James walked in after a few minutes.
"Thanks for waiting everyone," he said with a slight grimace on his face. His mustache rippled when he began his next sentence. "Amanda, Chelsie, you can take off. You two will be asked some questions," he finished by pointing his finger at myself and Evan.
"What the fuck," Evan said with a sigh. "I didn't do shit."
"That's good. It should be that way. All the same the police still have to do their work." James walked to the bar and sat on a stool. "It will only take a few minutes. Don't worry about the rest of your side work, I'll get it done myself. Just give me your drops and go," he said addressing the girls. Chelsie and Amanda scrambled to get their shit together and quickly scurried out the door.
I looked outside and could see the two officers smoking cigarettes over the body. The stocky one bent over and blew smoke into the corpse then stood back up. He looked across the patio and the two of them began to come inside.
"Which one first," Officer Funkhouser said to his partner.
The gaunt officer pointed at me. Funkhouser came over to me and grabbed my arm jerking me up from my seat. I was a little buzzed and slouched onto him. He drove his fist into my ribs. I bent over with a groan. The officer dragged me outside and dumped me on the ground. The gaunt officer lit a hand rolled cigarette. He blew smoke up into the air and looked down at me.
"Talk," Funkouser commanded.
I coughed and looked at the cobblestone on the ground. It was slightly wet with the night dew. It was cold. I cold see my breath as air escaped my lungs. I looked up at them and shook my head.
"Talk," Funkhouser repeated. His face became red and he leaned down towards me. "Talk," he screamed.
"I'm not the type to talk, even about this beautiful weather," I swung my hand up at pointed to the stars that were lightly covered by a grey smog.
"Fucker," Funkhouser said as his boot smashed into my ribs. My stomach caved into the steel toe of his boot. My body groaned and became more fetal.
"What do you say," Funkhouser said to his partner. Officer Ryder looked at his cigarette then bent over and pushed it into the side of my face. There was a slight hiss as the ember burned the skin of my cheek.
"No good cop, bad cop? Just all bad for you boys," I snarled.
"Looks like we've got a real winner here, my friend." Funkhouser clapped his partner's shoulder. Ryder shoulders shook briefly. Funkhouser kicked me again. Blood coughed out of my mouth. I rose to my feet and looked at the officers.
"Any more questions? Or will the interview continue with the end of your limbs?"
"We've got our eye on you. It don't matter to us whether you did the deed or not. Your little tough guy attitude has got the spotlight on you. The last thing we need in this fucking town is another little steamboat thinking its the grand dreadnought of the fucking fleet."
"Living without fear is the highest form of wisdom," I replied spitting out blood with my words.
Ryder came up and slapped me. My cheek flushed red.
"Can I go?"
"Scram shitbag," Funkhouser said. I left the restaurant and walked home in the dark. I could only imagine the beating Evan would get. The girls got passes because they were commodities, and their lady owned a piece of the stake. Having little else to do now that the security force was doing all the work, the brass enjoyed shaking people down more than they ever had in the past. It wasn't an unusual experience and I shrugged off the whole incident when I made it home.
I still had a half bottle of Jameson that I'd been saving. At the end of my night a quarter remained. My mind was fuzzed and dreary. The beating had took a little out of me. My morning would be one of pain I thought as I passed out in my bed. Pain and bad habits were my last thoughts as my eyes closed and consciousness drifted away from me like a steamboat chugging into the sunset.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
A murderous planet part 2.
The structure of domination has shifted from straightforward arbitrary rule to a relationship based on adjustment and compromise. This has led to a considerable increase in demand for services compared to such traditional demands as for durable consumer goods Alfredo Bonanno From Riot to Insurrection
Three of the servers who worked the night shift were finishing up their side work for the night when I walked in. They didn't look up. I breathed and sat down on a bar stool. I stared at the long brass bar as I heard the servers chat behind me.
"I had a table on 41 tonight that were practically humping at the table. It was fucking gross. The man had his mouth over the woman's. He looked like he was trying to swallow the woman's face," Chelsie said.
Evan Strong a light skinned African American laughed loudly. He tilted his head back which made his curly hair shift gently back. His mirth reverberated in my brain. He rolled another piece of silverware as he sat a table near the patio and asked what the couple looked like.
"Well the woman was wearing a pink shirt, and was sort of... frumpy. While the man was slender, and mustached. They were both middle aged. They wore pretty nondescript clothing and along with sucking a huge amount of face in between gobbling down their food they also were playing footsies," Chelsie completed her sentence with a fit of giggling. She leaned over onto the big round table. Her petite frame shuddered as she guffawed.
"Footsies," Strong said with a laugh. His tone became more serious as he looked at his payout receipt. The payout receipt calculated one's total sales at the end of the night. From the cash on hand the server would deduct the amount owed to the restaurant and the various tips that would be given to the bartenders, food runners, and dishwashers. "I hope I did well tonight. Things have been so slow lately. Its been hard working here, trying to find another job, and paying my bills. Fuck, I hardly have any time to myself anymore."
"What about flight school? Aren't you going to do that anymore," Amanda asked. "Hey where's Mike?"
"I haven't seen Mike in a minute," Strong replied. He sighed and continued with what would be a long sorry monologue about his financial state. He had blown through his savings to help support his mother. His mother owned a small salon in Oakland that had been ravaged during the riots. He had moved back in with his mother to protect and provide for her. His dreams of becoming a pilot were dashed when his savings slowly dwindled as to provide for his family.
"I haven't seen Mike either. I'll go look for him," Chelsie said. She got up and went from the main dining room into the out door patio. A few seconds later I heard a scream. "Someone call the ambulance, someone call the police," she screamed excitedly.
The servers went outside and I followed. "Mike is dead," Chelsie said with a sob. I looked at his corpse. The brown of his shirt had spread further covering his torso. His eyes were open and looked into the night sky.
"What should we do," Evan Strong said.
"We ought to call management, and the police. Not that it will matter that much. With business as bad as it is management will just want this covered up. I'll go call James, and then ask him if what he wants to do," I said taking control of the situation.
I walked back inside as the servers stared at the corpse. I wondered if it was going into rigormortis already as I dialed James' number from the company phone. The first time I rang I got his voice mail. I tried again and he picked up. He sounded slightly sleepy, and slightly drunk.
"Mike is dead," I began.
"Shit," he replied. I imagined him wiping his face. His hands going from the top of his hairline, over his thick eyebrows down to his goatee.
"What should we do," I asked.
"You sure he's dead?"
"He's not moving, there is no pulse. He's staring up at the stars with wide open eyes and you know how squinty Kanberg's usually was."
"This is going to cost us."
"I know."
"Fuck. I'll be down there in a bit. Don't let anyone leave til I show up with the police. Lock down the rest of the restaurant and hang out by the bar. Don't bother with the corpse."
Herding the servers inside was easy. Closing the gates was a breeze and we gathered at the second table inside. We sat together for five minutes when Strong stood up and cursed.
"I need a fucking drink," he said. He moved to the bar and poured himself a beer. "Anyone else?"
"I'll have an Racer 5," I said.
"I'll have a pilsner," Amanda said. Her hands were shaking slightly. Her brown her jiggled in time with her hands. She crossed her arms and sighed deeply.
"We don't have pilsner. We haven't had it for months. You okay," I asked. I turned towards Evan and motioned him to pour a few more drinks. He brought the drinks over and we pounded our first beers down. We then had another round. Chelsie began to sway slightly.
It took James 15 minutes to get to the bar. Five minutes after he arrived two officers showed up. The two cops were downtown Berkeley beat cops. They came in on their off hours for the tail or the booze. One was a barrel chested Germanic lad in his mid twenties. His hair was slightly gray. His partner was older in his mid thirties. He stood behind the German and shifted his dark eyes across the room. He had a slight scruff on his face and was a little gaunt. The name tags on their uniforms read Funkhouser and Ryder. They looked at us with disdain and went outside to the body. James followed them.
"You guys stay here," James commanded.
I helped myself to another beer as I imagined what was being said outside.
The recession had been going on for a long time. The inauguration of Barack Obama, the country's first non-white president had done nothing to deter the economic catastrophe that capitalism had created for itself. As things got harder people got more desperate. Oakland had had 3 riots already. Parts of downtown Oakland had been blazed by looters. Berkeley had remained remained undamaged due to its institution of a private security force that patrolled its streets. The security force kept most of the poverty out, pushing the homeless and wingnuts towards East Oakland or north into Richmond. With the security force doing the primary policing of the towns the police themselves had become lazy and corrupt. It was well known that the police were one of the major gangs of drug traffickers in the bay area and would take bribes. I didn't doubt that James was making an arrangement with the police to avoid the public eye. They'd get rid of the body, James would offer Jupiter's services to the two officers. Jupiter's services had expanded quite a bit since I'd originally been employed at the microbrewery.
Three of the servers who worked the night shift were finishing up their side work for the night when I walked in. They didn't look up. I breathed and sat down on a bar stool. I stared at the long brass bar as I heard the servers chat behind me.
"I had a table on 41 tonight that were practically humping at the table. It was fucking gross. The man had his mouth over the woman's. He looked like he was trying to swallow the woman's face," Chelsie said.
Evan Strong a light skinned African American laughed loudly. He tilted his head back which made his curly hair shift gently back. His mirth reverberated in my brain. He rolled another piece of silverware as he sat a table near the patio and asked what the couple looked like.
"Well the woman was wearing a pink shirt, and was sort of... frumpy. While the man was slender, and mustached. They were both middle aged. They wore pretty nondescript clothing and along with sucking a huge amount of face in between gobbling down their food they also were playing footsies," Chelsie completed her sentence with a fit of giggling. She leaned over onto the big round table. Her petite frame shuddered as she guffawed.
"Footsies," Strong said with a laugh. His tone became more serious as he looked at his payout receipt. The payout receipt calculated one's total sales at the end of the night. From the cash on hand the server would deduct the amount owed to the restaurant and the various tips that would be given to the bartenders, food runners, and dishwashers. "I hope I did well tonight. Things have been so slow lately. Its been hard working here, trying to find another job, and paying my bills. Fuck, I hardly have any time to myself anymore."
"What about flight school? Aren't you going to do that anymore," Amanda asked. "Hey where's Mike?"
"I haven't seen Mike in a minute," Strong replied. He sighed and continued with what would be a long sorry monologue about his financial state. He had blown through his savings to help support his mother. His mother owned a small salon in Oakland that had been ravaged during the riots. He had moved back in with his mother to protect and provide for her. His dreams of becoming a pilot were dashed when his savings slowly dwindled as to provide for his family.
"I haven't seen Mike either. I'll go look for him," Chelsie said. She got up and went from the main dining room into the out door patio. A few seconds later I heard a scream. "Someone call the ambulance, someone call the police," she screamed excitedly.
The servers went outside and I followed. "Mike is dead," Chelsie said with a sob. I looked at his corpse. The brown of his shirt had spread further covering his torso. His eyes were open and looked into the night sky.
"What should we do," Evan Strong said.
"We ought to call management, and the police. Not that it will matter that much. With business as bad as it is management will just want this covered up. I'll go call James, and then ask him if what he wants to do," I said taking control of the situation.
I walked back inside as the servers stared at the corpse. I wondered if it was going into rigormortis already as I dialed James' number from the company phone. The first time I rang I got his voice mail. I tried again and he picked up. He sounded slightly sleepy, and slightly drunk.
"Mike is dead," I began.
"Shit," he replied. I imagined him wiping his face. His hands going from the top of his hairline, over his thick eyebrows down to his goatee.
"What should we do," I asked.
"You sure he's dead?"
"He's not moving, there is no pulse. He's staring up at the stars with wide open eyes and you know how squinty Kanberg's usually was."
"This is going to cost us."
"I know."
"Fuck. I'll be down there in a bit. Don't let anyone leave til I show up with the police. Lock down the rest of the restaurant and hang out by the bar. Don't bother with the corpse."
Herding the servers inside was easy. Closing the gates was a breeze and we gathered at the second table inside. We sat together for five minutes when Strong stood up and cursed.
"I need a fucking drink," he said. He moved to the bar and poured himself a beer. "Anyone else?"
"I'll have an Racer 5," I said.
"I'll have a pilsner," Amanda said. Her hands were shaking slightly. Her brown her jiggled in time with her hands. She crossed her arms and sighed deeply.
"We don't have pilsner. We haven't had it for months. You okay," I asked. I turned towards Evan and motioned him to pour a few more drinks. He brought the drinks over and we pounded our first beers down. We then had another round. Chelsie began to sway slightly.
It took James 15 minutes to get to the bar. Five minutes after he arrived two officers showed up. The two cops were downtown Berkeley beat cops. They came in on their off hours for the tail or the booze. One was a barrel chested Germanic lad in his mid twenties. His hair was slightly gray. His partner was older in his mid thirties. He stood behind the German and shifted his dark eyes across the room. He had a slight scruff on his face and was a little gaunt. The name tags on their uniforms read Funkhouser and Ryder. They looked at us with disdain and went outside to the body. James followed them.
"You guys stay here," James commanded.
I helped myself to another beer as I imagined what was being said outside.
The recession had been going on for a long time. The inauguration of Barack Obama, the country's first non-white president had done nothing to deter the economic catastrophe that capitalism had created for itself. As things got harder people got more desperate. Oakland had had 3 riots already. Parts of downtown Oakland had been blazed by looters. Berkeley had remained remained undamaged due to its institution of a private security force that patrolled its streets. The security force kept most of the poverty out, pushing the homeless and wingnuts towards East Oakland or north into Richmond. With the security force doing the primary policing of the towns the police themselves had become lazy and corrupt. It was well known that the police were one of the major gangs of drug traffickers in the bay area and would take bribes. I didn't doubt that James was making an arrangement with the police to avoid the public eye. They'd get rid of the body, James would offer Jupiter's services to the two officers. Jupiter's services had expanded quite a bit since I'd originally been employed at the microbrewery.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
A murderous planet
"He cried in a whisper at some image - he cried out twice, a cry that was no more than a breath" Joesph Conrad Heart of Darkness.
My cigarette was almost burned through. I took one last inhale, drawing in the nicotine and smoke. The cancer stick was one of my many vices. My vices were beginning to add up I thought as I threw the butt on the ground. It smoldered on the tarmac in the alley behind the restaraunt. I looked up into the sky. The moon was out and full, basking Berkeley in a luminous glow. Even with the moon high hanging in the sky the alleway was still dark. I could make out the rough images of a few parked cars near oxford street, and an apartment light above the building next to the restaraunt. I watched my butt slowly fade out and then walked back into the upper terrace of the patio.
The restaraunt was originally a horse stable and was composed of a two floored main building, a small patio, and two subsidary buildings that served as kitchens. One of the auxillary kitchens hosted a pannini shop during the day, at night and when it was busy management would open up the kitchen and fire up the oven for the main businesses customers. At this time of night there was no need for the secondary kitchen, nor for the first. There were still a few stragglers in the main building. Their conversation drifted out into the patio.
I let my eyes adjust from the dark of the alleyway and to the row of lights hanging in the patio. As my pupils shifted from the dark I noticed movement to my left. A figure emerged from the keg room area. The keg room was attached to the sandwhich shop kitchen, but had its own entrance. The figure wobbled out drunkenly. Instinctively I manuevered to intercept the shadow. With each step it was becoming more clear. The frame filled out showing a mid sized stocky man with light blonde hair. He was clunching his side. He wore a thin white shirt and black pants. The white shirt looked dirty, especially below his rib cage. He tightly held his side as he staggered forward. My feet became lighter as I stopped him from moving anymore.
"Its okay Mike," I said recognizing my coworker Mike Kanbergs.
He choked softly, then looked at me. His eyes opened wide. His pupils dilated and he vomited a small amount of blood upwards. Accompany the clogged sound from his throat came a cry. His eyes narrowed. I held him hard. He pushed at me with a dying weakness. His eyes lost their focus but remained open as his body went limp. I let him slide to the ground. The brown of his shirt spread. I noticed that his hands were covered in a dark red blood.
"Shit," I said. I stared for a while at his corpse then drew in three deep breaths. I thought of a forest, a row of pine trees perfectly planted. The trees reached towards the heavens. The ground was covered in pine needles. My nose was filled with the raw earthy scent of the underbrush and dirt. I walked inside.
My cigarette was almost burned through. I took one last inhale, drawing in the nicotine and smoke. The cancer stick was one of my many vices. My vices were beginning to add up I thought as I threw the butt on the ground. It smoldered on the tarmac in the alley behind the restaraunt. I looked up into the sky. The moon was out and full, basking Berkeley in a luminous glow. Even with the moon high hanging in the sky the alleway was still dark. I could make out the rough images of a few parked cars near oxford street, and an apartment light above the building next to the restaraunt. I watched my butt slowly fade out and then walked back into the upper terrace of the patio.
The restaraunt was originally a horse stable and was composed of a two floored main building, a small patio, and two subsidary buildings that served as kitchens. One of the auxillary kitchens hosted a pannini shop during the day, at night and when it was busy management would open up the kitchen and fire up the oven for the main businesses customers. At this time of night there was no need for the secondary kitchen, nor for the first. There were still a few stragglers in the main building. Their conversation drifted out into the patio.
I let my eyes adjust from the dark of the alleyway and to the row of lights hanging in the patio. As my pupils shifted from the dark I noticed movement to my left. A figure emerged from the keg room area. The keg room was attached to the sandwhich shop kitchen, but had its own entrance. The figure wobbled out drunkenly. Instinctively I manuevered to intercept the shadow. With each step it was becoming more clear. The frame filled out showing a mid sized stocky man with light blonde hair. He was clunching his side. He wore a thin white shirt and black pants. The white shirt looked dirty, especially below his rib cage. He tightly held his side as he staggered forward. My feet became lighter as I stopped him from moving anymore.
"Its okay Mike," I said recognizing my coworker Mike Kanbergs.
He choked softly, then looked at me. His eyes opened wide. His pupils dilated and he vomited a small amount of blood upwards. Accompany the clogged sound from his throat came a cry. His eyes narrowed. I held him hard. He pushed at me with a dying weakness. His eyes lost their focus but remained open as his body went limp. I let him slide to the ground. The brown of his shirt spread. I noticed that his hands were covered in a dark red blood.
"Shit," I said. I stared for a while at his corpse then drew in three deep breaths. I thought of a forest, a row of pine trees perfectly planted. The trees reached towards the heavens. The ground was covered in pine needles. My nose was filled with the raw earthy scent of the underbrush and dirt. I walked inside.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
You wanted to see how good it feels to leave
I stood by the window looking out on the landing field. Our airplane, a large jumbo jet with a china airlines logo inscribed on it, was taxiing into the gate. It would still be 40 minutes til we would board. About a half mile away another plane was prepping for its flight. Luggage was being shuttled in. A large truck sat next to it pumping in fuel. I wondered who would be on that flight, where they would be going. I turned around and looked at my fellow passengers. It was a ragtag assortment. Mainly asians, but a few foreigners who were trekking through the jungles and tourist traps of southeast asia. I sat down on the stiff plastic chairs that lined the waiting area. The chairs were blue. They were shaped like orange peels and were not comfortable. I looked at my hands and traced the lines that were in them.
The first time I was in this airport, waiting for this airplane, I was swamped with thought. Now there wasn't a thought in my head. My mind was preoccuppied with the nervousness of travel, and still scattered from things between myself and Amy. Amy was my college girlfriend.We had first met at a party. We were attending CCA, an art school in north Oakland at the time. It was an embarassing social gathering of pimple faced rejects, berets, and pretensions. I thought she was cute, if a little plump and invited her to see "The Maltese Falcon," which was playing up on Shattuck.
Our relationship was a casual friendship at first and we spent much of our time discussing art; the lines of De Stilj, the vacuity of surrealism, the explosion of Dada. We painted together and our first art shows followed. Our relationship became more serious as are time together increased. With the passing days we had more and more in common. We planned a trip to Thailand together. We would take the time off of our schooling in order to focus on our creative enterprises along with traveling. I'd never been out of the states, she'd never been out of california.
Our plans fell apart when I learned she'd been cheating on me consistently for several months. She'd started hooking up with a TA in the film department. He thought he was her boyfriend as well. He liked Goddard, she liked sleeping around and lying. Our falling out was uneventful. I wanted there to be blood, smashed heads, crucifixitions. It was a bit of stamping about, huffing and puffing, and taking back a few of the items I'd given her. I cancelled her plane ticket to Thailand.
I started to spend time with my friends again drinking and complaining for a couple months. I finished a few paintings, and started talking to Amy again. I felt we were young, that people made mistakes, that I'd screwed people over before yet still wanted them in my life. She was still leading the TA around an a short leash and so our relationship was one of limbo. I was leaving for thailand, she was hedging her bets. Before I left I told her that if she was single during the time that I was in thailand and available when I came back I would consider getting into a serious relationship with her again.
I took up an apartment in eastern Bangkok and rarely left the city. I enjoyed the grittiness of the capital, the crowded streets, the dangling wires from the broken telephone poles, the constant construction that was unguarded. It was a stark contrast to the safety of college, of school, of art professors, and lectures. I wandered the city for hours, following the klongs, the sewage filled canals. I would try to count the number of houses on the canals, the number of tuk tuks on a busy street. I rented a motorbike for a few days then decided that it was far too dangerous, and I simply didn't have the courage to risk my life in the haphazard traffic.
I met Molly Tolliver the same week that I had my parting phone call with Amy.
Amy called me in the middle of the day. I knew it was her from the unusual string of numbers that appeared on my phone.
"Hey," I answered.
"Hey, do you have some time," she asked me. Her voice was slightly shaky.
"Sure, I'm just sitting at home playing video games," I responded. I didn't know what to expect from this conversation. We'd been in decent communication, a few emails, some letters, a phone call or two. I didn't trust her anymore, and she'd done nothing to attempt to earn my trust. We seemed to be going through the motions. The distance between us had grown after she exposed her long going affair. We had tried to patch things together, but she seemed to be riding the fence. She still talked to the TA and I didn't doubt that they were sleeping together. Part of my desire to go to Thailand was to get away from her. It seemed like I couldn't quit her, it made me feel weak.
"I don't know how to say this...," her voice trailed off.
I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Go ahead."
"I'm moving out of my apartment."
"So what's the big deal about that? You've been talking about how you've disliked your roommate for several months now."
"Well I already gave her notice, and I don't have a place to go yet."
"Ah," I said with conclusion. She was going to move in with the TA. She had few friends and cared more for her immediate comfort than our relationship.
"I'm moving in with Rich."
"That makes sense," I said with comfort.
"Really!?"
"Yeah, you have no friends because you've spent the last year sleeping around rather than focusing on one relationship and making friends. Now you have nothing to fall back on but Rich, who is far more lenient with you than I. You've been hedging your bets for a long time now. Biding your time til one of us quit the game and then you'd stick with the other."
"Are you mad?"
"Of course I'm mad. You're not holding up your end of the relationship at all. We said that we'd be single until I came back and then we'd try to start things over... remember?"
"But I don't know what you're doing over there," she pleaded.
"I've told you before that I don't have a girlfriend. I've done nothing over here. I wander the city, I read, I drink occasionally, its g-rated."
"Our agreement makes me feel restricted. I don't like you telling me what to do," her whimpers had turned to anger.
"It was an agreement. It was something that you wanted as well."
"You're so far away... I need something now."
"I'm not there. There's nothing I can do about that. I can try to stay close to you in other ways, but part of why you're not here now is because you cheated on me, on the relationship. I don't want to be in someone's life who is going to back out of every agreement, who won't stick it out."
"But its hard, I'm having a hard time right now, I'm lonely."
"What can I do about that? I can write you, I can call you, I can email, what do you want?" My tone had turned towards vexation. At some point my feelings had turned. Maybe it was when I boarded the plane to Tai Pei, maybe it was during the flight from China to Thailand. Maybe it was when I was wondering in the Pat Pong district, eating lunch at the MBK food court, watching a fight at Lumpinee stadium. It was quite possible that they'd turned that day during that phone call. At some point my feelings for her had turned, they'd become stale. I no longer felt attached to her. It was my sense of commitment that had kept us together. My desire to see things through. That will buttressed my emotionally confusing and unwanted entanglements. She was my first long term girlfriend, I'd been happy I'd cared. I was no longer happy with her, I no longer cared.
"I don't know, I don't know what you can do, I don't know what to do...," she started to sob into the phone.
I held the phone away from my ear for a moment. I wondered if she was faking her tears.
"You never know what to do, so you do what's easiest. You don't break off a relationship even if it comes into conflict with another because it would be too hard. You don't bring the truth to light because its too hard. You can't be alone because its too hard. What was it you said once? 'If I was in a relationship with myself I would end it.'"
"..."
"This is your fault, this is your responsibility. You've made choices. You chose to cheat on me. You chose not to try to gain my trust. You chose to hedge your bets. That said I made my own choices. I chose to leave, I chose to try to patch things up, I'm not saying that I'm clear of all the wrong but you've made choices."
Again there was silence on the other end of the phone. I was getting tired of the conversation. It had an emotionally exhaustive quality to it. We sat in silence.
"Its my fault," she said with no tone.
"Is that a question or a statement. I believe its the latter." I nodded my head and looked at the wall. I was sitting on the edge of my bed. The video game before me looked alluring. Outside of the window came the sounds of Bangkok's constant construction. I'd like to remember that last bit being the way the conversation ended. Instead there was more silence, more wasted time.
"I've got to go, the supermarket is closing soon and I need to pick up things," I finally said.
"Isn't it noon there."
"The supermarket closes early today, some sort of election thing," I replied. I hung up the phone and sighed. I laid down on my bed feeling relieved. It was as if I had just bathed after descending into a New York City sewer or a Bangkok Khlong. I sat back up and started playing my video game again.
Amy's phone call filled me with a real sense of ennui. The drama of our relationship was over and what would fill my life now, I questioned myself. After playing several more hours of video games I went out.
I walked south out of my apartment complex to On Nut square. The chang beer area was its usual evening quiet. In a few hours the dancers would get on stage as a singer would croon out the latest thai pop hits. There were two singers, one a thirty something rotund man and a petite thirty something thai woman. The man would dress down, usually in jeans and a polo, while the woman would wear a cheap sequin dress. The dancers would wear skimpy outfits which was quite amusing considering the variety of their body shapes. Their was a skinny dance, a thick dancer, a medium dancer, and a lady boy. When I'd shuffle by the stage the lady boy would cat call me. After a week I quit blushing.
The beer area also served as an open air market with usual wares. There was a booth for food; som tum, som blah, and tod blah. Several cheap clothing stalls were set up. They had sandals, underwear, thin shirts, and shorts. Most of the clothing was for women. Of the 5 or so clothing stalls only one was for men. There was a little stall that sold pirated dvds and cds. One could purchase the latest thai blockbuster or foreign import.
I moved through the market and to On Nut square proper. The front of the square was a tiled area that served beer. The square itself was a covered building with air conditioning. Inside were more clothing stores, again mainly women's clothing. I sat outside and ordered some beer. I liked the atmosphere outside in front of the building. There was a small stage on which a dj performed. The music wasn't too loud. I could still hear the chatter of the staff as they lounged around. The staff of the beer area was uniformed in tiger and chang beer outfits. The tiger outfits were flattering blue dresses that came to mid thigh on the young thai women who wore them. The chang beer uniforms were tight small shirts that clung to the nymph like frames of the other workers. I sat in silence as I drank my beer and looked at a mixed couple a few tables away. The girl was dark, with a flat nose, she looked slightly lao and I figured she was from Isaan a poor province to the northeast. The man was blonde haired and tall. He had a slight gut from drinking and spoke to her in an Australian accented English.
I drank another small jug of beer and felt a mild buzz. The beer was a cheap lager and was a session beer. A fair amount could be drunk before one was drunk. I got tired of the loneliness of being by myself and got on the BTS. The BTS, skytrain, is the above ground railway system that runs through Bangkok. The fare is charged by distance but is kept pretty affordable. The On Nut stop was at the end of the line. I got on the train and rode to Asoke. Asoke is in the downtown financial center of the sukumwit. The sukumwit is a long northwest-southeast running road that houses most of the foreign financial businesses. Asoke connects with the underground MRT, the other extensive public transit system, and also is surrounded by large malls.
I got off of Asoke and looked around. I decided to have some more beer and went towards soi cowboii. The small side street off of the sukumwit is well known for its go go bars. The go go bars are small brothels but have more of a strip club feel to them. I went into one on the left hand side of the street and was guided by the mamasan to a seat by the bar. The club was small. Running along three of the walls were booths, in front of them were small tables. The center of the club had a small stage on which a dozen young thai women danced. They slowly moved about to the thai pop that was played on the house stereo. Dressed in skimpy white bikini's I wondered if they were cold. I tried not to look at them in the eye, and when the mamasan came over I ordered a beer. I drank the beer and looked the women's legs as they danced around. Most of them were in cheap converse style flats that offset their more luxiourous looking outfits. I wasn't quite sure what I was doing here. I thought about indulging in a woman but decided against it. I stared at their legs for another drink and then got up from my chair and went out. The street was a little busier having hit 11 o'clock. A small elephant the size of a volkswagon bug walked on the street led by a young thai man. I moved around the beast and started walking down the sukumwit. The sukumwit had quite a few falang bars, mainly english style pubs. I ducked into the first one I saw. That's where I met Molly.
The pub was two stories. The pub was dark. Irish pubs always seemed dark, anywhere in the world, due to the Irish's reluctance to show their facial blemishes in full light, or even half light. Along with the darkness of the bar was a full bar, a red haired and matching nosed Irish ex-pat singing out pop songs and a handful of bored looking white people. The staff was mainly Thai, with a falang manager.
Molly was sitting by herself at the bar. She was dressed in faded blue jeans, a low cut lime green shirt that was a size too big for her wide shouldered frame and wore a black beret. She was leafing through a book. When I see a girl I'm attracted to I give myself 3 seconds to talk to her. After the initial contact its too late, I'll either seem too creepy, too apt to linger, or I'll just seem like another weak willed average fucking chump. I went and sat next to her at the bar.
"Hey can I ask you something," I began.
She looked at me and stuck her finger in her book. I knew she would give me some time.
"It will just be a minute. I was curious as to your advice about something."
"Yeah, sure," she replied with a slight irish accent. The accent made me aroused. Every american loves accents from europe, its a perversity dealing with how we were initially colonized by them.
"So, I've been looking for a little part time income while I've been out here and have gotten a few odd jobs as an extra in movies. My availability and congeniality have led me to get quite a few call backs. Next week there is a Bruce Willis movie being shot. The director wants me to do a spot as an army lieutenant. There's a speaking role in it which bumps up my salary big time. I'm in a dilemma not because I'm afraid of getting some sort of tropical disease (which is almost a certainty being out in the jungle for so long) but because a good friend of mine is having a muay thai bout. My friend and I came out here at the same time and he's having his first bout out here. I'm a bit worried for him. Its far from home so I'm afraid that if he gets his brain smashed open by some young thai punk no one will be able to help him. They'll take his limp body, slide it onto a thin stretcher, carry him to the curb and turn the stretcher over. What do you think? Do I go with something that would really jump start my career or do I hang with my friend?"
She looked out into the distance for a second then returned her gaze to my face. She had light blue eyes. "Do you really think your friend is going to get hurt? I've seen some muay thai fights and those guys don't seem to get too banged up."
"Yeah," I say with hesitation. "I just don't know. I don't know about his abilities or more importantly his opponent's abilities." I shake my head feigning confusion mixed with sadness.
"Well what do you think of the movie role? Do you want to become an actor?"
I nod my head vigorously. "I never thought that I'd want to act until I landed this shot. But I'm torn. Where does my duty lay? To my friend? Or to myself? What would you do?"
"You know I think that I would stay with the friend. Especially if he's been around for a while. If you haven't been friends with him for so long I'd go with the career. If you're close I would chose the relationship."
"Hmm. That makes sense. I'm getting all caught up in my drama... What are you reading?"
"Its e.e. cummings."
"Oh the poet?"
"Yeah. I recently got this book at the paragorn bookstore, you know over by siam central."
"I've been there, go on."
"I don't know I like him. A lot of his poems are sonnets, he talks about love and nature. He doesn't always make sense. He misspells words, and makes up all these compound words."
"What poem are you looking at now," I ask. I brush her hand away and open the book. With I rest my other hand on her shoulder as I begin to read the poem aloud.
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
The first time I was in this airport, waiting for this airplane, I was swamped with thought. Now there wasn't a thought in my head. My mind was preoccuppied with the nervousness of travel, and still scattered from things between myself and Amy. Amy was my college girlfriend.We had first met at a party. We were attending CCA, an art school in north Oakland at the time. It was an embarassing social gathering of pimple faced rejects, berets, and pretensions. I thought she was cute, if a little plump and invited her to see "The Maltese Falcon," which was playing up on Shattuck.
Our relationship was a casual friendship at first and we spent much of our time discussing art; the lines of De Stilj, the vacuity of surrealism, the explosion of Dada. We painted together and our first art shows followed. Our relationship became more serious as are time together increased. With the passing days we had more and more in common. We planned a trip to Thailand together. We would take the time off of our schooling in order to focus on our creative enterprises along with traveling. I'd never been out of the states, she'd never been out of california.
Our plans fell apart when I learned she'd been cheating on me consistently for several months. She'd started hooking up with a TA in the film department. He thought he was her boyfriend as well. He liked Goddard, she liked sleeping around and lying. Our falling out was uneventful. I wanted there to be blood, smashed heads, crucifixitions. It was a bit of stamping about, huffing and puffing, and taking back a few of the items I'd given her. I cancelled her plane ticket to Thailand.
I started to spend time with my friends again drinking and complaining for a couple months. I finished a few paintings, and started talking to Amy again. I felt we were young, that people made mistakes, that I'd screwed people over before yet still wanted them in my life. She was still leading the TA around an a short leash and so our relationship was one of limbo. I was leaving for thailand, she was hedging her bets. Before I left I told her that if she was single during the time that I was in thailand and available when I came back I would consider getting into a serious relationship with her again.
I took up an apartment in eastern Bangkok and rarely left the city. I enjoyed the grittiness of the capital, the crowded streets, the dangling wires from the broken telephone poles, the constant construction that was unguarded. It was a stark contrast to the safety of college, of school, of art professors, and lectures. I wandered the city for hours, following the klongs, the sewage filled canals. I would try to count the number of houses on the canals, the number of tuk tuks on a busy street. I rented a motorbike for a few days then decided that it was far too dangerous, and I simply didn't have the courage to risk my life in the haphazard traffic.
I met Molly Tolliver the same week that I had my parting phone call with Amy.
Amy called me in the middle of the day. I knew it was her from the unusual string of numbers that appeared on my phone.
"Hey," I answered.
"Hey, do you have some time," she asked me. Her voice was slightly shaky.
"Sure, I'm just sitting at home playing video games," I responded. I didn't know what to expect from this conversation. We'd been in decent communication, a few emails, some letters, a phone call or two. I didn't trust her anymore, and she'd done nothing to attempt to earn my trust. We seemed to be going through the motions. The distance between us had grown after she exposed her long going affair. We had tried to patch things together, but she seemed to be riding the fence. She still talked to the TA and I didn't doubt that they were sleeping together. Part of my desire to go to Thailand was to get away from her. It seemed like I couldn't quit her, it made me feel weak.
"I don't know how to say this...," her voice trailed off.
I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Go ahead."
"I'm moving out of my apartment."
"So what's the big deal about that? You've been talking about how you've disliked your roommate for several months now."
"Well I already gave her notice, and I don't have a place to go yet."
"Ah," I said with conclusion. She was going to move in with the TA. She had few friends and cared more for her immediate comfort than our relationship.
"I'm moving in with Rich."
"That makes sense," I said with comfort.
"Really!?"
"Yeah, you have no friends because you've spent the last year sleeping around rather than focusing on one relationship and making friends. Now you have nothing to fall back on but Rich, who is far more lenient with you than I. You've been hedging your bets for a long time now. Biding your time til one of us quit the game and then you'd stick with the other."
"Are you mad?"
"Of course I'm mad. You're not holding up your end of the relationship at all. We said that we'd be single until I came back and then we'd try to start things over... remember?"
"But I don't know what you're doing over there," she pleaded.
"I've told you before that I don't have a girlfriend. I've done nothing over here. I wander the city, I read, I drink occasionally, its g-rated."
"Our agreement makes me feel restricted. I don't like you telling me what to do," her whimpers had turned to anger.
"It was an agreement. It was something that you wanted as well."
"You're so far away... I need something now."
"I'm not there. There's nothing I can do about that. I can try to stay close to you in other ways, but part of why you're not here now is because you cheated on me, on the relationship. I don't want to be in someone's life who is going to back out of every agreement, who won't stick it out."
"But its hard, I'm having a hard time right now, I'm lonely."
"What can I do about that? I can write you, I can call you, I can email, what do you want?" My tone had turned towards vexation. At some point my feelings had turned. Maybe it was when I boarded the plane to Tai Pei, maybe it was during the flight from China to Thailand. Maybe it was when I was wondering in the Pat Pong district, eating lunch at the MBK food court, watching a fight at Lumpinee stadium. It was quite possible that they'd turned that day during that phone call. At some point my feelings for her had turned, they'd become stale. I no longer felt attached to her. It was my sense of commitment that had kept us together. My desire to see things through. That will buttressed my emotionally confusing and unwanted entanglements. She was my first long term girlfriend, I'd been happy I'd cared. I was no longer happy with her, I no longer cared.
"I don't know, I don't know what you can do, I don't know what to do...," she started to sob into the phone.
I held the phone away from my ear for a moment. I wondered if she was faking her tears.
"You never know what to do, so you do what's easiest. You don't break off a relationship even if it comes into conflict with another because it would be too hard. You don't bring the truth to light because its too hard. You can't be alone because its too hard. What was it you said once? 'If I was in a relationship with myself I would end it.'"
"..."
"This is your fault, this is your responsibility. You've made choices. You chose to cheat on me. You chose not to try to gain my trust. You chose to hedge your bets. That said I made my own choices. I chose to leave, I chose to try to patch things up, I'm not saying that I'm clear of all the wrong but you've made choices."
Again there was silence on the other end of the phone. I was getting tired of the conversation. It had an emotionally exhaustive quality to it. We sat in silence.
"Its my fault," she said with no tone.
"Is that a question or a statement. I believe its the latter." I nodded my head and looked at the wall. I was sitting on the edge of my bed. The video game before me looked alluring. Outside of the window came the sounds of Bangkok's constant construction. I'd like to remember that last bit being the way the conversation ended. Instead there was more silence, more wasted time.
"I've got to go, the supermarket is closing soon and I need to pick up things," I finally said.
"Isn't it noon there."
"The supermarket closes early today, some sort of election thing," I replied. I hung up the phone and sighed. I laid down on my bed feeling relieved. It was as if I had just bathed after descending into a New York City sewer or a Bangkok Khlong. I sat back up and started playing my video game again.
Amy's phone call filled me with a real sense of ennui. The drama of our relationship was over and what would fill my life now, I questioned myself. After playing several more hours of video games I went out.
I walked south out of my apartment complex to On Nut square. The chang beer area was its usual evening quiet. In a few hours the dancers would get on stage as a singer would croon out the latest thai pop hits. There were two singers, one a thirty something rotund man and a petite thirty something thai woman. The man would dress down, usually in jeans and a polo, while the woman would wear a cheap sequin dress. The dancers would wear skimpy outfits which was quite amusing considering the variety of their body shapes. Their was a skinny dance, a thick dancer, a medium dancer, and a lady boy. When I'd shuffle by the stage the lady boy would cat call me. After a week I quit blushing.
The beer area also served as an open air market with usual wares. There was a booth for food; som tum, som blah, and tod blah. Several cheap clothing stalls were set up. They had sandals, underwear, thin shirts, and shorts. Most of the clothing was for women. Of the 5 or so clothing stalls only one was for men. There was a little stall that sold pirated dvds and cds. One could purchase the latest thai blockbuster or foreign import.
I moved through the market and to On Nut square proper. The front of the square was a tiled area that served beer. The square itself was a covered building with air conditioning. Inside were more clothing stores, again mainly women's clothing. I sat outside and ordered some beer. I liked the atmosphere outside in front of the building. There was a small stage on which a dj performed. The music wasn't too loud. I could still hear the chatter of the staff as they lounged around. The staff of the beer area was uniformed in tiger and chang beer outfits. The tiger outfits were flattering blue dresses that came to mid thigh on the young thai women who wore them. The chang beer uniforms were tight small shirts that clung to the nymph like frames of the other workers. I sat in silence as I drank my beer and looked at a mixed couple a few tables away. The girl was dark, with a flat nose, she looked slightly lao and I figured she was from Isaan a poor province to the northeast. The man was blonde haired and tall. He had a slight gut from drinking and spoke to her in an Australian accented English.
I drank another small jug of beer and felt a mild buzz. The beer was a cheap lager and was a session beer. A fair amount could be drunk before one was drunk. I got tired of the loneliness of being by myself and got on the BTS. The BTS, skytrain, is the above ground railway system that runs through Bangkok. The fare is charged by distance but is kept pretty affordable. The On Nut stop was at the end of the line. I got on the train and rode to Asoke. Asoke is in the downtown financial center of the sukumwit. The sukumwit is a long northwest-southeast running road that houses most of the foreign financial businesses. Asoke connects with the underground MRT, the other extensive public transit system, and also is surrounded by large malls.
I got off of Asoke and looked around. I decided to have some more beer and went towards soi cowboii. The small side street off of the sukumwit is well known for its go go bars. The go go bars are small brothels but have more of a strip club feel to them. I went into one on the left hand side of the street and was guided by the mamasan to a seat by the bar. The club was small. Running along three of the walls were booths, in front of them were small tables. The center of the club had a small stage on which a dozen young thai women danced. They slowly moved about to the thai pop that was played on the house stereo. Dressed in skimpy white bikini's I wondered if they were cold. I tried not to look at them in the eye, and when the mamasan came over I ordered a beer. I drank the beer and looked the women's legs as they danced around. Most of them were in cheap converse style flats that offset their more luxiourous looking outfits. I wasn't quite sure what I was doing here. I thought about indulging in a woman but decided against it. I stared at their legs for another drink and then got up from my chair and went out. The street was a little busier having hit 11 o'clock. A small elephant the size of a volkswagon bug walked on the street led by a young thai man. I moved around the beast and started walking down the sukumwit. The sukumwit had quite a few falang bars, mainly english style pubs. I ducked into the first one I saw. That's where I met Molly.
The pub was two stories. The pub was dark. Irish pubs always seemed dark, anywhere in the world, due to the Irish's reluctance to show their facial blemishes in full light, or even half light. Along with the darkness of the bar was a full bar, a red haired and matching nosed Irish ex-pat singing out pop songs and a handful of bored looking white people. The staff was mainly Thai, with a falang manager.
Molly was sitting by herself at the bar. She was dressed in faded blue jeans, a low cut lime green shirt that was a size too big for her wide shouldered frame and wore a black beret. She was leafing through a book. When I see a girl I'm attracted to I give myself 3 seconds to talk to her. After the initial contact its too late, I'll either seem too creepy, too apt to linger, or I'll just seem like another weak willed average fucking chump. I went and sat next to her at the bar.
"Hey can I ask you something," I began.
She looked at me and stuck her finger in her book. I knew she would give me some time.
"It will just be a minute. I was curious as to your advice about something."
"Yeah, sure," she replied with a slight irish accent. The accent made me aroused. Every american loves accents from europe, its a perversity dealing with how we were initially colonized by them.
"So, I've been looking for a little part time income while I've been out here and have gotten a few odd jobs as an extra in movies. My availability and congeniality have led me to get quite a few call backs. Next week there is a Bruce Willis movie being shot. The director wants me to do a spot as an army lieutenant. There's a speaking role in it which bumps up my salary big time. I'm in a dilemma not because I'm afraid of getting some sort of tropical disease (which is almost a certainty being out in the jungle for so long) but because a good friend of mine is having a muay thai bout. My friend and I came out here at the same time and he's having his first bout out here. I'm a bit worried for him. Its far from home so I'm afraid that if he gets his brain smashed open by some young thai punk no one will be able to help him. They'll take his limp body, slide it onto a thin stretcher, carry him to the curb and turn the stretcher over. What do you think? Do I go with something that would really jump start my career or do I hang with my friend?"
She looked out into the distance for a second then returned her gaze to my face. She had light blue eyes. "Do you really think your friend is going to get hurt? I've seen some muay thai fights and those guys don't seem to get too banged up."
"Yeah," I say with hesitation. "I just don't know. I don't know about his abilities or more importantly his opponent's abilities." I shake my head feigning confusion mixed with sadness.
"Well what do you think of the movie role? Do you want to become an actor?"
I nod my head vigorously. "I never thought that I'd want to act until I landed this shot. But I'm torn. Where does my duty lay? To my friend? Or to myself? What would you do?"
"You know I think that I would stay with the friend. Especially if he's been around for a while. If you haven't been friends with him for so long I'd go with the career. If you're close I would chose the relationship."
"Hmm. That makes sense. I'm getting all caught up in my drama... What are you reading?"
"Its e.e. cummings."
"Oh the poet?"
"Yeah. I recently got this book at the paragorn bookstore, you know over by siam central."
"I've been there, go on."
"I don't know I like him. A lot of his poems are sonnets, he talks about love and nature. He doesn't always make sense. He misspells words, and makes up all these compound words."
"What poem are you looking at now," I ask. I brush her hand away and open the book. With I rest my other hand on her shoulder as I begin to read the poem aloud.
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
I finished reading the poem and set the book down. I looked at her right eye, then looked at her left eye, then my eyes moved to her lips.
"It was beautiful," I said.
We chatted, talking about where we were from, what it is exactly that we were doing out here in the city of fallen angels, and talked about music. Surprisingly we found that we had a lot in common. I took her back to my place after a few beers. We had sex. While I was on top of her I wondered what she was thinking about. I didn't ask her. I wondered if she was thinking about other people, then I wondered if Amy thought about the TA while I was boning her. In the morning Molly and I had sex again.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
You wanted to see how good it feels to leave leave pt 4.
The pub was two stories. The pub was dark. Irish pubs always seemed dark, anywhere in the world, due to the Irish's reluctance to show their facial blemishes in full light, or even half light. Along with the darkness of the bar was a full bar, a red haired and matching nosed Irish ex-pat singing out pop songs and a handful of bored looking white people. The staff was mainly Thai, with a falang manager.
Molly was sitting by herself at the bar. She was dressed in faded blue jeans, a low cut lime green shirt that was a size too big for her wide shouldered frame and wore a black beret. She was leafing through a book. When I see a girl I'm attracted to I give myself 3 seconds to talk to her. After the initial contact its too late, I'll either seem too creepy, too apt to linger, or I'll just seem like another weak willed average fucking chump. I went and sat next to her at the bar.
"Hey can I ask you something," I began.
She looked at me and stuck her finger in her book. I knew she would give me some time.
"It will just be a minute. I was curious as to your advice about something."
"Yeah, sure," she replied with a slight irish accent. The accent made me aroused. Every american loves accents from europe, its a perversity dealing with how we were initially colonized by them.
"So, I've been looking for a little part time income while I've been out here and have gotten a few odd jobs as an extra in movies. My availability and congeniality have led me to get quite a few call backs. Next week there is a Bruce Willis movie being shot. The director wants me to do a spot as an army lieutenant. There's a speaking role in it which bumps up my salary big time. I'm in a dilemma not because I'm afraid of getting some sort of tropical disease (which is almost a certainty being out in the jungle for so long) but because a good friend of mine is having a muay thai bout. My friend and I came out here at the same time and he's having his first bout out here. I'm a bit worried for him. Its far from home so I'm afraid that if he gets his brain smashed open by some young thai punk no one will be able to help him. They'll take his limp body, slide it onto a thin stretcher, carry him to the curb and turn the stretcher over. What do you think? Do I go with something that would really jump start my career or do I hang with my friend?"
She looked out into the distance for a second then returned her gaze to my face. She had light blue eyes. "Do you really think your friend is going to get hurt? I've seen some muay thai fights and those guys don't seem to get too banged up."
"Yeah," I say with hesitation. "I just don't know. I don't know about his abilities or more importantly his opponent's abilities." I shake my head feigning confusion mixed with sadness.
"Well what do you think of the movie role? Do you want to become an actor?"
I nod my head vigorously. "I never thought that I'd want to act until I landed this shot. But I'm torn. Where does my duty lay? To my friend? Or to myself? What would you do?"
"You know I think that I would stay with the friend. Especially if he's been around for a while. If you haven't been friends with him for so long I'd go with the career. If you're close I would chose the relationship."
"Hmm. That makes sense. I'm getting all caught up in my drama... What are you reading?"
"Its e.e. cummings."
"Oh the poet?"
"Yeah. I recently got this book at the paragorn bookstore, you know over by siam central."
"I've been there, go on."
"I don't know I like him. A lot of his poems are sonnets, he talks about love and nature. He doesn't always make sense. He misspells words, and makes up all these compound words."
"What poem are you looking at now," I ask. I brush her hand away and open the book. With I rest my other hand on her shoulder as I begin to read the poem aloud.
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
Molly was sitting by herself at the bar. She was dressed in faded blue jeans, a low cut lime green shirt that was a size too big for her wide shouldered frame and wore a black beret. She was leafing through a book. When I see a girl I'm attracted to I give myself 3 seconds to talk to her. After the initial contact its too late, I'll either seem too creepy, too apt to linger, or I'll just seem like another weak willed average fucking chump. I went and sat next to her at the bar.
"Hey can I ask you something," I began.
She looked at me and stuck her finger in her book. I knew she would give me some time.
"It will just be a minute. I was curious as to your advice about something."
"Yeah, sure," she replied with a slight irish accent. The accent made me aroused. Every american loves accents from europe, its a perversity dealing with how we were initially colonized by them.
"So, I've been looking for a little part time income while I've been out here and have gotten a few odd jobs as an extra in movies. My availability and congeniality have led me to get quite a few call backs. Next week there is a Bruce Willis movie being shot. The director wants me to do a spot as an army lieutenant. There's a speaking role in it which bumps up my salary big time. I'm in a dilemma not because I'm afraid of getting some sort of tropical disease (which is almost a certainty being out in the jungle for so long) but because a good friend of mine is having a muay thai bout. My friend and I came out here at the same time and he's having his first bout out here. I'm a bit worried for him. Its far from home so I'm afraid that if he gets his brain smashed open by some young thai punk no one will be able to help him. They'll take his limp body, slide it onto a thin stretcher, carry him to the curb and turn the stretcher over. What do you think? Do I go with something that would really jump start my career or do I hang with my friend?"
She looked out into the distance for a second then returned her gaze to my face. She had light blue eyes. "Do you really think your friend is going to get hurt? I've seen some muay thai fights and those guys don't seem to get too banged up."
"Yeah," I say with hesitation. "I just don't know. I don't know about his abilities or more importantly his opponent's abilities." I shake my head feigning confusion mixed with sadness.
"Well what do you think of the movie role? Do you want to become an actor?"
I nod my head vigorously. "I never thought that I'd want to act until I landed this shot. But I'm torn. Where does my duty lay? To my friend? Or to myself? What would you do?"
"You know I think that I would stay with the friend. Especially if he's been around for a while. If you haven't been friends with him for so long I'd go with the career. If you're close I would chose the relationship."
"Hmm. That makes sense. I'm getting all caught up in my drama... What are you reading?"
"Its e.e. cummings."
"Oh the poet?"
"Yeah. I recently got this book at the paragorn bookstore, you know over by siam central."
"I've been there, go on."
"I don't know I like him. A lot of his poems are sonnets, he talks about love and nature. He doesn't always make sense. He misspells words, and makes up all these compound words."
"What poem are you looking at now," I ask. I brush her hand away and open the book. With I rest my other hand on her shoulder as I begin to read the poem aloud.
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
I finished reading the poem and set the book down. I looked at her right eye, then looked at her left eye, then my eyes moved to her lips.
"It was beautiful," I said.
We chatted, talking about where we were from, what it is exactly that we were doing out here in the city of fallen angels, and talked about music. Surprisingly we found that we had a lot in common. I took her back to my place after a few beers. We had sex. While I was on top of her I wondered what she was thinking about. I didn't ask her. I wondered if she was thinking about other people, then I wondered if Amy thought about the TA while I was boning her. In the morning Molly and I had sex again.
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