The typical bar scene? Crashing a party? Something completely uncharacteristic? A rave?
Halfway through his spliff, he set it down and called Rory, the aforementioned male, digitally distorted voice.
“I am thinking of a program that involves making an absolute mess that we do not have to clean up.”
Rory was intrigued. “You want to make a mess. That’s not like you.”
“I know a party that we weren’t invited to. I say we repay their snub with a diabolical scheme.”
“You’re very imaginative tonight.”
“Well, get ready, get over here, we’ll pre-party, we’ll lay out our plan, and we’ll execute ruthlessly.”
“Right on. I’ll head out in five minutes. Just have to put some things away.”
“See you later.”
Rory
Rory came from a poor family, attended public schools until college, and promptly won a scholarship to Brown. It did not seem particularly advantageous for Brown to offer this young man a free ride. Rory wanted to be a post-postmodern philosopher. He had gotten excellent grades by paying astute attention in class, and by hounding his teachers before and after class for guidance. He studied extremely hard, and was properly rewarded, but unfortunately he was never given the gift of self-expression. His essays often turned out clunky. They were only given good grades by his teachers because they had known how hard he worked on them. His enthusiasm was brilliant, but talent continued to elude him.
On Friday October 24th at 7:52 PM, Rory rang Luther’s buzzer and was promptly admitted to the building. He had brought a brown paper bag with him. Its contents were a one-liter bottle of whiskey, and a two-liter bottle of cola. Also in the bag was Rory’s flask, which he had often brought along to bars, even though a few bartenders in the past had seen him slipping one down in the shadows, and then said something to the effect of, “That’s not cool, man.”
Luther opened up his door and Rory was taken aback by the aroma of scented candles. They greeted each other, walked into the kitchen, and exchanged minor pleasantries about their days.
“Like a drink?” Rory offered.
“Make mine a double.”
On Friday October 24th at 7:52 PM, Rory rang Luther’s buzzer and was promptly admitted to the building. He had brought a brown paper bag with him. Its contents were a one-liter bottle of whiskey, and a two-liter bottle of cola. Also in the bag was Rory’s flask, which he had often brought along to bars, even though a few bartenders in the past had seen him slipping one down in the shadows, and then said something to the effect of, “That’s not cool, man.”
Luther opened up his door and Rory was taken aback by the aroma of scented candles. They greeted each other, walked into the kitchen, and exchanged minor pleasantries about their days.
“Like a drink?” Rory offered.
“Make mine a double.”
Plan
The plan that Luther laid out, as the two of them sat reclining on his couch, enjoying their whiskey and colas, was this:
They would walk to Ted’s party, so that they would not have to drive home drunk, because they planned on making a real mess. It was a twenty minute walk, and it was a nice night.
They would find the beer and immediately shotgun a couple.
They would romance girls.
They would find where the music was playing, and sabotage the play list.
They would piss on the floor of the bathroom, not egregiously, just enough so it would look like they had trouble finding the bowl.
They would find Ted and ask him why they didn’t get invited.
They would try to make amends with Ted.
They would stay late and drink as much as possible.
Then they had their goodwill option:
If Ted dropped his grudge, all would be forgiven and the bad behavior would end. If he refused to sway in his beliefs and notions, then Luther and Rory would defecate in both his bed, and underneath a couch cushion. How they planned to accomplish this they did not yet know. They figured if they continued to drink, all would be clean and clear. All would be much simpler, easier and more direct.
They would walk to Ted’s party, so that they would not have to drive home drunk, because they planned on making a real mess. It was a twenty minute walk, and it was a nice night.
They would find the beer and immediately shotgun a couple.
They would romance girls.
They would find where the music was playing, and sabotage the play list.
They would piss on the floor of the bathroom, not egregiously, just enough so it would look like they had trouble finding the bowl.
They would find Ted and ask him why they didn’t get invited.
They would try to make amends with Ted.
They would stay late and drink as much as possible.
Then they had their goodwill option:
If Ted dropped his grudge, all would be forgiven and the bad behavior would end. If he refused to sway in his beliefs and notions, then Luther and Rory would defecate in both his bed, and underneath a couch cushion. How they planned to accomplish this they did not yet know. They figured if they continued to drink, all would be clean and clear. All would be much simpler, easier and more direct.
Upon Further Review
Neither Luther, nor Rory had the will to go out in the end. Instead, Rory stayed until about 1 AM and promptly took the train home. Luther, not in any mood for life changing events tonight, went to sleep.
Rory on the other hand, had gotten so incredibly messed up at Luther’s place that he missed his own train stop. Stuck at Western, he suddenly found himself nearly a mile’s walk from his home. Not wanting to pay the extra two dollars to go one stop, he began a brisk stride, and headed east.
The map that Rory had to walk looked like this:
Train stop moment when Rory realizes he has to pee Rory’s House Ted’s House Train Stop
The train had been traveling in this direction:
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------à>>>>>>>>>>
Rory on the other hand, had gotten so incredibly messed up at Luther’s place that he missed his own train stop. Stuck at Western, he suddenly found himself nearly a mile’s walk from his home. Not wanting to pay the extra two dollars to go one stop, he began a brisk stride, and headed east.
The map that Rory had to walk looked like this:
Train stop moment when Rory realizes he has to pee Rory’s House Ted’s House Train Stop
The train had been traveling in this direction:
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------à>>>>>>>>>>
Ted
Ted was cleaning up puke on his bathroom floor. There were still guests over. It was 1:35 AM. Music was playing loud. And Ted was thinking about how he didn’t deserve to clean up this puke. He wasn’t the one who puked. It was his apartment. But then he realized he had a girl at the party that still wanted to sleep with him at the end of the night. Nothing could take that away from him.
He heard the buzzer ring, and since there was no intercom, and since he was drunk, and since there was still a party going on, he buzzed in whoever was at the door.
Rory walked in, saw Ted in the bathroom, said, “Yo man, you mind if I take a leak?” and stood over the toilet. Ted moved back and stayed in the bathroom as Rory urinated.
“Rory, what are you doing?”
“My original plan was to do this in your bed so I hope you’re happy.”
“What?” “I was over at Luther’s. I thought I was going home, but I missed my stop, and had to walk back from even further away, and I really had to go, and your place was on the way, and I knew you were having a party so…”
“Who told you I was having a party?”
“I don’t know, Luther I think.
“That bastard.”
“Look your party looks like it was pretty awesome. Are there any drunk girls here?”
“Yeah, on the deck, smoking.”
“Think I’ll go have one myself.”
He heard the buzzer ring, and since there was no intercom, and since he was drunk, and since there was still a party going on, he buzzed in whoever was at the door.
Rory walked in, saw Ted in the bathroom, said, “Yo man, you mind if I take a leak?” and stood over the toilet. Ted moved back and stayed in the bathroom as Rory urinated.
“Rory, what are you doing?”
“My original plan was to do this in your bed so I hope you’re happy.”
“What?” “I was over at Luther’s. I thought I was going home, but I missed my stop, and had to walk back from even further away, and I really had to go, and your place was on the way, and I knew you were having a party so…”
“Who told you I was having a party?”
“I don’t know, Luther I think.
“That bastard.”
“Look your party looks like it was pretty awesome. Are there any drunk girls here?”
“Yeah, on the deck, smoking.”
“Think I’ll go have one myself.”
Jeanne
Rory walked out to the deck and Ted followed him after he finished cleaning the rest of the vomit. Ted was feeling like starting a fight. But he wasn’t a violent guy. He had been in exactly two fights in his life, and they had both been over girls.
When Rory opened the sliding door, he slowed down to such an extent that Ted actually bumped into him from behind. They were understandably drunk. There were no less than four girls out on the deck, and a couple guys further back in the corner. The girls were talking in couples. Which one would he ask a light from?
Girl Couple #1: Jeanne and Missy
Jeanne and Missy were college students out for their weekend binge. They had found out about a 25 year old’s party because they were the kind of girls that liked more “experienced” guys. Missy’s ex-boyfriend was, in fact, Ted. They had remained friends, but also so Missy could hook up with his friends.
Jeanne was the shyer girl of the two.
She had had this many boyfriends: 2
She had been alive for this amount of years: 21
This was the average length of both relationships: 97 days
She had had sexual relations with this many males: 7
She had had sexual relations with this many females: 1
Girl couple #2: Penelope and Ireena
Penelope and Ireena were in their mid 20’s. They were professional women. They were at Ted’s because Penelope was a coworker of Ted’s. And in a few hours, she would greatly disrupt their business relationship by attempting to start a romantic relationship.
Ireena was a cold woman. She had slept with thirty men. There was nothing she had not seen on this earth. If the world was going to war with Mars, and if Ireena was a military woman, she could be the one to lead the charge into outer space. But she was not a military woman at all. She was a social services worker. She hated her job. She hated her life. She was brutal. Many people thought she was quite beautiful, though. It was unfortunate she had started moving onto harder stuff as she started earning a larger salary.
“Do you have a light?”
Jeanne looked over at Rory, who was standing right in front of Ted.
“All this nonsense is making me sick!” Missy exclaimed.
Jeanne lit his cigarette, and Ted gestured towards himself.
“I know what you mean, Missy. Why is somebody who was not invited to the party here?” Ted began.
Rory leaned his head back out over the deck and looked up at the night sky.
“Why would some cheap, dirty, lowlife like Rory McClennan show up?”
Rory took a puff.
“Is it because he’s got nowhere else to go? Because he has no friends?”
Jeanne looked down at the ground.
“Or is it because he just wants to take a piss and try to pick up one of these beautiful girls?”
The night sky was gorgeous in Rory’s mind. It reminded him of the past summer nights.
Penelope walked over to Ted and began by putting her arm around his body. He cooled down a bit, and just smoked and looked at Rory.
Then Ireena said, “Where the hell do you get the balls to talk like that to someone? You think just because it’s your party, just because somebody you may not like shows up, you think you have the right to totally isolate them like that? To rip them apart like that and make such a scene about it?”
“The guy’s got issues,” Rory offered, rising from his stargazing position. “I think he really hates himself.”
“Fuck you. Get out of my house.”
Rory whispered to Jeanne, gesturing towards Ted, “Sexual issues.”
Rory left, and Ireena said, “I refuse to stay at such a rude party.”
The two of them met up when Rory held the front door for her.
When Rory opened the sliding door, he slowed down to such an extent that Ted actually bumped into him from behind. They were understandably drunk. There were no less than four girls out on the deck, and a couple guys further back in the corner. The girls were talking in couples. Which one would he ask a light from?
Girl Couple #1: Jeanne and Missy
Jeanne and Missy were college students out for their weekend binge. They had found out about a 25 year old’s party because they were the kind of girls that liked more “experienced” guys. Missy’s ex-boyfriend was, in fact, Ted. They had remained friends, but also so Missy could hook up with his friends.
Jeanne was the shyer girl of the two.
She had had this many boyfriends: 2
She had been alive for this amount of years: 21
This was the average length of both relationships: 97 days
She had had sexual relations with this many males: 7
She had had sexual relations with this many females: 1
Girl couple #2: Penelope and Ireena
Penelope and Ireena were in their mid 20’s. They were professional women. They were at Ted’s because Penelope was a coworker of Ted’s. And in a few hours, she would greatly disrupt their business relationship by attempting to start a romantic relationship.
Ireena was a cold woman. She had slept with thirty men. There was nothing she had not seen on this earth. If the world was going to war with Mars, and if Ireena was a military woman, she could be the one to lead the charge into outer space. But she was not a military woman at all. She was a social services worker. She hated her job. She hated her life. She was brutal. Many people thought she was quite beautiful, though. It was unfortunate she had started moving onto harder stuff as she started earning a larger salary.
“Do you have a light?”
Jeanne looked over at Rory, who was standing right in front of Ted.
“All this nonsense is making me sick!” Missy exclaimed.
Jeanne lit his cigarette, and Ted gestured towards himself.
“I know what you mean, Missy. Why is somebody who was not invited to the party here?” Ted began.
Rory leaned his head back out over the deck and looked up at the night sky.
“Why would some cheap, dirty, lowlife like Rory McClennan show up?”
Rory took a puff.
“Is it because he’s got nowhere else to go? Because he has no friends?”
Jeanne looked down at the ground.
“Or is it because he just wants to take a piss and try to pick up one of these beautiful girls?”
The night sky was gorgeous in Rory’s mind. It reminded him of the past summer nights.
Penelope walked over to Ted and began by putting her arm around his body. He cooled down a bit, and just smoked and looked at Rory.
Then Ireena said, “Where the hell do you get the balls to talk like that to someone? You think just because it’s your party, just because somebody you may not like shows up, you think you have the right to totally isolate them like that? To rip them apart like that and make such a scene about it?”
“The guy’s got issues,” Rory offered, rising from his stargazing position. “I think he really hates himself.”
“Fuck you. Get out of my house.”
Rory whispered to Jeanne, gesturing towards Ted, “Sexual issues.”
Rory left, and Ireena said, “I refuse to stay at such a rude party.”
The two of them met up when Rory held the front door for her.
Penelope
Words could not do justice to the heartbreak that Penelope had had to suffer. Two years earlier, she had been married, and she had been very young to be married, but she was very happy, and she was trying to get pregnant, and she had only begun trying to get pregnant when another car took her husband away from her forever. So young, so much time left to be married, and Penelope knew that it was the only true love she would ever know. So when her husband was cremated, and his ashes scattered, she began her life anew without the prospect of love. She later reflected that he would have wanted her to have other lovers. Her love could remain pure and true, though she was free to do as she pleased. Thus, Penelope had feelings for Ted, but only in the realm of the body. In her mind, her husband would always be there.
Still on the deck were Missy and Jeanne. Jeanne looking askance, not far from the manner in which Rory had just been looking. Missy, on the other hand, was intensely focused on the two guys standing in the corner. Jeanne was thinking about how she had, once again, stayed until the end of the party.
Number of parties that Jeanne had been to consecutively without meeting a single person she could relate to in the least: 11
Still on the deck were Missy and Jeanne. Jeanne looking askance, not far from the manner in which Rory had just been looking. Missy, on the other hand, was intensely focused on the two guys standing in the corner. Jeanne was thinking about how she had, once again, stayed until the end of the party.
Number of parties that Jeanne had been to consecutively without meeting a single person she could relate to in the least: 11
The Morning After
October 25th, a Saturday, could not have been a more action-packed day for Luther. He wasted no time in the morning. He rose at 8, and realizing that he was not hung over on a Saturday morning for the first time in weeks, he decided to make the best of it and go for a long jog. Circling out of his miniature turnaround driveway in front of his high-rise, he started at a slow trot towards the lake.
Rory and Ireena woke up apart from each other. The two had taken a short walk together, Rory in the direction of his house, and Ireena in the direction of the train stop. When they reached Rory’s house, he invited her in, but she politely declined. Still, not willing to part forever yet, Rory politely asked if he could call her sometime. Ireena coolly gave her number and said she would see him around.
For Ted, a lot of his past issues had abated. There he was, lying in bed with a beautiful widow. He didn’t know that Penelope could never really love him. But he wasn’t exactly thinking about that. He was thinking about whether or not he would sleep with her again this next night, and whether their tryst would go on into the work week. He didn’t want things to be weird. He calmed himself, and he reasoned that if she was a beautiful, wonderful girl in her right, who cares that she worked with him? Why should that automatically remove her from the world of dating?
Rory and Ireena woke up apart from each other. The two had taken a short walk together, Rory in the direction of his house, and Ireena in the direction of the train stop. When they reached Rory’s house, he invited her in, but she politely declined. Still, not willing to part forever yet, Rory politely asked if he could call her sometime. Ireena coolly gave her number and said she would see him around.
For Ted, a lot of his past issues had abated. There he was, lying in bed with a beautiful widow. He didn’t know that Penelope could never really love him. But he wasn’t exactly thinking about that. He was thinking about whether or not he would sleep with her again this next night, and whether their tryst would go on into the work week. He didn’t want things to be weird. He calmed himself, and he reasoned that if she was a beautiful, wonderful girl in her right, who cares that she worked with him? Why should that automatically remove her from the world of dating?
Luther's Run
Never willing to give in, Luther had been a fiery athlete in his scholarly years. He could run five thousand meters in fifteen minutes at one time. Now, he could run ten thousand meters in sixty. What had happened?
This thought was going through Luther’s head as he trotted along the lake. His competitive spirit persisted, but his body had given out. Rejected by the University of Wisconsin Men’s Cross-Country team, he fell into a deep despair. He had been one of his high school’s top three runners throughout his four years. And now he wasn’t even good enough to make the team. So, he stopped running. He didn’t think about the future. He didn’t think about making the team next year.
As a freshman in college, Luther welcomed all the corruptions a higher education affords. Where he might have gone out and gotten drunk a total of four nights in four years of high school, he would have gone out and gotten drunk no less than 300 times in his four years at Wisconsin. Needless to say, his days of running like an Olympian were over—for now.
Once he left Wisconsin, he took a good look at himself. What he saw was someone who had permanent bags under his eyes. He saw someone with a less than slender midsection. He saw someone with a stupid haircut. He saw someone who wore ugly clothes. He saw someone who had tasted what the world had to offer, and was no better for it.
Luther’s cell phone buzzed at 9:39 AM. He felt it on his left thigh, slowed considerably, grabbed it, flipped it open, and said:
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi Lu, did you remember to turn your clocks forward?”
“No, but thank you for telling me.”
“Are you alright? You sound terrible.”
“I’m exhausted.”
“Well you should get to bed!”
“I just woke up.”
“You are impossible. Why did you wake up if you were going to be exhausted right away?”
“I’m exhausted because I’m running.”
“You bring your phone with you when you run?”
“I might get an important call. Maybe you’d be calling to tell me you fell into a deep hole and couldn’t get out. If I didn’t have my phone, who knows, you might die.”
“If I fell into a deep hole I probably wouldn’t be able to call you.”
“Okay mom.”
“Well, have a nice time.”
He flipped the phone back up, put it back in his pocket, and saw two girls walking down the beach, apparently looking to set up a tanning spot.
This thought was going through Luther’s head as he trotted along the lake. His competitive spirit persisted, but his body had given out. Rejected by the University of Wisconsin Men’s Cross-Country team, he fell into a deep despair. He had been one of his high school’s top three runners throughout his four years. And now he wasn’t even good enough to make the team. So, he stopped running. He didn’t think about the future. He didn’t think about making the team next year.
As a freshman in college, Luther welcomed all the corruptions a higher education affords. Where he might have gone out and gotten drunk a total of four nights in four years of high school, he would have gone out and gotten drunk no less than 300 times in his four years at Wisconsin. Needless to say, his days of running like an Olympian were over—for now.
Once he left Wisconsin, he took a good look at himself. What he saw was someone who had permanent bags under his eyes. He saw someone with a less than slender midsection. He saw someone with a stupid haircut. He saw someone who wore ugly clothes. He saw someone who had tasted what the world had to offer, and was no better for it.
Luther’s cell phone buzzed at 9:39 AM. He felt it on his left thigh, slowed considerably, grabbed it, flipped it open, and said:
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi Lu, did you remember to turn your clocks forward?”
“No, but thank you for telling me.”
“Are you alright? You sound terrible.”
“I’m exhausted.”
“Well you should get to bed!”
“I just woke up.”
“You are impossible. Why did you wake up if you were going to be exhausted right away?”
“I’m exhausted because I’m running.”
“You bring your phone with you when you run?”
“I might get an important call. Maybe you’d be calling to tell me you fell into a deep hole and couldn’t get out. If I didn’t have my phone, who knows, you might die.”
“If I fell into a deep hole I probably wouldn’t be able to call you.”
“Okay mom.”
“Well, have a nice time.”
He flipped the phone back up, put it back in his pocket, and saw two girls walking down the beach, apparently looking to set up a tanning spot.
Missy
Missy opened up her folding chair, shook off her flip-flops and put her bag down. She looked over at Jeanne, who was performing a similar routine.
“Do my back real quick?”
Jeanne walked over, opened up the tanning oil, and spread it over her hands.
“You see that guy?”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s see if we can make him lose his composure.”
Missy undid the back of her top, slid down on her stomach, and threw the red piece of cloth high in the air. They were the only ones on the beach.
As the running man approached, Missy started letting out little sighs as Jeanne applied the oil. Jeanne was not playing along very well. She thought this was eccentric behavior even for Missy.
“Excuse me!”
Luther slowed and looked behind him. Nobody. She was talking to him.
“I dropped my top over there, could you pick it up for me?”
He picked up the half-bathing suit and walked back to Missy. When he handed it to her, she sat up, took the piece, covered her breasts with it and said, “Thank you.”
Luther smiled and resumed his normal pace.
Jeanne said, “Now would you do mine?”
“Do my back real quick?”
Jeanne walked over, opened up the tanning oil, and spread it over her hands.
“You see that guy?”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s see if we can make him lose his composure.”
Missy undid the back of her top, slid down on her stomach, and threw the red piece of cloth high in the air. They were the only ones on the beach.
As the running man approached, Missy started letting out little sighs as Jeanne applied the oil. Jeanne was not playing along very well. She thought this was eccentric behavior even for Missy.
“Excuse me!”
Luther slowed and looked behind him. Nobody. She was talking to him.
“I dropped my top over there, could you pick it up for me?”
He picked up the half-bathing suit and walked back to Missy. When he handed it to her, she sat up, took the piece, covered her breasts with it and said, “Thank you.”
Luther smiled and resumed his normal pace.
Jeanne said, “Now would you do mine?”
Rory's Dream
He’s there in some metropolitan area. Indefinable, but the rough outline of the city’s architecture is there. Sloped buildings that he can’t see the top of, rain coming off them like waterfalls. Always rain in this dream, which was a reoccurring one.
But he’s in one of these buildings, and it’s a hotel. It’s a hotel with at least two giant clear elevator shafts. Maybe there are four. The hotel has somewhere between thirty and forty floors.
He’s there with a bunch of classmates, but none of them from a particular school or time period. They’re all mish mashed together, all at some general age, and they show up in each different dream scene to highlight something about that particular period in Rory’s life.
He’s got his own room in the hotel, and he orders room service. His parents are at the hotel. Sometimes he has lunch with them in the restaurant there.
He runs around from room to room, goofing around with his most random friends, doing drugs in the hotel stairwell. Sometimes he leaves the hotel. Once he was lost in an abandoned subway train station and couldn’t find his friend that he had gone exploring there with. Once they found each other, they found a ride back to the hotel in the back of a truck. The truck, with generous leg room and no scenery to distract, was the new vehicle used for bus service.
Every morning that Rory woke up from a dream at the hotel, he wanted to go back, and he knew that no such hotel would ever be constructed.
This was one of those mornings.
But he’s in one of these buildings, and it’s a hotel. It’s a hotel with at least two giant clear elevator shafts. Maybe there are four. The hotel has somewhere between thirty and forty floors.
He’s there with a bunch of classmates, but none of them from a particular school or time period. They’re all mish mashed together, all at some general age, and they show up in each different dream scene to highlight something about that particular period in Rory’s life.
He’s got his own room in the hotel, and he orders room service. His parents are at the hotel. Sometimes he has lunch with them in the restaurant there.
He runs around from room to room, goofing around with his most random friends, doing drugs in the hotel stairwell. Sometimes he leaves the hotel. Once he was lost in an abandoned subway train station and couldn’t find his friend that he had gone exploring there with. Once they found each other, they found a ride back to the hotel in the back of a truck. The truck, with generous leg room and no scenery to distract, was the new vehicle used for bus service.
Every morning that Rory woke up from a dream at the hotel, he wanted to go back, and he knew that no such hotel would ever be constructed.
This was one of those mornings.
Geese Squawking
The home stretch of Luther’s run brought him past a field full of squawking geese. They minced around awkwardly. They honked their beaks at each other. A small one considered flying away briefly, but came right back down as if injured, or as if it didn’t know how to fly yet.
Luther looked at the little goose and said, “Why don’t you just go already? Do you really need all your other geese friends with you to leave this place? What do you do with them while you’re in the air? Do they help you find food? Do you mate with them? Do you squawk back and forth? Do they provide you with emotional support? What’s your deal? What makes you a social creature anyway?”
The goose said, “Honk, honk.”
Luther looked at the little goose and said, “Why don’t you just go already? Do you really need all your other geese friends with you to leave this place? What do you do with them while you’re in the air? Do they help you find food? Do you mate with them? Do you squawk back and forth? Do they provide you with emotional support? What’s your deal? What makes you a social creature anyway?”
The goose said, “Honk, honk.”
Love in Bed, Not in the Head
That was what Ted was getting from Penelope. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say that was what Penelope was getting from Ted.
Is it really fair to dissect their relationship at this point? It isn’t even a relationship, and it never will be one. But right now, they were getting out of bed. They were courteous with each other but they didn’t give any other signs of affection during the morning after. Neither was unhappy about almost pretending their last night didn’t happen.
How did each feel about the other’s performance?
Ted’s Rating (as given by Penelope): 4 out of 10
Penelope’s Rating (Ted’s opinion): 7 out of 10
Originally, these two were more than happy to divulge specific comments about the experience, but due to “censorship of taste,” our editors do not wish to see the lurid details in print. All we could say to better explain this distance of pleasure is this: Penelope had slept with four times as many people as Ted. No matter that Penelope lost her virginity to her husband, and never cheated once on him. Let’s be honest: after his death she didn’t ever want to stop having enormous amounts of sex with pretty much any guy she met. Her only requirements were this: so long as he didn’t treat her poorly, so long as he didn’t smell or look too bad, so long as he didn’t infect her with a disease...Some might have said that Ted passed all those tests with flying colors and some might have save said that Ted was an utter misfit in those fields. But that didn’t change the fact that he succeeded in Penelope’s eyes, even if he didn’t take her to any place she couldn’t take herself on a more boring night. Ted was comparatively inexperienced, so he had an excuse.
Is it really fair to dissect their relationship at this point? It isn’t even a relationship, and it never will be one. But right now, they were getting out of bed. They were courteous with each other but they didn’t give any other signs of affection during the morning after. Neither was unhappy about almost pretending their last night didn’t happen.
How did each feel about the other’s performance?
Ted’s Rating (as given by Penelope): 4 out of 10
Penelope’s Rating (Ted’s opinion): 7 out of 10
Originally, these two were more than happy to divulge specific comments about the experience, but due to “censorship of taste,” our editors do not wish to see the lurid details in print. All we could say to better explain this distance of pleasure is this: Penelope had slept with four times as many people as Ted. No matter that Penelope lost her virginity to her husband, and never cheated once on him. Let’s be honest: after his death she didn’t ever want to stop having enormous amounts of sex with pretty much any guy she met. Her only requirements were this: so long as he didn’t treat her poorly, so long as he didn’t smell or look too bad, so long as he didn’t infect her with a disease...Some might have said that Ted passed all those tests with flying colors and some might have save said that Ted was an utter misfit in those fields. But that didn’t change the fact that he succeeded in Penelope’s eyes, even if he didn’t take her to any place she couldn’t take herself on a more boring night. Ted was comparatively inexperienced, so he had an excuse.
Magic Pills
Charles was taking magic pills today. The magic pills allowed him to assume other forms of being temporarily. In the past, he had assumed the forms of a paramecium, a supernova, an ant and a grizzly bear. Today, he was going to assume the being of the Sun.
“Today I’m going to turn into the Sun,” he told his roommate.
“Great. I’ll get my sunglasses out.”
Charles took the pills. His roommate came back into their living room wearing sunglasses.
“Whoa man, you’re really bright.”
“I know. I’m looking out on the street. Notice how nobody looks at me.”
“Well what does this mean? I mean, when you go out, is everyone else going to die? Don’t they rely on you for their survival?” Charles opened up their window and shouted down onto their street, “Bow down before the sun for he rules all. You worthless human beings are all just drops of dust compared to me.”
A couple people stopped in their tracks and gaped up at Charles.
“They better watch out!”
“Blindness awaits you.”
“What am I? Am I the moon if you are the Sun?”
“Hardly. You’re Mercury.”
“What are you going to do, now that you’re the sun?”
“I’m going to do what I am meant to do—nurture all living things.”
“I suppose I’m supposed to make a delivery or something.”
“My powers are reaching their max. I could burn a hole through that wall if I wanted to.”
Charles walked around his apartment a little while longer. He decided to go outside and beam on everyone. Never mind that it was already a sunny day.
“Today I’m going to turn into the Sun,” he told his roommate.
“Great. I’ll get my sunglasses out.”
Charles took the pills. His roommate came back into their living room wearing sunglasses.
“Whoa man, you’re really bright.”
“I know. I’m looking out on the street. Notice how nobody looks at me.”
“Well what does this mean? I mean, when you go out, is everyone else going to die? Don’t they rely on you for their survival?” Charles opened up their window and shouted down onto their street, “Bow down before the sun for he rules all. You worthless human beings are all just drops of dust compared to me.”
A couple people stopped in their tracks and gaped up at Charles.
“They better watch out!”
“Blindness awaits you.”
“What am I? Am I the moon if you are the Sun?”
“Hardly. You’re Mercury.”
“What are you going to do, now that you’re the sun?”
“I’m going to do what I am meant to do—nurture all living things.”
“I suppose I’m supposed to make a delivery or something.”
“My powers are reaching their max. I could burn a hole through that wall if I wanted to.”
Charles walked around his apartment a little while longer. He decided to go outside and beam on everyone. Never mind that it was already a sunny day.
Jeanne's Request
Missy and Jeanne were still tanning on the beach after 2:00. They had done a good job of it. Jeanne had packed them a picnic lunch. They ate tomato and mozzarella sandwiches, and a banana each. They drank a bottle of water. When they had finished their lunch, Jeanne made her request.
“Missy can I ask you something?”
“Ask me anything!”
“Will you help me be more normal?”
“You’re pretty normal already.”
“No I’m not, I’m different from everybody else.”
“That’s good. Who wants to be like everybody else?”
“Well it doesn’t help to be so radical and different when everyone you meet all the time is so much the same. What am I getting out of being so unconventional?”
“What did you want to ask?”
“Do you think I’m pretty?”
“You’re gorgeous! Who wouldn’t want you?”
Jeanne stood up in the sand and walked over to the bubbling surf.
“I don’t know, okay. I’m just sick of the same thing happening over and over.”
Missy got up silently, snuck up behind Jeanne, pushed her in the water face first.
“There! Bet you never had that happen before!”
“Missy can I ask you something?”
“Ask me anything!”
“Will you help me be more normal?”
“You’re pretty normal already.”
“No I’m not, I’m different from everybody else.”
“That’s good. Who wants to be like everybody else?”
“Well it doesn’t help to be so radical and different when everyone you meet all the time is so much the same. What am I getting out of being so unconventional?”
“What did you want to ask?”
“Do you think I’m pretty?”
“You’re gorgeous! Who wouldn’t want you?”
Jeanne stood up in the sand and walked over to the bubbling surf.
“I don’t know, okay. I’m just sick of the same thing happening over and over.”
Missy got up silently, snuck up behind Jeanne, pushed her in the water face first.
“There! Bet you never had that happen before!”
Running Partners
Luther was trailing a man of forty-seven through the footpaths of the park. They were traveling at approximately 4.7 miles per hour. Luther was on the home stretch. He wondered about this man in front of him. Why was he running? What did he do in the course of his days? Was he rich, poor, kind, abusive? What was he getting away from when he went running?
Charles was sprinting at approximately 12.4 miles per hour in the direction of Luther and his running partner. He was screaming, “You’re all gonna die when I die, you’re all gonna die when I die.” He saw Luther and he stopped and waited until he came alongside him. Then he started running with him.
“You, Luther, I know you, you’re Rory’s friend. You, you see, are destined to be put back in the ground. Me, I exist, not forever, but just about forever. Wow! I’ve got a lot of time left on my hands. Where are you running to? I think we’re all running in one way or another. I mean, I’m not running at all! Everyone’s running around me. They may not know it, but they really are! I mean, I may not be the biggest star in the universe, but I’m like the captain of the Milky Way, you know? I mean I am in some very good company here. You are a prime example of how good everything is. You see, I just amble along with you, and you become so happy, so jubilant, maybe you’re performing photosynthesis and you don’t even know it. But nobody wants to appreciate the Sun, because the Sun is too bright and the Sun wakes you up in the morning and puts an end to your beautiful sleep and the Sun gives you melanoma and the Sun makes you sweat and smell bad and the Sun causes car accidents and the Sun dries out vegetation and the Sun never ever goes away. Even when it seems like the Sun’s gone, it’s still there, and it comes back, over and over until you’re all dead and then it finally flickers out and the Earth is dark, icy, and dead forever.”
“What are you on, man?”
“Myself, myself, myself, myself and Magic Pills.”
“Is that code for something?”
“It’s code for little tablets that I took with water and make me feel like whatever I want to feel.”
“How much are they?”
“They’re not for sale! I’m the only one that’s allowed to take Magic Pills.”
“That’s being stingy.”
“Luther, you’re a good man, and not a very good runner. But no matter, I imbue you with my Sun powers. Why should anyone ever have to be anything less than amazed at who you are and just how powerful you can be?”
“Because they’re not on drugs.”
Charles said, “Kaplow!” and sprinted back off in the other direction again.
Charles was sprinting at approximately 12.4 miles per hour in the direction of Luther and his running partner. He was screaming, “You’re all gonna die when I die, you’re all gonna die when I die.” He saw Luther and he stopped and waited until he came alongside him. Then he started running with him.
“You, Luther, I know you, you’re Rory’s friend. You, you see, are destined to be put back in the ground. Me, I exist, not forever, but just about forever. Wow! I’ve got a lot of time left on my hands. Where are you running to? I think we’re all running in one way or another. I mean, I’m not running at all! Everyone’s running around me. They may not know it, but they really are! I mean, I may not be the biggest star in the universe, but I’m like the captain of the Milky Way, you know? I mean I am in some very good company here. You are a prime example of how good everything is. You see, I just amble along with you, and you become so happy, so jubilant, maybe you’re performing photosynthesis and you don’t even know it. But nobody wants to appreciate the Sun, because the Sun is too bright and the Sun wakes you up in the morning and puts an end to your beautiful sleep and the Sun gives you melanoma and the Sun makes you sweat and smell bad and the Sun causes car accidents and the Sun dries out vegetation and the Sun never ever goes away. Even when it seems like the Sun’s gone, it’s still there, and it comes back, over and over until you’re all dead and then it finally flickers out and the Earth is dark, icy, and dead forever.”
“What are you on, man?”
“Myself, myself, myself, myself and Magic Pills.”
“Is that code for something?”
“It’s code for little tablets that I took with water and make me feel like whatever I want to feel.”
“How much are they?”
“They’re not for sale! I’m the only one that’s allowed to take Magic Pills.”
“That’s being stingy.”
“Luther, you’re a good man, and not a very good runner. But no matter, I imbue you with my Sun powers. Why should anyone ever have to be anything less than amazed at who you are and just how powerful you can be?”
“Because they’re not on drugs.”
Charles said, “Kaplow!” and sprinted back off in the other direction again.
Preparations
“Watch out!” a woman of thirty-five shouted to Charles as he dashed by.
His pace had not abated, and here he had reached his cousin’s apartment. Exhausted, he rang the buzzer, and was admitted.
Rory had been up for an hour or so.
“What’s your deal today?”
“It’s Saturday, it’s getting darker, and it’s a last day for sunshine.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I saw your friend Luther on the footpaths today.”
“Oh really? That’s weird.”
“He looks very dedicated to running.”
“I was hanging out with him last night. We were supposed to go to a party at this kid Ted’s house, but he passed out, and I only ended up going because it was on my way home.”
“Cool chicks?” “I got a girl’s number.”
His pace had not abated, and here he had reached his cousin’s apartment. Exhausted, he rang the buzzer, and was admitted.
Rory had been up for an hour or so.
“What’s your deal today?”
“It’s Saturday, it’s getting darker, and it’s a last day for sunshine.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I saw your friend Luther on the footpaths today.”
“Oh really? That’s weird.”
“He looks very dedicated to running.”
“I was hanging out with him last night. We were supposed to go to a party at this kid Ted’s house, but he passed out, and I only ended up going because it was on my way home.”
“Cool chicks?” “I got a girl’s number.”
Afternoon Routines
Here Ireena was cutting up cocaine on her coffee table and a snorting a few lines an hour. Her thoughts were ranging from despondent to triumphant. There was no stability to her judgment. But she was ready for anything.
Her phone rang. It was Penelope.
“What’s going on? Did anything happen?”
“I gave a boy my number. I didn’t really want to, but I felt bad for him.”
“I slept with Ted. I think I have to do it again tonight so it’s not weird at work on Monday.”
“Have to do it again? Who are you?”
“I’m Penelope and I’m from New Mexico.”
“That’s right. You’re no whore.”
“Of course not!”
“You wanna come over and do some blow with me?”
“I don’t think I can take that.”
“Suit yourself. Go back out in that world of sobriety. Go unassisted, the way everyone else goes assisted legally.”
“See, I can’t do it. I feel like you need to have a lot to do to justify that sort of thing.”
“You’ve got nothing to do? You’ve got no excuse for not coming over.”
“Alright, I’ll call you when I’m done with my shopping today.”
Her phone rang. It was Penelope.
“What’s going on? Did anything happen?”
“I gave a boy my number. I didn’t really want to, but I felt bad for him.”
“I slept with Ted. I think I have to do it again tonight so it’s not weird at work on Monday.”
“Have to do it again? Who are you?”
“I’m Penelope and I’m from New Mexico.”
“That’s right. You’re no whore.”
“Of course not!”
“You wanna come over and do some blow with me?”
“I don’t think I can take that.”
“Suit yourself. Go back out in that world of sobriety. Go unassisted, the way everyone else goes assisted legally.”
“See, I can’t do it. I feel like you need to have a lot to do to justify that sort of thing.”
“You’ve got nothing to do? You’ve got no excuse for not coming over.”
“Alright, I’ll call you when I’m done with my shopping today.”
Translucency
There was Charles’s roommate, weighing out a bag of drugs on a scale. What happened that afternoon to Charles’s roommate is a story that needs to be told. It perhaps best summarizes the preceding events with a clear emphasis on importunity.
He went out on the street with his messenger bag. You should know that Charles’s roommate’s name was Spencer. He had a few ounces of drugs weighed out on his bag, making his Saturday afternoon rounds, dropping off and picking up cash. He had made three deliveries when the thing happened.
He was walking down the street, he opened his messenger bag to take out his sunglasses case, and he knocked an ounce out of his bag and onto the sidewalk, right in front of a police car. There was no stakeout, there was no coup. There was no being caught red-handed, there was the matter of bulk possession. A policeman whom Spencer would later come to know as Officer Hardy was the eyewitness to the accident.
It had been a very nice day for Spencer until his slap on the wrist. The officer had seen the bag on the sidewalk, stepped out of his car, told Spencer to stand still, and he confiscated the evidence. Spencer was brought to the police station, and sat behind bars for three hours.
Here was desperation, here was somebody who had just made a big mistake. If you were to walk into that police station, and walk into Spencer’s impromptu jail cell, and you were to look into his eyes, you would see tears. Tears flowing. Everyone around him without a shred of sympathy. His parents would be the next to find out. His entire life was going to change because of this. So he cried. And he was not afraid of embarrassing himself either. He thought that if enough cops saw him cry, they’d start to feel bad for him, reduce whatever they were going to propose his sentence to be. Girls had told him crying worked during speeding tickets. Crying would show them that he was not dangerous, he was scared and alone, and he did not belong in prison. They couldn’t possibly do that to him could they?
After a few hours, Spencer’s one phone call was made to his own apartment, which yielded this message:
“Charles I am down at the police station. They arrested me for possession. I don’t want to call my parents about it, I know you have enough money for bail, I’ll get you right back I promise, just come over here and get me out and let’s get drunk or something because I really need to forget about this now.”
At 6:30 in the evening, Charles heard the message, walked to the police station, laid out a wad of cash, and left with his roommate. Spencer lit up a cigarette.
“It was the dumbest thing ever, but it happened, it’s over, and I have to deal with it.”
“You know it could be worse. Imagine if you hadn’t sold those three bags earlier. You could have had a lot more severe punishment.”
“All I know is, the justice system is crap. A little accident, I had. This asshole officer, he thinks he can power-trip his way to a promotion or something? I am harmless, I am nothing. I sell drugs to make doing drugs more economical. It’s a simple survival tactic. And he has to come in, stop me while I’m rapidly picking it back up, putting it back in my bag, and tell me that I’m going to be behind bars? Because my hand slipped? Because it was bright out today?”
“Because drugs are illegal.”
“Whatever, I don’t want to think about it anymore. I’m just going to be as low-key as possible, be cooperative, be nice, do whatever I have to do, and get my life back on track once everything’s over with.”
“That’s a really positive attitude you have.”
“It’s not positive, it’s necessary. This is such a major fuck up. Everything’s ruined.”
“The world is ruined as it is. Your life being ruined is totally normal. Think about five billion years from now, when the lights of the Sun go out, and the world is gone. Now, getting arrested isn’t such a big deal is it? You need to take some Magic Pills tonight. Get out of your own skin for a little while.”
He went out on the street with his messenger bag. You should know that Charles’s roommate’s name was Spencer. He had a few ounces of drugs weighed out on his bag, making his Saturday afternoon rounds, dropping off and picking up cash. He had made three deliveries when the thing happened.
He was walking down the street, he opened his messenger bag to take out his sunglasses case, and he knocked an ounce out of his bag and onto the sidewalk, right in front of a police car. There was no stakeout, there was no coup. There was no being caught red-handed, there was the matter of bulk possession. A policeman whom Spencer would later come to know as Officer Hardy was the eyewitness to the accident.
It had been a very nice day for Spencer until his slap on the wrist. The officer had seen the bag on the sidewalk, stepped out of his car, told Spencer to stand still, and he confiscated the evidence. Spencer was brought to the police station, and sat behind bars for three hours.
Here was desperation, here was somebody who had just made a big mistake. If you were to walk into that police station, and walk into Spencer’s impromptu jail cell, and you were to look into his eyes, you would see tears. Tears flowing. Everyone around him without a shred of sympathy. His parents would be the next to find out. His entire life was going to change because of this. So he cried. And he was not afraid of embarrassing himself either. He thought that if enough cops saw him cry, they’d start to feel bad for him, reduce whatever they were going to propose his sentence to be. Girls had told him crying worked during speeding tickets. Crying would show them that he was not dangerous, he was scared and alone, and he did not belong in prison. They couldn’t possibly do that to him could they?
After a few hours, Spencer’s one phone call was made to his own apartment, which yielded this message:
“Charles I am down at the police station. They arrested me for possession. I don’t want to call my parents about it, I know you have enough money for bail, I’ll get you right back I promise, just come over here and get me out and let’s get drunk or something because I really need to forget about this now.”
At 6:30 in the evening, Charles heard the message, walked to the police station, laid out a wad of cash, and left with his roommate. Spencer lit up a cigarette.
“It was the dumbest thing ever, but it happened, it’s over, and I have to deal with it.”
“You know it could be worse. Imagine if you hadn’t sold those three bags earlier. You could have had a lot more severe punishment.”
“All I know is, the justice system is crap. A little accident, I had. This asshole officer, he thinks he can power-trip his way to a promotion or something? I am harmless, I am nothing. I sell drugs to make doing drugs more economical. It’s a simple survival tactic. And he has to come in, stop me while I’m rapidly picking it back up, putting it back in my bag, and tell me that I’m going to be behind bars? Because my hand slipped? Because it was bright out today?”
“Because drugs are illegal.”
“Whatever, I don’t want to think about it anymore. I’m just going to be as low-key as possible, be cooperative, be nice, do whatever I have to do, and get my life back on track once everything’s over with.”
“That’s a really positive attitude you have.”
“It’s not positive, it’s necessary. This is such a major fuck up. Everything’s ruined.”
“The world is ruined as it is. Your life being ruined is totally normal. Think about five billion years from now, when the lights of the Sun go out, and the world is gone. Now, getting arrested isn’t such a big deal is it? You need to take some Magic Pills tonight. Get out of your own skin for a little while.”
Blow Up
Penelope’s nose leaked a clean line of red fluid. Too much blow up each nostril. She stuffed a Kleenex up each one. Ireena hadn’t gone out much that day. But when Penelope arrived, Ireena insisted she get messed up with her in the afternoon. Penelope went off:
“I mean, Ted was a nice guy, don’t get me wrong. It did kind of flip me out that he freaked out at that Rory kid. But that was such a short part of the whole night. He’s good, you know, I felt secure in his arms. He was very reassuring, very comforting. He didn’t act like other guys when they try to pick you up. But something’s not right, and I have to call him soon and see if we’re going to keep doing this thing or if we’re gonna decide it was a terrible idea. I don’t want to go to work anymore if he starts bragging to everybody else there about how he did me. I don’t ever want to go to work again. I don’t want to see Ted again, but I have to. It’s common courtesy. It’s what you do after you sleep with somebody. It’s civility. You exchange your fluids, you think you can exchange reservations. I mean, I have a very weird situation, I’m not like most other girls my age. I mean, I think one day, I will have a long term relationship again. But not with Ted, you know? He’d be fun to sleep with a few more times, but I could never spend all my time with someone who seems like he could be such a loose cannon.”
Ireena’s reply: “I could just tell by looking at his eyes. He’s such a confused, awkward person.”
THE RECONVENING OF LUTHER AND RORY
Rory: So how was passing out before I left?
Luther: It was nice, you know, sometimes it’s good not to get drunk every chance you get.
Rory: I went over to Ted’s party.
Luther: No way.
Rory: Didn’t really follow through on the plan. Too many obstacles. Ted flipped on me and I just left because this girl was sticking up for me.
Luther: Girl?
Rory: This girl Ireena, she gave me her number, but I haven’t called her yet. Do you think I should do it the first night?
Luther: I don’t know man, are you gonna be able to wait until next week?
Rory: She’s crazed, but I like that.
Luther: Call her up, have her meet us at a bar with a friend.
Rory: I don’t know, don’t you think that’s a little presumptuous?
Luther: You have a better idea what we should do with our night? Go out to bars with no specific prospects in mind, come on man, you’ve got a leg up, you can’t let that go to waste.
Rory: Alright, let me call her (takes out cell phone)
Luther: Music maestro. (puts on a Beat Happening album)
Rory: Turn it down a little.
Luther: Hey, my apartment, my space, my decibel level, you want it quieter go in the bathroom. (starts rolling a joint)
Rory: Hi Ireena, it’s Rory, I just wanted to know what you’re up to tonight, if you want to hang out, I think I’m gonna hit some bars with my friend Luther.
Calvin Johnson: Let’s fly away, to the other side.
Luther: Hi Ireena!
Rory: So, gimme a call back if you want to meet up. Bye bye.
Luther: (coughing) You’re a champ man, a real champion message leaver.
Rory: And you’re a fucking dork. (flicks lighter)
“I mean, Ted was a nice guy, don’t get me wrong. It did kind of flip me out that he freaked out at that Rory kid. But that was such a short part of the whole night. He’s good, you know, I felt secure in his arms. He was very reassuring, very comforting. He didn’t act like other guys when they try to pick you up. But something’s not right, and I have to call him soon and see if we’re going to keep doing this thing or if we’re gonna decide it was a terrible idea. I don’t want to go to work anymore if he starts bragging to everybody else there about how he did me. I don’t ever want to go to work again. I don’t want to see Ted again, but I have to. It’s common courtesy. It’s what you do after you sleep with somebody. It’s civility. You exchange your fluids, you think you can exchange reservations. I mean, I have a very weird situation, I’m not like most other girls my age. I mean, I think one day, I will have a long term relationship again. But not with Ted, you know? He’d be fun to sleep with a few more times, but I could never spend all my time with someone who seems like he could be such a loose cannon.”
Ireena’s reply: “I could just tell by looking at his eyes. He’s such a confused, awkward person.”
THE RECONVENING OF LUTHER AND RORY
Rory: So how was passing out before I left?
Luther: It was nice, you know, sometimes it’s good not to get drunk every chance you get.
Rory: I went over to Ted’s party.
Luther: No way.
Rory: Didn’t really follow through on the plan. Too many obstacles. Ted flipped on me and I just left because this girl was sticking up for me.
Luther: Girl?
Rory: This girl Ireena, she gave me her number, but I haven’t called her yet. Do you think I should do it the first night?
Luther: I don’t know man, are you gonna be able to wait until next week?
Rory: She’s crazed, but I like that.
Luther: Call her up, have her meet us at a bar with a friend.
Rory: I don’t know, don’t you think that’s a little presumptuous?
Luther: You have a better idea what we should do with our night? Go out to bars with no specific prospects in mind, come on man, you’ve got a leg up, you can’t let that go to waste.
Rory: Alright, let me call her (takes out cell phone)
Luther: Music maestro. (puts on a Beat Happening album)
Rory: Turn it down a little.
Luther: Hey, my apartment, my space, my decibel level, you want it quieter go in the bathroom. (starts rolling a joint)
Rory: Hi Ireena, it’s Rory, I just wanted to know what you’re up to tonight, if you want to hang out, I think I’m gonna hit some bars with my friend Luther.
Calvin Johnson: Let’s fly away, to the other side.
Luther: Hi Ireena!
Rory: So, gimme a call back if you want to meet up. Bye bye.
Luther: (coughing) You’re a champ man, a real champion message leaver.
Rory: And you’re a fucking dork. (flicks lighter)
On the Other End
Ireena: (sarcastically) Oh my God I just got a voice mail from that boy.
Penelope: Who Rory? You should check it.
Ireena: (dials for her voice mail) You know exactly what he’s going to say.
Penelope: What, that he wants you, but in too many words?
Ireena: Every boy is the same.
Penelope: No they’re not, everybody’s different. Maybe there’s, I don’t know, broad personality strokes across the gender, but individually, they all have their own quirks.
Ireena: (listening) Why can’t their quirks be good though?
Penelope: Do you think your quirks are positive?
Ireena: Yes! And guess what he said? (imitates Rory) Uh hey, Ireena, it’s Rory, uh, if you’re not doing anything tonight, uh, my friend Luther and I, uh, are going out to a bar, uh, and I don’t know, uh, maybe you’d want to meet up, uh?
Penelope: That is so exciting!
Ireena: I’ll go if you go with me.
Penelope: I don’t know…if Ted calls I might have to go hang out with him.
Ireena: Why are you so concerned about your professional demeanor? You said you’re not going to stay there forever…
Penelope: It’s really hard to stand next to somebody for eight hours and just tell them coffee orders all day without appearing to be slightly off-kilter NOT ONLY because you’ve just slept with them BUT ESPECIALLY because you didn’t return their phone calls.
Ireena: Okay, you win.
Penelope: Are you hungry at all?
Ireena: No, but we should have at least something before we go out.
Penelope: Who Rory? You should check it.
Ireena: (dials for her voice mail) You know exactly what he’s going to say.
Penelope: What, that he wants you, but in too many words?
Ireena: Every boy is the same.
Penelope: No they’re not, everybody’s different. Maybe there’s, I don’t know, broad personality strokes across the gender, but individually, they all have their own quirks.
Ireena: (listening) Why can’t their quirks be good though?
Penelope: Do you think your quirks are positive?
Ireena: Yes! And guess what he said? (imitates Rory) Uh hey, Ireena, it’s Rory, uh, if you’re not doing anything tonight, uh, my friend Luther and I, uh, are going out to a bar, uh, and I don’t know, uh, maybe you’d want to meet up, uh?
Penelope: That is so exciting!
Ireena: I’ll go if you go with me.
Penelope: I don’t know…if Ted calls I might have to go hang out with him.
Ireena: Why are you so concerned about your professional demeanor? You said you’re not going to stay there forever…
Penelope: It’s really hard to stand next to somebody for eight hours and just tell them coffee orders all day without appearing to be slightly off-kilter NOT ONLY because you’ve just slept with them BUT ESPECIALLY because you didn’t return their phone calls.
Ireena: Okay, you win.
Penelope: Are you hungry at all?
Ireena: No, but we should have at least something before we go out.
25th Hour
Charles and Spencer sat across from each other at the local hot dog stand. Spencer was very happy to be out of temporary prison, and eating a hot dog. Charles was not very happy about dropping five grand for his roommate who he knew would never be able to pay him back.
“Don’t you get it man, this is gonna be just like the 25th Hour! You know? Going to jail tomorrow, seeing my buddies for the last time, hanging out, just living it up, you know?”
“You’re not going to jail, Spencer. You’re just gonna get the shit fined out of you.”
“I don’t know man, that was a big bag of weed, I think I’m going away.”
“Well, let’s put it this way. You need to pay me back. Okay, like, I-can’t-go-spending-$5,000-every-time-my-roommate-accidentally-knocks-a-giant-bag-of-weed-out-of-his-own-bag-in-front-of-a-cop-car-type you need to pay me back. If you go to jail, I realize it’s pretty hard to pay me back. But if you don’t go to jail…I think the only fair thing is for you to be my personal assistant for a year.”
“You need a personal assistant! To do what?”
“You’ll take dictation.”
“What could you possibly dictate?”
“My history.”
“I’ll tell you man, if I went to jail, I’d have a good history to dictate.”
“If you go to jail, I’m not going to let you off the hook. You still owe me for this. Anybody else and you wouldn’t have a “25th Hour” type thing going on tonight.”
“I know, you’re the best roommate in the world.”
“So tonight, because you aren’t in a cell, and because you very well may lose the next good chunk of your good young life to a bullshit maneuver, something’s going to happen. Something’s going to happen that will eclipse everything you ever thought possible. You’re staring down into the black hole right now. You’re about to get sucked in. The thing is, right now, you don’t know. You could be my assistant for a year. But for now, let’s assume you’re going to jail. Let’s assume you’re stuck in a place that you have no hope of getting out of. Let’s assume you’re raped every morning. Let’s assume nobody wants to visit you there. Let’s assume you’d have no hope, and no prospects for your future, and let’s assume that when you got out, you’d be so depressed about your present situation in the world, being a bona fide ex-con, with all the problems like not being able to find a job and all that bullshit, that you’d go back to selling drugs to make a living. Let’s assume all that. So, life is pretty bad? You think? Well, tonight, that doesn’t matter. In the morning, you’re not going to wake up and go to your sentencing. No, you’re going to wake up in Jamaica, extradited and exonerated, having found an easy job, enough pay to live happily, all the weed you can smoke, and the beach, and the open sky and the blue water, and you’ll meet a nice Jamaican girl who has that impossibly cute accent whenever she speaks English, and you’ll eat great Caribbean food all the time, and you’ll be tan and thin and active and you don’t ever have to come back to the United States to “try and make it” because you already know how futile that is.”
There was a pause.
“Well, that sounds nice, but why the hell would I wake up in Jamaica? Are you going to secretly put me on a flight?”
“Goddammit you see right through me!” They continued eating their dinner at a leisurely pace. Unfortunately for Spencer, he would be going away tomorrow. Fortunately for Charles, he was about to have their apartment all to himself. Couldn’t he get some kind of insurance provision? Couldn’t the government pay for his roommate’s rent while he was in jail? Why should he have to waste his time finding a new roommate? He didn’t want a new roommate anyways. To Charles, just about nobody in the world agreed with him. Spencer was awful, but he was less awful than, say, Luther.
“Don’t you get it man, this is gonna be just like the 25th Hour! You know? Going to jail tomorrow, seeing my buddies for the last time, hanging out, just living it up, you know?”
“You’re not going to jail, Spencer. You’re just gonna get the shit fined out of you.”
“I don’t know man, that was a big bag of weed, I think I’m going away.”
“Well, let’s put it this way. You need to pay me back. Okay, like, I-can’t-go-spending-$5,000-every-time-my-roommate-accidentally-knocks-a-giant-bag-of-weed-out-of-his-own-bag-in-front-of-a-cop-car-type you need to pay me back. If you go to jail, I realize it’s pretty hard to pay me back. But if you don’t go to jail…I think the only fair thing is for you to be my personal assistant for a year.”
“You need a personal assistant! To do what?”
“You’ll take dictation.”
“What could you possibly dictate?”
“My history.”
“I’ll tell you man, if I went to jail, I’d have a good history to dictate.”
“If you go to jail, I’m not going to let you off the hook. You still owe me for this. Anybody else and you wouldn’t have a “25th Hour” type thing going on tonight.”
“I know, you’re the best roommate in the world.”
“So tonight, because you aren’t in a cell, and because you very well may lose the next good chunk of your good young life to a bullshit maneuver, something’s going to happen. Something’s going to happen that will eclipse everything you ever thought possible. You’re staring down into the black hole right now. You’re about to get sucked in. The thing is, right now, you don’t know. You could be my assistant for a year. But for now, let’s assume you’re going to jail. Let’s assume you’re stuck in a place that you have no hope of getting out of. Let’s assume you’re raped every morning. Let’s assume nobody wants to visit you there. Let’s assume you’d have no hope, and no prospects for your future, and let’s assume that when you got out, you’d be so depressed about your present situation in the world, being a bona fide ex-con, with all the problems like not being able to find a job and all that bullshit, that you’d go back to selling drugs to make a living. Let’s assume all that. So, life is pretty bad? You think? Well, tonight, that doesn’t matter. In the morning, you’re not going to wake up and go to your sentencing. No, you’re going to wake up in Jamaica, extradited and exonerated, having found an easy job, enough pay to live happily, all the weed you can smoke, and the beach, and the open sky and the blue water, and you’ll meet a nice Jamaican girl who has that impossibly cute accent whenever she speaks English, and you’ll eat great Caribbean food all the time, and you’ll be tan and thin and active and you don’t ever have to come back to the United States to “try and make it” because you already know how futile that is.”
There was a pause.
“Well, that sounds nice, but why the hell would I wake up in Jamaica? Are you going to secretly put me on a flight?”
“Goddammit you see right through me!” They continued eating their dinner at a leisurely pace. Unfortunately for Spencer, he would be going away tomorrow. Fortunately for Charles, he was about to have their apartment all to himself. Couldn’t he get some kind of insurance provision? Couldn’t the government pay for his roommate’s rent while he was in jail? Why should he have to waste his time finding a new roommate? He didn’t want a new roommate anyways. To Charles, just about nobody in the world agreed with him. Spencer was awful, but he was less awful than, say, Luther.
"The Only Thing That Matters is How Good You Look"
Rory said that to Luther after Luther had said, “The only thing that matters is how well you express yourself.”
“You think that’s all girls care about?” Luther challenged.
“A friend of mine once told me, if the first time a girl looks at you, she wants to fuck you, she will want to fuck you forever.” Rory lectured.
Luther hit back, “Well, a friend of mine once told me that a girl will never leave a guy as long as he can make her come.”
Luther was trying to decide which shirt he should wear.
“Did she say if she was bringing her friend?”
“Yeah, she said she was bringing one.”
There was a pause. Then Luther went, “Ohhhh.”
“I have to tell you about what happened on my run!”
“You think that’s all girls care about?” Luther challenged.
“A friend of mine once told me, if the first time a girl looks at you, she wants to fuck you, she will want to fuck you forever.” Rory lectured.
Luther hit back, “Well, a friend of mine once told me that a girl will never leave a guy as long as he can make her come.”
Luther was trying to decide which shirt he should wear.
“Did she say if she was bringing her friend?”
“Yeah, she said she was bringing one.”
There was a pause. Then Luther went, “Ohhhh.”
“I have to tell you about what happened on my run!”
Smears Across a Windshield
Bugs were flying across Jeanne’s windshield. The air was humid, rain was beginning to fall, and it was now dark. Jeanne turned her windshield wipers on, and the bugs smeared across the glass, the rain lubricating their demises. Jeanne was smoking a cigarette as she drove, and Missy was smoking a cigarette as she rode.
Missy started off, “So you wanted to know how you could be normal?”
Jeanne flicked her cigarette out the window. “Yeah. If I’m so special then how come nobody else recognizes that? Individuality is bullshit. The more individual you are, the less likely you are to meet anybody who can stand you for even a second.”
“Well, you just have to emphasize your most special quality.”
“See, that’s what I’m talking about.”
“What?”
“That bullshit positive attitude about things. Some people, like you, are just born with it, you know. You just have this instinctual grasp on the world, like you know what you’re supposed to do all the time. Some people, like me, can’t just turn themselves on or off, we just are.”
“You lost me there for a second. I think you’re overthinking this. Let me get this straight: because you aren’t getting anything out of it, you’re going to give up everything that makes you special in favor of “normalizing” yourself in order to, at the bottom of it, have more successful relationships with guys.”
“Well, that is one part of it. But the other part of it is, people in general just don’t really care about what you do for your hobbies, or what you’d want to write to your senator about, or what films you really like. They just want the facts. They want the information they need, and nothing more. There’s no more room for things that actually mean anything to you personally to pop up in small talk conversations throughout the day.”
“So, because they don’t care, you’re going to just stop airing these opinions?”
“Yeah, what’s the use, I can think of better things to say. People respond better when you ask them what they would do, not when you tell them what you think and, by extension, what they should think.”
“You know Jeanne, I think you might just benefit from a good night of drinking.”
Missy started off, “So you wanted to know how you could be normal?”
Jeanne flicked her cigarette out the window. “Yeah. If I’m so special then how come nobody else recognizes that? Individuality is bullshit. The more individual you are, the less likely you are to meet anybody who can stand you for even a second.”
“Well, you just have to emphasize your most special quality.”
“See, that’s what I’m talking about.”
“What?”
“That bullshit positive attitude about things. Some people, like you, are just born with it, you know. You just have this instinctual grasp on the world, like you know what you’re supposed to do all the time. Some people, like me, can’t just turn themselves on or off, we just are.”
“You lost me there for a second. I think you’re overthinking this. Let me get this straight: because you aren’t getting anything out of it, you’re going to give up everything that makes you special in favor of “normalizing” yourself in order to, at the bottom of it, have more successful relationships with guys.”
“Well, that is one part of it. But the other part of it is, people in general just don’t really care about what you do for your hobbies, or what you’d want to write to your senator about, or what films you really like. They just want the facts. They want the information they need, and nothing more. There’s no more room for things that actually mean anything to you personally to pop up in small talk conversations throughout the day.”
“So, because they don’t care, you’re going to just stop airing these opinions?”
“Yeah, what’s the use, I can think of better things to say. People respond better when you ask them what they would do, not when you tell them what you think and, by extension, what they should think.”
“You know Jeanne, I think you might just benefit from a good night of drinking.”
Cat and Mouse
In another parallel universe, or another dimension, Ted might have been reincarnated as a cat. His human demeanor was catlike. He was quiet, mostly. He drank a lot of milk. He was not unlucky, his hair was not black—it was blonde. He made sounds akin to purring whenever anybody rubbed up against him. He was neat and orderly. He seemed like he had a task to carry out, but none of his acquaintances, friends, or family would have been able to tell you what that task was. The only aspect of his life that differed from that of most cats lives were his fingernails. They were kept very short. You could say he was almost exactly like a cat that had been de-clawed.
Sitting around his apartment, now clean after last night’s party, he decided it was probably a good time to call Penelope. But he was nervous. He almost wanted to just let it slide, to wait until work on Monday to talk to her. But also, if he didn’t call her, he’d be spending the night alone. He had to choose between loneliness and awkwardness. He didn’t know which was preferable. The problems inherent in each situation leaped out at him. How would he spend his time alone at the apartment? He was not a solitary drinker. But, what would he have to say to Penelope? There was nothing important he had to say. But he didn’t want to be alone. He’d have to be affable, and things would work themselves out.
In the same parallel universe, or in the same other dimension, Rory might be a mouse. There were not many ways in which he was mouse-like. He was not a tiny creature, nor did he eat a stereotypically high amount of cheese. He was like a mouse in that he was openly disparaged by everyone around him. They all disapproved of his life. They would rather catch him in a trap than allow him to thrive. He was like a mouse in that he would burrow his way into other people’s lives, and stay there until they realized he was of sufficient annoyance.
Here he was now in Luther’s life. They had been friends for over a year now. Luther didn’t find Rory annoying. The reason for this was, Luther was even more annoying than Rory was. If you were to take a survey of all the people in the United States, have them jot down all the annoying things they did—babble on endlessly, horde goods, play music too loudly, eat without manners—Luther and Rory would finish near the very top. In fact, they were so annoying that the only people who would actively seek them out were their families and each other. There was Luther, sitting a few couch cushions away from Rory, sucking on a bong. Rory was contemplating things. Normally, they might be talking about what they were going to do and where they were going to go, but tonight, before they went out, there was a silent rapport between them. They both knew what was at stake. Rory was the one who had been given the metaphorical basketball. In his mind he was dribbling past the half court line and he was looking around for someone to pass the ball too. His teammates weren’t looking to take any shots though. Strangely, they had turned against him, and now instead of having just five opposing players, he had nine opposing players to deal with. Luther was the only one on his side. He would have been a teammate, except he was a terrible shot, couldn’t dribble, and couldn’t play defense. So he was reduced to being a sideline cheerleader.
Sitting around his apartment, now clean after last night’s party, he decided it was probably a good time to call Penelope. But he was nervous. He almost wanted to just let it slide, to wait until work on Monday to talk to her. But also, if he didn’t call her, he’d be spending the night alone. He had to choose between loneliness and awkwardness. He didn’t know which was preferable. The problems inherent in each situation leaped out at him. How would he spend his time alone at the apartment? He was not a solitary drinker. But, what would he have to say to Penelope? There was nothing important he had to say. But he didn’t want to be alone. He’d have to be affable, and things would work themselves out.
In the same parallel universe, or in the same other dimension, Rory might be a mouse. There were not many ways in which he was mouse-like. He was not a tiny creature, nor did he eat a stereotypically high amount of cheese. He was like a mouse in that he was openly disparaged by everyone around him. They all disapproved of his life. They would rather catch him in a trap than allow him to thrive. He was like a mouse in that he would burrow his way into other people’s lives, and stay there until they realized he was of sufficient annoyance.
Here he was now in Luther’s life. They had been friends for over a year now. Luther didn’t find Rory annoying. The reason for this was, Luther was even more annoying than Rory was. If you were to take a survey of all the people in the United States, have them jot down all the annoying things they did—babble on endlessly, horde goods, play music too loudly, eat without manners—Luther and Rory would finish near the very top. In fact, they were so annoying that the only people who would actively seek them out were their families and each other. There was Luther, sitting a few couch cushions away from Rory, sucking on a bong. Rory was contemplating things. Normally, they might be talking about what they were going to do and where they were going to go, but tonight, before they went out, there was a silent rapport between them. They both knew what was at stake. Rory was the one who had been given the metaphorical basketball. In his mind he was dribbling past the half court line and he was looking around for someone to pass the ball too. His teammates weren’t looking to take any shots though. Strangely, they had turned against him, and now instead of having just five opposing players, he had nine opposing players to deal with. Luther was the only one on his side. He would have been a teammate, except he was a terrible shot, couldn’t dribble, and couldn’t play defense. So he was reduced to being a sideline cheerleader.
The Hungry Brain
Ireena set the location, and Rory set the time. Neither one of them wanted to be totally decisive about the night. Their friend and their wingman, however, couldn’t have wanted to be more controlling. There was nothing at stake for them.
Take, for example, what Luther started going off to Rory about on the train ride:
“Why’d you have to tell them 11:00? Now we’re barely going to have anytime at the bar.”
“What the fuck do you need three hours at a bar to do something for?”
“What?”
“You don’t need to fucking write the Constitution, you know, you just need to be able to get to know them.”
“I like to relax, take in the sights, enjoy my drink.”
“Go out to a vodka lounge then.”
“I hate vodka.”
“Well stop complaining then.”
“I’m not complaining anymore.”
They were coming to the Western stop.
“You’re causing your own problems,” Luther said.
Ted walked onto the train.
He immediately saw Rory and Luther at the back of the car. He pretended like he didn’t see them, walked to the other side of the car, and took a seat facing away from them.
“Jesus Christ! Did you just see that!” Rory whispered.
“Wha?”
“That’s Ted sitting over there.”
“So, what’s the big deal. He flipped on you?”
“I think he saw me just now.”
“So, are you just going to ignore him? Or are you going to confront him?”
“Ignore him. Who wants confrontation? Besides, he’s alone. I don’t have anything left to prove. He wants to treat me like a sack of shit, fine; he’s the one who’s really the sack of shit though. Nobody else knows it, but he knows it.”
Rory’s voice had risen above the level of whisper. He was now talking at a standard decibel level.
Penelope also had her misgivings about the location.
“You should have chosen a nicer place. They’re going to be the ones getting drinks,” she said to Ireena as their taxicab stopped-and-went down Fullerton.
“No, we’re not going to let them buy us drinks.”
“Why not? I could stand to save some money.”
“If we let them buy us drinks, they’ll act like they have the right to get into our pants. We have to act like we have the right to get into their pants.”
“Why do you keep saying ‘we’?”
“Well, aren’t you going for his friend?”
“I don’t even know what he looks like yet. How could I be going for him?”
“Do a shot with me.” Rory said.
“I can’t afford a shot.”
“I’m buying.” “Fine.”
They took a shot of jager.
Luther started going off.
“You know, one of my friends says he was reading Anthony Kiedis’s book, and he says drinking a bottle of jagermeister was the closest he ever came to getting as high as he was on heroin.”
They were at the Hungry Brain. They were sitting at the bar. They were both drinking beers after their shot.
“What do you hope to accomplish exactly?” Luther asked.
Rory looked around the room. He looked back at Luther. “I want to be the guy, for this girl, that changes her opinion on men. This is the type of girl that still dates guys even though she hates them.”
It was at this point that Ireena spotted Rory in the bar and began to make her way towards him, Penelope in tow.
“She won’t give an inch. She makes the rules. You step aside of the rules for an instant, and she will knock you on your ass. I can tell these things. I want to get past her exterior, and I want to love her, and I want her to love me, but I’m sure she’s aware my intentions are inexplicably cruel and demented and selfish.”
She tapped him on the shoulder. And then, as he turned to her, totally un-self-consciously:
“Hey!”
“Well glad you showed up! We were about to leave!”
Luther tried to place these two girls. He knew he had seen them before. Somewhere. They belonged together, in his memory of them, they were there together. He had seen them in a setting not too different from the current one. His mind was a cloud. He could not recall any concrete details. However, he was able to associate sensual feelings with them. For the girl who said her name was Ireena, he had felt pity, and lust for her. For the other girl, he had sensed warmth, but also sadness. And he had felt lust for her too.
“What’s your name?” Penelope said to Luther.
“Oh hi, my name’s Lu.”
“I’m Penny.”
“Nice to meet you,” they both said.
Rory and Ireena were chatting back and forth.
“Penny was giving me shit about picking this bar.”
“Why?”
“Because she thought we should have tried to get more expensive drinks out of you guys.”
“Is that really how you girls think?” “No, we don’t think that way. But yes, we do think that way.”
“You are a strange creature, Ireena.”
Ireena impersonated Rory. “Yeah, I’m the guy who wants to meet up right before the crack of midnight, so I can get this girl drunk before the bars close and bring her home and fuck her.”
“You have such a mouth on you!” Rory mock scolded.
“I don’t like it when people waste all their time with hiding what they really feel.”
Rory didn’t want to answer that. “Don’t you get into trouble, acting like that with people? I mean, I’m offended.”
“People like me and people don’t like me. If you like me, cool let’s hang out. If you don’t like me, go fuck yourself.”
“You’re making me really uncomfortable.”
“I’m sorry. How’s it going, dear?”
The other conversation between Penelope and Luther was noticeably more civil.
“So you work in California?”
“That’s right.” Luther said. “I do all my work in Hollywood. I mean, I go out there for most of the year for work. But I officially live here. I’m on vacation this week. I’m going back on Monday.”
“Sounds exciting!”
“Yeah, it can be. What do you do?”
“I work at Uncommon Grounds.”
“No shit! I go there all the time!”
“Really?”
“Whenever I’m back in town, it is the place to get a good cup of cappuccino. It’s my first stop! I get in my taxi, I take it from the airport straight to Uncommon Grounds, I get my cup of cappuccino, and then I go back to my home. It sets me right. The jolt is perfect. I’m ready for anything after it.”
“Wow, you should write that down and send it to us, that’s something my manager would put on the wall.”
“Enough, tell me Penny, where do you live?”
“Bucktown.”
“Oh, I couldn’t guess that.”
“Shut up.”
“What drew you here?”
“You mean to the city? Or to the bar, here tonight?”
“Both.”
“Well, I guess I came to the city to work on my career, and to escape. I came to the bar because Irene made me. I mean, Ireena. But I call her Irene. It makes me able to rhyme weird things with her. Like call her Irene Bean, or Irene Lean, or Irene Teen. Or half rhymes, like Irene Cream. It’s easier to make fun of her that way. It’s pretty hard to make fun of her I guess.”
“Those are words of admiration you speak.”
“She’s a pretty good friend overall.”
“I see. Well, I’m not so lucky with that fellow she’s talking to. He’s not such a good friend, he kind of pisses me off all the time. But I am his friend, you know. I’ve got no problems with him. I don’t always want to hang out with him, but nobody else really goes out of their way to hang out with me the way he does. So I guess he’s my buddy. He can be kind of annoying though. I wouldn’t recommend talking to him.”
“No?”
“No you should just talk to me.”
“Well, what if I want to?”
“Go ahead, test him out, you’ll see where the better choice lies.”
“I’ve got to go to the bathroom.”
Penelope calmly walked to the ladies room.
She was thinking, “What arrogance!”
In the bar walked Ted. He walked over towards the bartender.
Luther saw him and tapped Rory on the shoulder and whispered, “Did you just see who came in the door?”
Rory looked over and saw Ted at the bar and he realized he was okay, he was talking to Ireena, and Ireena didn’t like him, right? She had bitched Ted out, right? It was okay if he saw them, because Rory could laugh in his face. But then he thought about Luther. He knew Penelope was on Ted’s arm at the party.
“Look, you better get out of here, sneak out, take Penny with you. Go somewhere.”
“She’s not gonna go for that.”
“Well, if she sees Ted, she’s gonna go with Ted.”
“What?”
“Look we’re gonna get out of here too. Just come with us. We’ll leave first, and then you can leave right after us. Just don’t let Ted see you.”
“Why do you have to be so afraid all the time?”
“I’m just trying to make this a pleasant night for everyone.”
Penelope came back from the bathroom, and she saw Ted at the bar. She walked over to him.
“What are you doing here?”
“Hey you, good to see you.” Said Ted.
“Good to see you. Are you meeting anybody here?”
“Meeting you.”
“I didn’t plan on meeting you here.”
“I know.” Ted struggled for meaning. “I just come here to have a drink sometimes. I’m seeing a buddy of mine tonight but he’s not back at his place yet, so I thought I’d have a drink in the meantime.”
“You’re lucky you’ve got that option.”
“What option?”
“To be able to afford a bar as a time killer.”
“I guess so. Look, do you want to get out of here?”
“I don’t know…You’re going to see your buddy?”
“You can come with me.”
“No, I’d feel weird. I’m actually out with one of my friends now so, I guess I’ll talk to you later?”
“Yeah, see you at work.”
The exchange did not go as Penelope had planned. She was confused again. But she had gotten Ted off of her. She wasn’t going to have to sleep with him tonight. She had other options. She was happy, and she sat back down at the table across from Luther.
“We have to get out of here.”
“Okay, where to?”
“Let’s all go hang out at my place,” Rory said.
“Alright.” They all seemed to agree.
Take, for example, what Luther started going off to Rory about on the train ride:
“Why’d you have to tell them 11:00? Now we’re barely going to have anytime at the bar.”
“What the fuck do you need three hours at a bar to do something for?”
“What?”
“You don’t need to fucking write the Constitution, you know, you just need to be able to get to know them.”
“I like to relax, take in the sights, enjoy my drink.”
“Go out to a vodka lounge then.”
“I hate vodka.”
“Well stop complaining then.”
“I’m not complaining anymore.”
They were coming to the Western stop.
“You’re causing your own problems,” Luther said.
Ted walked onto the train.
He immediately saw Rory and Luther at the back of the car. He pretended like he didn’t see them, walked to the other side of the car, and took a seat facing away from them.
“Jesus Christ! Did you just see that!” Rory whispered.
“Wha?”
“That’s Ted sitting over there.”
“So, what’s the big deal. He flipped on you?”
“I think he saw me just now.”
“So, are you just going to ignore him? Or are you going to confront him?”
“Ignore him. Who wants confrontation? Besides, he’s alone. I don’t have anything left to prove. He wants to treat me like a sack of shit, fine; he’s the one who’s really the sack of shit though. Nobody else knows it, but he knows it.”
Rory’s voice had risen above the level of whisper. He was now talking at a standard decibel level.
Penelope also had her misgivings about the location.
“You should have chosen a nicer place. They’re going to be the ones getting drinks,” she said to Ireena as their taxicab stopped-and-went down Fullerton.
“No, we’re not going to let them buy us drinks.”
“Why not? I could stand to save some money.”
“If we let them buy us drinks, they’ll act like they have the right to get into our pants. We have to act like we have the right to get into their pants.”
“Why do you keep saying ‘we’?”
“Well, aren’t you going for his friend?”
“I don’t even know what he looks like yet. How could I be going for him?”
“Do a shot with me.” Rory said.
“I can’t afford a shot.”
“I’m buying.” “Fine.”
They took a shot of jager.
Luther started going off.
“You know, one of my friends says he was reading Anthony Kiedis’s book, and he says drinking a bottle of jagermeister was the closest he ever came to getting as high as he was on heroin.”
They were at the Hungry Brain. They were sitting at the bar. They were both drinking beers after their shot.
“What do you hope to accomplish exactly?” Luther asked.
Rory looked around the room. He looked back at Luther. “I want to be the guy, for this girl, that changes her opinion on men. This is the type of girl that still dates guys even though she hates them.”
It was at this point that Ireena spotted Rory in the bar and began to make her way towards him, Penelope in tow.
“She won’t give an inch. She makes the rules. You step aside of the rules for an instant, and she will knock you on your ass. I can tell these things. I want to get past her exterior, and I want to love her, and I want her to love me, but I’m sure she’s aware my intentions are inexplicably cruel and demented and selfish.”
She tapped him on the shoulder. And then, as he turned to her, totally un-self-consciously:
“Hey!”
“Well glad you showed up! We were about to leave!”
Luther tried to place these two girls. He knew he had seen them before. Somewhere. They belonged together, in his memory of them, they were there together. He had seen them in a setting not too different from the current one. His mind was a cloud. He could not recall any concrete details. However, he was able to associate sensual feelings with them. For the girl who said her name was Ireena, he had felt pity, and lust for her. For the other girl, he had sensed warmth, but also sadness. And he had felt lust for her too.
“What’s your name?” Penelope said to Luther.
“Oh hi, my name’s Lu.”
“I’m Penny.”
“Nice to meet you,” they both said.
Rory and Ireena were chatting back and forth.
“Penny was giving me shit about picking this bar.”
“Why?”
“Because she thought we should have tried to get more expensive drinks out of you guys.”
“Is that really how you girls think?” “No, we don’t think that way. But yes, we do think that way.”
“You are a strange creature, Ireena.”
Ireena impersonated Rory. “Yeah, I’m the guy who wants to meet up right before the crack of midnight, so I can get this girl drunk before the bars close and bring her home and fuck her.”
“You have such a mouth on you!” Rory mock scolded.
“I don’t like it when people waste all their time with hiding what they really feel.”
Rory didn’t want to answer that. “Don’t you get into trouble, acting like that with people? I mean, I’m offended.”
“People like me and people don’t like me. If you like me, cool let’s hang out. If you don’t like me, go fuck yourself.”
“You’re making me really uncomfortable.”
“I’m sorry. How’s it going, dear?”
The other conversation between Penelope and Luther was noticeably more civil.
“So you work in California?”
“That’s right.” Luther said. “I do all my work in Hollywood. I mean, I go out there for most of the year for work. But I officially live here. I’m on vacation this week. I’m going back on Monday.”
“Sounds exciting!”
“Yeah, it can be. What do you do?”
“I work at Uncommon Grounds.”
“No shit! I go there all the time!”
“Really?”
“Whenever I’m back in town, it is the place to get a good cup of cappuccino. It’s my first stop! I get in my taxi, I take it from the airport straight to Uncommon Grounds, I get my cup of cappuccino, and then I go back to my home. It sets me right. The jolt is perfect. I’m ready for anything after it.”
“Wow, you should write that down and send it to us, that’s something my manager would put on the wall.”
“Enough, tell me Penny, where do you live?”
“Bucktown.”
“Oh, I couldn’t guess that.”
“Shut up.”
“What drew you here?”
“You mean to the city? Or to the bar, here tonight?”
“Both.”
“Well, I guess I came to the city to work on my career, and to escape. I came to the bar because Irene made me. I mean, Ireena. But I call her Irene. It makes me able to rhyme weird things with her. Like call her Irene Bean, or Irene Lean, or Irene Teen. Or half rhymes, like Irene Cream. It’s easier to make fun of her that way. It’s pretty hard to make fun of her I guess.”
“Those are words of admiration you speak.”
“She’s a pretty good friend overall.”
“I see. Well, I’m not so lucky with that fellow she’s talking to. He’s not such a good friend, he kind of pisses me off all the time. But I am his friend, you know. I’ve got no problems with him. I don’t always want to hang out with him, but nobody else really goes out of their way to hang out with me the way he does. So I guess he’s my buddy. He can be kind of annoying though. I wouldn’t recommend talking to him.”
“No?”
“No you should just talk to me.”
“Well, what if I want to?”
“Go ahead, test him out, you’ll see where the better choice lies.”
“I’ve got to go to the bathroom.”
Penelope calmly walked to the ladies room.
She was thinking, “What arrogance!”
In the bar walked Ted. He walked over towards the bartender.
Luther saw him and tapped Rory on the shoulder and whispered, “Did you just see who came in the door?”
Rory looked over and saw Ted at the bar and he realized he was okay, he was talking to Ireena, and Ireena didn’t like him, right? She had bitched Ted out, right? It was okay if he saw them, because Rory could laugh in his face. But then he thought about Luther. He knew Penelope was on Ted’s arm at the party.
“Look, you better get out of here, sneak out, take Penny with you. Go somewhere.”
“She’s not gonna go for that.”
“Well, if she sees Ted, she’s gonna go with Ted.”
“What?”
“Look we’re gonna get out of here too. Just come with us. We’ll leave first, and then you can leave right after us. Just don’t let Ted see you.”
“Why do you have to be so afraid all the time?”
“I’m just trying to make this a pleasant night for everyone.”
Penelope came back from the bathroom, and she saw Ted at the bar. She walked over to him.
“What are you doing here?”
“Hey you, good to see you.” Said Ted.
“Good to see you. Are you meeting anybody here?”
“Meeting you.”
“I didn’t plan on meeting you here.”
“I know.” Ted struggled for meaning. “I just come here to have a drink sometimes. I’m seeing a buddy of mine tonight but he’s not back at his place yet, so I thought I’d have a drink in the meantime.”
“You’re lucky you’ve got that option.”
“What option?”
“To be able to afford a bar as a time killer.”
“I guess so. Look, do you want to get out of here?”
“I don’t know…You’re going to see your buddy?”
“You can come with me.”
“No, I’d feel weird. I’m actually out with one of my friends now so, I guess I’ll talk to you later?”
“Yeah, see you at work.”
The exchange did not go as Penelope had planned. She was confused again. But she had gotten Ted off of her. She wasn’t going to have to sleep with him tonight. She had other options. She was happy, and she sat back down at the table across from Luther.
“We have to get out of here.”
“Okay, where to?”
“Let’s all go hang out at my place,” Rory said.
“Alright.” They all seemed to agree.
Tearing a Hole Through Time
The jailbird roommate and bailer crept down the sidewalks in the night. They had already been to four different bars.
Charles asked, “Are you satisfied yet?”
“I’ll give you one last request before I go to jail, one more road that will lead to total satisfaction. Pick up a girl tonight.” Spencer was resolute in this.
“Well, this poses a couple problems, uh, mainly that we are past approaching the 1:00 hour, and otherwise that we, uh, have been very unlucky in that department tonight.”
Spencer started speaking slowly, then came to a frenzied finish:
“You’ve known me for a long time now and you know that I’m not the kind of person that deserves to be going to jail. You also know that I usually don’t make huge demands on anybody, ever. I’ve always carried my load, and I never gave anybody else shit for the things they did. People are going to think I dealt drugs, and they’re going to automatically assume I’m this total creep. Let them think that. Nobody knows except for you, with whom the fault lies. My actions, my intentions, they are not malicious. I’ve been subject to the justice system. They’re malicious. They’re more malicious to me than I’ve ever been to anybody. I see them and the blood in my brain boils. What do you expect is going to happen in a country where all of its citizens get the shit scared out of them by the very people who should be protecting them? These citizens have to fight back! “The People” and “the State” do not agree on a whole lot of issues, and I say it’s time we make our grievances known, I say it’s time we make this country a true democracy and not just an oligarchy calling itself a democracy. The people have to make their feelings known. I feel this way! I don’t like the way you’re treating me! I’ve paid a lot of tax dollars and I want representation! Don’t ignore me again! But people don’t want to act like that, they’d rather pretend like they’re bored than try to make a real change, because change just seems so impossible. You see Charles, this is what I’m talking about, on a microcosmic scale, this same problem presents itself within each and every one of our tiny little cautionary brains—the external and the internal. On the external, we’re the greatest in the goddamn world. On the internal though, I bet, we’re the most at war within ourselves. And this, all of this, leads me to believe, that because I’m going to jail, and because all of this shit just came down on me, I can’t let it keep happening. I’ve been set up for a big fall, and now I need something, one last something, just to make me forget all the horrible things that could happen tomorrow. What girl could argue with that notion? I need an angel, an angel to take me away from all of this.”
“Sounds to me like you want to tear a hole through time.”
“I love tearing holes through time.”
“We should do it then. Let’s go back to the apartment. I’ll pick a little something up stashed away over there. Then we should go over to my cousins. He’s usually hanging out with some kind of girl.”
The two of them walked back to the apartment they shared. It did not take very long. Inside the apartment, Charles grabbed his magic pills, and a couple other small, plastic baggies. Spencer went in to go to the bathroom only.
Charles knocked on the door.
“You want to do some blow before we go over there?”
“Sure.”
“Okay I’ll start cutting it up.”
Spencer Blackwell looked around the bathroom he was standing in, his own bathroom for what been nine months. He looked at his watch. 12:30 AM. He thought about the time, about how he’d be expected in court in eight hours. Spencer had been known to be garrulous, but if anybody were able to see inside his mind they would witness a different beast from the one they knew:
“Eight hours, thirty minutes. A good length of time to sleep. A solid night’s sleep. Eight and a half hours is enough so that you wake up and feel like a new man. All decisions are easy to make after that much sleep. If I stay up all night, I’ll be a mess in the courtroom. But I want to be a mess. I want to go in there all coked up, high, drunk, otherwise catatonic, muster out whatever plea pops into my head, get my bullshit sentence for my bullshit offense, do whatever it takes to finish my time with the justice system, and come back, and be strong, and get a real job, and just start living like a monk. No more distractions. No more apologies for the fucked up things I’ve done. To wit—everyone lies, vice everywhere—to hell I run, twice young. Asceticism. Moderation.”
“Spencer we’re all ready to go over here, are you ever going to come out of there?”
He immediately flushed and washed his hands and went into the living room to join Charles.
“The first is for you, jail baby.”
Spencer snorted it up.
Charles followed doing the second. They stopped.
“Do you realize what’s going to happen tonight?” Charles started to address.
“No Charles, I don’t know what’s going to happen tonight. I don’t know that I’m going to be in court in eight hours. I don’t know that we’re going over to your cousin’s apartment in the hopes that he’ll have a girl over that I can extricate my foreboding through. I don’t know that you probably still have some more surprises in store for me. I don’t know that you’ve also got something up your sleeve. I don’t know that you’re not telling me something. I don’t know that you’ll get laid tonight and I won’t.”
“You realize, that while you were in the bathroom, I talked to my cousin, and sure enough, he has decided to have a party which will allow us to tear a hole through time.”
“He’s aware of the circumstances?”
“I didn’t tell him about your situation.”
“Tonight will be like any other night, okay, you’re just trying to build it up into something it could never possibly be.”
“Well, you’re just going to have to tag along then. You know that third one there is yours, pansy-to-be.”
“Hey, what is up with that?” Spencer asked. He snorted right after.
“Some convict dick is going to be up with that,” Charles said. Then snorted.
“It’s like, you try to make me feel better, and then you remind me how bad it’s really going to be.”
“Wouldn’t you rather be prepared than scared?”
“Let’s be prepared and go over to your cousin’s instead of dwelling on the worst possible shit.”
The two roommates left their apartment and started the trek to Rory’s. The night was all blue black. Still warmer than most nights in October. No clouds visible. No stars really visible from the city. There was that orange fog hanging at the horizon. There was nothing noteworthy visible in the sky, except for the moon, which fell into a sharp crescent white contrasting against the midnight expanse.
Charles asked, “Are you satisfied yet?”
“I’ll give you one last request before I go to jail, one more road that will lead to total satisfaction. Pick up a girl tonight.” Spencer was resolute in this.
“Well, this poses a couple problems, uh, mainly that we are past approaching the 1:00 hour, and otherwise that we, uh, have been very unlucky in that department tonight.”
Spencer started speaking slowly, then came to a frenzied finish:
“You’ve known me for a long time now and you know that I’m not the kind of person that deserves to be going to jail. You also know that I usually don’t make huge demands on anybody, ever. I’ve always carried my load, and I never gave anybody else shit for the things they did. People are going to think I dealt drugs, and they’re going to automatically assume I’m this total creep. Let them think that. Nobody knows except for you, with whom the fault lies. My actions, my intentions, they are not malicious. I’ve been subject to the justice system. They’re malicious. They’re more malicious to me than I’ve ever been to anybody. I see them and the blood in my brain boils. What do you expect is going to happen in a country where all of its citizens get the shit scared out of them by the very people who should be protecting them? These citizens have to fight back! “The People” and “the State” do not agree on a whole lot of issues, and I say it’s time we make our grievances known, I say it’s time we make this country a true democracy and not just an oligarchy calling itself a democracy. The people have to make their feelings known. I feel this way! I don’t like the way you’re treating me! I’ve paid a lot of tax dollars and I want representation! Don’t ignore me again! But people don’t want to act like that, they’d rather pretend like they’re bored than try to make a real change, because change just seems so impossible. You see Charles, this is what I’m talking about, on a microcosmic scale, this same problem presents itself within each and every one of our tiny little cautionary brains—the external and the internal. On the external, we’re the greatest in the goddamn world. On the internal though, I bet, we’re the most at war within ourselves. And this, all of this, leads me to believe, that because I’m going to jail, and because all of this shit just came down on me, I can’t let it keep happening. I’ve been set up for a big fall, and now I need something, one last something, just to make me forget all the horrible things that could happen tomorrow. What girl could argue with that notion? I need an angel, an angel to take me away from all of this.”
“Sounds to me like you want to tear a hole through time.”
“I love tearing holes through time.”
“We should do it then. Let’s go back to the apartment. I’ll pick a little something up stashed away over there. Then we should go over to my cousins. He’s usually hanging out with some kind of girl.”
The two of them walked back to the apartment they shared. It did not take very long. Inside the apartment, Charles grabbed his magic pills, and a couple other small, plastic baggies. Spencer went in to go to the bathroom only.
Charles knocked on the door.
“You want to do some blow before we go over there?”
“Sure.”
“Okay I’ll start cutting it up.”
Spencer Blackwell looked around the bathroom he was standing in, his own bathroom for what been nine months. He looked at his watch. 12:30 AM. He thought about the time, about how he’d be expected in court in eight hours. Spencer had been known to be garrulous, but if anybody were able to see inside his mind they would witness a different beast from the one they knew:
“Eight hours, thirty minutes. A good length of time to sleep. A solid night’s sleep. Eight and a half hours is enough so that you wake up and feel like a new man. All decisions are easy to make after that much sleep. If I stay up all night, I’ll be a mess in the courtroom. But I want to be a mess. I want to go in there all coked up, high, drunk, otherwise catatonic, muster out whatever plea pops into my head, get my bullshit sentence for my bullshit offense, do whatever it takes to finish my time with the justice system, and come back, and be strong, and get a real job, and just start living like a monk. No more distractions. No more apologies for the fucked up things I’ve done. To wit—everyone lies, vice everywhere—to hell I run, twice young. Asceticism. Moderation.”
“Spencer we’re all ready to go over here, are you ever going to come out of there?”
He immediately flushed and washed his hands and went into the living room to join Charles.
“The first is for you, jail baby.”
Spencer snorted it up.
Charles followed doing the second. They stopped.
“Do you realize what’s going to happen tonight?” Charles started to address.
“No Charles, I don’t know what’s going to happen tonight. I don’t know that I’m going to be in court in eight hours. I don’t know that we’re going over to your cousin’s apartment in the hopes that he’ll have a girl over that I can extricate my foreboding through. I don’t know that you probably still have some more surprises in store for me. I don’t know that you’ve also got something up your sleeve. I don’t know that you’re not telling me something. I don’t know that you’ll get laid tonight and I won’t.”
“You realize, that while you were in the bathroom, I talked to my cousin, and sure enough, he has decided to have a party which will allow us to tear a hole through time.”
“He’s aware of the circumstances?”
“I didn’t tell him about your situation.”
“Tonight will be like any other night, okay, you’re just trying to build it up into something it could never possibly be.”
“Well, you’re just going to have to tag along then. You know that third one there is yours, pansy-to-be.”
“Hey, what is up with that?” Spencer asked. He snorted right after.
“Some convict dick is going to be up with that,” Charles said. Then snorted.
“It’s like, you try to make me feel better, and then you remind me how bad it’s really going to be.”
“Wouldn’t you rather be prepared than scared?”
“Let’s be prepared and go over to your cousin’s instead of dwelling on the worst possible shit.”
The two roommates left their apartment and started the trek to Rory’s. The night was all blue black. Still warmer than most nights in October. No clouds visible. No stars really visible from the city. There was that orange fog hanging at the horizon. There was nothing noteworthy visible in the sky, except for the moon, which fell into a sharp crescent white contrasting against the midnight expanse.
Black Hole
Missy and Jeanne were sitting in Missy’s dorm room. Missy was continuing her instruction to Jeanne in how to act normal. They were having fruit juice and vodka drinks.
Jeanne asked, “So, I’m not ever supposed to show a boy that I like him?”
“You’ve got it. If you show them that you like them, there’s nothing you can do anymore. He knows it, and he will always want your tits and your ass.” Missy gestured towards her own as she said it.
“What about my vag?” Jeanne gestured as she said it.
“Well, that too. But it doesn’t roll off the tongue quite the same way.”
Jeanne was laughing at Missy’s silliness while drunk.
“Okay, but to be serious here, you really can’t let a boy know you like him. They’re the ones that have to let you know. This way, we can keep the upper hand.”
“Well, how does it help?”
“Okay, number one, you tell a boy you like him, and unless he’s gay or you’re nasty, and you’re not nasty—so this should never happen to you—unless he’s gay—he’s going to hook up with you—and probably even if he is gay he’s going to hook up with you. Okay, so telling a boy you like him equals getting hooked up with. This is because you’re gorgeous, if you were not gorgeous, I might say, go ahead, tell a boy you like him, because it’s not like you’d have anything better going on.”
“Well, what about what you did today at the beach, blatantly letting that guy see your tits. Isn’t that telling him you like him? He didn’t hook up with you.”
“That’s because you were with me, and you had your top on. If you had your top off, believe me, he would have abandoned his workout.”
“Isn’t that kind of exhibitionistic?”
“Yes, it definitely is, I admit it. But you’ve got to admit that it was a lot of fun. That look on his face.”
“Well, are we just going to sit here all night?”
“I could give that boy I met last night a call.”
“Okay.”
“It might be a good chance to test out being normal for you.”
“Super.”
Missy opened up her cell phone and picked out the newest name in her contact list—Marcus.
Jeanne stood up and checked herself in the mirror.
“You’re going to a party, again? Did you like that one last night?”
Jeanne flipped the back of her hair up, checking to see if it might look better that way.
“This one’s even crazier?”
Jeanne looked at her shoes. She didn’t think it was outré to wear Converse yet.
“Okay, well we’ll meet you over there, I guess.”
Jeanne looked at how her shirt sculpted her body. She didn’t have quite an hourglass shape to her, though she was noticeably thinner than usual.
“Let’s go get a cab.” Missy suggested.
Jeanne asked, “So, I’m not ever supposed to show a boy that I like him?”
“You’ve got it. If you show them that you like them, there’s nothing you can do anymore. He knows it, and he will always want your tits and your ass.” Missy gestured towards her own as she said it.
“What about my vag?” Jeanne gestured as she said it.
“Well, that too. But it doesn’t roll off the tongue quite the same way.”
Jeanne was laughing at Missy’s silliness while drunk.
“Okay, but to be serious here, you really can’t let a boy know you like him. They’re the ones that have to let you know. This way, we can keep the upper hand.”
“Well, how does it help?”
“Okay, number one, you tell a boy you like him, and unless he’s gay or you’re nasty, and you’re not nasty—so this should never happen to you—unless he’s gay—he’s going to hook up with you—and probably even if he is gay he’s going to hook up with you. Okay, so telling a boy you like him equals getting hooked up with. This is because you’re gorgeous, if you were not gorgeous, I might say, go ahead, tell a boy you like him, because it’s not like you’d have anything better going on.”
“Well, what about what you did today at the beach, blatantly letting that guy see your tits. Isn’t that telling him you like him? He didn’t hook up with you.”
“That’s because you were with me, and you had your top on. If you had your top off, believe me, he would have abandoned his workout.”
“Isn’t that kind of exhibitionistic?”
“Yes, it definitely is, I admit it. But you’ve got to admit that it was a lot of fun. That look on his face.”
“Well, are we just going to sit here all night?”
“I could give that boy I met last night a call.”
“Okay.”
“It might be a good chance to test out being normal for you.”
“Super.”
Missy opened up her cell phone and picked out the newest name in her contact list—Marcus.
Jeanne stood up and checked herself in the mirror.
“You’re going to a party, again? Did you like that one last night?”
Jeanne flipped the back of her hair up, checking to see if it might look better that way.
“This one’s even crazier?”
Jeanne looked at her shoes. She didn’t think it was outré to wear Converse yet.
“Okay, well we’ll meet you over there, I guess.”
Jeanne looked at how her shirt sculpted her body. She didn’t have quite an hourglass shape to her, though she was noticeably thinner than usual.
“Let’s go get a cab.” Missy suggested.
Condecension
Luther and Rory were with Penelope and Ireena. Marcus was sitting with Charles and Spencer. All of them were drinking at Rory’s apartment. Several of them were also experimenting with other chemicals
“So you know I’m going to jail tomorrow, right?” Spencer said to Marcus.
“Are you serious?” Marcus answered, astounded.
“This is just like the 25th Hour!” Spencer exclaimed.
“Whoa.” Marcus reiterated, dumbfounded. “I’m totally just hanging out with my buddies, having one last good night.” Spenser happily announced.
“But more than that,” Charles cut in, “we’re going to tear a hole through time tonight. We’re going to erase the notion of duration.”
The two architects of the evening, Rory and Ireena, had become disinterested in arguing with each other about matters of taste and had taken to listening in on the other conversations going on and making comments on them.
“Yeah man, we’re like, totally going to rock the earth!” Ireena mocked.
“Hey, that’s my cousin you’re talking about.”
“Well, sorry, I didn’t know. But he’s just like, psychedelic man.”
“I say we take a few bottles of wine, some plastic cups and we walk down into the park and write poetry!” Charles cheerfully suggested.
“No way,” Rory said, “I don’t want to leave here anytime soon. But maybe somebody else will go with you.”
“I’m down for anything tonight,” Spencer said.
Penelope and Luther looked at the forming consensus.
Around this time, Missy and Jeanne rang the buzzer.
Marcus went down with Charles and Spencer, and Penelope and Luther decided to go along too. As they met the two girls on the stairs coming down, they explained what was going on, how Rory and Ireena didn’t want to go out with the rest of them, and how they were going to bring wine and walk down into the park and write poetry. The girls, given the circumstances, tagged along.
Three A.M. The seven of them were walking into the park. They were opening the bottles of wine and walking towards the beach. Charles had taken Marcus aside.
“I’ll sell you one of these. Magic Pills. It’s some crazy ayuhasucas compound. Telepathic experiences. I’m giving one to Spencer in light of tomorrow. For you, ten dollars.”
“Is it safe?”
“It’s used as a medicine in South America. I haven’t heard of a bad trip.”
“How long does it last?”
“Four hours or so. It’s not too overwhelming but some amazing things tend to happen. It’s like, your luck suddenly changes. It’s weird.”
“Okay, I’ll take one.”
Missy and Jeanne came up.
“Could I have one too?” Jeanne said.
“Sure, but there’s a five dollar discount for you.” Charles said.
“Hey.” Marcus said. “That’s cheating.”
“This girl has earned the five dollar coupon. She has been an extraordinary citizen.”
“Thank you.”
They took their pills. And then they walked together for a while, muttering conversations, waiting for their pills to work. Penelope and Luther had walked with them, but as the other group of them became increasingly frantic, they slowed down a bit, and walked together behind them.
“These are some crazy people you hang out with.” “They’re ridiculous. They’re going to have to slow down sometime.”
“So when are you going back to Hollywood?”
“Monday. I mean next Monday. Nine more days of vacation, or something. Then I go back to shoot a movie. But I’m still working here.”
“You’re working here?”
“In the interim. I’ve got a job I drive to during the week.” “So it’s not really your vacation.”
“Eh, sort of. I mean, I’m leaving in nine days. I won’t be gone for that long, this is going to be a quick shoot.”
“What are you doing until then?” “I don’t know, research, just trying to come up with a game plan.”
“That sounds interesting. You should come by the coffee shop sometime when I’m finishing my shift; I’ve been thinking a lot lately about getting into acting.”
“That sounds like fun. We should do it next week.”
Missy was not on ayuhauscas. She was walking with everyone else, and they were all on it. Now it was beginning to take a very strong effect on them.
Charles shouted, “I’m the ghost of the Sun. The dead Sun now. What happens when the Sun goes dead cold out? Do the planets keep revolving around the sun after it explodes? Who can tell these things. We’re only here for 100 years at the very best. These things takes hundreds of thousands of years to occur, but while we’re here, things are okay. Global warming probably isn’t going to prematurely end all of our lives. It’s the science of it. None of it will really affect our lives, or our children’s lives, or grandchildren’s, or even great grandchildren’s. And besides, how much of a connection do you feel to your great grandparent’s? Do you even know what they were like? Do you blame them for the biases of their time? Do you think they’d really blame you? No, we just have to leave things as greatly undisturbed as possible. But one day, when the Sun dies, and all living things on this planet are obliterated, and the supernova occurs, who knows what happens to the planets? Do they sit in space, in orbit? Do they fall into nothingness? One thing is certain—dead stars are still pulsars.”
Spencer was greatly affected by the pills. He wanted to do anything to get away from everyone. He became isolationist. He walked towards the beach. On the sand, he sat down, crossed his legs. Missy had followed after him. They sat there together.
“Are you having fun tonight?”
“I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Do you even know what time it is?”
“Not a clue. But the Sun can’t be far from coming up.”
“Damn, is there any wine left?”
“Here, let’s have another glass.” She had one of the bottles with her.
Jeanne and Marcus were walking together, both on the pills, now taking effect.
“Jeanne I know I haven’t known you very long, but I feel this real connection to you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I just feel like we’ve been on this journey together.”
“Yeah. It’s kind of sad, this is going to be one of the last warm nights of the year. We’re in for six months of Hell.”
“My brain feels like it’s bubbling inside my head. Like a kettle boiling. Or a whirlpool.”
“Whirlpool brain. That sounds like an album title.”
“What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Nothing, it’s Sunday, rest, you know.”
“I don’t know how long this stuff is going to last for but I don’t see myself sleeping anytime soon.”
Jeanne needed a lesson right now from Missy. Since she was nowhere to be seen, she decided.
“Okay, but I don’t see how you feel so hyper. I feel so mellow. Like I could just fall forever sinking through sheets of silk, a pile of feathers. I bet this grass right here is soft like the womb.” Jeanne laid down in the grass. Marcus laid down beside her.
Charles was alone now, stumbling through the forest. He had consciously separated from his companions. He had set them up with the situation, he had changed the course of the evening, and he didn’t want to interfere further. But he was alone now in the forest. There was nobody else around. No runners, no animals, no couples romantically lazing through the wee hours. Everything had taken on a more surreal quality than it had when he had taken the pills earlier in the day. It was as if two trips in a day was one too many. The trees started to look like woods in black and white films. Charles’s vision became blurred. It seemed as if the air pressure had suddenly risen, and all the heat was being sucked out of the space directly around Charles. A fog seemed to blow, and it smelled a bit like gasoline. There was a scattering of birds in the trees. Charles saw a dark path leading into the woods. There seemed to be a footpath so he followed it in. After about fifty feet, there came a clearing. It looked as if the space had been used to make a fire recently.
He sat down on a log. He looked up at the sky. From his point in the forest the sky took on a different atmosphere. He was no longer in the city. He was out camping. Charles did not light a fire though. He sat on the log and looked at the sky, and he said, “The pulsar of the Sun, the ghost of the Sun, does not accommodate the Milky Way galaxy at this time. Service is disconnected permanently. Please find alternate forms of life-sustaining energy.”
“What are you doing, Charles?”
Charles heard the voice and looked behind him. He saw a figure ten feet back, against the foliage.
“Who’s there?”
“You think this is a good way to spend your life?”
Charles recognized the voice.
“You’re not real. And I’m tripping, and I’m hallucinating you, and yes, I think this is a great way to spend my life at this time. Did you ever make anybody happy? Do you know how that feels?”
“I made you happy, didn’t I?”
“But my life is also irretrievably fucked up because of you.”
“You shouldn’t talk that way to me.”
Charles loosened up.
“Well still, what’s a better way to spend my life?”
“Don’t you want to build something? Make something out of it? Leave something behind after you’re gone?”
“I’m making these people happy in the present. When I’m gone, I won’t get any satisfaction from what I’ve left behind. Right now, I get that satisfaction. Did you ever get that?”
“I got that plenty of times.”
Another voice sprung up.
“Charles you should go back to your friends.”
“Why do you two always have to tell me what to do?”
“We still want to look out for you.”
“You can’t do this to me. I mean, you’re not real, you’re dead, I’m alive, I’m hallucinating my memory of you, which is so obsolete at this point in my life that it just really takes me out of my element okay, life is not all roses okay, I know you knew that, but don’t automatically assume that because you paid some sort of debt or whatever that I’m going to benefit in the long run.”
“All we’re saying is that you should appreciate what’s there in front of you, you don’t have to transform everything into your personal vision.”
“I don’t! I appreciate whatever vision created everything around me.”
“Then your heart’s in the right place.” the more tender voice said.
“His heart is not in the right place! He should be straightening up!” the first voice said, fading out.
The apparitions receded into the deeper woods and Charles started pondering the circumstances since he had left the rest of the crowd. He decided that he had just had mystical vision. The Sun still hadn’t risen, and he could hear some of his cohorts shouting in the distance. He left his spot in the woods, and went to find them on the beach.
“So you know I’m going to jail tomorrow, right?” Spencer said to Marcus.
“Are you serious?” Marcus answered, astounded.
“This is just like the 25th Hour!” Spencer exclaimed.
“Whoa.” Marcus reiterated, dumbfounded. “I’m totally just hanging out with my buddies, having one last good night.” Spenser happily announced.
“But more than that,” Charles cut in, “we’re going to tear a hole through time tonight. We’re going to erase the notion of duration.”
The two architects of the evening, Rory and Ireena, had become disinterested in arguing with each other about matters of taste and had taken to listening in on the other conversations going on and making comments on them.
“Yeah man, we’re like, totally going to rock the earth!” Ireena mocked.
“Hey, that’s my cousin you’re talking about.”
“Well, sorry, I didn’t know. But he’s just like, psychedelic man.”
“I say we take a few bottles of wine, some plastic cups and we walk down into the park and write poetry!” Charles cheerfully suggested.
“No way,” Rory said, “I don’t want to leave here anytime soon. But maybe somebody else will go with you.”
“I’m down for anything tonight,” Spencer said.
Penelope and Luther looked at the forming consensus.
Around this time, Missy and Jeanne rang the buzzer.
Marcus went down with Charles and Spencer, and Penelope and Luther decided to go along too. As they met the two girls on the stairs coming down, they explained what was going on, how Rory and Ireena didn’t want to go out with the rest of them, and how they were going to bring wine and walk down into the park and write poetry. The girls, given the circumstances, tagged along.
Three A.M. The seven of them were walking into the park. They were opening the bottles of wine and walking towards the beach. Charles had taken Marcus aside.
“I’ll sell you one of these. Magic Pills. It’s some crazy ayuhasucas compound. Telepathic experiences. I’m giving one to Spencer in light of tomorrow. For you, ten dollars.”
“Is it safe?”
“It’s used as a medicine in South America. I haven’t heard of a bad trip.”
“How long does it last?”
“Four hours or so. It’s not too overwhelming but some amazing things tend to happen. It’s like, your luck suddenly changes. It’s weird.”
“Okay, I’ll take one.”
Missy and Jeanne came up.
“Could I have one too?” Jeanne said.
“Sure, but there’s a five dollar discount for you.” Charles said.
“Hey.” Marcus said. “That’s cheating.”
“This girl has earned the five dollar coupon. She has been an extraordinary citizen.”
“Thank you.”
They took their pills. And then they walked together for a while, muttering conversations, waiting for their pills to work. Penelope and Luther had walked with them, but as the other group of them became increasingly frantic, they slowed down a bit, and walked together behind them.
“These are some crazy people you hang out with.” “They’re ridiculous. They’re going to have to slow down sometime.”
“So when are you going back to Hollywood?”
“Monday. I mean next Monday. Nine more days of vacation, or something. Then I go back to shoot a movie. But I’m still working here.”
“You’re working here?”
“In the interim. I’ve got a job I drive to during the week.” “So it’s not really your vacation.”
“Eh, sort of. I mean, I’m leaving in nine days. I won’t be gone for that long, this is going to be a quick shoot.”
“What are you doing until then?” “I don’t know, research, just trying to come up with a game plan.”
“That sounds interesting. You should come by the coffee shop sometime when I’m finishing my shift; I’ve been thinking a lot lately about getting into acting.”
“That sounds like fun. We should do it next week.”
Missy was not on ayuhauscas. She was walking with everyone else, and they were all on it. Now it was beginning to take a very strong effect on them.
Charles shouted, “I’m the ghost of the Sun. The dead Sun now. What happens when the Sun goes dead cold out? Do the planets keep revolving around the sun after it explodes? Who can tell these things. We’re only here for 100 years at the very best. These things takes hundreds of thousands of years to occur, but while we’re here, things are okay. Global warming probably isn’t going to prematurely end all of our lives. It’s the science of it. None of it will really affect our lives, or our children’s lives, or grandchildren’s, or even great grandchildren’s. And besides, how much of a connection do you feel to your great grandparent’s? Do you even know what they were like? Do you blame them for the biases of their time? Do you think they’d really blame you? No, we just have to leave things as greatly undisturbed as possible. But one day, when the Sun dies, and all living things on this planet are obliterated, and the supernova occurs, who knows what happens to the planets? Do they sit in space, in orbit? Do they fall into nothingness? One thing is certain—dead stars are still pulsars.”
Spencer was greatly affected by the pills. He wanted to do anything to get away from everyone. He became isolationist. He walked towards the beach. On the sand, he sat down, crossed his legs. Missy had followed after him. They sat there together.
“Are you having fun tonight?”
“I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Do you even know what time it is?”
“Not a clue. But the Sun can’t be far from coming up.”
“Damn, is there any wine left?”
“Here, let’s have another glass.” She had one of the bottles with her.
Jeanne and Marcus were walking together, both on the pills, now taking effect.
“Jeanne I know I haven’t known you very long, but I feel this real connection to you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I just feel like we’ve been on this journey together.”
“Yeah. It’s kind of sad, this is going to be one of the last warm nights of the year. We’re in for six months of Hell.”
“My brain feels like it’s bubbling inside my head. Like a kettle boiling. Or a whirlpool.”
“Whirlpool brain. That sounds like an album title.”
“What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Nothing, it’s Sunday, rest, you know.”
“I don’t know how long this stuff is going to last for but I don’t see myself sleeping anytime soon.”
Jeanne needed a lesson right now from Missy. Since she was nowhere to be seen, she decided.
“Okay, but I don’t see how you feel so hyper. I feel so mellow. Like I could just fall forever sinking through sheets of silk, a pile of feathers. I bet this grass right here is soft like the womb.” Jeanne laid down in the grass. Marcus laid down beside her.
Charles was alone now, stumbling through the forest. He had consciously separated from his companions. He had set them up with the situation, he had changed the course of the evening, and he didn’t want to interfere further. But he was alone now in the forest. There was nobody else around. No runners, no animals, no couples romantically lazing through the wee hours. Everything had taken on a more surreal quality than it had when he had taken the pills earlier in the day. It was as if two trips in a day was one too many. The trees started to look like woods in black and white films. Charles’s vision became blurred. It seemed as if the air pressure had suddenly risen, and all the heat was being sucked out of the space directly around Charles. A fog seemed to blow, and it smelled a bit like gasoline. There was a scattering of birds in the trees. Charles saw a dark path leading into the woods. There seemed to be a footpath so he followed it in. After about fifty feet, there came a clearing. It looked as if the space had been used to make a fire recently.
He sat down on a log. He looked up at the sky. From his point in the forest the sky took on a different atmosphere. He was no longer in the city. He was out camping. Charles did not light a fire though. He sat on the log and looked at the sky, and he said, “The pulsar of the Sun, the ghost of the Sun, does not accommodate the Milky Way galaxy at this time. Service is disconnected permanently. Please find alternate forms of life-sustaining energy.”
“What are you doing, Charles?”
Charles heard the voice and looked behind him. He saw a figure ten feet back, against the foliage.
“Who’s there?”
“You think this is a good way to spend your life?”
Charles recognized the voice.
“You’re not real. And I’m tripping, and I’m hallucinating you, and yes, I think this is a great way to spend my life at this time. Did you ever make anybody happy? Do you know how that feels?”
“I made you happy, didn’t I?”
“But my life is also irretrievably fucked up because of you.”
“You shouldn’t talk that way to me.”
Charles loosened up.
“Well still, what’s a better way to spend my life?”
“Don’t you want to build something? Make something out of it? Leave something behind after you’re gone?”
“I’m making these people happy in the present. When I’m gone, I won’t get any satisfaction from what I’ve left behind. Right now, I get that satisfaction. Did you ever get that?”
“I got that plenty of times.”
Another voice sprung up.
“Charles you should go back to your friends.”
“Why do you two always have to tell me what to do?”
“We still want to look out for you.”
“You can’t do this to me. I mean, you’re not real, you’re dead, I’m alive, I’m hallucinating my memory of you, which is so obsolete at this point in my life that it just really takes me out of my element okay, life is not all roses okay, I know you knew that, but don’t automatically assume that because you paid some sort of debt or whatever that I’m going to benefit in the long run.”
“All we’re saying is that you should appreciate what’s there in front of you, you don’t have to transform everything into your personal vision.”
“I don’t! I appreciate whatever vision created everything around me.”
“Then your heart’s in the right place.” the more tender voice said.
“His heart is not in the right place! He should be straightening up!” the first voice said, fading out.
The apparitions receded into the deeper woods and Charles started pondering the circumstances since he had left the rest of the crowd. He decided that he had just had mystical vision. The Sun still hadn’t risen, and he could hear some of his cohorts shouting in the distance. He left his spot in the woods, and went to find them on the beach.
Coy Mistress
After their various friends and acquaintances left the party, Rory and Ireena were left alone on the couch. There was no one left to make fun of. The conversation was not deflected by peripheral circumstances. Rory had fallen deeper and deeper for Ireena the more they had talked that night. It was clear to anybody in the room at the party that this was so. It was not clear to them what Ireena’s intentions were, but they figured since she opted to stay in, she was not unwelcoming to Rory’s advances.
For the first half hour or so after the crowd left the apartment, the two danced around the sexual tension by continuing to drink and go outside for cigarettes. But after a half an hour, the cracks began to show.
“So do you want another drink?” Rory asked, after finishing his own and looking at Ireena’s glass.
“Could I just have a glass of water? I think I’ve had enough to drink for now.”
Rory went into the kitchen and poured two glasses of water. He came back and sat on the couch with Ireena.
“It’s getting really late now,” Ireena said.
“Yeah, it’s clearly the middle of the night at this point.”
“I wonder if everyone is still over at the park, writing poetry.”
“They’re pretty crazy. I don’t think I belong with them when they do that sort of thing though. I’ll tag along for most of their nutty ideas, but sometimes I just don’t get them.”
Ireena slumped over on the couch.
“Are you falling asleep?”
“I think so. I should probably get going.”
“Are you taking a cab home?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I mean, if you don’t feel like going through all that trouble, you can stay here if you want, it doesn’t make any difference to me.”
“No, I have to sleep in my own bed. Or else I’ll get back tomorrow and not be well rested enough, and sleep all day. It’s better if I go now.”
“Well, whatever you need to do.”
“I just need to go to the bathroom.”
When Ireena got up, Rory immediately began thinking about what he could do to be as attractive as possible to her. At this stage, here she was leaving, he had her number, he could ask her if she wanted to go on a date, or he could tell her she was an incredible woman, or he could just try to kiss her and see if she was receptive.
While she was in the bathroom, Ireena thought about Rory’s offer. What difference would it make if she stayed? She knew he wanted to sleep with her. She wanted to sleep with him but she didn’t want to deal with the fallout of it. She knew he’d be all over her constantly and she’d have to figure out a way to let him off nicely.
When she came out of the bathroom, Rory was still sitting on the couch.
“You know I think you’re really incredible.”
“What?” Ireena asked, startled, looking sober suddenly.
“I haven’t met a girl like you before, and I don’t think I ever will again.”
“Thank you, is that a compliment?”
“I don’t want you to go. I wish you could stay and we could stay up all night together.”
“It doesn’t really fit into my plans at the moment.”
“Well you want to do it some other night, maybe a Friday night next time?”
“I don’t know. I just can’t decide right now. I’m really tired.”
“Okay well can I call you later this week?”
“Sure, just make sure it’s after five.”
She gathered her stuff together and started out the door.”I had a really nice time. Goodnight.” She kissed him on the cheek and went down the stairs and out to the street to wait for a taxi.
For the first half hour or so after the crowd left the apartment, the two danced around the sexual tension by continuing to drink and go outside for cigarettes. But after a half an hour, the cracks began to show.
“So do you want another drink?” Rory asked, after finishing his own and looking at Ireena’s glass.
“Could I just have a glass of water? I think I’ve had enough to drink for now.”
Rory went into the kitchen and poured two glasses of water. He came back and sat on the couch with Ireena.
“It’s getting really late now,” Ireena said.
“Yeah, it’s clearly the middle of the night at this point.”
“I wonder if everyone is still over at the park, writing poetry.”
“They’re pretty crazy. I don’t think I belong with them when they do that sort of thing though. I’ll tag along for most of their nutty ideas, but sometimes I just don’t get them.”
Ireena slumped over on the couch.
“Are you falling asleep?”
“I think so. I should probably get going.”
“Are you taking a cab home?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I mean, if you don’t feel like going through all that trouble, you can stay here if you want, it doesn’t make any difference to me.”
“No, I have to sleep in my own bed. Or else I’ll get back tomorrow and not be well rested enough, and sleep all day. It’s better if I go now.”
“Well, whatever you need to do.”
“I just need to go to the bathroom.”
When Ireena got up, Rory immediately began thinking about what he could do to be as attractive as possible to her. At this stage, here she was leaving, he had her number, he could ask her if she wanted to go on a date, or he could tell her she was an incredible woman, or he could just try to kiss her and see if she was receptive.
While she was in the bathroom, Ireena thought about Rory’s offer. What difference would it make if she stayed? She knew he wanted to sleep with her. She wanted to sleep with him but she didn’t want to deal with the fallout of it. She knew he’d be all over her constantly and she’d have to figure out a way to let him off nicely.
When she came out of the bathroom, Rory was still sitting on the couch.
“You know I think you’re really incredible.”
“What?” Ireena asked, startled, looking sober suddenly.
“I haven’t met a girl like you before, and I don’t think I ever will again.”
“Thank you, is that a compliment?”
“I don’t want you to go. I wish you could stay and we could stay up all night together.”
“It doesn’t really fit into my plans at the moment.”
“Well you want to do it some other night, maybe a Friday night next time?”
“I don’t know. I just can’t decide right now. I’m really tired.”
“Okay well can I call you later this week?”
“Sure, just make sure it’s after five.”
She gathered her stuff together and started out the door.”I had a really nice time. Goodnight.” She kissed him on the cheek and went down the stairs and out to the street to wait for a taxi.
The Right Side of the Brain
Penelope and Luther were walking alone together through the park. The time was 4 AM, and they had both decided it was time to go home.
“Where is everybody?”
“Just be very quiet for a second.”
The two were silent.
They heard singing and drunken logic in the distance.
“We should all walk back together,” Luther confirmed.
Penelope walked alongside him.
“So what was the most interesting role you ever had?”
Luther had to think of a good one.
“Well uh, that’s a tough question. I’ve had about ten different roles so far. Between the ages of 12 and 25, ten roles. I mean speaking parts.””
“So I wouldn’t have seen any of those movies?”
“I don’t know. Did you see ‘Dennis the Menace?’”
“The movie? Yeah! You were in that?”
“That was my first role. I’m really just a glorified extra. But I got bigger roles after that.”
“Really, like what?”
“Oh, little independent movies with tiny budgets and no audience. I don’t think you would have heard of them. Barely any of them got theatrical release.”
They were coming closer to the group they had straggled behind a couple hours before
“Try me, I started off college as a cinema studies major. I’ve seen a lot of indies.”
Luther struggled to come up with a generic sounding title.
“Did you ever see ‘Isolation?’”
“No, what was it about?””That was my biggest role. I played an urban dweller struggling with agoraphobia who sought solace in the mountains. It was kind of a travelogue movie, but I’ve heard it’s really popular amongst mountain climbers who suffer from agoraphobia”
“Do you have an extra copy around your house? I’d love to see you on screen.”
“Yeah, I’d just have to rummage through my storage unit first.”
“Luther!”
It was Charles, emerging from the foliage.
“Luther, I saw you here earlier today! And here we are again; who would have thought such serendipity was possible?”
“I don’t get it. But then again, that, earlier today, was a coincidence. This, now, you kind of made us all come along with you.”
“I merely proposed! The idea was met with mutual support, all around, and we left.”
“Yeah, but I’m saying, this isn’t serendipitous. You are the direct cause of this effect. Serendipity is when there is no logical cause.”
“Break out your dictionaries!” Charles conceded, and started walking ahead.
“Where is everybody?”
“Just be very quiet for a second.”
The two were silent.
They heard singing and drunken logic in the distance.
“We should all walk back together,” Luther confirmed.
Penelope walked alongside him.
“So what was the most interesting role you ever had?”
Luther had to think of a good one.
“Well uh, that’s a tough question. I’ve had about ten different roles so far. Between the ages of 12 and 25, ten roles. I mean speaking parts.””
“So I wouldn’t have seen any of those movies?”
“I don’t know. Did you see ‘Dennis the Menace?’”
“The movie? Yeah! You were in that?”
“That was my first role. I’m really just a glorified extra. But I got bigger roles after that.”
“Really, like what?”
“Oh, little independent movies with tiny budgets and no audience. I don’t think you would have heard of them. Barely any of them got theatrical release.”
They were coming closer to the group they had straggled behind a couple hours before
“Try me, I started off college as a cinema studies major. I’ve seen a lot of indies.”
Luther struggled to come up with a generic sounding title.
“Did you ever see ‘Isolation?’”
“No, what was it about?””That was my biggest role. I played an urban dweller struggling with agoraphobia who sought solace in the mountains. It was kind of a travelogue movie, but I’ve heard it’s really popular amongst mountain climbers who suffer from agoraphobia”
“Do you have an extra copy around your house? I’d love to see you on screen.”
“Yeah, I’d just have to rummage through my storage unit first.”
“Luther!”
It was Charles, emerging from the foliage.
“Luther, I saw you here earlier today! And here we are again; who would have thought such serendipity was possible?”
“I don’t get it. But then again, that, earlier today, was a coincidence. This, now, you kind of made us all come along with you.”
“I merely proposed! The idea was met with mutual support, all around, and we left.”
“Yeah, but I’m saying, this isn’t serendipitous. You are the direct cause of this effect. Serendipity is when there is no logical cause.”
“Break out your dictionaries!” Charles conceded, and started walking ahead.
At the Lodge
The crowd had convened around one of the lodges in the park nearby the beach. It was surprising that none of them had been stopped by police officers. They were all drinking out of open containers. But they had all broken off into two’s or three’s or one and none appeared overly abnormal from the views of the few cop cars scattered throughout the park. They had been covert with their wine drinking, but it was after 4 AM now, and they were very drunk.
Spencer suggested they go inside the lodge and smoke a joint, so they could be smoking at 4:20.
“It’s the only thing that makes sense to do!” he said.
Penelope did not wish to put herself at risk, and so said she’d wait outside. Luther said that he would keep her company, and keep watch.
“If any cops come, I’ll shout ‘help!’ and you guys all come out and pretend to help!”
Charles, Spencer, Jeanne, Missy, and Marcus all went into the men’s bathroom in the lodge and squeezed into a stall at 4:19 AM.
“This is for Spencer.” He passed a joint over to him.
“This is for every time anybody ever told you to learn from your past mistakes. This is for every time anybody told you that you weren’t fit to cohabit society with them. When they thought you were just a stoned asshole. This is to prove them right. They were right all along.”
A bum knocked on the door of their stall.
Everyone looked around puzzled. The minute had turned over.
“And you know what? Even if they were right, even if they are right, hell, especially if they’re right, then I don’t want to be right anymore.” He lit it and passed it to Missy.
“Well, I usually don’t do this, but tonight I’ll make an exception. For you, Spencer!”
She puffed on it and passed it to Jeanne.
“I usually do do this, and tonight, I won’t make any exceptions.”
She took a drag and passed it to Charles
“Though I can never look upon you with the eyes of a lover, let there be some spark in some other galaxy as a result of the contact between mouth, and paper, and mouth, which bespeaks the deep and true tenderness I feel for you.”
Charles passed it to Marcus
The bum knocked again.
“I’m a lover, not a dandy.” Marcus said before he hit the joint.
Spencer opened up the stall door and saw the bum. He gave him a dollar and shut it. After another go around the circle, they heard Luther yell, “Help!” The joint was finished, and they threw it in the toilet and flushed it. They all came running out.
Spencer suggested they go inside the lodge and smoke a joint, so they could be smoking at 4:20.
“It’s the only thing that makes sense to do!” he said.
Penelope did not wish to put herself at risk, and so said she’d wait outside. Luther said that he would keep her company, and keep watch.
“If any cops come, I’ll shout ‘help!’ and you guys all come out and pretend to help!”
Charles, Spencer, Jeanne, Missy, and Marcus all went into the men’s bathroom in the lodge and squeezed into a stall at 4:19 AM.
“This is for Spencer.” He passed a joint over to him.
“This is for every time anybody ever told you to learn from your past mistakes. This is for every time anybody told you that you weren’t fit to cohabit society with them. When they thought you were just a stoned asshole. This is to prove them right. They were right all along.”
A bum knocked on the door of their stall.
Everyone looked around puzzled. The minute had turned over.
“And you know what? Even if they were right, even if they are right, hell, especially if they’re right, then I don’t want to be right anymore.” He lit it and passed it to Missy.
“Well, I usually don’t do this, but tonight I’ll make an exception. For you, Spencer!”
She puffed on it and passed it to Jeanne.
“I usually do do this, and tonight, I won’t make any exceptions.”
She took a drag and passed it to Charles
“Though I can never look upon you with the eyes of a lover, let there be some spark in some other galaxy as a result of the contact between mouth, and paper, and mouth, which bespeaks the deep and true tenderness I feel for you.”
Charles passed it to Marcus
The bum knocked again.
“I’m a lover, not a dandy.” Marcus said before he hit the joint.
Spencer opened up the stall door and saw the bum. He gave him a dollar and shut it. After another go around the circle, they heard Luther yell, “Help!” The joint was finished, and they threw it in the toilet and flushed it. They all came running out.
Beating Up a Bum is Hard to Do
The bum was standing in front of Luther and Penelope in a stance of aggressive supplication.
“Please, please, please, please, I need to eat.”
“What’s going on here?” Spencer announced.
“This guy is harassing us,” Penelope said.
The bum turned to them. “Excuse me, God bless your hearts, do you have any change for a bum in the middle of the night?”
“I just gave you a dollar!”
The bum was walking back towards Luther.
“Please, sir, have you got any extra change?”
“I said no!”
“Come on man, you’ve got to have something.”
“Listen, even if I do, I’m not going to give it to you.”
“I’ve got to eat, I’ve got no job, my mother passed away a year ago, and I’ve got nobody. Please!”
“That’s not my problem!”
The crowd started walking quickly ahead, as if to lose the bum. Luther and Penelope lagged behind.
“Why man, why can’t you spare an extra dollar or something, it would make all the difference. If everybody gave a little extra, we’d all be able to make it okay, help each other out, distribute the wealth, no more poverty, and no more people going hungry in America. But everybody’s cold man, just like you.”
“Go bother somebody else. Or go sleep under a tree.”
The two caught up with the other five, and the bum increased his speed as well. Eventually, they broke into a slow trot, at which point, the bum sped up quickly and grabbed Penelope by the waist. It was only a matter of seconds that she was within his hands. She screamed, and then Luther stopped. He dashed over to the bum and grabbed his head. Penelope was freed. Luther threw him to the ground and kicked him. Penelope kicked him too.
“Please don’t hurt me.” “Why did you chase after us and grab her like that?”
“You felt me up you piece of shit!”
“Please I’m going to kill myself tomorrow. I have no livelihood.”
“Go to a homeless shelter or something you sick bastard.”
Marcus looked over at the two as they rejoined the rest of them.
“Whoa, that was really fucked up.”
And who could say he was wrong?
“Please, please, please, please, I need to eat.”
“What’s going on here?” Spencer announced.
“This guy is harassing us,” Penelope said.
The bum turned to them. “Excuse me, God bless your hearts, do you have any change for a bum in the middle of the night?”
“I just gave you a dollar!”
The bum was walking back towards Luther.
“Please, sir, have you got any extra change?”
“I said no!”
“Come on man, you’ve got to have something.”
“Listen, even if I do, I’m not going to give it to you.”
“I’ve got to eat, I’ve got no job, my mother passed away a year ago, and I’ve got nobody. Please!”
“That’s not my problem!”
The crowd started walking quickly ahead, as if to lose the bum. Luther and Penelope lagged behind.
“Why man, why can’t you spare an extra dollar or something, it would make all the difference. If everybody gave a little extra, we’d all be able to make it okay, help each other out, distribute the wealth, no more poverty, and no more people going hungry in America. But everybody’s cold man, just like you.”
“Go bother somebody else. Or go sleep under a tree.”
The two caught up with the other five, and the bum increased his speed as well. Eventually, they broke into a slow trot, at which point, the bum sped up quickly and grabbed Penelope by the waist. It was only a matter of seconds that she was within his hands. She screamed, and then Luther stopped. He dashed over to the bum and grabbed his head. Penelope was freed. Luther threw him to the ground and kicked him. Penelope kicked him too.
“Please don’t hurt me.” “Why did you chase after us and grab her like that?”
“You felt me up you piece of shit!”
“Please I’m going to kill myself tomorrow. I have no livelihood.”
“Go to a homeless shelter or something you sick bastard.”
Marcus looked over at the two as they rejoined the rest of them.
“Whoa, that was really fucked up.”
And who could say he was wrong?
Aftermath
Spencer watched as Penelope and Luther slowed down again and walked behind the rest.
“See, that’s violence. That’s hurtful, what they just did. I gave that bum a dollar, and you see, no violence was had on my head. Now, Luther is not as charitable as me, and look what happens—violence, suicide threats, molestation—but still, I’m the one on trial.”
Missy said, “Don’t you think you’ll get out of it?”
Charles answered for him, “If Spencer goes to jail, I’m going to need a new roommate.”
“I’m going to jail. There’s evidence. There’s nothing to do to cover it up. I’ve resigned myself to the fact.”
“But you’re not like other people that go to jail!” Missy pleaded.
“And how many of those have you known?” Charles asked. “The criminal mind is trained to be ordinary in ordinary circumstances, and totally fucked up when nobody else is looking.”
“I guess that makes me a criminal then. And I deserve what I’m going to get. Right?”
“The law isn’t overly emotive.” Charles reasoned.
They emerged from the park and back on the city streets. The night almost over, and nobody wanted to extend it any further. Not even Spencer, who by this point was walking with his head on Missy’s shoulder, and his arm around her waist. Penelope went home with Luther, Jeanne went home with Marcus, and Charles went home alone.
“See, that’s violence. That’s hurtful, what they just did. I gave that bum a dollar, and you see, no violence was had on my head. Now, Luther is not as charitable as me, and look what happens—violence, suicide threats, molestation—but still, I’m the one on trial.”
Missy said, “Don’t you think you’ll get out of it?”
Charles answered for him, “If Spencer goes to jail, I’m going to need a new roommate.”
“I’m going to jail. There’s evidence. There’s nothing to do to cover it up. I’ve resigned myself to the fact.”
“But you’re not like other people that go to jail!” Missy pleaded.
“And how many of those have you known?” Charles asked. “The criminal mind is trained to be ordinary in ordinary circumstances, and totally fucked up when nobody else is looking.”
“I guess that makes me a criminal then. And I deserve what I’m going to get. Right?”
“The law isn’t overly emotive.” Charles reasoned.
They emerged from the park and back on the city streets. The night almost over, and nobody wanted to extend it any further. Not even Spencer, who by this point was walking with his head on Missy’s shoulder, and his arm around her waist. Penelope went home with Luther, Jeanne went home with Marcus, and Charles went home alone.
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