tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21337311408003328502024-02-20T18:30:26.538-08:00M.Christian's Queer ImaginingsThe gay-centric fiction and erotica of renown author M.Christianmchristianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11887406428164757014noreply@blogger.comBlogger268125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133731140800332850.post-40487327002513523422018-07-08T09:06:00.001-07:002018-07-08T09:06:15.022-07:00The Sexual Futurism Celebration Continues: Great Review of Finger's Breadth!(<a href="https://mchristian-technorotica.blogspot.com/2018/07/the-sexual-futurism-celebration.html">from M.Christian's Technorotica</a>)<br />
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This is so very, very, VERY cool: check out this lovely review of the audiobook version of my queer erotic sci-fi novel <i><b>Finger's Breadth</b></i> from Gay Book Reviews!<br />
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You can <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01IU9PGKG">order the audiobook here</a> - and the ebook version is <a href="http://a.co/ePX7fKN">also available on Amazon</a>.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ3q7eDyJH8C_RBpN2OiXxvMbxDol47NBTZbRvyLFoIfGl-ec0dVXvtGuRRMrzfWEOEG4lnWC2eDfC_T2ALL44kzLeYgy8u0SVtK3C5A_BxyWbwhkGatj34fV7acq0hTjLu-pmWyHxTkpQ/s1600/31198616.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ3q7eDyJH8C_RBpN2OiXxvMbxDol47NBTZbRvyLFoIfGl-ec0dVXvtGuRRMrzfWEOEG4lnWC2eDfC_T2ALL44kzLeYgy8u0SVtK3C5A_BxyWbwhkGatj34fV7acq0hTjLu-pmWyHxTkpQ/s1600/31198616.jpg" /></a></div>
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<i>I am generally bored with the extensive sex scenes in a contemporary romance genre but I love gay erotica, the cradle of the boys’ love genre and all LGBTQ sub-genres that have been resulted from the mother-father of the LGBTQ fiction.</i><br />
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<i>We can have long discussions about broad disparities between the genres and sub-genres and their missions but, without appearing too vulgar, no doubts, the main target of erotic literature is to arouse the reader sexually.</i></div>
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<i><br />To write GOOD erotica is not easy, don’t underestimate it. Not only sexual fantasy has to be impressive in its own way, but the PLOT itself and the WRITING have to be in harmony with each other. M. Christian with his <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01IU9PGKG">Finger’s Breadth</a> met all the criteria for a fascinating erotic novel. Not what I expected, but it made this book even more impressive.</i></div>
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<i><br />I won’t qualify it as horror, but I read not too many horror books to be a judge. There is a touch of romance, suspense, psychological thriller and a social satire. It is kinky and philosophical. Erotic. Terrifying. Fascinating. Disturbing. Intriguing. Haunting.<br /><br />A gay community of San Francisco is terrified, anxious and insecure. A maniac is at large with an eye for mutilation. No one is safe from him. He drugs his victims and cuts off the top of their little fingers. Cops and freelance agents are hunting him but all they have are dead-end leads. The number of gay men with nine and a half fingers grows up and with it a spirit of solidarity. You have still 10 fingers? Maybe you ARE the Cutter?<br /><br />We learn from different men and the way they deal with the fears and handle their lives in these gloomy times. It is like an analogy of a short stories that in some way are connected with each other. But WHO does it and in the first place WHY. Don’t expect a clear statement at the end, don’t hope too early that you get it, and you know what is going on here. Very intriguing.<br /><br />I listened to an audiobook, and I would like particularly to mention an extraordinary writing style that A.A. Ron, the narrator, emphasizes even more.<br /><br />It has an invisible strong rhythm that is SIMPLY impossible not to hear. Very creative and captivating.<br /><br />A.A. Ron did a fantastic job. I have to admit, it was not love from the first tone. His style appeared a bit robotic. But once the story started to unfold, his voice grew on me and I asked myself how I couldn’t have seen it from the very beginning.<br /><br />I’m glad to discover M.Christian, a new interesting writer of erotica genre. My first but for sure not the last book by the author.</i></div>
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<br />mchristianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11887406428164757014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133731140800332850.post-87762439231299830202016-12-04T19:16:00.002-08:002016-12-04T19:16:42.081-08:00Roxy Katt Likes Finger's Breadth!<a href="http://mchristian-technorotica.blogspot.com/2016/12/roxy-katt-likes-fingers-breadth.html">(from M.Christian's Technortica)</a><br />
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Check out this really touching review of my queer/horror/erotic/SF/thriller <a href="http://a.co/4fIxieK">Finger's Breadth </a>by the one and only <a href="https://roxykatt.wordpress.com/2016/11/20/fingers-breadth-by-m-christian-book-review/">Roxy Katt.</a><br />
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And don't forget that <b><i><a href="http://a.co/4fIxieK">Finger's Breath</a></i></b> is available as both an ebook as well as an audiobook!<br />
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<a href="http://a.co/4fIxieK"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pohWHDTJ8y4/WETbK06lAxI/AAAAAAAAPUA/qdLvlShrFUo8bXJXGjw9b-xSTDDyp-OLACLcB/s400/Fingers-Breadth_wbanner.jpg" width="234" /></a> <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Fingers-Breadth/dp/B01IU9PGKG/ref=tmm_aud_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr="><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAsaq8zuhhVNx1BjQmHzkidaoGv5VRJqOWseEQFnAiB-QRA4Zr8GOt41prW_WZ60XSFA1Ad7zynJz5xLshDzSOdTL-Xbyt8SigLJK-8Ff28CVuanerYXtg86sSyCXhIdE2H-fIvBs1jMHn/s320/FingersBreadth-400x400.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I love noir. I love noir movies. And I was pleasantly surprised by M. Christian’s <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Fingers-Breadth-Thriller-Lambda-Finalist-ebook/dp/B01A7PZ24Q/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1480035543&sr=8-1">Finger’s Breadth</a>. Not that I was surprised that it was good, having already read and positively reviewed his Bionic Lover. But I did not think it would be this good. I was surprised to see a complex noir plot so deftly handled. Finger’s Breadth has a great many characters and different story lines in it, and it is difficult to write such a novel without putting the reader off. The risk is that just as one story line gets interesting, another one is picked up and the first line is awkwardly interrupted.<br />
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Not so with this book. M. Christian takes us through a gay San Francisco some time in the not too distant future where gay men are being tricked and attacked in an unusual way I will not discuss for fear of spoilers.<br />
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The plot is tense, the characters well drawn, and the suspense is strong. The text is certainly erotic, but for me the primary interest was in trying to decipher the mystery: what was going on, and who was doing it, and why. Also, the effects on the gay community add a deeper dimension to the book not usually present in a whodunit. A terrific read.<br />
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<br />mchristianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11887406428164757014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133731140800332850.post-77988150495109296572016-07-24T11:09:00.000-07:002016-07-24T11:09:21.529-07:00Finger's Breadth the Audiobook - Out Now!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-11p_lU7PyJA/V5UEF16is2I/AAAAAAAAPOk/vQYRVjg2VnYCYLTITwaUZ3BHLShvB0P_QCLcB/s1600/FingersBreadth-400x400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-11p_lU7PyJA/V5UEF16is2I/AAAAAAAAPOk/vQYRVjg2VnYCYLTITwaUZ3BHLShvB0P_QCLcB/s320/FingersBreadth-400x400.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />This is beyond cool: the great folks at WordWooze Publishing has just released a complete audiobook of my queer/horror/erotic/thriller/Scifi novel <b><i>Finger’s Breadth</i></b> (and the ebook version is also available from Sizzler Editions). <br /><br />You can pick up the <a href="http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.audible.com%2Fpd%2FErotica-Sexuality%2FFingers-Breadth-Audiobook%2FB01IU9P90S%2Fref%3Da_search_c4_1_1_srTtl%3Fqid%3D1469216406%26sr%3D1-1&t=ZDQ3ZTlmZWE3MDk4YTEzNjQwNjM1MDMwMDY0OTFjYzgzYjM0NjIwMyxqbmN2ME1ybQ%3D%3D">audiobook here</a> and <a href="http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Famzn.com%2FB01A7PZ24Q&t=NTFiNDA0NTNjNWIxNThjMTVlYzdkYjQzZGUyMzM1OTJlNmMwOGIzZixqbmN2ME1ybQ%3D%3D">the ebook here</a>.<br /><br /><i>Erotic. Terrifying. Fascinating. Disturbing. Intriguing. Haunting…. You have never listened to a book like Finger’s Breadth.<br /><br />The cutter is haunting the streets of near-future San Francisco, drugging random queer men and amputating the tip of their little finger.<br /><br />But so much worse than this brutality is how fear transforms the city, revealing the inescapable nature of society…and the darkest depths of human sexuality.<br /><br />“It is not that hard to come up with an idea that can be turned into a horror story and that is why horror has been part of the folklore of America and why these stories are so popular on camp-outs as we sit around a campfire. To successfully do this, we need a combination of characters and plot but more important than all else is a novel way to relate the story. For me that is the definition of M.Christian. This book is unlike anything I have read before and I suspect that it will stay with me for quite a while.” (Amos Lassen)<br /><br />“Finger’s Breadth may well rank as one of the most psychologically astute erotic novels since Leopold von Sacher-Masoch’s Venus in Furs, and it deserves to be just as widely read.” (Circlet Press)</i>mchristianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11887406428164757014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133731140800332850.post-84512504112899354702016-07-02T09:46:00.003-07:002016-07-02T09:48:58.639-07:00Excerpt From New Edition Of Finger's Breadth - Up At Horror Addicts!This is <b><i>very</i></b> cool: a lengthy except from the brand new edition of SF/Queer/Horror/Erotic Thriller <b><i><a href="https://amzn.com/B01A7PZ24Q">Finger's Breadth</a></i></b> is up at the <a href="https://horroraddicts.wordpress.com/2016/06/26/guest-blog-fingers-breadth-book-excerpt/">Horror Addicts site!</a><br />
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<a href="https://amzn.com/B01A7PZ24Q"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgquXvVrJQ7C2mvlrPaEHNte4zU7iIHLB20nmmXv7ZGQ6oMTobFJx5zp9g6yvILyzKRl1wjpvyd1TmweSuV4ZLm-_OjO8u7s2tdolq8suPbrSTSOmqnasK6HOhHS5mxDSgJwPxcVGDVayuC/s400/Fingers-Breadth_wbanner.jpg" width="233" /></a></div>
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Here's a tease - for the rest <a href="https://horroraddicts.wordpress.com/2016/06/26/guest-blog-fingers-breadth-book-excerpt/">just click here.</a><br />
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Looking from the window of the coffee shop. Watching from the windshield of a parked car. Staring from the glass of a very rare unbroken bus kiosk. Glaring from the side of a passing bus.<br />
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A brief summer rain had painted the city that night in reflections. Fanning saw himself everywhere, and everywhere he saw himself his expression said the same thing—Why haven’t you caught him yet?<br />
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In his ear, a Bluetooth bud whispered the Officer Wertz inquiry’s soundtrack; in his pocket, the video was playing on his phone. He didn’t need to hear or see it. No one would, but if asked he could probably rattle off every verb, every noun, every linguistic bit from when Knorr started it to when he stopped it. Knorr was good at what he did, just like the lab mice who studied crime scenes and picked up tiny bits of DNA with their finely honed tweezers.<br />
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Welcome to the decentralized world of the new San Francisco Police Department, where your specialty was all you did and generality was extinct.<br />
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Fanning was a freelancer but was supposed to be good at what he did, too. Sneering at himself reflected in the coffee shop window, he gripped the phone in his pocket. If he’d been stronger, or the plastic less durable, it would have cracked.<br />
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Glowering for an instant at his reflection in the windshield of the parked car, he pulled the phone out and flipped through a few key digital pages. As with the inquiry, he didn’t need to look at it again, but he did anyway. Better than sharing the street with his scowling mirror images.<br />
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It hadn’t changed—Wertz’s home address and where he worked were still the same. The first was across town, in the Mission. The second was just down the street, at a Gap Store.<br />
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Ten a.m. to six p.m. His shift hadn’t changed, either. But it was 6:17, and there was no sign of Wertz.<br />
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Fanning paced the wet sidewalk, searching up and down the street but mostly the blue-and-white bright- ness of the Gap store. In his ears, Wertz’s voice clicked into silence; then, as it was set on “loop,” it began again.<br />
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Just like the others. Same MO, same kind of pick-up place, same amount of Eurodin in Wertz’s system, the lab mice doing their usual fine and precise work, and the same mutilation—right hand little finger amputated at the first joint.<br />
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Again, his phone threatened to break in his hand, but again, he wasn’t strong or determined enough to do it. The beat cops who’d found Wertz sound asleep on the J Church train; the lab mice who’d analyzed the drug in his system; Knorr, who’d asked his carefully prepared and expert questions…<br />
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But then there was Fanning, who was supposed to assemble piece after piece after piece after piece until they made a picture of someone’s face.<br />
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Cutter’s face.<br />
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Looking up from where he’d been looking down, he saw a silhouette come between the blue-and-white of the Gap store. A dark shape that was about the right height, about the right build, about the right age, to be whom he was looking for. Fanning carefully released his tight grip on his phone and stepped back into a nearby alley, one carefully chosen for its heavy solitude.<br />
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Heavy solitude was just what Fanning wanted.<br />
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<a href="https://horroraddicts.wordpress.com/2016/06/26/guest-blog-fingers-breadth-book-excerpt/">[MORE]</a><br />
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mchristianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11887406428164757014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133731140800332850.post-39768334879083676892016-03-17T13:35:00.002-07:002016-03-17T13:36:54.915-07:00My Queer/SF/Erotic/Thriller Finger's Breadth - Out Now In New Edition!<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 19.0pt;">M.Christian is thrilled to announce the
republication of his queer erotic horror/sci-fi/thriller, <i>Finger's Breadth</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 19.0pt;">ebook available now!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: 18.0pt;">Trade paper coming soon!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: 18.0pt;">Audiobook coming soon!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">Finger's Breadth may well
rank as one of the most psychologically astute erotic novels since Leopold von
Sacher-Masoch’s Venus in Furs, and it deserves to be just as widely read.</span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">- JKB, from the Circlet Press
site<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">Erotic. Terrifying. Fascinating.
Disturbing. Intriguing. Haunting ... you have never read a book like Finger's
Breadth. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">The cutter is haunting the
streets of near-future San Francisco, drugging random queer men and amputating
the tip of their little finger. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">But so much worse than this
brutality is how fear transforms the city, revealing the inescapable nature of
society ... and the darkest depths of human sexuality.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">In a
very special arrangement, M.Christian's arousing, yet terrifying novel, is
currently available as an ebook, and soon as a trade paperback edition, through
Renaissance E Book's Sizzler Editions imprint – and a special audio book
edition will be available in a few months, through audible.com, courtesy of
WoodWooze Publishing!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">Here’s what some people are
saying about Finger's Breadth:</span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">"M.Christian has to be the
most amazing writer I've ever read. He is a master manipulator with his words.
You read his stories and begin to feel exactly what he wants you to feel -
arousal, desire, anger, fear, hope. Readers find themselves surprised to feel
this way, yet it is M.Christian's way of pulling dormant and primal emotions
out of you. And the crazy part is that you don't mind embracing these perverse
feelings as you are that pulled into the story. Not only does M.Christian push
his characters in his stories to their limits, but he also pushes his readers
minds to meet him in these faraway places." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">- Zee, Firepages <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">"It is not that hard to
come up with an idea that can be turned into a horror story and that is why
horror has been part of the folklore of America and why these stories are so
popular on campouts as we sit around a campfire. To successfully do this, we
need a combination of characters and plot but more important than all else is a
novel way to relate the story. For me that is the definition of M.Christian.
This book is unlike anything I have read before and I suspect that it will stay
with me for quite a while." <br />
- Amos Lassen, reviewer <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">"Finger's Breadth is a real
wild ride, the sort of novel you turn to when the apocalyptic mayhem out your
window gets dull, and you lust for something to remind you of what it's like to
live life at full-throttle. M.Christian sends the reader hurtling like a hockey
puck through a world of crime, out-of-control passions, mutilation, and
madness. Terms like noir and hardboiled don't quite fit—this is more like
ultraviolet, the invisible light that makes the scorpions glow in the dark."
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">- Ernest Hogan, author of High
Aztech<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">M.Christian has seen the future
-- and it is hardboiled! If you love crime stories -- gay or otherwise -- and
you love science fiction, you will love Finger's Breadth. No other
storyteller nails it quite like M.Christian does. This is a real pageturner.</span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">- Marilyn Jaye Lewis, author
of <i>Freak Parade</i></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">Finger's Breadth<b><i> </i></b>is
mesmeric storytelling, riveting in execution and appalling in implication.
M.Christian’s tale of erotic terror in a near-future San Francisco is
imagined so skillfully that it grabs the reader with its easy familiarity, then
refuses to let go as it careens to its shocking yet completely believable
conclusion. Evoking such Grand Masters as Armistead Maupin, Thomas Harris
and Rod Serling while remaining strikingly original, Finger's Breadth is
Christian at the height of his considerable powers. Like Charon the
ferryman, the author takes the reader down the dark rivers of human sexuality
and shows us things that would normally never see the light of day.
Ultimately the most compelling aspect of this fiction is how
fascinatingly and terrifyingly plausible it is. Finger's Breadth<b><i> </i></b>should
come with a warning label: Read this before clubbing.</span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">- Christopher Pierce, author of <i>Rogue
Slave<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Currently available:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">Sizzler Editions/Renaissance E Books<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"><a href="http://amzn.com/B01A7PZ24Q">http://amzn.com/B01A7PZ24Q</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">ebook$2.99<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">ISBN: 9781615086030<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">Trade paperback edition (coming
soon)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">Audibook edition (on
audible.com) from WordWooze Publishing (coming soon)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">About </span><span style="color: windowtext; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">M.Christian</span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">:</span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">M.Christian is -- among many
things -- an acknowledged master of erotica with more than 400 stories in such
anthologies as <i>Best American Erotica, Best Gay Erotica, Best Lesbian
Erotica, Best Bisexual Erotica, Best Fetish Erotica</i>, and many, many other
anthologies, magazines, and Web sites.</span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">He is the editor of 25
anthologies including the <i>Best S/M Erotica</i> series, <i>The
Burning Pen, Guilty Pleasures, The Mammoth Book of Future Cops</i> and <i>The
Mammoth Book of Tales of the Road</i> (with Maxim Jakubowksi) and <i>Confessions,
Garden of Perverse</i>, and <i>Amazons</i> (with Sage Vivant) as well
as many others.</span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">He is the author of the
collections <i>Dirty Words, Speaking Parts, The Bachelor Machine, Licks
& Promises, Filthy, Love Without Gun Control, Rude Mechanicals, Coming
Together Presents M.Christian, Pornotopia</i>, and <i>How To Write And
Sell Erotica</i>; and the novels <i>Running Dry, The Very Bloody Marys,
Me2, Brushes</i>, and <i>Painted Doll</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">Interested in reviewing Finger's
Breadth<b>? </b><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Write M.Christian
at mchristianzobop@gmail.com for a copy</span></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
mchristianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11887406428164757014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133731140800332850.post-63609162994595182822016-01-02T13:26:00.002-08:002016-01-02T13:37:53.830-08:00Karla Tangh's Fun Review Of Dirty Words!This is very, very, very fun:<a href="http://jarlatangh.blogspot.com/2016/01/book-review-dirty-words-by-m-christian.html"> Jarla Tangh</a> just posted this wonderfully whimsical review of my queer collection, <b><i><a href="http://amzn.com/B0099GJB42">Dirty Words</a>! </i></b><br />
<br />
Here's a tease. <a href="http://jarlatangh.blogspot.com/2016/01/book-review-dirty-words-by-m-christian.html">For the rest just clock over to Jarla's site.</a><br />
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<br />
'Lo People, <br />
<br />
Time to give M. Christian some more Hairy Eyeball for his Dirty Words. <br />
<br />
Does the idea that there is a hardened penis available to be inserted into a variety of holes give you a reason to pay attention? Her Tangh-i-ness sure likes it when males aren't afraid to kneel, bend over, or stand so that this reader can get primo viewing of the "act." I read Skin Effect and The Bachelor Machine first, but I think that those books were all literary hors d'ouevres before Dirty Words spread its pages and showed off its tight sentences, wet imaginary plunges, and provoked climaxes. And if you like your stories veering towards the dark and twisted, there's more than one nugget of guilty pleasure here. This is an unashamedly M/M Action collection with twinges of loving feelings here and there but Dirty Wordsain't real Romantic. Nope. These stories are mostly about scoring. <br />
<br />
To make it easy for potential readers of this collection, Her Tangh-i-ness will return to the following rating system. <br />
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TAMTT *Take A Minute to Think* This means the sexiness might have to grow on you. <br />
<br />
WT *Wet* Self-explanatory. No? <br />
<br />
H/OA *Hand/Object Assisted* Requires immediate action after the story climax. <br />
<br />
FAPP *Find a Partner Pronto* Try this one at home, Folks. <br />
<br />
*Spoiler Alert* <br />
<br />
Her Tangh-i-ness greatly appreciates pithy plot summaries. However, for those who must have a virgin reading experience, read no further, and eyeball elsewhere. <br />
<br />
*Spoiler Alert End* <br />
<br />
DIRTY DEEDS FOR DIRTY BOYS (AND MEN) PATRICK CALIFIA <br />
If you like LGBTQI Erotica, you've read Mister Califa's work. So when he has something to say about what M. Christian does on a page, there are those Readers who will listen a little harder. <br />
<br />
INTRODUCTION M. CHRISTIAN <br />
Mind you, this is now Her Tangh-i-ness's third romp with a M. Christian book. I don't know about you but I am in awe of someone who can say the following about the act of writing: Hell, it even kinda follows the Sexual Response Cycle: Excitement (an idea comes to mind), Plateau (putting it together), Orgasm (riding the high), and Resolution (typing "The End"). Excuse me, I have to go and type something to get my own jollies. <br />
<br />
SPIKE <br />
H/OA *Hand/Object Assisted* Fiction. Two, identical twin, blond brothers cum to decide one must follow and the other must lead. But not before some mutual oral service and a fistfight. Her Tangh-i-ness keeps one of those studded belts featured in the story so she can vouch for its effectiveness. <br />
<br />
HOW COYOTE STOLE THE SUN <br />
WT *Wet* Fiction. A man called Dog meets with a man called Roc. Two naked kids playing outside tell Dog, this habitual thief, of a man with "Stuff" who lives in the areas. Dog decides this "Stuff" is worth the challenge. There follows a titanic suck, a colossal f*ck, succeeded by a theft. Dog learns that all his efforts have been for naught. The two naked kids end up with a new toy. <br />
<br />
THE HARLEY <br />
WT *Wet* Fiction. Mammoth and Monster, two bikers, settle on a contest to win the wheels of a deceased rival. The true joy in this story can be found in the precision of the descriptions. He was Pup, and the one thing that was an absolute proven fact about the kid was that he could pull gas out of a bike without a hose. Mammoth makes off with the bike while Monster opts for Mammoth's former bedwarmer. <br />
<br />
ECHOES <br />
TAMTT *Take A Minute to Think* Fiction. Care to examine intimacy issues? A murderer cycles through other men hoping to escape the corpse of his lover. He even has sex with a Black guy and freaks out halfway through. For Chev, sex transforms into dread. Guilt seems to drive his need for punishment. Like an addict, Chev keeps seeking intimacy and the horror of it all lies in Chev's being his very own monster. <br />
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<a href="http://jarlatangh.blogspot.com/2016/01/book-review-dirty-words-by-m-christian.html">[MORE]</a></div>
mchristianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11887406428164757014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133731140800332850.post-19982880800203889532015-12-28T08:48:00.002-08:002015-12-28T08:50:09.093-08:00Very Cool: The Cover Of The New Edition Of Finger's Breadth!How very, very, <b><i>very</i></b> cool is this? Check out the cover for the new edition of my queer erotic/SF/thriller/horror novel <b><i>Finger's Breadth</i></b> - coming in a brand new edition very soon from the always-fantastic Renaissance E Books/Sizzler Editions. <br />
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<br />mchristianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11887406428164757014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133731140800332850.post-14709603443124725622015-06-09T10:38:00.002-07:002015-06-09T10:38:17.914-07:00Great Me2 Review!<i>As part of my wonderful <a href="http://amzn.com/B007TXXMC4" target="_blank"><b>ManLove Queer Erotica Special Sale And Celebration</b></a> sale, here's a kick-ass review of my book, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp"><b>Me2</b></a>. <b>Enjoy!</b></i><br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HFWmWEMn77Q/Ui4eu7GZn6I/AAAAAAAALjU/sfgyv_v2kXs/s400/ME2--withbannerFINAL+copy.jpeg" width="275" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.edgeboston.com/index.php?ch=entertainment&sc=books&sc2=reviews&sc3=&id=72252">Brian Jewell from Edge Boston</a> (and Bay Windows):<br />
<blockquote>
<span class="body">Until the most recent movie version, each iteration of <i>Invasion of the Body Snatchers</i> has been tailored to the up-to-the-minute fears of its generation. This eerie novel goes where the Nicole Kidman vehicle should have, drawing on conspiracy theories, urban anomie, identity theft and consumerism to create a subtle horror tale about erosion of the self. The nameless lead character is a shallow twink, over stimulated but isolated, who has acquaintances and tricks instead of friends, and products and catalogs instead of values. After a street crazy puts the idea of pod people in his head, our hero starts noticing strange things. People are referring to conversations he doesn’t remember and events he didn’t witness. Does he have a double? Is this doppelganger trying to steal his life from him? And does this interloper come from outer space, a secret government cloning lab, a disordered brain, or is he a thought experiment come to life? Christian keeps the reader guessing, using repetitive language and a deliberate pace to evoke our Everyman’s sense of disorientation and disconnection as he realizes that no one would notice if he were erased, while barreling towards a suitably trippy conclusion. Like a lot of good science fiction, this is as much a contemporary social satire as an unsettling fantasy.</span></blockquote>
mchristianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11887406428164757014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133731140800332850.post-88641233410713766502015-04-22T09:38:00.002-07:002015-04-22T09:38:44.624-07:00Me2: The Terror Continues<div>
<i>As part of my wonderful <a href="http://amzn.com/B007TXXMC4" target="_blank"><b>ManLove Queer Erotica Special Sale And Celebration</b></a> sale, here's a kick-ass review of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp"><b>Me2</b></a>. <b>Enjoy!</b></i></div>
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From gayinwa.com.au:</div>
<blockquote>
M. Christian is known as a writer of erotica, with stories in several spicy anthologies such as Best American Erotica, Best Gay Erotica and Best Lesbian Erotica. This time he's playing in the sci fi genre with the psychological thriller, Me2. Fear not, however, as Christian has not forgotten to pen some sizzling scenes involving the gay hero.<br />
<br />
At first glance, I was sure that this was going to be yet another cheesy addition to the growing number of sci-fi books and films about cloning. What comes to mind is the Sixth Day, a film in which Arnie Schwarzenegger´s character is secretly cloned and battles the people behind his cloning. Similarly, in Me2, the main character discovers that there is someone who is exactly like him, quite possibly a clone, taking over each part of his life. Christian is masterful in describing the Starbucks employee´s transition from bland but satisfied, to a blundering paranoid individual who questions his every move.<br />
<br />
These kinds of sci-fi psychological thrillers aren't usually my cup of tea, but Me2 is suited to a much broader audience. I say this because the underlying tale lies not in the main character´s possible cloning by some secret government agency, but goes deep into theories of identity and identity theft. It questions how our identities are formed, especially queer identity. Christian seems to suggest that our identities come down to what we choose to buy, as we collect material possessions to mould our identities based on how we want other people to see us.<br />
<br />
Christian also raises the question of the possibility of the Genetic Mirror Theory, which states that each person has a genetic twin. This idea that there could be more than one of us out there raises some hairs along the way, or at least gives you some food for thought!<br />
<br />
Me2 is a chilling and gripping novel. At first I really did think it was a bit of overdone genre about cloning, but it turned into something much more philosophical and interesting. Worth a read.</blockquote>
mchristianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11887406428164757014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133731140800332850.post-64193550897372351862015-02-21T10:28:00.000-08:002015-02-21T10:28:00.401-08:00The Amazing R.Greco And M.Christian Road Show: Feb 27 - March 7!<a href="http://www.rgreco-and-mchristian-presents.com/2015/02/the-amazing-rgreco-and-mchristian-road.html">(from R.Greco and M.Christian Presents) </a><br />
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<i>There's amazing and then there's amazing: join R. Greco and M.Christian on a whirlwind tour of teaching, performing and meeting and greeting, beginning in Las Vegas on February 27th with the <b><a href="http://www.sin-in-the-city.com/">Sin In The City</a></b> convention and going onto San Francisco for shindigs at <a href="http://www.wickedgrounds.com/">Wicked Grounds</a>, the <a href="http://www.sfcitadel.org/">SF Citadel</a>, and <a href="http://www.sexandculture.org/">the Center For Sex And Culture!</a></i><br />
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<i><br />Check out this kick-ass (and a half) schedule ... fun, fun, fun and more fun!</i><br />
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<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUzWtmOhF-nVNuY-f15JQ8uayyO7FQVS_WAcnBidJdH4fxrHSACYJudV-iim9G44nKsaViLtx7_aydOxcoIPgPE7a4LWoJGH0aCjhCsn22kKCt0PTNwECNprqdRPyV-cCimcn5D2Xt43oa/s1600/sin-in-the-city-no-date2-306x202.jpg" /></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Sin In The City</i></span></b><br />
Las Vegas<br />
<b>February 27th – March 1st, 2015</b><br />
<a href="http://www.sin-in-the-city.com/">http://www.sin-in-the-city.com</a><br />
<i>Join hundreds of other kinksters and leather people in saying "Hit Me!" to our Sin in the City dealers for a double-down dose of fun</i><br />
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Tit-Torture For Boobs: A Breast Play Intensive<br />
Saturday, February 28, 2015: 9-10:30<br />
Breast play offers wonderful opportunities for intensely powerful play - but also comes with serious, even dangerous, risks. In this breasts-on seminar, participants will learn how to treat tits, both male and female, with exactly the right measure of sensuality and intensity to play well but also safely. Clothespins, nipple clamps, pinching, suction devices, gentle impact, bondage, and more will be demonstrated - as well as how to deliver effective aftercare. Additionally, participants will be given instruction in first aid, the dangers of breast play, and the limits of what boobs can take. </blockquote>
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Sex Sells: How To Write and Sell Erotica<br />
Saturday, February 28, 2015: 11-12:30<br />
The market for erotic fiction and nonfiction is booming! There actually is a secret to writing great erotica - and you'll discover just what that is in this fun, hands-on workshop with well-known erotica writer and teacher M.Christian. For the beginning writer, erotica can be the ideal place to begin writing, getting published, and - best of all - earning money. And for the experienced writer, erotica can be an excellent way to beef up your resume and hone your writing skills. M.Christian will review the varieties of personal and literary expression possible in this exciting and expanding field. He'll also teach you techniques for creating love and sex scenes that sizzle. Plus: current pay rates, how to write for a wide variety of erotic genres, where and how to submit your erotic writing, and more. </blockquote>
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Cupping: Using The Ancient Medicinal Technique For Erotic Play<br />
Saturday, February 28, 2015: 3:30-5<br />
For thousands of years, Asian cultures have been using 'cupping' as a remedy for a variety of ills – from muscle strains to just a wonderful way to relax. In this unique class, participants will not just learn how to use cupping safely but also how to use it to enhance all kinds of erotic – and kinky – play. Demonstrations will include not just how to use cupping on various parts of the body in new and exciting ways but also the different types of cupping sets that are available and what type is right for everything from advanced BDSM play to just soothing an achy back.</blockquote>
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<img border="0" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKvqhVSO-jxQPLuO78ptbxeM8b4Ce0eZIOmz2O72vpVTTs-eb3xZx7IsVHWrrYZAIB0k4zRtg1KQcBI6lXA8-7YqVfxUywGy3KvcGrTdgVUzLBCF-K6dilzUKIgFL1eBOysO91rP9M_fs7/s1600/logowhitetextlowsize.jpg" width="320" /></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Erotic Authors: Ralph Greco, Jr. &amp; M.Christian </span></i></b><br />
Wicked Grounds, San Francisco<br />
289 8th Street, San Francisco, CA 94103<br />
<b>Tuesday, March 3, 2015: 1:00PM to 3:00PM</b><br />
<a href="http://www.wickedgrounds.com/">http://www.wickedgrounds.com</a><br />
Wicked Grounds is San Francisco's first and only kink cafe and boutique. We have a full cafe in San Francisco and host a wide variety of BDSM and related events, including workshops, classes, social gatherings, and munches.<br />
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<i>Here's an opportunity to meet and greet Ralph Greco Jr. and M.Christian: two kick-ass smut writers and BDSM/sex educators who know how to have a good time ... either on the page or in the bedroom/dungeon!</i> </blockquote>
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<i>In town as part of a whirlwind tour of kinky teaching and sexy authoring, Chris and Ralph (to their friends) will be available to chat about being an editor for Von Gutenberg Latex Couture Fashion Magazine (Ralph) and Renaissance E Books/Sizzler Editions (Chris) and their BDSM classes (such as Sensual Caning, Basic Bondage, Cupping, Breast Torture, and more) and their renowned erotica writing class series!</i> </blockquote>
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<i>Come chat BDSM classes, get some books signed, and have a fun time with two fun guys...</i></blockquote>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>Basic Bondage: Tie Me Up On A Budget with M.Christian &amp; R.Greco </i></b></span></div>
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SF Citadel Club, San Francisco<br />
181 Eddy St, San Francisco, CA 94102<br />
<b>Wednesday, March 4, 2015</b><br />
<a href="https://www.purplepass.com/sfc342015">http://www.sfcitadel.org</a><br />
<i>THE SAN FRANCISCO CITADEL CLUB’s mission is to provide BDSM entertainment, education on alternative lifestyles, cultural and leather community events, and other resources to individuals, associations and communities who identify with having different ways of expressing their proclivities; to create a safe place to meet, entertain, explore and share enjoyment, happiness, laughter and pleasure within those communities locally and nationally; and to be open to the non-BDSM community to check our evening classes, weekend retreats and weekend entertainment events.</i><br />
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Let's face it, BDSM - especially bondage play - can be pricy: steel shackles, leather restraints, handcuffs, and other fun things don't come cheap. But in this class students will learn that tying someone up doesn't mean you have to break the bank. From Saran Wrap to Bungie cord, duct tape to clothesline, and more students will learn all kinds of tricks and techniques to not only restrain on a budget but how to do it safely as well as effectively ... and enjoyably!</blockquote>
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Class from 8:00PM to 10:00PM, doors open at 7:30PM<br />
Cost: $20 at the door, or $15 in advance<br />
<a href="https://www.purplepass.com/sfc342015">https://www.Purplepass.com/sfc342015</a></blockquote>
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<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmAw48yqYanDqvha4uTv0UD19Z-zOfpgAlLZjRDoS84hS8kOEzKuXZezbMUSH2OJvZdPHXoHTmPZkVUJ8mxjsOtgjMqOSxrgoD4adJFjgw48l30zRdtsgEpoZFZI6DMtTBfsTaE0u6__e4/s1600/url.gif" /></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Sex Sells - How To Write and Sell Erotica With R. Greco Jr. And M.Christian<br />The Center For Sex and Culture, San Francisco</span></i></b><br />
1349 Mission St, San Francisco, CA 94103<br />
<b>Thursday, March 5, 2015</b><br />
<a href="http://www.sexandculture.org/">http://www.sexandculture.org</a><br />
<i>The Mission of the Center for Sex &amp; Culture is to provide judgment-free education, cultural events, a library/media archive, and other resources to audiences across the sexual and gender spectrum; and to research and disseminate factual information, framing and informing issues of public policy and public health.</i><br />
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The market for erotic fiction and nonfiction is booming! There actually is a secret to writing great erotica - and you'll discover just what that is in this fun, hands-on workshop with well-known erotica writers R. Greco Jr. and M.Christian. </blockquote>
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For the beginning writer, erotica can be the ideal place to begin writing, getting published, and - best of all - earning money. And for the experienced writer, erotica can be an excellent way to beef up your resume and hone your writing skills. </blockquote>
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R. Greco Jr. and M.Christian will review the varieties of personal and literary expression possible in this exciting and expanding field. They'll also teach techniques for creating love and sex scenes that sizzle, current pay rates, how to write for a wide variety of erotic genres, where and how to submit your erotic writing, and more!<br />
$20<br />
6:00PM - 8:00PM<br />
<a href="http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/1133598">http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/1133598</a></blockquote>
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<img border="0" height="103" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV2EGWtz0mmnR0Ab2CcdSV03L6BVvwFrHAyJdhdvz-JXY7Tk8slxjUb7e2lUFyFiprcyuDTSoYQH3_83zOfNR6AqFMOfizIG0vTTIfpp6MpfCCiegSriF2Bo27BVeJfRuH_PwTb3aFr0sd/s1600/p-1.txt.jpeg" width="400" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>Leather, Lace &amp; Lust: An Evening Of Erotic Storytelling and Sexual Merriment</i></b></span><br />
The Center For Sex and Culture, San Francisco<br />
1349 Mission St, San Francisco, CA 94103<br />
<b>Saturday, March 7th, 7:00PM – 10:00PM</b><br />
<a href="http://www.sexandculture.org/">http://www.sexandculture.org</a><br />
<i>The Mission of the Center for Sex &amp; Culture is to provide judgment-free education, cultural events, a library/media archive, and other resources to audiences across the sexual and gender spectrum; and to research and disseminate factual information, framing and informing issues of public policy and public health.</i><br />
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<b><i>Leather, Lace &amp; Lust: An Evening Of Erotic Storytelling and Sexual Merriment </i></b></blockquote>
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Come one, come all* to an evening of lusty literature by many of the best erotica writers in the Bay Area! </blockquote>
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From the tempting tease of delicate lace to the steamy heat of hardcore leather, these authors and performers will amuse, delight, and most of all excite you in all kinds of new and provocative ways; This is an evening of witty, carnal, and provocative literary endeavors that will tickle just about every kind of fancy, a festival of playful sensual fiction that will make you laugh, cry, and get that oh-so-special tingly feeling in your nether-regions. </blockquote>
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In other words, a night of kick-ass erotica performed by ass-kicking writers!<br />
Sponsored by <a href="http://www.write-sex.com/"><b>WriteSex</b></a>: Everything a writer needs to know about the business of publishing erotica! </blockquote>
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Our featured performers include:<br />
• Molly Weatherfield: "Twenty years ago, a mild-mannered computer programmer decided to spend some quality time with her erotic fantasy life, and Carrie's Story - BDSM for smart girls - was born."<br />
• Blake C. Aarens is an author, poet, screenwriter, playwright, and a Black Girl Nerd.<br />
• Jean Marie Stine is the author of a number of pioneering works of erotica published in the late 1960 and early 1970s, beginning with Season of the Witch in 1968, which was filmed as the motion picture Synapse. Her erotic short stories and novelettes have been collected as "Trans-sexual: Fiction for Gender Queers."<br />
• M.Christian is a recognized master of erotica with more than 400 stories in such anthologies as Best American Erotica, Best Gay Erotica, Best Lesbian Erotica, Best Bisexual Erotica, Best Fetish Erotica and many others.<br />
• Dr. Carol Queen is the author of Real Live Nude Girl: Chronicles of Sex-Positive Culture, The Leather Daddy and the Femme, Exhibitionism for the Shy, and co-editor of PoMoSexuals: Challenging Assumptions About Gender and Sexuality (winner of a Lambda Literary Award in 1998; with Lawrence Schimel)<br />
• R. Greco's short fiction (erotic and ‘straight’ fiction) has been published in 7 countries, various anthologies and single author short story collections from Xcite Books in the U.K., C.F. Publications and with Renissance E Books. Ralph is also the co-host of an hour-long net talk program, “Peter Riot’s Smack Talk”, was a pre-school music teacher and has played his original music in concert festivals in Italy, the U.S. and England. </blockquote>
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Saturday, March 7th<br />
The Center For Sex And Culture<br />
1349 Mission St, San Francisco, CA 94103<br />
Doors at 6:30PM, Event starts at 7:30PM<br />
Admission: $10<br />
*no guarantees</blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp"><img alt="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp" border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nV91RueiOyU/VByi1S_H9II/AAAAAAAANd0/Xp6BjI4f8Sk/s1600/ME2--withbannerFINAL%2Bcopy.jpeg" height="400" width="275" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"Absolutely brilliant!" says Lisabet Sarai, author of Incognito and Fire, about Lambda finalist M.Christian's controversial manlove horror/thriller. </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />He looks just like you. He acts exactly like you. He takes away your job. He steals your friends. He seduces your male lover. None of them can tell the difference. Every day he becomes more and more like you, pushing you out of your own life, taking away what was yours … until there’s nothing left. Where did he come from? Robot? Alien? Clone? Doppelganger? Evil twin? Long lost brother? Then you discover there are still more "yous." Can you be sure you are the real you? And how do you fight to take your own life back? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />An absorbing new approach to the question of identity, <i><b>Me2</b></i> is a groundbreaking gay chiller you’ll remember for a long time – no matter who you are, or who you think you may be. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />(Despite rumors that this book was written by an impostor - but, rest assured, this is the real 'M.Christian.' Accept no substitutes!)</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Epilogue 2<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Me</span></b><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sitting in my apartment – surrounded
by the things I'd been told to buy, showed how to assemble, and promised what
to expect to happen when it was all done to specifications – I tried to ponder
what to do next.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It didn't help that I could
too easily see another me – surrounded by the things he'd been told to buy,
showed how to assemble, and promised what to expect to happen when it was all
done to specifications – sitting in his apartment, also pondering what to do
next.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">How do you think ... not like
yourself?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I'd been right – that
is, if the me that had explained it all to me had been right – then we all were
slightly different, a tweak here, a twink there, but only slightly: fed the
same top ten books, the top ten shows, the top ten music, the top ten
restaurants, told what to love, what to hate, what to want to be, what not to
be, there was too good a chance that I was walled in by my carefully purchased,
precisely assembled life; blinded by my carefully purchased, precisely
assembled life to anything but what I knew.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'd like to say that it came
like a flash, a bolt, a surge, a spike of brain electricity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It didn't.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was bright, brilliant, luminous, and jolting, but it was
a process, one thing after another that lead from nothing to the answer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The first was reflection,
looking not into a mirror but downward and to the right – or wherever my copied
soul lived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What was the essence
of myself?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I worked, I partied, I
purchased, I drank, I fucked, I talked, I drove, I ate, I slept, I pissed and
shitted, I showered and shaved, I flirted, I cried, I got angry, I got hungry,
I got sleepy, I was late, I was early, I was on time, I was old enough to know
better, I was too young to care, I was healthy, I got sick – more and more, I
listed what I was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It took a bit of time, but I
found something interesting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
was like a hole, a part of me – us – that was there in its absence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You see all the numbers, but because
you want them to be in order and complete, you don't see the four missing
between the three and the five.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It all came in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing came out: I used, I didn't make.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was one part, the next was what to
make.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Not a flash, not a bolt, not a
surge, not a spike of brain electricity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Bright, brilliant, luminous, and jolting, but still a process, one thing
after another that led from nothing to the answer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked music, but I couldn't play an instrument.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked to sing, but only in the shower.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked taking pictures, but really
wasn't any good at it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked
movies, but didn't have a clue how to make them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked clothes, but couldn't sew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked pots, but ceramics seemed too dirty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked food, but burned everything I
tried to cook.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I sat down at my computer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The answer was there all along: I could
do what no other me had done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
could tell the world what had happened to us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could stand out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I could be the only me there was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I started to write.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">* * * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me2<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">How do you think ... not like
yourself?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I'd been right – that
is, if the me that had explained it all to me had been right – then we all were
slightly different, a tweak here, a twink there, but only slightly: fed the
same top ten books, the top ten shows, the top ten music, the top ten
restaurants, told what to love, what to hate, what to want to be, what not to
be, there was too good a chance that I was walled in by my carefully purchased,
precisely assembled life; blinded by my carefully purchased, precisely
assembled life to anything but what I knew.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'd like to say that it came
like a flash, a bolt, a surge, a spike of brain electricity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It didn't.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was bright, brilliant, luminous, and jolting, but it was
a process, one thing after another that lead from nothing to the answer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The first was reflection,
looking not into a mirror but downward and to the right – or wherever my copied
soul lived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What was the essence
of myself?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I worked, I partied, I
purchased, I drank, I fucked, I talked, I drove, I ate, I slept, I pissed and
shitted, I showered and shaved, I flirted, I cried, I got angry, I got hungry,
I got sleepy, I was late, I was early, I was on time, I was old enough to know
better, I was too young to care, I was healthy, I got sick – more and more, I
listed what I was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It took a bit of time, but I
found something interesting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
was like a hole, a part of me – us – that was there in its absence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You see all the numbers, but because
you want them to be in order and complete you don't see the four missing
between the three and the five.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It all came in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing came out: I used, I didn't make.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was one part, the next was what to
make.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Not a flash, not a bolt, not a
surge, not a spike of brain electricity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Bright, brilliant, luminous, and jolting, but still a process, one thing
after another that led from nothing to the answer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked music, but I couldn't play an instrument.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked to sing, but only in the shower.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked taking pictures, but really
wasn't any good at it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked
movies, but didn't have a clue how to make them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked clothes, but couldn't sew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked pots, but ceramics seemed too dirty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked food, but burned everything I
tried to cook.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I sat down at my computer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The answer was there all along: I could
do what no other me had done, I could tell the world what had happened to us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could stand out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could be the only me there was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I started to write.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">* * * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me3<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'd like to say that it came
like a flash, a bolt, a surge, a spike of brain electricity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It didn't.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was bright, brilliant, luminous, and jolting, but it was
a process, one thing after another that led from nothing to the answer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The first was reflection,
looking not into a mirror but downward and to the right – or wherever my copied
soul lived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What was the essence
of myself?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I worked, I partied, I
purchased, I drank, I fucked, I talked, I drove, I ate, I slept, I pissed and
shitted, I showered and shaved, I flirted, I cried, I got angry, I got hungry,
I got sleepy, I was late, I was early, I was on time, I was old enough to know
better, I was too young to care, I was healthy, I got sick – more and more, I
listed what I was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It took a bit of time, but I
found something interesting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
was like a hole, a part of me – us – that was there in its absence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You see all the numbers, but because
you want them to be in order and complete, you don't see the four missing
between the three and the five.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It all came in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing came out: I used, I didn't make.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was one part, the next was what to
make.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Not a flash, not a bolt, not a
surge, not a spike of brain electricity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Bright, brilliant, luminous, and jolting, but still a process, one thing
after another that led from nothing to the answer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked music, but I couldn't play an instrument.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked to sing, but only in the shower.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked taking pictures, but really
wasn't any good at it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked
movies, but didn't have a clue how to make them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked clothes, but couldn't sew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked pots, but ceramics seemed too dirty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked food, but burned everything I
tried to cook.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I sat down at my computer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The answer was there, all along: I
could do what no other me had done, I could tell the world what had happened to
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could stand out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could be the only me there was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I started to write.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">* * * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me4<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The first was reflection,
looking not into a mirror but downward and to the right – or wherever my copied
soul lived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What was the essence
of myself?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I worked, I partied, I
purchased, I drank, I fucked, I talked, I drove, I ate, I slept, I pissed and
shitted, I showered and shaved, I flirted, I cried, I got angry, I got hungry,
I got sleepy, I was late, I was early, I was on time, I was old enough to know
better, I was too young to care, I was healthy, I got sick-more and more, I
listed what I was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It took a bit of time, but I
found something interesting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
was like a hole, a part of me – us – that was there in its absence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You see all the numbers, but because
you want them to be in order and complete, you don't see the four missing
between the three and the five.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It all came in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing came out: I used, I didn't make.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was one part, the next was what to
make.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Not a flash, not a bolt, not a
surge, not a spike of brain electricity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Bright, brilliant, luminous, and jolting, but still a process, one thing
after another that led from nothing to the answer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked music, but I couldn't play an instrument.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked to sing, but only in the shower.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked taking pictures, but really
wasn't any good at it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked
movies, but didn't have a clue how to make them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked clothes, but couldn't sew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked pots, but ceramics seemed too dirty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked food, but burned everything I
tried to cook.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I sat down at my computer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The answer was there all along: I could
do what no other me had done, I could tell the world what had happened to us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could stand out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could be the only me there was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I started to write.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">* * * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me5<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It took a bit of time, but I
found something interesting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
was like a hole, a part of me – us – that was there in its absence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You see all the numbers, but because
you want them to be in order and complete, you don't see the four missing
between the three and the five.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It all came in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing came out: I used, I didn't make.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was one part, the next was what to
make.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Not a flash, not a bolt, not a
surge, not a spike of brain electricity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Bright, brilliant, luminous, and jolting, but still a process, one thing
after another that led from nothing to the answer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked music, but I couldn't play an instrument.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked to sing, but only in the shower.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked taking pictures, but really
wasn't any good at it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked
movies, but didn't have a clue how to make them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked clothes, but couldn't sew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked pots, but ceramics seemed too dirty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked food, but burned everything I
tried to cook.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I sat down at my computer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The answer was there, all along: I
could do what no other me had done, I could tell the world what had happened to
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could stand out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could be the only me there was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I started to write.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">* * * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me6<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It all came in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing came out: I used, I didn't make.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was one part, the next was what to
make.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Not a flash, not a bolt, not a
surge, not a spike of brain electricity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Bright, brilliant, luminous, and jolting, but still a process, one thing
after another that led from nothing to the answer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked music, but I couldn't play an instrument.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked to sing, but only in the shower.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked taking pictures, but really
wasn't any good at it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked
movies, but didn't have a clue how to make them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked clothes, but couldn't sew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked pots, but ceramics seemed too dirty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked food, but burned everything I
tried to cook.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I sat down at my computer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The answer was there all along: I could
do what no other me had done, I could tell the world what had happened to us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could stand out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could be the only me there was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I started to write.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">* * * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me7<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Not a flash, not a bolt, not a
surge, not a spike of brain electricity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Bright, brilliant, luminous, and jolting, but still a process, one thing
after another that led from nothing to the answer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked music, but I couldn't play an instrument.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked to sing, but only in the shower.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked taking pictures, but really
wasn't any good at it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked
movies, but didn't have a clue how to make them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked clothes, but couldn't sew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked pots, but ceramics seemed too dirty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked food, but burned everything I
tried to cook.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I sat down at my computer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The answer was there all along: I could
do what no other me had done, I could tell the world what had happened to us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could stand out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could be the only me there was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I started to write.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">* * * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me8<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Not a flash, not a bolt, not a
surge, not a spike of brain electricity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Bright, brilliant, luminous, and jolting, but still a process, one thing
after another that led from nothing to the answer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked music, but I couldn't play an instrument.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked to sing, but only in the shower.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked taking pictures, but really
wasn't any good at it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked
movies, but didn't have a clue how to make them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked clothes, but couldn't sew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked pots, but ceramics seemed too dirty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked food, but burned everything I
tried to cook.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I sat down at my computer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The answer was there all along: I could
do what no other me had done, I could tell the world what had happened to all
of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could stand out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could be the only me there was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I started to write.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">* * * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me9<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">(Unavailable, but if he weren't this is what he'd have said) <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I sat down at my computer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The answer was there, all along: I
could do what no other me had done, I could tell the world what had happened to
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could stand out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could be the only me there was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I started to write.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">* * * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me10<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I started to write.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">* * * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me11<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I started to...</span><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
</div>
mchristianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11887406428164757014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133731140800332850.post-27164337770330802882014-12-08T12:23:00.001-08:002014-12-08T12:23:04.699-08:00Me2: Epilogue 1<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">As part of a huge - and much needed - marketing push, I'm going to be serializing a few of my all-time favorite books ... starting with the (ahem) rather infamous novel that I may or may not have actually written: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp"><i><b>Me2</b></i></a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp"><img alt="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp" border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nV91RueiOyU/VByi1S_H9II/AAAAAAAANd0/Xp6BjI4f8Sk/s1600/ME2--withbannerFINAL%2Bcopy.jpeg" height="400" width="275" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"Absolutely brilliant!" says Lisabet Sarai, author of Incognito and Fire, about Lambda finalist M.Christian's controversial manlove horror/thriller. </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />He looks just like you. He acts exactly like you. He takes away your job. He steals your friends. He seduces your male lover. None of them can tell the difference. Every day he becomes more and more like you, pushing you out of your own life, taking away what was yours … until there’s nothing left. Where did he come from? Robot? Alien? Clone? Doppelganger? Evil twin? Long lost brother? Then you discover there are still more "yous." Can you be sure you are the real you? And how do you fight to take your own life back? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />An absorbing new approach to the question of identity, <i><b>Me2</b></i> is a groundbreaking gay chiller you’ll remember for a long time – no matter who you are, or who you think you may be. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />(Despite rumors that this book was written by an impostor - but, rest assured, this is the real 'M.Christian.' Accept no substitutes!)</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Epilogue 1<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Me</span></b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I saw them in the Starbucks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me and me, sitting together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The same, down to clothes they wore,
the styles of their hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
* * * *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
Me2<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I saw them in the Starbucks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me and me, sitting together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The same, down to clothes they wore,
the styles of their hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There
were differences, but only because one was sitting on the right and one was
sitting on the left.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
* * * *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
Me3<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I saw them in the Starbucks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me and me, sitting together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The same, down to clothes they wore,
the styles of their hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There
were differences, but only because one was sitting on the right and one was
sitting on the left.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Then there were three, sitting
together in the Starbucks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know
that's redundant, but that's the way things have been lately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One sitting on the right, one sitting
on the left, and the me that was myself who came in and sat down at the same
table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Differences, naturally, but
only because there was one sitting on the right, one on the left, and one in
the middle.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
* * * *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
Me4<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I saw them in the Starbucks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me and me, sitting together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The same, down to clothes they wore,
the styles of their hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There
were differences, but only because one was sitting on the right and one was
sitting on the left.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Then there were three, sitting
together in the Starbucks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know
that's redundant, but that's the way things have been lately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One sitting on the right, one sitting
on the left, and the me that was myself who came in and sat down at the same
table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Differences, naturally, but
only because there was one sitting on the right, one on the left, and one in
the middle.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
They told me then, about what
was happening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first I didn't
want to understand what they were saying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But then my brain went from refusal to belief, from belief to fury, fury
to wanting to work things out, wanting to work things out to deep darkness and
then finally from deep darkness to understanding.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
* * * *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
Me5<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I saw them in the Starbucks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me and me, sitting together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The same, down to clothes they wore,
the styles of their hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There
were differences, but only because one was sitting on the right and one was
sitting on the left.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Then there were three, sitting
together in the Starbucks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know
that's redundant, but that's the way things have been lately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One sitting on the right, one sitting
on the left, and the me that was myself who came in and sat down at the same
table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Differences, naturally, but
only because there was one sitting on the right, one on the left, and one in
the middle.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
They told me then, about what
was happening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first I didn't
want to understand what they were saying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But then my brain went from refusal to belief, from belief to fury, fury
to wanting to work things out, wanting to work things out to deep darkness and
then finally from deep darkness to understanding.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
It made sense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It explained what happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'd just seen someone who looked like
me, someone who'd modeled his life in the same way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At work I'd been mistaken for someone who looked like me,
someone who'd modeled his life in the same way: a me that Ebony had mistaken me
for, a me who for some reason was a slightly better worker than I'd been.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the community center, the dyke had
done the same, mistaking me for ame who was slightly more caring and willing to
volunteer than I'd been.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He hadn't
been a doppelganger, he hadn't been an evil self; he'd just been a person who
had chosen to be a type like myself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
* * * *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
Me6<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I saw them in the Starbucks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me and me, sitting together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The same, down to clothes they wore,
the styles of their hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There
were differences, but only because one was sitting on the right and one was
sitting on the left.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Then there were three, sitting
together in the Starbucks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know
that's redundant, but that's the way things have been lately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One sitting on the right, one sitting
on the left, and the me that was myself who came in and sat down at the same
table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Differences, naturally, but
only because there was one sitting on the right, one on the left, and one in
the middle.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
They told me then, about what
was happening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first I didn't
want to understand what they were saying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But then my brain went from refusal to belief, from belief to fury, fury
to wanting to work things out, wanting to work things out to deep darkness and
then finally from deep darkness to understanding.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
It made sense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It explained what happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We live in cookie-cutter apartments on
cookie-cutter blocks, furnished with mass-produced furniture, assembled to look
like rooms from mass-produced magazines or cookie-cutter TV shows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They look alike, so much alike that I'd
mistaken his place for mine, and cleaned up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course the key hadn't worked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course the super let me in; he wouldn't have been able to
tell him from me or me from him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
hadn't been an evil self, he hadn't been a me from a parallel reality, he'd
just lived in an apartment just like mine, because we'd both chosen to be the
same type of person.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
And perhaps somewhere else in
the city, in the state, in the region, in the country, in the world, another
version of myself, a Tommy Hilfiger who used to be a Boy of Summer, was sitting
down at that same moment to hear from other Tommy Hilfigers who used to be Boys
of Summer that what had happened to him was very much like what had happened to
them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
* * * *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
Me7<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I saw them in the Starbucks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me and me, sitting together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The same, down to clothes they wore,
the styles of their hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There
were differences, but only because one was sitting on the right and one was
sitting on the left.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Then there were three, sitting
together in the Starbucks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know
that's redundant, but that's the way things have been lately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One sitting on the right, one sitting
on the left, and the me that was myself who came in and sat down at the same
table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Differences, naturally, but
only because there was one sitting on the right, one on the left, and one in
the middle.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
They told me then, about what
was happening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first I didn't
want to understand what they were saying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But then my brain went from refusal to belief, from belief to fury, fury
to wanting to work things out, wanting to work things out to deep darkness and
then finally from deep darkness to understanding.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
It made sense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It explained what happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The man who'd called, who suggested I
might have a good time – a misdialed phone, the mistaking of one name for
another, the mistaking of one face for another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All looking alike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>All acting alike – or mostly acting alike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He hadn't been a me from a parallel reality, he hadn't been
a me from the future; he'd just been a person who had chosen to be a type like
myself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
And perhaps somewhere else in
the city, in the state, in the region, in the country, in the world, another
version of myself, a Tommy Hilfiger who used to be a Boy of Summer, was sitting
down at that same moment to hear from other Tommy Hilfigers who used to be Boys
of Summer that what had happened to him was very much like what had happened to
them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
* * * *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
Me8<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I saw them in the Starbucks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me and me, sitting together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The same, down to clothes they wore,
the styles of their hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There
were differences, but only because one was sitting on the right and one was
sitting on the left.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Then there were three, sitting
together in the Starbucks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know
that's redundant, but that's the way things have been lately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One sitting on the right, one sitting
on the left, and the me that was myself who came in and sat down at the same
table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Differences, naturally, but
only because there was one sitting on the right, one on the left, and one in
the middle.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
They told me then, about what
was happening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first I didn't
want to understand what they were saying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But then my brain went from refusal to belief, from belief to fury, fury
to wanting to work things out, wanting to work things out to deep darkness and
then finally from deep darkness to understanding.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
It made sense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It explained what happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It hadn't been someone from a loop in
time, it hadn't been an incubus wearing my face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He'd just been a social image who'd been looking for what
I'd been looking for: ourselves reflected back at ourselves, a fleshly and
bloody copy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
And perhaps somewhere else in
the city, in the state, in the region, in the country, in the world, another
version of myself, a Tommy Hilfiger who used to be a Boy of Summer, was sitting
down at that same moment to hear from other Tommy Hilfigers who used to be Boys
of Summer that what had happened to him was very much like what had happened to
them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
* * * *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
Me9<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(Unavailable, but if he weren't this is what he'd have said) <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I saw them in the Starbucks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me and me, sitting together.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
The same, down to clothes they
wore, the styles of their hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There
were differences, but only because one was sitting on the right and one was
sitting on the left.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Then there were three, sitting
together in the Starbucks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know
that's redundant, but that's the way things have been lately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One sitting on the right, one sitting
on the left, and the me that was myself, who came in and sat down at the same
table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Differences, naturally, but
only because there was one sitting on the right, one on the left, and one in
the middle.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
They told me then, about what
was happening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first I didn't
want to understand what they were saying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But then my brain went from refusal to belief, from belief to fury, fury
to wanting to work things out, wanting to work things out to deep darkness and
then finally from deep darkness to understanding.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
It made sense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It explained what happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He hadn’t been a demon, he hadn’t been
a long-lost twin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The man who’d
killed me had just been someone who looked like me, who’d shopped at the same
place, for the same look, to create the same kind of life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
And perhaps somewhere else in
the city, in the state, in the region, in the country, in the world, another
version of myself, a Tommy Hilfiger who used to be a Boy of Summer, was sitting
down at that same moment to hear from other Tommy Hilfigers who used to be Boys
of Summer that what happened to him was very much like what had happened to
them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
* * * *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
Me10<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I saw them in the Starbucks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me and me, sitting together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The same, down to the clothes they
wore, the styles of their hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There
were differences, but only because one was sitting on the right and one was
sitting on the left.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Then there were three, sitting
together in the Starbucks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know
that’s redundant, but that’s the way things have been lately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One sitting on the right, one sitting
on the left, and the me that was myself, who came in and sat down at the same
table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Differences, naturally, but
only because there was one sitting on the right, one on the left, and one in
the middle.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
They told me then, about what
was happening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first I didn’t
want to understand what they were saying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But then my brain went from refusal to belief, from belief to fury, fury
to wanting to work things out, wanting to work things out to deep darkness and
then finally from deep darkness to understanding.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
It made sense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It explained what happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He hadn't been a long-lost twin, he
hadn't been an identity thief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
man I'd killed – and the man who'd been arrested for the crime – had just been
someone who looked like me, who'd shopped at the same place, for the same look,
to create the same kind of life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
And perhaps somewhere else in
the city, in the state, in the region, in the country, in the world, another
version of myself, a Tommy Hilfiger who used to be a Boy of Summer, was sitting
down at that same moment to hear from other Tommy Hilfigers who used to be Boys
of Summer that what had happened to him was very much like what had happened to
them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
* * * *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
Me11<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
We sat in a Starbucks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me and me and me, sitting together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The same, down to clothes we wore, the
styles of our hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were
differences, but only because one was sitting on the right, one was sitting on
the left, and I was sitting in the middle.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
The three of us: sitting in a
Starbucks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know that's
redundant, but that's the way things have been lately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One sitting on the right, one sitting
on the left, and the me that was myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Differences, naturally, but only because there was one sitting on the
right, one on the left, and one in the middle.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I knew what was happening to
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like all of them, I hadn't
wanted to understand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then our
brains went from refusal to belief, from belief to fury, fury to wanting to
work things out, wanting to work things out to deep darkness and then finally
from deep darkness to understanding.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
There was no escaping it: it
made sense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It explained what
happened.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Just as there was no escaping
that somewhere else in the city, in the state, in the region, in the country,
in the world, another version of myself was sitting down at that same moment to
hear the same kind of story from the same kind of person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Put some of them together and they make
one book, put others together and you get a different book.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was all a matter of perspective.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--EndFragment--><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
One thing I couldn't see from
my new viewpoint was where it would go from here–<span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
mchristianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11887406428164757014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133731140800332850.post-34758570503463187712014-12-01T09:18:00.001-08:002014-12-03T13:25:03.969-08:00Me2: Chapter 11<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">As part of a huge - and much needed - marketing push, I'm going to be serializing a few of my all-time favorite books ... starting with the (ahem) rather infamous novel that I may or may not have actually written: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp"><i><b>Me2</b></i></a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp"><img alt="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp" border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nV91RueiOyU/VByi1S_H9II/AAAAAAAANd0/Xp6BjI4f8Sk/s1600/ME2--withbannerFINAL%2Bcopy.jpeg" height="400" width="275" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"Absolutely brilliant!" says Lisabet Sarai, author of Incognito and Fire, about Lambda finalist M.Christian's controversial manlove horror/thriller. </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />He looks just like you. He acts exactly like you. He takes away your job. He steals your friends. He seduces your male lover. None of them can tell the difference. Every day he becomes more and more like you, pushing you out of your own life, taking away what was yours … until there’s nothing left. Where did he come from? Robot? Alien? Clone? Doppelganger? Evil twin? Long lost brother? Then you discover there are still more "yous." Can you be sure you are the real you? And how do you fight to take your own life back? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />An absorbing new approach to the question of identity, <i><b>Me2</b></i> is a groundbreaking gay chiller you’ll remember for a long time – no matter who you are, or who you think you may be. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />(Despite rumors that this book was written by an impostor - but, rest assured, this is the real 'M.Christian.' Accept no substitutes!)</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Chapter XI<br />Me11</span></b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"You've heard it a lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Hell, I know you've heard it a lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I mean it, you to me – honestly, truthfully – I know
what you're feeling, the shit you've been going through.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"There's a lot of things going on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Real things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's
not just in your mind, not just in the space between your ears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's not just you.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"That's the problem, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But at least you aren't alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So you can relax, if you can.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"I'm so glad you came in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I've tried to track down a few others like us, but when I got close,
they got pretty freaked out. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few
even got punchy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can't really
blame them, I guess.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of them
are pretty ... busted up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So
that's why I stopped looking, let them come to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like you have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So
glad you're handling it ... as well as you are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You seem to be one of the better ones.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"Have you figured it out yet?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm not
surprised.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few of us have had
bits of it – a part here and there – but none of us have had all of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don't know why I did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luck, maybe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could be I've had more time to think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't know.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"We're all the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That's
what it's all about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That's what's
going on: none of us are unique.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No
one is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We've all become types, we
wear nothing but costumes, we act only like we're supposed to act –and we like
it that way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We've made ourselves
into what we want to be, how we want to be seen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It doesn't matter what that is: rich, poor, stupid, smart,
beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It doesn't even matter
how we start either – no parents, one parent, both parents, whatever – because
no matter how we grow up, we all want to be the same as everyone else when we
do.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"It's always been kind of like this, but it's different now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Worse, I think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things used to travel slowly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But now it just rushes at you, doesn't
it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>TV, the Internet, magazines,
books.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Life – all of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes you feels like it's too much,
right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's too loud, too crazy,
too angry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So you try to find ways
not to feel tense, outside, alone: you listen to the top ten, watch the top
ten, think the top ten are sexy, want to look like the top ten, want to become
the top ten, because everyone else does.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It's safe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It feels good to
know what you're doing is what everyone else is doing.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"There's something else, too: the TV, the Internet, the magazines,
the books are all made to get to the most people, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That's the way it works, isn't it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They're successful when they get the
most number of people to read the same thing, watch the same thing, think the
same thing, become the same thing – and they keep getting better and better at
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something's a hit because it
was made to be a hit – and we make it a hit because if we don't watch it,
listen to it, be like it then we won't be like everyone else.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"Think about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
want to be wanted, so we buy what they're selling, so we become what everyone
wants: a predictable model, a type, a unit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone's the same – and that way we not only know what we
are, but everyone else knows what we are, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then to stay that way, we buy what we're supposed to buy and
live the way our types are supposed to live.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It goes round and around and around and around!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"Have you listened to your thoughts?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really listened?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Close your eyes and pay attention: they aren't yours, are they?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They're stuff from movies, from TV,
from all over the place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
aren't yours because you're just what you've read or watched or seen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You're just bits and pieces of stuff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stuff that other people are thinking
about too, people who want to be the same kind of person you are.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"Even people who don't think they're not the same are the same, I
mean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They think they're special
but they're not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They're types too
– just different types.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They think
they're beyond all this shit but they're not – they've all read the same books,
seen the same flicks, listened to the same music.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They all want to be accepted, but accepted by people like
them, so they wear their costumes and put on their act.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just like us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just like all of us.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"Maybe we're ... better at all this, being 'types' I mean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe we're so outside of it, being
queer and all, that we just want it more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You know: to be part of something we get and that gets us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So we make ourselves into special
shapes and shit and lives to do that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Some of us talk a certain way, walk a certain way, create lives that are
just like our type so we don't have to be different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More different, I mean.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"No shit that some of us – some of 'me' you could say</i> – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">'broke'.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You could see why it happened, when you
figure it all out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Others, like
you, have handled it okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That we
have become a standard model of a person, I mean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm just glad you saw me and came in, so we could talk.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"Others ... like me, too, I guess.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How many like me are there?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sitting down and talking to others like you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Explaining about it all?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Telling the story?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't know how many others – but
there's more than one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That's the
point, I guess: that there's always more than one."</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Sitting in Starbucks,
listening to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Listening to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The other me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A path in his talking, a winding road through my head, going
from refusal to belief, from belief to fury, fury to wanting to work things
out, wanting to work things out to deep darkness, and then finally from deep
darkness to understanding.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
We sipped our caramel
macchiatos together, one side of the mirror facing the other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe one set of eyes a bit more
frantic, the other set of eyes more exhausted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Otherwise the same man here, the same man there: Tommy
Hilfiger facing Tommy Hilfiger in a Starbucks that could be any Starbucks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The hair was the same, styled and
modeled and clipped in imitation of the same look seen in the same magazine, on
the same model who was chosen to appeal to the greatest number of men.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
What was he thinking?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could almost hear the words in my
head – but only almost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The tone
of voice was there, but the details were slippery, sliding from getting caught
and nailed down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He'd figured it
out, after all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hadn't.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was me, but a me that was farther
along the road, waving back to my slower pace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I might be able to think like he did, given enough time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I thought about him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought about me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought about other ... <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">him</i>s and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me</i>s and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I</i>s and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">they</i>s and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">us</i>es.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One end of the
road marked by a sideways, out-of-the-other-corner-of-the-eye, "Weren't
you just here?" the first sign that something-may-not-be-right, that there
might be someone out there who looks like me, acts like me, and who wants to
steal what's mine.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
The other end was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">this</i> me, who had seen it all, pondered
and thought, deduced, and then tried to tell others what he'd pondered, what
he'd thought, what he'd deduced.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
My coffee was warm in my hand,
so I sipped at it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Across the
table, my coffee was warm in my hand, so I sipped it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A delay, perhaps, of a moment, a pause, a consideration
between the two of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One at this
side of the road, the other at that side of the road.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
But what was right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, not a road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was only one direction: this way
or that way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were others,
maybe many others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only some of
them were just beginning, only some of them were finally ending.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said that a few of us hadn't ... taken
it well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not well?</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Not well</i> of tears?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Not
well</i> of sleepless nights?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Not well</i> of sadness?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Not
well</i> of fear?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Not well</i> of fright?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I could imagine that too well,
and then did, as the coffee filled my mouth with warm excitement: a
mirror-image walking through my life, stepping on my toes, taking my place in
line, getting everywhere before me, moving in, taking everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could see where that would push and
push and push until I fell over into tears, from sleepless nights of paranoia,
sadness of loss, fear of vanishing, and fright from being replaced.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
But there were other kinds of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not well</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Different direction I could have gone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Not well</i> of tears?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Not
well</i> of seduction?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Not well</i> of temptation?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Not
well</i> of escape?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Not well</i> of capture?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I could imagine that too well,
and then did as the coffee filled my mouth with cooling excitement: a
mirror-image fantasy lurking around every nasty corner of my life, crooking a
finger at my conscienceless dick, licking duplicate lips, offering a perfect
self-dream of narcissism, an enrapturing embrace of the one person I knew would
be there and love me no matter what – but then there was the bad stuff of it,
the swirling-down-the-drain shivers at the thought of gazing from now until
whenever at my own navel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could
see where that would shove me into tears from the allure of seduction, the tug
of temptation, the fever to escape, and then the dark wish for capture.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
But there were other kinds of
not well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Different direction I
could have gone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Not well</i> of tears?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Not
well</i> of stalking?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Not well</i> of pursuit?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Not
well</i> of corners?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Not well</i> of desperation?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Not
well </i>of blood?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Not well</i> of red and blue lights?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Not
well</i> of prison?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Not well</i> of hail of gunfire?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I could imagine that too well,
and then did as the coffee filled my mouth with cold dread: around every
corner, behind every closed door, a leering face from a warped mirror; every
step from behind belonging to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">him</i>,
every sound coming from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">him</i>, every
face at first <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">his</i> – until proven
otherwise, every threat <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">his</i>,
everything everywhere a scheme belonging to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">him</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could see where that would shove me
into frightened tears, drive me quivering insane from his real or imagined
stalking, his real or imagined pursuit, his real or imagined face around every
corner, then a moment when it didn't matter if he was real or imagined – it had
to stop, then a moment of blood, then an afterworld of alleys and darkness
escaping from the police, then an afterworld of bars and rape – or an
afterworld of bullets burning hot holes through his body.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
So many other kinds of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not well</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So many different directions I could have gone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not a road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, that wasn't right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So many stories with so many different versions of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could see them as separate,
unconnected, single stories – or even like a novel, with each chapter only
looking like the same me on a trip from suspicion to seduction to smashing a
supposed copy's brain to gray pudding – but in reality each me is a different
one, lots of little stories instead of a big one in little pieces.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
And I, sitting in front of
another me sipping coffee, is just one more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One more false chapter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One more me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
some books I'd be the end, in others only the beginning.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
We got up to refresh our
caramel macchiatos, he and I, perfectly together – as were the grins we shared
at getting up together to refresh our caramel macchiatos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then we were broken, he doing something
I wasn't doing – but only for a moment as I followed the turn of his head to
look out the window, and saw what he turned his head to see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Outside, looking in, worn and tired,
scared and sleepless, Tommy Hilfiger over an older look as disguise, eyes too
wide from too many shocks, was another me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
With what I hoped was a
friendly beckoning, I crooked my finger at him; welcoming him into the company
of himself.<span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
mchristianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11887406428164757014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133731140800332850.post-39380448614374493252014-11-24T08:38:00.000-08:002014-11-24T08:38:38.813-08:00Me2: Chapter 10<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">As part of a huge - and much needed - marketing push, I'm going to be serializing a few of my all-time favorite books ... starting with the (ahem) rather infamous novel that I may or may not have actually written: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp"><i><b>Me2</b></i></a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp"><img alt="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp" border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nV91RueiOyU/VByi1S_H9II/AAAAAAAANd0/Xp6BjI4f8Sk/s1600/ME2--withbannerFINAL%2Bcopy.jpeg" height="400" width="275" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"Absolutely brilliant!" says Lisabet Sarai, author of Incognito and Fire, about Lambda finalist M.Christian's controversial manlove horror/thriller. </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />He looks just like you. He acts exactly like you. He takes away your job. He steals your friends. He seduces your male lover. None of them can tell the difference. Every day he becomes more and more like you, pushing you out of your own life, taking away what was yours … until there’s nothing left. Where did he come from? Robot? Alien? Clone? Doppelganger? Evil twin? Long lost brother? Then you discover there are still more "yous." Can you be sure you are the real you? And how do you fight to take your own life back? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />An absorbing new approach to the question of identity, <i><b>Me2</b></i> is a groundbreaking gay chiller you’ll remember for a long time – no matter who you are, or who you think you may be. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />(Despite rumors that this book was written by an impostor - but, rest assured, this is the real 'M.Christian.' Accept no substitutes!)</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Chapter X<br />Me10</b></span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"I know it happens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
happens a lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know it happens
a lot because they say it does, and I know they don't say what they mean all
the time but this time you know they ain't lying 'cause they aren't saying it enough
for it to be a lie, you know?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If
it wasn't really true then they'd be saying it a lot, but because they ain't
saying it a lot but they are saying it, so you know it's gotta be true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Right?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"If you use credit cards or those ATM card machine things they can
get you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They got tricks and shit
like that so when you do it – use them I mean – they can get it all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So you either got to not use it or not
use it a lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But even if you use
it just once they can get it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
got tricks, you see?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You don't
know half the shit they can do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like
the chips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You heard about the
chips, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They put them in
your head when you're in the hospital so that way the cops and the government
know what you're up to and where you are and even what you're thinking
sometimes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was this guy who
used to hang out down by that big mall, you know the one with the Saks and the
Nordstrom?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not right in the head,
if you know what I mean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Funny up
there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Real funny, had all kinds
of weird ideas about things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing
you haven't heard before, but he could talk about it for hours if you let him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But one day, see, he says something
about the government, how he'd like to cut all their fucking throats – shit
like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But what happens is
that the next day he just ain't there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not that you want to find this guy or nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But still, he just ain't around no more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thought he might have croaked, but then
I thought about all the crazy shit he used to say and that he only once talked
about the government, but that was the day he went gone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know what I'm saying?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You hearing me?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"But they can use that, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They can get all kinds of shit out of you that way or other ways, and
once they get it, they can steal everything you got.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The numbers is what it's about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All those numbers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You forget about them sometimes, but they are there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All the special numbers that you have
around you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Social Security,
credit cards, shit</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">like that, but</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">other numbers you don't even know you have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But they know it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They know all about them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You
forget, but they know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They get
them and they can take everything about you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your money, your house, your wife, your kids, shit like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One second you got it all and then the
next you got nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing at
all, man.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"But what's really fucking weird is that I also heard that they
can take more than just your money and your numbers and shit like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They're good, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Real fucking good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So good they can take all your numbers
and even everything else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Used to
be this guy who hung out down by the park.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Real fucked up asshole.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mean as shit, especially if he got a bottle or shit like
that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every once in a while you'd
see him all fucked up, bruises and shit like that and you'd know that he'd
fucked with the wrong asshole, but most of the time he'd be the one putting it
out and not taking it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then he
wasn't there no more, just gone, you know?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not like that other guy, though, 'cause he shows up a week
later but this time he's changed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Clean,
like he'd got himself a shower, even a fucking bed or some shit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I see him, and he sees me, and he
starts talking like he's my best fucking friend in the whole fucking world
instead of the asshole who used to beat the fuck out of me for no good fucking
reason.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"Then he starts talking about getting his act together, about
finding Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fucking Jesus,
can't you fucking believe it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
thought he was trying to hide, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Like he couldn't do anything because maybe the cops were nearby or
something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then I figured that
he was really fucked up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But that
didn't make sense either 'cause I've seen him really fucked up and he just gets
a lot meaner, you know?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"I got the fuck out of there as quick as I could.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A day or so later I got it figured,
though.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm not a smart
motherfucker, sometimes it takes me some time, but I get there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Someone took him, see?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They stole all his numbers and shit
like that, but they didn't know how to add them up yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Got close, though.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Got fucking close.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I knew him, see?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew what he was really fucking like.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"Sure as shit a week later I see the asshole and he beats the
fucking crap out of me again, but even as he does it, I know that they got it
right, that they took all his fucking numbers – even the ones he didn't know he
had – and he was fucking gone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just
took them some time, you know?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just
took them some fucking time to get them all and use them the right way.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"That's why I got rid of all mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Threw them the fuck away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That's why I ain't got shit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You got nothing, then you got nothing worth taking, you
know?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"Nothing worth anything at all."<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
* * * *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Mothers with their children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Children with other children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Men uncomfortable with shopping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Old women with other old women.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
The mothers with their
children headed towards Baby Gap, The Baby Outlet, and Osh Kosh b'Gosh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Children with other children moved
quickly towards Kaybee toys, EBgames, and the Disney Store.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Men uncomfortable with shopping held
their wives' purses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Old women
with other old women eased toward Macy's, Nordstrom, and Bloomingdale's.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Next to the mothers with their
children, I could have been a husband.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Children with other children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I could have been a parent or guardian.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Men uncomfortable with shopping – I could have been one of
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Old women with other old
women – I could have been a son or an escort.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Among them all – here and
there – a pair of men who were not husbands, parents, or guardians, not
uncomfortable with shopping, or sons as escorts, but I stayed away from them,
even though I would have vanished completely amid the Boys of Summer or the
Tommy Hilfigers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But they'd be
looking for exactly that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
A sly grin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know I shouldn't, but I did: a curl
of the mouth, a twist of the lip, a scrunch of the eye: so many husbands, so
many parents or guardians, so many uncomfortable with shopping, so many sons
and escorts – and so many who were also not parents or guardians, who were also
not uncomfortable with shopping, who were also not sons as escorts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Straight or gay, happy being in the
mall or not, I might have looked like any of them, could be any of them, but I
wasn't.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was separate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was unique.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
There was only one of me – and
so I had to hide among the crowd stepping into the climate-controlled comfort
of the mall.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
* * * *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I wasn't hungry, but I headed
toward food, because some of them headed towards food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Orange Julius?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hot Dog on a Stick?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chick-fil-A?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Great Wraps?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Even though I was trying not
to look like I'd just headed for food because they headed toward food, I still
ended up standing at the entrance of the court for way too long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ping, zap, tinkle, twitter: my thoughts
bounced from ear to ear, eye to eye, and if my mouth had been gaping open any
more, I'm sure they'd have tripped over my teeth and clattered to the floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I should go with the shoppers,
strollers, walkers, and shufflers – my thoughts went – because they are
average, ordinary, run-of-the-mill, and I want people to think that I am also
average, ordinary, run-of-the-mill, but I wasn't ordinary, run-of-the-mill – or
no longer anything like average, ordinary, run-of-the-mill – and being no
longer average, ordinary, run-of-the-mill by doing what the average, ordinary,
run-of-the-mill, if doing average, ordinary, run-of-the-mill things, would I
not stand out even more?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But by
not following the average, ordinary, run-of-the-mill, wouldn’t I be clearly and
obviously not average, ordinary, run-of-the-mill?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I ended up getting a hot dog
on a stick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The girl behind the
counter wished me a nice day, but as it was something she said to everyone, it
had no meaning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sitting on a
plastic chair at a plastic table, I ate my plastic hot dog on its plastic stick
and looked around the food court for any sign or pursuit or even interested
examination.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
After a few minutes of
carefully, slowly twisting my head, I felt tightened muscles relax, my heart
slow from its thudding in my chest, and my thoughts cool and slow from their
spastic doubts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not that I was
safe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But at least for the moment I was just a guy – apparently an
average, ordinary, run-of-the-mill guy – sitting on a plastic chair at a
plastic table eating a plastic hot dog on a plastic stick.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
And not what I really was:
which was alone, separate, and unique.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There was a difficulty, though.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There was a price, however.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was steeper than the cost of sitting on a plastic chair at a plastic
table eating a plastic hot dog on a plastic stick.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
How long do you sit I a
plastic chair at a plastic table eating a plastic hot dog on a plastic stick?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was I eating too fast, too slow?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was I sitting in the wrong chair?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Suspiciously resting my elbows on the
table?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My peace threatened to
collapse, broken shards musically chiming to the floor, my aloneness,
separateness, and uniqueness revealed to everyone in the mall food court.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't remember what it'd been like
to be one of them, to be able to walk invisibly through life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was my act poor?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My performance doubtful?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Calm, calm, calm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just sit in your plastic chair at your
plastic table and eat your plastic hot dog on a plastic stick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When you are finished with it, then
you'll get up and move away from the food court.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't
know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Trust in the flow of the
tide, the camouflage of normalcy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You
were one of them – well, not quite one of them ... more like two of them ... (don't
laugh to yourself, that's not something the tide or the normalcy would do, even
though it was kind of funny, in a weird and twisted kind of way) ... so trust
in how you used to act, how you used to not worry about standing out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That's it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Calm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That's it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Relax.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That's it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
For some reason I looked at
what I was eating – never a good idea, especially something purchased from a
wildly grinning girl in a stupid-looking hat – and caught the sight of red
around the plastic hot dog on a plastic stick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heartbeat fast again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I check out my fingers, holding them close to my chest and fanning them
apart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Had I missed something?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
First finger, second finger,
third finger, fourth finger, thumb – no, they were all cleanly pink, all
cleanly common.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Calm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That's it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Relax.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That's
it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
But then for some reason I
looked up from what I was eating – also not a good idea, especially since I was
eating where people had purchased their food from the likes of wildly grinning
girls in stupid-looking hats – and caught sight of a newspaper flipped up, a
front-page headline in LOUD type across the chatter and clatter of the food
court.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
They were calling it a hate
crime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Funny.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
* * * *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
The plastic hot dog was gone,
leaving behind just the stick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
stick in the hand of an alone-appearing, separate-looking, and unique-seeming
man sitting in a plastic chair at a plastic table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'd wanted to get up, to run, to get away from there as fast
as possible when I saw the headline, but had kept enough of my calmness,
relaxedness, to know that getting up, running, getting away from there as fast
as possible was something that an alone-appearing, separate-looking, and
unique-seeming man would do – something that would attract attention, make him
stand out, make suspicions arise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not
good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not good at all.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Instead I got up and moved
away from my plastic chair, my plastic table, the plastic stick that was all
that remained of my plastic hot dog and carefully, sedately, leisurely moved
away.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Stores scrolled by my right
side, my left side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't know
where I was going, just as long as it was away from the food court and that
LOUD headline.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Gap came up on
my right and I slowed to look in the window.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What I was looking at wasn't clear except that it was
something someone would do while walking through the mall: a thing someone who
was not alone, separate, and unique would do.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I knew I had to make plans,
start to think about 'what next' but all I could do was stand in front of that
window and look at innocuous colors that were part of innocuous patterns of
innocuous clothes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
On innocuous manikins: I may
not have noticed what they were wearing, but I did see that they were two of a
kind, stamped out of the same mold, same make, same model, same manufacturer.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I didn't know who my
manufacturer was, not specifically, being adopted and all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one I could ask, either, my adopted
parents being dead and all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So
there was a chance that he and I had been two of a kind, stamped out of the
same mold, same make, same model, same manufacturer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Long lost twin, separated at birth – that kind of thing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I would have pondered that,
tried to understand it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Researched
the possible hows and whys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
instead I simply stood in front of a Gap window and looked at a pair of
identical manikins and thought about how wonderful it was to be alone,
separate, and unique – and how scared I was about how it happened, and scared
about what might happen next.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
That's when I saw the cops.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
* * * *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Don't look.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever you do, don't look.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was bad enough to have twitched,
jerked, sweated, blinked, stiffened, when that shade of blue, that way of
walking, that way of scanning the crowd tickled the edge of my vision.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Man and a woman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The warbling squawk of a radio crackled through the bubbling
conversation of the crowd, an announcement just in case I hadn't seen them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
The manikin's hair looked
good: stylish without being flamboyant, cool without being too cool.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was what a normal person would
think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was what other people
would think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was what anyone
else would think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They would not
run, they would not bolt, they would not even turn and watch as the police
walked up to, behind, and then past them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They would look at the display in the Gap window and think about how good
they might look in the clothes, think about how nice it would be look as nice
as those manikins.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
They would not breathe a sigh
of relief when the police were far enough past them – but I couldn't help
myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a soft sound, I
hoped not loud enough for anyone to hear, especially not for that pair of
police.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I stayed at that window for a
bit longer, too long I suspected, but I didn't think I could turn, leave their
calm looks behind, and become another one of the average, ordinary, average
people walking through this oh-so-average, ordinary, average mall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then I had to go, staying frozen
becoming more of a risk than trying to merge back with the crowd, and so I
began to walk again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
"...suspect is currently
sought." I didn't get far.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
Gap behind, Circuit City next.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
the window, a new pair of faces.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Exactly
alike, just like the manikins of a few minutes before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One was my ghostly reflection in the
glass, the other my face as sketched by a police artist on an HD plasma TV.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both of them the same man, both of them
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But there was only one me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
* * * *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I hid in the bathroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luck, that it was close by: a little
blue man figure next to a little woman figure with arrows pointing away from
the busyness of the mall down a wide corridor lit by unflattering fluorescent
lights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the end of it were two
doors, a little blue man figure on one, a little blue woman figure on the
other.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
In a stall, I closed a door
and sat down on the john.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Walking
in, I'd looked around to make sure I was alone or at least reasonably so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Reasonably alone, that is: a few mall shoppers were at the
counters washing their hands, pissing in urinals, or no doubt inside a few
closed stalls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But looking around,
I'd caught a glance of myself in one of the mirrors, a flash of eyes like mine,
a nose like mine, ears like mine, and hair like mine: picture of me, so very
much like someone who used to look like me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Someone now dead.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I had to get out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somewhere in the general direction of
away, far away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For now, though, I
just sat on the toilet and shook like I was very, very cold.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
People were looking for me,
the police were looking for me, but one person wasn't looking for me – and even
though people were looking for me, the police were looking for me, I still
managed a crazy grin through my fear, through my shakes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
A grin that was a little
strange for what they called a hate crime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was, and it wasn't.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Was: because I hated myself for what I'd done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wasn't: because I didn't hate myself for what I'd done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was: because I'd hated that other me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wasn't: because I was still here.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
On the toilet in the mall: no
idea where to go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No idea what to
do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't even know what to
wear, how to talk, what to talk about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I used to know all of that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I used to be able to look at the people around me and know where I was,
where I belonged, how to belong less or more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was ... who I was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Now I was alone, separate, and unique.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Distantly, whispering across
long miles of my mind, I thought about what might happen tomorrow, the day
after, the day after that, the day after that, the day after that: a humid and
hot hotel room, a tropical country, a pickup on the street, a pickup in a bar-
I used to know what to look for, what would tug at my cock, but now ... what
face would be looking at me before, during, and after an even hotter hotel-room
kiss?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Lips to lips, he to me: a
person that would never be perfectly what I wanted, because that man had been
left on a sidewalk, a broken jigsaw, smashed-up pieces, or maybe a person who
was perfectly what I wanted because he too had left a man on a sidewalk, a
smear of blood on some other sidewalk?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Who would he be?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who had I become?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Aside from a killer, that is.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
* * * *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
It was defense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Self-defense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Literally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
wanted me – all of me – and he was winning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He'd taken this, that, all of those, most of this, and when
I even tried to change who I was, he was there to take even my new self.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't have a choice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was him or me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Now it was just me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Angry neon, corpse-white fluorescents,
screaming advertisements.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It could
have been anywhere, but it wasn't: he walked out of that one liquor store, that
particular liquor store, that specific liquor store.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first I wasn't sure, doubt slowing my walk but not yet
stopping it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After all, he could
be someone else, who just happened to be wearing what I wore, with hair styled
and the same shade as mine, with my same walk, my same posture – coincidence,
happenstance, a twist of fate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not
him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not really him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
But it was him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Bathroom to mall, mall to
parking garage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Quick but not too
quick: no turns of heads, no notice, no knitted brows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was just another shopper who went
straight from the bathroom to the parking garage.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
It was cool.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was dark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few late shoppers were on their way in, a few early
shoppers were on their way out: to and from their cars.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I felt like I could breathe,
so I did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ragged in, smoother out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cops were after me, sets glowed with my
face, newspapers had me in black and white photos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could get arrested, I could get shot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But for now I could breathe – so I did.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I thought that it'd be harder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is that premeditation?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess it is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But if you think about killing yourself
– even a second self – is that just contemplating suicide?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Beyond the liquor store, the
space between him and me, had been dark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Very dark: the kind of deep, fuzzy black weirdness you get in a lost
corner of the city where streetlights, glowing signs, stoplights, or any other
kind of brightness doesn't shine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As
black as it gets.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
The street had become quiet,
fewer and fewer cars streaming by.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Either that or I just didn't notice them anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Beyond the liquor store, the space
between him and me, was a vacant lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Very empty: the kind of deep, fuzzy, empty weirdness you get in a lost
corner of the city where houses, buildings, stores, or any other kind of
structure doesn't exist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As vacant
as it gets.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Just as light must have been
there during the day, there were a few leftover bits, a here and there
scattering of masonry from a previous house, building, store, or any other kind
of structure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rocks, that is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bricks, that is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heavy and sharp.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Very heavy, very sharp: very perfect,
very ideal – for the use I had put one of them to.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
In the here and now, the
darkness of the parking garage yawned open to the vaster darkness of the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fewer people than before, most of them
having already gone in or already left for home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One remained, a shabby one, a dirty one, a smelly one, a
raggedy one, a poor one, a fouled one – not a late or early shopper: he
couldn't afford anything.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
But he did pay attention to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't know why I paid attention to
him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Looking up from where he was
digging through a trashcan, he met my eyes with obvious fear and even more
obvious envy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"You didn't see
me," I said without thinking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>"Even if you think you saw me, you didn't see me, not even another
me, because there's only one me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That
is, now, I mean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No copies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just me, the one and only.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The original.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Got that?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do
you understand?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No copies, no
duplicates, no fakes, no mirror-images.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If anyone asks you didn't see me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The only me, I mean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Understand?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
The bum nodded, I presume
grasping my words, what they meant when assembled.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
That's when he told me about
identity theft.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
* * * *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
But that didn't matter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever the cause, I'd finished it with the effect of a
brick on a skull.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'd been quick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Running forward, I'd reached down and
grabbed at jagged masonry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'd
been too quick to even think about what I was doing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Run, grab, run, lift, run, bring it down, bring it down,
bring it down, bring it down.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I'd thought about it, yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the details of reality were much
more vivid than any fantasy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Blood,
lots of blood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He went down, but
with enough strength to try and push me away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Through his flailing arms, past his flying hands, I brought
it down ... did I say there was a lot of blood?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well there was: his face soon glistening red, flashes of
reflection in the freshness of the deep lacerations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another blow, this time less centered, and my jagged point
sank in deep, the popping of his left eye – if there was a sound – lost to our
screams.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another blow, the
crushing of his nose – if there was a sound – lost to our screams.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another blow, the cracking of his teeth
– if there was a sound – lost to my scream, his whimpering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another blow, the crunching of his
skull – if there was a sound – lost to my screams.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another blow, the wet sandbag of his head – if there was a
sound – lost to my cries.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I was alone, just the corpse
and I – the body that looked just like me, if I were dead.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Was I glad for what I'd done?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was it better that it had been done?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was it over?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I didn't know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I did know one thing: I was alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was separate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was unique.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Sirens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Coming closer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In my past, memory of beating the other
me to death; as well as the present when I stood outside the entrance to the
parking garage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the past, I
moved after the killing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the
present, I moved away from the mall.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
* * * *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Beyond the mall, the street
was busy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Retail overflowed,
spilling from the climate-controlled comfort out into the real world chaos of
weather.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I passed a Target, an
Orchard Supply Hardware, a Smart & Final, a Babies R Us, and even an Ikea
store.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of them great beasts
with long sidewalks broken only by a few entrances and exits, all of them
flattened monoliths of colors carefully chosen by teams of marketing
executives.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
A tickle, a touch, a tap of
doubt: I was alone on those long sidewalks, walking in front of those monoliths.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was not a place to walk; it was a
place to drive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was walking, not
driving.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Best Buy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Turning, I moved from street to store,
following some late night shoppers in search of their electronic and
entertainment fixes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't need
either, of course, but I did need for everyone to think I was just out for a
late night electronic and entertainment fix.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
The light inside was blinding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to pause just beyond the
automatic doors for my eyes to shrink drown from dilated by trying to see at
night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Around me, addicts flowed, some
even glancing back with disapproving looks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It didn't take long for my eyes to compensate and soon I was
walking with them, letting myself be pulled along into the dazzle, the buzz,
the flash, the hum, the glow, and the flicker.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Then: two blue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A pair, one next to the other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heart beating, breath gasping, I went
the other way, putting as-calm-as possible distance between them and me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I walked among DVD players, past home
theatre systems, trying not to walk too fast, to appear as nothing but another
shopper, one more electronic and entertainment addict entranced by the dazzle,
the buzz, the flash, the hum, the glow, and the flicker.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Two.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Think two, count blue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Hey, that's a good price for a ... whatever the hell it is: a box of
dazzling design, buzzing technology, flashing lights, humming efficiency,
glowing entertainment, flickering electronics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A thing I should own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A thing I must buy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A thing
that could make me happy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Two.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Think blue, count two.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Two blue uniforms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hey,
that's a great price for a whatever the hell it is: a cube of dazzling lights,
buzzing design, flashing efficiency, humming entertainment, glowing
electronics, flickering electronics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A thing I should own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
thing I must buy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A thing that
could make me happy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Are they getting closer?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are the two of them heading toward me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn't tell because I couldn't turn
around and look – because if I did turn around and look at them, they'd know
that I was trying to tell if they were heading toward me, which was as good as
yelling as loud as I could that I had a reason for worrying that they were
getting closer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So instead I moved
toward televisions.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I thought this as I did: my
life has become paired, doubled, a paralleled, a duplicated, a copied, a
replaced.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If something happens once,
it has to happen again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Uniforms
and televisions – would I again be washing blood from my hands from a faucet
behind a McDonald's?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Would I again
be happy that I was alone, separate, and unique?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again spent a few hours glad to be all of them, wanting
nothing more than just to be the one, the only – but this time with the itching
sting that it was a duplicate feeling.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I was wrong – and is that
something, too, that I'd felt before?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A second time believing I thought I understood, only to discover I hadn't?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I was in televisions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The police were coming closer, walking
toward where I stood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pretending
to be fascinated by the resolution of something that didn't interest me at all,
I watched a sitcom: people laughing uproariously at something that would make
any other human being fall to the ground in racking tears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But for me, the humor of their world
was too loud, the images of their comedy too bright.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
A commercial came on, a
fast-pattering pitch drilled into my skull with redundancy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was followed, naturally, by a
second, almost identical in its primal message: buy this and you will be loved,
buy this and you will be powerful, buy this and all your troubles will be over.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
The police were close by.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A radio squawked, official gibberish as
loud as the laughter that had preceded the commercials, and as loud as the
commercials that had followed the comedy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Next was the news.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The second broadcast I'd stood in front
of that night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That bears
repeating: the second broadcast I'd stood in front of that night.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I expected a hand on my
shoulder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I expected to be thrown
to the floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I expected my arms
to be yanked back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I expected cold
steel to be locked around my wrists.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I expected "You have the right to remain silent–"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I'd say I was wrong, but that
would make it more than twice – or has it already been more than twice?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If so, that would make so much more
sense.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
On the set was a face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a face I knew very well from
shaving, from primping, from miscellaneous reflections, from following me and
being followed by me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was my
face.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
But it wasn't my face, and it
wasn't his face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Suspect has
been arrested in the brutal assault–" the newscaster was saying.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
That was it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I understood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'd been wrong again – how many, many, many times that'd
been.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Not him: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">them</i>.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Not me: <i>us</i>.<span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
</div>
mchristianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11887406428164757014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133731140800332850.post-47502398526656729672014-11-17T08:32:00.000-08:002014-11-17T08:32:37.993-08:00Me2: Chapter 9<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">As part of a huge - and much needed - marketing push, I'm going to be serializing a few of my all-time favorite books ... starting with the (ahem) rather infamous novel that I may or may not have actually written: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp"><i><b>Me2</b></i></a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp"><img alt="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp" border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nV91RueiOyU/VByi1S_H9II/AAAAAAAANd0/Xp6BjI4f8Sk/s1600/ME2--withbannerFINAL%2Bcopy.jpeg" height="400" width="275" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"Absolutely brilliant!" says Lisabet Sarai, author of Incognito and Fire, about Lambda finalist M.Christian's controversial manlove horror/thriller. </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />He looks just like you. He acts exactly like you. He takes away your job. He steals your friends. He seduces your male lover. None of them can tell the difference. Every day he becomes more and more like you, pushing you out of your own life, taking away what was yours … until there’s nothing left. Where did he come from? Robot? Alien? Clone? Doppelganger? Evil twin? Long lost brother? Then you discover there are still more "yous." Can you be sure you are the real you? And how do you fight to take your own life back? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />An absorbing new approach to the question of identity, <i><b>Me2</b></i> is a groundbreaking gay chiller you’ll remember for a long time – no matter who you are, or who you think you may be. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />(Despite rumors that this book was written by an impostor - but, rest assured, this is the real 'M.Christian.' Accept no substitutes!)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"></span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<h1 align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large; font-weight: normal;">Chapter IX<o:p></o:p></span></h1>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Me9<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"The guys used to watch this show, you know?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Guys I used to work with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A tire shop down on Main.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where it goes into the highway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know the place?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway,
when I used to work there, there were these guys ... and they used to watch
this show.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thought it was kind of
weird, you know?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Well, they were regular.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Just average kinds of guys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe as old as I
am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even older.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who knows?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway, they were kind of rough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of them ... named Pico, I think ... he'd even been in
jail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Boosting cars, something like
that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So they weren't like art
types, you know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing wrong
with that, but they just weren't like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rough, like I said.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Anyway, I'd been there about four or five months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Getting to know how things were, what
was cool and what wasn't – that kind of thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway, one day the boss wasn't around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was this really big guy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean really big.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kind of wheezed when he walked, took
him forever to get from his car to his office in the morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even longer when it was quitting time.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"One day he wasn't there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Think he had a doctor's appointment or something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yeah, that was it, 'cause the next day
he had this big bandage around his arm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I remember that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But like I
said, he wasn't around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So
naturally the guys and I slacked off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not stupid, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why work
when the boss isn't around, right?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"So Pico and I and the other guy we just sat around for a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just shooting the shit, you know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The game, pussy, the fuckheads in the
government – that kind of thing – then I guess we started to get bored.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The other guy – what the fuck was his
name?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>– he started rolling washers
into the storm drain, like it was this game he made up or something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Guess it wasn't a great one, 'cause he
only did it for a few minutes.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"Then Pico, he looks at his watch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then he looks at the other guy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dick?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was that
his name?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So Pico looks at him – the</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">other guy, I mean – like they
have this secret or something, you know?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Then Pico says to me, 'You wanna watch the tube?'<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"I think, like, they're going to sneak into the boss's office and
watch a game or something, and they do that – kinda, I mean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We go into the boss's office, this
little room he has in the back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
only thing really in there is his big desk with this huge-ass chair behind it –
for his huge ass, I guess – and some filing cabinets, a couple of old
calendars, shit like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
this little black and white TV.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Little
thing, you know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like 'so' big.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kind of looks like a toaster or
something with an antenna on it.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"So we go in there, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Make ourselves comfortable, or as much as we could, considering what a
dump it was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then Pico, he starts
fiddling with the dials and all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No
cable – he's that fucking cheap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
after a few minutes he gets a picture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not a great picture, you know?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But you can still see what's going on.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Like I said, I thought it'd be a game – something like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or maybe a good flick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, that's what I thought it'd be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it wasn't what they watched.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not at all.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"After a few minutes of stupid fucking commercials, the show comes
on, and it's a fucking soap opera.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I mean I can't believe it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These
guys watch this shit all the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Mostly record it at home, watch it after work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But that day 'cause the boss was out they could watch it and
not have to wait.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"I couldn't believe my fucking eyes, you know?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first I thought it was a joke, just
fucking with the new guy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>See what
I'd do when these two rough customers put on the Young and the fucking Restless
or something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I almost laughed,
thinking that was the joke, but then I saw how they were watching it – and they
were really watching it, you know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Dead fucking silence in the room, or talking when the commercials came
back on, and then it was nothing but talking about the show.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was fucking blown away.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"I watched – just because there was shit else to do and I sure as
hell wasn't going to suggest watching anything else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the stupidest thing I'd ever seen, and I'd seen a lot
of stupid shit in my day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lots of</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">people just
standing around and talking, lots of women crying, stupid fucking music.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Christ, it was a piece of shit.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"One thing, though, I did see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was this guy – a doctor, lawyer, something like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shit, I can't remember.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then there was another one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Same actor, I mean, but he wasn't
playing the same guy, he was supposed to be the doctor or the lawyer's twin
brother or something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stupid,
right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean really stupid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember I wanted to laugh at it when
it was on, but Pico and the other guy were just too fucking serious about this
shit, so no way in hell would I do that.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"After the show was over we went back to work like nothing had
happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I kept thinking
about that other mguy, the twin guy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Thought about it all day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fuck,
the rest of the damned week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
mean, I don't have a brother or anything, so I don't know what that's like, but
I thought it might be really weird to have someone just show up who looked like
you, but wasn't you, you know?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"But that's not what freaked me out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What really fucked me over was thinking that maybe Pico and
this other guy had twins like I was thinking of – and maybe they were the ones
that didn't like fucking soap operas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But was my twin with them, always wishing he was watching that kind of
shit?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Spooky, you know?"<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">* * * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I had a car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't have to walk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I did anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My logic was simple, direct: he had a
car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Driving was something we had
in common.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had a car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He drove.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
drove.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I walked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mine alone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The shy was bright and
cloudless blue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sun seemed to
fill up a good quarter of it: so big, so bright, so hot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wished I had sunglasses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, I kept my eyes half-closed,
seeing only the fractured sidewalk, tumbling trash, dead dirt in municipal
planters, my shoes, and the shoes on the feet of other pedestrians.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I didn't know where I was
going.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just walked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">That I didn't have a direction
was something else I had that he didn't.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I knew it was probably a mistake, that I should have stopped, thought
about what had happened, what I should do, but I didn't.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, I walked – just walked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Four feet, instead of two.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bare, instead of wearing shoes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The dog that approached and then passed
was an Average Yellow Dog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Someone
with expertise could have said what breed it was, what characteristics it had,
but for me it was yellow and average.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Envy at its gold fur, its wobbling tongue, its kind brown eyes:
beautiful and simple, direct and unexceptional.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We had something in common,
something we shared, the dog and I: it wasn't thinking where it was going,
either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was just walking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Its dog brain was full of basic
dog-things: eat that food, piss on that hydrant, hump that leg, wag that tail,
lick that hand, bark that bark, chase that cat – instead of wildly crackling
thoughts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I wished I was even more like
the dog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When cornered it would at
least have a few hundred thousand years of survival instinct to fall back on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a few dozen James Bond and kung fu flicks – and
watching wasn't doing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It could have been one or two
or even three hours – hard to say – but eventually my stomach started to
complain loud enough for my dog-imitating brain to hear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stopping at the next red light, I
lifted my head, noticing that the so-hot sun had fallen down a good hunk of the
sky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Breakfast and lunch had both
passed me by.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">On the same corner was a
little cafe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't recognize
it, but I knew its type: precious and upscale, a new menu to go along with a
fresh coat of pastel colors over what used to be POPS or MAINSTREET GRILL or
even just EATS.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, though, it
was called CAFE 307.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The number
wasn't the address, so I had no idea what it meant.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"One?" a waiter said
when I walked in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was younger
than I was, dressed in jeans and a yellow shirt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could immediately see him flecked with paint, pondering
the subject of his art as well as how he was going to spend the fortune he was
going to make selling it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Yeah, thanks," I
told Arty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He led me from the
front door to a bare wooden table in the back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His hair was close and broadly dyed blond.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few years ago it would have been
dark, long, and restrained into a ponytail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fashion had changed, and so had he.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"The specials are–"
and then I didn't hear anything he said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Words came through, sometimes very clearly, sometimes broken,
disconnected from any meaning: "Chicken" "Ham"
"Salsa" "Pine nuts" "Sardines"
"Truffles" "Glazed" "Cheese" "Olives"
"Sea Bass" "Oysters" "Steak" "Fries"
"Macaroni" "Brazed" "Garlic" "Shrimp"
"Polenta" and others.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Thanks," I
repeated, bringing up the menu he'd brought, cutting his stare from my face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I think he asked if I wanted
water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I must have said I did
because some was brought a few minutes later.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Like with the specials, the
words on the menu didn't make sense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They floated off the page, mixed into combinations I didn't remember – or
at least didn't sound appetizing: "Five Spice Ice Cream" "Tomato
Roll" "Flattened Eggs" "Whipped Scallops" "Boiled
Mint" "Saffron Figs." In a box to the side were three words: The
Ever Popular.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Need some more
time?" Arty said, appearing again by the table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seemed like he'd just left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I repeated those three words, not knowing what I'd ordered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For a drink I looked down, saw a glass
with ice and said what it was: "Just water."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">A bell rang, the announcement
of another diner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Turning in
reflex, I saw a mother pushing a stroller.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was in sweatpants, a sweatshirt, a sweatband, and
running shoes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her face was hard,
muscled and toned into a brown leather mask.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the stroller, the infant also had a headband.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Girl or boy, the kid was jogging before
it could walk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Running Mom took a table
nearby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The menu concerned her,
and it took a long time for her to order.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When she did, Arty's otherwise up and happy brow collapsed and his
professional grin soured.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Outdoor</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Running World, Pilates Fitness World, Fitness Magazine</i>, or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Working Mother</i> must have had something
about gluten.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some Web site,
e-mail, chat room, or forum must have mentioned something about peanut oil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A friend, coworker, fellow parent, must
have said something about sugar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The Ever Popular clattered
down in front of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eggs,
pancakes (blueberry), hash browns, and cantaloupe – gluten, peanut oil, and
sugar in one commonly agreeable package.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I didn't like eggs, didn't care for pancakes (blueberry), didn't prefer
hash browns, and I didn't care for cantaloupe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I almost asked Arty for
something else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then I picked
up my knife and fork and started cutting – not really caring what I sliced or
what ended up grouped together on my fork.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I didn't like eggs, if I didn't care for pancakes
(blueberry), if I didn't prefer hash browns, and if I didn't care for
cantaloupe, then he wouldn't either.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I wasn't him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wasn't me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I ate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He might be eating – wherever he was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But he sure wasn't eating eggs,
pancakes (blueberry), hash browns, or cantaloupe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Thinking of him – actively
putting my mind to him – pushed away the last of the dog brain I'd been trying
to run on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eggs, pancakes
(blueberry), hash browns, and cantaloupe almost tumbled from my fork.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It didn't matter what I ate,
or if I drove or not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew that,
but it was hard to admit it to myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Easier to think all it would take would be to stop driving, start eating
a different breakfast, wear a different designer, watch different TV shows, try
to be a different person.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The eggs were slimy, the
pancakes (blueberry) were too sweet, the hash browns too oily, and the
cantaloupe gave me gas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I ate
them anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Like I said, easier than
accepting what I knew: he didn't want my life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">He wanted me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">* * * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Out: full belly, a growl
pacified.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Out: leaving behind a
paid bill, a tip, a squalling baby, a worn-down (but toned) mother.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I could have stayed there all
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a nice enough place,
but the longer I sat, the more my mind began to circle the drain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The more my mind circled the drain, the
more my hands shook.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The more my
hands shook, the more my heart raced.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The more my mind raced, the more my breath came up short.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The more my breath came up short, the
more my eyes darted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Better to get
up, get out, change the scenery.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">At the door, though – one foot
in, one foot out – my brain went 'round and 'round, my hands began to shake, my
heart palpitated, my breath wheezed, my eyes buzzed, all because a voice from
behind me, from the clatter and hiss of the kitchen: "Nice to see you
again."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I had never been in the place
before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A quick turn, to see the
source.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not the one I'd just
tipped, but another waiter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wearing
a smile that said more-than-familiarity, he waved.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Out: slamming into the
half-closed door with a wood and glass bang I knew made everyone turn to stare.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Out: on the sidewalk, my legs molten,
threatening to bring me down – hard – onto the cement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Out: a quick brace against the hot door
of a parked car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Out:
too-long-a-moment while my hands stopped shaking (just a bit), my heart stopped
hammering (just a bit), my breath stopped rasping (just a bit), my eyes stopped
twitching (just a bit).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Out and then away, walking as
fast as I could without running.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Putting
the cafe behind me, putting the waiter behind me, putting his stalking behind
me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">At the corner, the rush and
bustle of traffic drowned out my thoughts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But not all of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The dog was gone, my previously primitive brain-state tamed instead into
a neurotic, quivering mess.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He wants me</i>, was all I could think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over and over, 'round and 'round the
black center of the sink.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He wants me, he wants me, he wants me–<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">A car came down the street,
just one of many.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it wasn't
like the others doing their rushing and bustling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The one in front of it was dark gray, the one behind it was
bright red.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn't either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was white.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A white Volkswagen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Just like mine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Just like his.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I ran.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Away from the car, I ran.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Far away from the car I ran.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The alley was wide, a chain-link fence
on the right, dumpsters and trash cans on the right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again, as I ran: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He
wants me</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over and over,
'round and 'round the black center of the sink.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He wants me, he wants
me, he wants me–<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Another street, but this time
with less rushing, less bustling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Quiet
industrial office buildings, silent parking lots, hushed small manufacturing
firms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Panting, chest squeezed by
a vice, I braced myself against a fake-looking tree, a failed municipal attempt
to make the area look less cold and empty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was glad it failed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I didn't want human warmth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Or at least one certain someone's warmth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Human or not.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Human or not ... he wanted me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That much was clear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not my job, my
friends, my family, my 'things.' He wanted me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wanted to have me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>To take me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I looked up at the sun, a
blinding ball of yellow in a painfully blue sky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Church was nothing but weird-shaped buildings and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Ten Commandments </i>at Easter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew Jesus, of course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Knew about Jesus, of course, I should
say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But that's all he was when I
got old enough to actually read what he and some of his followers were saying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Especially about guys like me, who
happened to think Chuck Heston would be fun in bed and the Son of God had the
most delicious bedroom eyes...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But now ... was he?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could he be?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was it possible?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If God moved in mysterious ways could the devil move in even more
mysterious ways?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A copy, a Satanic
double, let out from a sulfur and brimstone condo to chase me down, take me,
make me into – what?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What the hell did he want?<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I shook my head, trying to
chase away the colors the too-harsh daylight had burned into my eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Closed, all I saw with them were blue
and red washes and flares.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Open, I saw the small
industrial park.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Open, I saw
distant traffic on a busier artery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Cars passing this way and that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Red and dark gray, blue and green, dull silver and yellow, and white.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course white.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are lots of white cars out there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lots of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lots of Volkswagens, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Very popular manufacturer, Volkswagen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I didn't run, but I did walk
very fast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Away, very fast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Away, very fast from that busier street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Deeper into the park.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">He'd come close.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Too damned close.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The thought of how close made me stop
my very fast walking and stand still in order to shiver from toes to nose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fuck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fuck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the
dark, his hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the dark, my
hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the dark, our lips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the dark, our skin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But that wasn't all he wanted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If it was, he wouldn't be out there,
wouldn't be taking more and more of me away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wouldn't be watching me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wouldn't be following me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wouldn't be driving around the city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wouldn't be ... out there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">No heaven, no hell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If he had horns and a tail then they
were very small.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Besides, in the
dark, his hands; in the dark, my hands; in the dark, our lips; in the dark, our
skin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Flesh and blood all around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was – so was he.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So what did his flesh and
blood want with my flesh and blood?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The sun was falling, the air
cooling, night coming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In my safe
maze of uniformity, shadows cast by small manufacturing buildings began to
lengthen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hours still, before
complete darkness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hours still,
before the sun completely set.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Without direction, I walked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without permission, my eyes tracked
feverishly back and forth, then forth and back, looking for anything that
wasn't stunted trees, gray buildings, slate-dark streets, sagging lengths of
heavy chain across the mouths of empty parking lots, glass doors, glass walls,
and signs dull with simple information and not the artistic allure of actually
trying to coax shoppers off the streets.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I didn't know what he wanted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I knew who he was trying to be – who
he had copied, imitated, duplicated, reproduced, stolen, faked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I knew him rather well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The original.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A stop in
my thinking, a stop in my walking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A heavy brick wall, all cinderblock and inarguable mortar cut across my
world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'd reached the end of the
park.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Above and beyond were the
poles and wire of power and/or phone lines.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was too tall to climb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Turning right for no reason, I went back to walking, back to
thinking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Both were a mistake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">* * * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Step the way you step, and so
it would be the way he steps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Think
the way you think, and so it'd be the way he thinks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I put myself into his shoes,
which were also my shoes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I put
myself into his mind, which was also my mind: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">he was what you wanted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No
one else would do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You watched him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You studied him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You learned all there was to know about
him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then you began – slowly at
first – to do what he did, to look the way he did: wore clothes like his, you
cut your hair like his, you talked like him, you moved like him, you tried to
think like him, you wanted to become him – totally and absolutely.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Then, when you were ready, you began to inch your way into his life,
becoming him: friends, coworkers, strangers, maybe even relatives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You fooled them all: they never
suspected, they never doubted that you were him.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">A dumpster, crammed with
crushed cardboard boxes, hid most of the corner where another wall of bricks
met the one I'd been following.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
met this angle and turned right: the only direction to go without going back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It was all you wanted, everything you wanted: to become what he was, to
become him – in mind as well as body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Wherever he went, you were there before him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he changed, you changed.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Then, you were ready.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You
picked the time, you chose the place.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But he rejected you.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Another cardboard box, more
than likely dropped before getting to the dumpster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two feet tall, three feet long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could have held anything: a computer, a TV, a microwave
oven, a shelving unit, a piece of mysterious industrial equipment, maybe even
food or the things that, when cooked together, made food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It didn't matter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It was in my hands, picked up
and held without a thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
wasn't heavy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wouldn't have
noticed if it was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Fingers curling, my nails cut
into the paper, puncturing the stiff brown outside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Distantly, I felt the corrugated interior of the cardboard
crush.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I kept curling, kept
clawing: the tearing was loud in my space between industrial building and
cinder block wall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The box became
anything but square, the material of it ripped and shredded in my hands.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He rejected you!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">No box, no paper, no
corrugated material, no cardboard: my mind went away from what I was seeing,
instead projecting on the inside of my forehead: flesh and blood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Too much flesh, too much blood.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Fingers curling, I imagined my
nails cutting into his skin, puncturing the soft pale outside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I kept curling, kept clawing: the
tearing was loud in my space between my ears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His body became anything but whole, the material of him
ripping and shredding in my hands.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The dog mind came back, a
roaring white of fury: rip flesh, break bones, tear off fingers, burst eyes,
smash teeth, crush ribs, pulp the insides, tug and rip away the outsides.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Horror movies, nightmares, traffic
accidents: blood slick and copper, bones twig and branch breaking, marrow
popping, organs spilling, skull splitting, brains splashing–<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">In my hands: no box, no paper,
no corrugated material, no cardboard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Instead scraps and pieces, bits and fragments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Breathing hard, I let the remnants fall to the pavement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Around me were shreds of brown, flecks
of brown, crumples of brown–<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Fading, ghosting away...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In my hands: no box, no paper, no
corrugated material, no cardboard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Instead scraps and pieces, bits and fragments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Breathing hard, I let the remnants fall to the pavement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Around me were shreds of flesh, flecks
of blood, crumples of tissue – but then the dog mind went away, and it was just
an alley behind an industrial building, and at my feet was just litter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">He wanted to be me, he wanted
to have me, and I rejected him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">If he'd become me – totally and completely become me then he'd be
thinking what I was thinking.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Leaving behind a destroyed
box, I began to run once again, thinking of blood once again – but this time my
blood on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">his</i> hands.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">* * * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Turning right had been a
mistake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I said that, didn't I?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can't remember.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I didn't, then I should have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I did, then saying it again was not
enough.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I knew what he wanted: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew what he'd do to me if he found me: my blood on his
hands, because I'd rejected him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The industrial park had ended,
the wall I'd been following stopped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In front of me was a busy street, cars moving right to left and left to
right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All very fast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Night was more than threatening: the
cars that moved from right to left and left to right were led by blinding
headlights and followed by crimson streaks from taillights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Across the street, streetlights had
begun to flicker on, piss-yellow sodium glows mixing with the white and the red
going from right to left and left to right.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Not just across the street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without a sound, the one above me
winked on, throwing a sour, piss-colored glow all around me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">There was no way to tell a
white car from a yellow one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lots
of cars, many of them could be yellow, many of them might be white.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Might not be him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Might be him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Having arrived where turning
right had led me, there was no choice but to keep going in that direction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To the left was the dark industrial
park, what had been a safely quiet spread of uniform gray buildings was now a
haunted maze where a loud voice – or a scream – wouldn’t be heard.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Right it was, then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Quickly, but only a trot, not a run.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My legs were stone, iron, lead, heavy
elements polluting my body with painful radiations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My chest was rasping phosphorus, churning aid, spasms of
fists speed-bagging my heart.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Don’t hurt me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please
don’t hurt me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m sorry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So sorry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please ... </i>‘round
and ‘round in my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But as they
did, I knew that if they were being said, and I was hearing them, they wouldn’t
mean anything at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wouldn’t
listen, so he wouldn’t listen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The liquor store was an island
of bulletproof glass, irritably buzzing fluorescents, crossly droning neon, and
squalling Muzak.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A bell announced
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Behind the counter, a Working
Stiff – flannel shirt, jeans, skin tan from outdoor work and cheap motor oil,
face rough from outdoor work and cheap beer, eyes hard from outdoor work and
cheap entertainment – looked up at me, checking for trouble.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Hiya," the Working
Stiff said in a light tone, clearly not seeing trouble in me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I wasn't hungry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't have a car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't need a pine tree air freshener.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't want a copy of Hustler.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't need a lottery ticket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't need directions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I still came in, nodding to the
Working Stiff, and began to walk up and down the narrow aisles like I was
hungry, did need gas, did need a pine tree air freshener, did want a copy of
Hustler, did need a lottery ticket, did need directions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">He was out there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was looking for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I knew that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wanted me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wanted to hurt me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I knew that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Somehow a bag of potato chips
ended up in my hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>French Onion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ridges.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't like potato chips, even ridged French Onion ones, but
I kept it in my hands as I walked up and down the aisles while the Working
Stiff watched.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">After a time – how much of it
I had no idea – I felt that I had walked from the aisle of 'slow customer' to
'what the fuck?', baiting his eyes from casual examination to hard suspicion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The added peppery burn of his
look made my heart more than race.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Slipping out of my fingers, the French Onion ridged chips fell to the
tiled floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Shit," I
said, a moment after they landed, my voice shrill and far too loud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I bent down and the bag was in my arms
again in a split second.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Take it easy</i>, I told myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Take
it easy</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Rough night?" he
said when I put the bag down on the counter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Voice cool and relaxed, he made my heart slow to a walk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just a guy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just a Working Stiff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Just a guy who was a Working Stiff doing his job.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Yeah," I answered
in small tones, face tilted down in submission.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted him to like me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I needed him – okay, anyone – to care about me, so I
wouldn't be alone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Been there, man,"
Working Stiff said with a slight smile.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I didn't know how to answer
that, so I just kept grinning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
pair of headlights swung by the windows, their stern glares washing away the
garish colors inside the store.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
was hard to see what color the car was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It could have been white.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Something bothering
you?" the Working Stiff asked as he punched buttons on his register, the
chimes of money sharp and clear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
couldn't tell by the way he asked whether his question was kind concern or wary
distrust.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Even though I shook my head I
said: "Yeah, kinda." Even though I reached out for my unwanted
purchase I said: "Not a big deal, really." Even though I grabbed the
bag I said: "It's just that–"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Yeah?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"It's just that ... there's
this guy out there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Drives a white
Volkswagen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kind of ... a problem,
you know?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't really want to
run into him."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The grin on his face was wide
and toothy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was not a pleasant
sight: obviously his employment didn't include dental.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Know that story," he said,
though obviously he couldn't have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>"Don't have to tell me twice."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The grin?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Must have been the grin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He didn't know me, but he seemed nice
enough, even remotely concerned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Putting
my bag down on the counter, I began by saying something like "You think
you have it all figured out–"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I didn't tell him everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn't do that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I asked him enough to keep the grin
on his face, to keep the remote concern coming from him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Casually, sideways, from a different
direction, I asked him what he might think if he saw someone who looked, acted,
exactly like him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">That's when he told me about
soap operas and long-lost twins.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">* * * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'd pushed it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The grin was there but it had begun to
slip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was good while it lasted
though.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The world – at least for
the last few minutes – had become warmer, kinder, average, ordinary: just two
guys in the middle of the night having a warm, kind, average, ordinary
conversation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But all through it,
tickling the back of neck, was the thought of another pair of headlights
harshly white through the big glass windows of the liquor store.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A pair belonging to a white Volkswagen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A white Volkswagen belonging to someone
who looked, acted, exactly like me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It was time to go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where I didn't know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To do what, I didn't know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To run?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To hide?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To
find a way to make him run?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To
make him hide?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"See ya," I told
him, taking up my bag of French Onion ridged potato chips and moving toward the
door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Later," was his
answer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would have been fine
and good if that was all he said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
would have been warmer, kinder, average, ordinary if that was all he said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it wasn't, because that wasn't all
he said: "Best of luck with the Volkswagen – and that blond guy, with the
blue eyes."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I hadn't told him about him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hadn't told him who the owner of the
white Volkswagen looked like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
hadn't mentioned someone who looked, acted, exactly like me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Which meant one thing: that
someone else had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Someone who'd
been in the store, maybe even that night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Someone who'd looked, acted, exactly like me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">* * * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'd dropped the bag of French
Onion ridged potato chips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where,
I didn't know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somewhere it was
laying on a sidewalk, probably still puffed up with air.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or maybe someone had stepped on it,
bursting it, spraying salty snacks over their feet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Feet like mine?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The liquor store was behind
me, maybe fifty feet or so.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The street I was moving down
was dark, revealed only by the amorphous yellow glow of sodium streetlights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Traffic was light, but more than enough
to make me want to scream: every car was a Volkswagen, every Volkswagen was white,
every white Volkswagen was driven by a young man with blond hair and blue eyes,
every blond haired and blue eyed driver was me – looking for me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I saw the cars, I saw the
sidewalk, I saw the urine-glow of the sodium streetlights, but I also saw
blood: mine sprayed through the air, mine slick on the ground, mine from the
impact of a quick and heavy bullet, mine from a rearing and cutting saw, mine
from a flashing knife edge, mine from the pounding impacts of a hammer, mine
from the rushing blur of a car, mine from ... how I didn't know, couldn't be
sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I did know, could be
sure, that it would be from him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Don't hurt me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please
don't hurt me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm sorry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So sorry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please ... </i>'round
and 'round in my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew that
if the words were being said, and I was hearing them, they wouldn't mean
anything at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wouldn't
listen, so he wouldn't listen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">He was out there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was looking for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I knew that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wanted me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wanted to hurt me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I knew that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">A form, appearing and
disappearing as it crossed from night into the yellow cones of streetlight
illuminations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A form ahead of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Moving away?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, it was approaching.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Two arms, swinging at its side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two legs, scissoring as it walked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A head, immobile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A he.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
man.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I suspected before I knew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The 'no' that burst in my head, deep in
my mind, was an echo: a statement of the visually obvious.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">A mirror had been held up to
the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A reflection of myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--EndFragment--><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">He was coming at me.</span><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
mchristianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11887406428164757014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133731140800332850.post-55210366215116042112014-11-10T07:34:00.003-08:002014-11-17T08:32:07.847-08:00Me2: Chapter 8<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">As part of a huge - and much
needed - marketing push, I'm going to be serializing a few of my
all-time favorite books ... starting with the (ahem) rather infamous
novel that I may or may not have actually written: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp"><i><b>Me2</b></i></a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp"><img alt="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp" border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nV91RueiOyU/VByi1S_H9II/AAAAAAAANd0/Xp6BjI4f8Sk/s1600/ME2--withbannerFINAL%2Bcopy.jpeg" height="400" width="275" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"Absolutely brilliant!" says Lisabet Sarai, author of Incognito and
Fire, about Lambda finalist M.Christian's controversial manlove
horror/thriller. </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">He looks just like you. He acts exactly like you. He
takes away your job. He steals your friends. He seduces your male
lover. None of them can tell the difference. Every day he becomes more
and more like you, pushing you out of your own life, taking away what
was yours … until there’s nothing left. Where did he come from? Robot?
Alien? Clone? Doppelganger? Evil twin? Long lost brother? Then you
discover there are still more "yous." Can you be sure you are the real
you? And how do you fight to take your own life back? </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">An absorbing new
approach to the question of identity, <i><b>Me2</b></i> is a groundbreaking gay
chiller you’ll remember for a long time – no matter who you are, or who
you think you may be. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">(Despite rumors that this book was written by an
impostor - but, rest assured, this is the real 'M.Christian.' Accept
no substitutes!)</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Chapter
VIII</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Me8</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"I believe in Jesus Christ, Our Lord and Savior. I believe that He died on the cross for
our sins. I believe He is good,
and in all things. I believe that
Jesus Christ, Our Lord and Savior, fills the hearts of the saved with love and
kindness. I believe He protects
the saved from the enticements of the flesh and the lures of Satan.</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"Pastor Ted says that God is in all things, from the smallest to
the largest. 'From the whale to
the flea, from everything to you and me,' he says. That means that whatever we do, we do with the Lord God
Jesus Christ, and since we do it with him we also do it because of him because
the Lord also created all things as well.</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"But Satan can be in many things as well. You can see it – you know you can: in
music that talks children into lives of promiscuity and drugs, in movies that
advocate the homosexual lifestyle, in books that corrupt the people who read
them. Satan is everywhere – but
not like Jesus Christ. Oh, no! Jesus is in all the good things in the
world. Satan is there only to pull
the righteous, the innocent, and the weak to his evil power.</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"Pastor Ted says that Satan is powerful, but he can be crushed
beneath the heel of the Saved. We
all have the power to do that, if we just accept the Lord Jesus Christ into our
hearts and become clean again, washing away the sins of the world with our
baptism in the faith. Pastor Ted
says that if we understand just how weak Satan is we can live in this tainted
world without fear, but only if we accept and hold Jesus in our hearts every
second of every day – because if we don't then Satan can grow powerful, even
enough to sway those we might all think to be pure and righteous.</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"Pastor Ted says that Satan can take many forms. He is the prince of lies, you know. He can pretend to be all kinds of
things. He could even be your
brother, your mother, your father, a teacher, even a fellow Christian, but you
will know him for the lies he tries to tell, for</i> <i>there is
nothing more pure than the undeniable power and love of Jesus Christ.</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"Pastor Ted even said that I've seen Satan himself! He did, he really did say that. He said that because the love for Jesus
Christ is so strong in me, I could see right through the illusions Satan spins
in the world, the lies he pulls over our eyes. The moment he told me that, I knew it was true because I've
seen his hand! On ads on
television, in the way some women dress, in the way people talk, even in the
way people pray in church! Because
I have the wonderful love of Jesus Christ in my heart I can see it, I know
where the evil is.</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"It all really started after I saw what looked like Pastor Ted
coming out of that filthy shop. You
know the one I mean! When I told
Pastor Ted I might have seen Satan in his guise he told me that I had seen
Satan – that evil very often takes the form of people, even ourselves, to lead
us down the path of temptation and away from the love that is our faith in
Jesus Christ Our Lord and Savior.</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"I haven't seen Satan for a long time, though, at least not taking
the shape of Pastor Ted. But I'm
always looking, because Pastor Ted says that if I should ever see Satan again I
should find the real Pastor Ted so that he may drive away the evil once and for
all with the power of prayer and the love we have for Jesus.</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"Still, I have been keeping an eye on that store – you know the
one I mean – in case he should come back.
You can never be too careful with filth, Pastor Ted says. Never! You always have to keep an eye on it. A close and careful eye on it. "</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">* * * *</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Oprah smiled, her teeth as
polished and perfect as her delivery.
Across from her was her opposite: shrunken and frayed, the author looked
allergic to studio lights, attention, and applause. His book, held up for all to see, looked bigger, brighter,
and more alluring than the man who'd written the actual words. Oprah said that the book was very good,
using words like "evocative" and "moving" and
"haunting" and "touching" and "stirring" and
"life affirming." The author looked like he'd rather be somewhere
else – <i>anywhere</i> else.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Oprah made him go away, his
absence filled quickly by the roly-poly comfort of Dr. Phil, who began to speak
of a young woman named "Sarah" (not her real name) who had a
boyfriend who seemed to enjoy humiliating her in public. My finger twitched a button on the
remote – a position that was uncomfortable since it was bolted down to the
nightstand – when Oprah didn't go back to chatting about the author, didn't say
that he had a second book – which was very much like the first one, maybe even
better – and Dr. Phil didn't mention, not even once, that the problem with
"Sarah" (not her real name) was that she was involved with a bad
version of her boyfriend, and that she should stand up for herself and seek out
the good one instead of continuing to be abused.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Montel leaned forward, turned
as much toward the audience as the two young black women on stage. "Tell us, Chantel," he said
to the first, "when you first suspected that Darnel wasn't really your
son." Listening, nodding, he comfortably eased her into telling her a
staggered, clipped, sob-hyphened, spitting-pissed, broken-narrative story of
Gordian loops and twists, going from maternity wards to mothers-in-law to lying
social service agencies and then back around to daycare centers and welfare
fraud.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Reaching out, taking her hand,
he let her cry – but not so long as to diminish the liveliness and precious
poignancy of the moment. Reassuring
her, even going so far as to use his other hand to touch her quivering
shoulder, he nicely danced to the next woman with a deft "You're not
alone."</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yvonne, wrinkled on the outside
but smoother in delivery, spat her tale to the host, his audience, and the
coldly watching cameras, cutting through her own knot with a bitter-poisoned
knife dripping with squawks of censored language, stabbing repeatedly at her
hospital and "–them stupid (beep) doctors."</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hope, but in the end another
twitch when Montel didn't offer the suggestion that one of the swapped children
had been crushed under footprint of a lumbering bureaucratic dinosaur but
instead was a duplicate of an displaced original.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">A skin color not found in
nature, muscles where muscles had no right to be, eyes glazed with high voltage
zealotry, "800" numbers spinning in and out of frame. "That's right, Tina!"
"What would you say if I said that all it takes is 20 minutes a day?"
"At home, while you drive, or even in the office!" "Success and
confidence can be yours!" "For just three monthly payments of
$29.99!" For all the caramel tanning, the flexing of biceps and thighs,
the brilliantly earnest eyes, I almost didn't notice what they were selling. But then it came through, thanks to
Tina; all it takes is 20 minutes a day at home, while you drive, or even in the
office, for success and confidence can be yours for just three monthly payments
of $29.99 ... they were selling what they were, which was tanned and strong,
confident and determined. I
twitched them away when they didn't offer anything – not even for $29.99 a
month for three months – except being bronzed and strong.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Black was shadows. Black was night. White was daylight. White were all the faces. Was that Bogart? Yes, that was Bogart – doing that
strange thing with his lips, pluming cigarette pointing to a frightened woman,
pushing her retreat with the accusing tip back into the depths of an
upholstered chair. The room was a
hotel, the view out one window a painting of the Golden Gate Bridge. Pleading, she shook her head, her hair
frozen and immobile in 1939. The
crime was hers, the evidence constructed out of scenes I'd missed: there were
frames, there was blackmail, people had been bumped off, people had been rubbed
out, cops had been on the take, someone had almost fallen for it, someone had
been taken in (hook, line, and sinker) but in the end it had all fallen into
place. I twitched it away when
none of the frames, the blackmails, the bumping off, the rubbing out, the cops
taking, the almost falling, the taking in, (hook, line, and sinker) mentioned
anything about twin sisters or skillful impersonations.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">A man was running, the camera
struggling for breath trying to keep up.
He went up to, then over, a suburban white picket fence, and I noticed
he wasn't wearing a shirt, so I knew he was a crook. A pair of cops passed the camera. I knew they were cops because they were chasing the man with
no shirt on. The night they were
all running through was flashing, dazzling with pulses of blue, white, and red. The night they were all running through
was crackling with radio noise, rustling from trampled weeds, hoarsely panting
from escape as well as pursuit. The
criminal tried to scale a chainlink fence, but failed: falling backward, he
landed between each of the cops, who dropped down on top of him. Handcuffs gleamed among blue, white,
and red. Profanities beeped,
interrupting the sound of ratcheting steel. I watched until I was sure that he was the only one being
chased, the only one being arrested.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sixties, maybe seventies. You could tell by the quality of the
film, the colors, the textures, the sound, the music, the lack of wrinkles in
the actors. It was supposed to be
in the future, but a future as seen in the sixties, maybe the seventies: white
everywhere, like the world had been conquered by Formica or European design. Lamps were spheres on arcs of gleaming
chrome, rugs were bright primary colors, televisions were huge, cars looked
like Tylenols moving silently through cities of stock footage skyscrapers. Our hero, wearing a blue jumpsuit, came
home, his pill stopping in front of a round door that hissed open in welcoming. Inside was our hero, wearing a brown robe,
drink in his hand. Our hero and
our hero looked at each other with poorly acted shock, nervous indignation, and
clumsily displayed fear. Our hero
said that one of them must be a duplicate, and our hero agreed. "The trick," our hero then
said, "is to find out which of us that is."</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Twitch. Twitch. Twitch. TWITCH. Off, the screen faintly crackling with
static electricity – the only sound in the cheap room except for the very
distant and very faint rush of traffic on the highway.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">* * * *</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">I got here ... somehow. That was obvious because I was there. The card on the door, above
"checkout at 11:00 AM," said Clearwater Motel. You get to a motel by driving, a
supposition I verified by parting the heavy curtains, smelling old cigarettes
and older dust, and seeing my car parked outside.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">The bed hadn't been slept in,
the rough bedspread dented by my body where I'd been sprawled while I'd
twitched through hours and hours of daytime tube. Either I'd arrived just after <i>The Today Show</i>, or long before and had passed out without actually
getting between the sheets – or I'd arrived long before <i>The Today Show</i> and hadn't slept at all, just lying there on the
bedspread twitching through show after show, through and past the morning and
up to the moment when the future had arrived, a fraction of an old science
fiction movie shaking me up enough to turn off the set.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Between the heavy curtains and
the bed were bags. Lots and lots
of bags. Most of them from Tommy
Hilfiger. One of the others had
fallen over and spilled, making a flattened avalanche of Sela Ward, Ashton
Kutcher, Debra Messing, Robin Williams, Christopher Walken, Jennifer Lopez,
Leonardo DiCaprio, Scarlett Johansson, and lots of others – all of them under a
big, bold <i>Details</i> headline.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Obviously I'd been shopping.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">In the bathroom, I looked at
my face in the mirror. My hair
needed some serious attention. Time
for my hairdresser to work his magic.
Teeth looked okay, so at least I didn't foresee a dentist visit for a
while. Skin, though, was looking a
bit rugged, a bit rough – had to start thinking exfoliants, creams, muds, and
lotions soon.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">But even as I did, I scratched
my rough face, my chaotic hair, sucked by clean teeth. Something had changed, hadn't it? <i>Details</i>
and Tommy Hilfiger? The new me
because he'd taken the old me from me – and done better at it than I ever
could.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yeah, that was it.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">But there was something else:
faces swam in and out of my memory, shedding specifics, leaving behind wisps
and tickles of <i>could</i> <i>be</i>, <i>maybe</i>,
and <i>sort</i> <i>of. </i>A glass in my
hand, wine in my mouth. A party? It felt like a party, the giddy chaos,
the ducking in and out of conversation, the bubbling laughter, the skirting of
someone else's drama. Yes, there'd
been a party.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">My phone was out of my pocket
and open. My fingers scrolled past
names – or was it punching numbers?
– and then I was listening to the purr of someone's ring.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Pick up, I thought: please
pick up.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">* * * *</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Yeah, it has been a long
time. Ages, right. Simply ages. No, just ... you know, thinking about you. No, nothing's really up. Just wanted to hear what's up with you. Really? Cool. That's
wonderful. Did 'what's his name' –
damn, I can never remember his name.
Yeah, that's right. That's
it. Did he ever get his act
together ... he did? You've got to
be kidding! Not in a million years. Who'd have thought that'd happen. Crazy! What? Oh, sure,
I understand. Well, take care of
yourself. Sure, we'll talk again
soon."</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">With a twitch of my finger the
call ended. With another a new one
began.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">"...no, nothing special. Just wanted to see what's up. Really? That's wild. That's
really wild. Me? Nothing special ... nothing worth
reporting ... nothing new... Nothing
interesting. Parties? Did you ask about a party? No, no parties. None. None at all. Sorry,
gotta go."</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">With a twitch of my finger the
call ended. With another a new one
began.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">"...maybe that's where it
was. But I'm sure we've met before. Why the call? I don't know, just to touch base? Yeah, it has been a crazy year. You still doing ... that thing you do? Really? That's fascinating.
Very, very fascinating. Uh
huh. Uh huh. Uh huh. Uh huh. That's <i>really</i> interesting. Me? Nothing, really.
Well, I kind ... how to explain it. Just start? No,
I can't do that. It's just too ...
complicated? Yeah, I guess you
could say it's that. Look, I gotta
run. Sorry."</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">With a twitch of my finger the
call ended. With another a new one
began.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">"...yeah, that's me. That's who I am, right. Why am I calling? Well, you know, just calling to ... look,
you have a minute? Great. It's just that I need to talk to
someone right now. Anyone really. You see there was this party ... a
'party' right, that's what I said.
Well, something happened there.
I can't quite figure out what it was. It really freaked me out and ... I just needed to talk, like
I said. What? Oh, sure, I understand. Bye."</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">With a twitch of my finger the
call ended. With another a new one
began.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">"You're driving? Is it okay to talk? You sure? Well, okay. Yeah,
that's who I am. You're right. Yeah, it has been a long time. Feels like years. Only a few days? You sure? Well, I guess you're right then. Anyway, I just wanted to see how you're doing. Driving? Just that? Oh:
a lot of that. Me? I'm okay, just ... things have been
kind of weird lately. Really weird. Well ... there's someone out there
pretending to be me, and I don't know why or what he wants, and what's worse
he's even better at being me that I am.
Then I thought that if he really wanted to be me, then he can: I'd just
become someone else. What? What did you say? Please, just let me finish ... I
thought that'd be it, right? Just
become someone else and leave this all behind. Maybe even be happier being someone new, but then ... hello? You there?"</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">With a twitch of my finger the
call ended. With another a new one
began.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">"A <i>party! </i>I said a <i>party!
</i>Yeah you should go to a party – everyone should go to a party. Fun? Yeah, you might have fun. But will you please just listen to me..."</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">With a twitch of my finger the
call ended. With another a new one
began.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">"...okay ... Jesus and
Satan, Pastor Ted ... that makes sense.
No, it really does. Thankyouforyourtime."</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">With a twitch of my finger the
call ended. With another a new one
began.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">"...I don't know why I
went shopping again. I just can't
figure it out. Why did I buy even
more clothes...?"</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">With a twitch of my finger the
call ended. With another a new one
began.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">"...I thought about it,
thinking that maybe he was me, somehow, that he's what I'll become sometime in
the future, or maybe the past, that he's come back – or gone forward – to tell
me something. No, I don't know
what. It's just something that
came to me. But the more I think
about it, the less sense it makes, because he'd tell me, wouldn't he? If he really wanted to teach or show me
something, he'd actually try and communicate with me. He knows how I'm feeling, doesn't he? Then why doesn't he? <i>Why
doesn't he?</i>"</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">With a twitch of my finger the
call ended. With another a new one
began.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">"...a party! I said it happened at a party!"</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">With a twitch of my finger the
call ended. With another a new one
began.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">It must have been hours. It had been daylight outside when I
began. It was deep, dark night
outside when I finally closed the phone.
I had made a lot of calls. A
<i>lot</i> of calls. I remember talking about all kinds of
things. <i>Too many</i> things: popular movies, best-selling music, new
hairstyles, best products, hip food, new nightspots, gossip, going up or coming
down celebrities, coolest vacations – and, and, and, and more. So much more. <i>Too much</i> more: I
talked about him, I talked about me, I talked about him becoming me, I talked
about me becoming someone else, I talked about parties – I talked a lot about
parties. I talked about good ones,
I talked about bad ones, I told people to go to parties, I told people not to
go to parties, I may have pretended to be going to a party, I may even have
made up parties, I may have said a lot of things– </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">I'd talked and talked and
talked to keep my mind from twisting around into itself, to keep myself too
distracted to pick at what had been happening before the party, what I
remembered about the party, what I didn't remember about the party, what I
didn't <i>want</i> to remember about the
party. It had worked. Thank god, it had worked.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Dark means night. Night means sleep. Sleep was good.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Feeling my head swim with
exhaustion, I yawned deep and long – enough to make my jaw hurt. I was too exhausted, too wrung out, too
drained, too damned tired, to think.
I was safe.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Then to bed. The bedspread came down, and I slipped
between the sheets.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">But I didn't sleep.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">* * * *</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">I wanted to. I really wanted to. I even began to.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">But as my eyes turned into
lead, my arms transformed into stone, my brain started to make its usual
strange leaps and jumps in preparation for dreams, it didn't quite all come
together to spell zzzzz. Instead,
I turned, tossed, twisted around, punched my pillow, ground my hips, coughed,
scratched, farted, rubbed my eyes, and took in very slow and very deep breaths.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">I could feel the warm weight
of sleep hovering just out of reach.
Still hanging between dream and awake, my mind sent me the image of a
carpeted vulture circling over my bed, each down stroke of its shag wings
bringing feathery escape just out of my reach.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Angry, I pushed the heavy
covers off and flopped around. Accusing
my pillow of the hideous crime of not being soft enough, I sat up briefly and
punched it two or three times, the impacts making the mattress slam up against
the wall.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">As when it had happened
before, I had a solution. Turning
and twisting some more, eventually I found a fairly relaxed position: my face
in a feculent motel pillow, my feet barely touching the bottom edge of the
mattress, one hand under my chest, one hand cupping my dick and balls.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">It was an ordinary, everyday,
common, and simple thing. It was
something I'd done a million times before. It was a 'home' thing, a 'safe' thing, a 'nurturing' thing. It was a thing that would make me
smile, wring out tension, and most important, push me from being awake to being
asleep.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Who should it be? My memory had a pretty good inventory:
this guy, that guy, this night, that night, this day, that day, this club, that
club, this boyfriend, that boyfriend, this dick, that dick, this mouth, that
mouth, this asshole, that asshole, this chest, that chest, this ass, that ass
... him? Or how about him? Or him? Or him? Or him? Or him? Or him?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Half erect began to be less
than half erect.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">After all, this guy had been
with me, that guy had been with me, this night had been with me, that night had
been with me, this day had been with me, that day had been with me, this club
had been with me, that club had been with me, this boyfriend had been with me,
that boyfriend had been with me, this dick had been with me, that dick had been
with me, this mouth had been with me, that mouth had been with me, this ass
hole had been with me, that asshole had been with me, this chest had been with
me, that chest had been with me, this ass had been with me, that ass had been
with me. Him, him, him, him, him,
him – they'd all been with me: the me I couldn't be anymore, the me that <i>he'd</i> taken from me.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">I was new, fresh out of <i>Details</i> and a Tommy Hilfiger bag. I was still picking packing peanuts out
of my belly button.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">A cold chill at that, goose
bumps at that, eyes wide open at that, shortness of breath at that.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">No, wait... relax, relax, relax. Things were crazy, things were wrong,
things were strange, things didn't make any sense, things were bad – but they
might not be forever.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">After all (toss, turn, punch
pillow again) had I been <i>that</i> good? Had my life been <i>that</i> perfect? My job <i>that</i> successful?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">He wanted it, that was obvious. Why the fuck he did, I didn't know. But he could have it.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">I was the <i>new</i> me: the <i>brand</i> new me. This me didn't have that asshole in his
life, didn't have that fuckhead in his life, didn't have that dickhead in his
life, didn't have that prick in his life, didn't have that idiot in his life,
didn't have that cunt in his life, didn't have that junkie in his life – they
all belonged to <i>him</i> now. And he could have them, too.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Fresh, clean, pure. Face still in motel cotton, I allowed
myself to drift, cut loose from my old self: arms, hands, legs, chests, asses,
faces, hair, voices tumbled through my mind, possible dates, assignations,
tricks, quickies, fantasies, but none of them stayed long enough to become
anything but just transient, ghostly anatomy.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Part of my own anatomy, my
mouth grinned into that motel cotton: too many choices, when added all
together, equaled none.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Stars auditioned for my twenty
minutes of tension to be hopefully followed by wet, sticky release, followed by
much-needed sleep. But even the
leering faces on DVD cases and the names between www and .com didn't bring me
anything but half erect from less than half erect. Stock fantasies of sailors, muscle-men, fashion models,
bronzed gods in Speedos, Toms of many Finlands, hard and vicious Satans in
leather, the top tens of gay porn, the top twenties of gay porn, the top
fifties of gay porn, the Best of the Best Gay Porn, flickered in and out of my
brain, leaving behind a salty smog of possibility, but not enough certainty to
bring me from half to full, let alone on the slick, hard, and pulsing blue-veined
road to actual orgasm.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">No, that wasn't the way. Leave it all behind. Look forward, not back. Hissing breath, flop arms, flop legs,
relax, relax, relax – let the drifting thoughts of near-sleep do the work. No thinking, no thoughts, nothing but
what I wanted, nothing but what I needed.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">A body began to form,
coalescing, forming, coming together from down deep. It wasn't a Jeff Stryker body, a Ryan Idol body, a Joey
Stefano body, a Lukas Ridgeston body, a Ken Ryker body, a Tom Chase body, or a
Steve Cassidy body – it had elements of them, maybe, but I couldn't tell whose
hand, whose feet, those ass, whose, chest, whose back, whose nipples, whose
thighs belonged to who.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">There was something about that
body, even just the thought of it.
My face was warm. A blush,
that's what it was: a tiny shame that the hands, the feet, the ass, the chest,
the back, the nipples, the thighs didn't belong to a popular god – an
acceptable groaning and spurting gay deity.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">The embarrassment was a bit of
pepper ground over my libido, a spice of the forbidden. Still red in cheek, but harder in cock,
I let my mind float even further from any acceptable moorings.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">The hands were strong but not
from curling weights. They were
quick and flirty, nimble but not tweaky.
Clean, of course: manicured and buffed, polished and smooth. The nails were like mother of pearl,
creamy and iridescent.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">The feet were tough, but not
from running marathons. They were
cute and precious, delicate but not fragile. Clean, of course: lotioned and massaged, buffed and velvety. The nails were opal, white and shiny.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">The ass was tight, but not so
tight as to crack nuts. Perfectly
balanced between high and low, wide and clenched, big and small, it was the ass
that every other ass had only gotten close to. No hair, naturally: the careful grooming everywhere else
continued down to where back met thighs.
Gleaming and velvety it was an invitation, not a demand; a pillow, not a
burlap sack; a crooked finger, not a clenched fist.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">The chest was defined, but not
in steel or cement. Elegantly
sculpted, it showed life, not twelve hours a day in the gym. Furtive and playful, you could trace
this pec, that pec, the six pack, with a lovers slow finger, not have it yelled
at from the top of a boasting pair of lungs the instant a shirt came off.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">The back was marble, cool and
silken, not a battleground of bristle or zit. Perfectly formed, you could watch it walk away with a smile,
not a frown. From the nape of the
neck to the twin swells and sweet canyon at the bottom, it was a back as good
and tasty as any front.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">The nipples were twin licorice
buttons – a little bit red, a tiny bit black – but not cartoon pencil erasers,
thumbs, or pacifiers. They were
human, real, and inviting: so you knew, just by looking, that lips to them
would make the owner moan with sincerity and loving volume.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">The thighs were two strong
pillars of muscle, but not stone or lumber. Ideally formed by dancing, walking, living, and life, they
were for grabbing, stroking, rubbing and feeling pushed up against your own.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Half-hard was now full-on.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Above and below appeared
together. Puzzling, at first, but
not a moment later. It made
perfect sense: cocks are nice, faces are good, but just a face is nothing, only
a cock is zero. Together they make
a smile, combined they make a sigh, put together they make a moan, added up
they make an eruption.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">The eyes were blue, azure and
cobalt, cerulean and sky. They
laughed, but not at everything. They
danced, but not to have themselves seen.
They sparkled, but not because they were empty.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">The balls were heavy, tan, and
just-rightly hairy. They hung low,
but not like a rutting bull's. They
swung, but not like a pair of silly fuzzy dice. They bounced, but not like they were rubber.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">The nose was delicate, impish,
and playful. It swept down, but
didn't droop. It swept up, but not
like a snot's. It was small, but
not like a freakish doll's. It
wrinkled, but not in distaste.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">The cockhead was plump,
swollen, and fat. It was high, but
not painfully erect. It was big,
but not so big to keep a mouth away from it. It was long, but not intimidating. It was smooth but not like a Ken doll's. It had personality, but not a crude
one.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">The mouth was full, rich,
plush, and silky-smooth. It was
expressive but not laugh-at-everything-stupid. It was sweet but not saccharin. It was wicked without being evil. It was kissable without being slutty.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Full-on was now throbbing.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Come was close, sleep
therefore was close. Thank god,
thank fucking god.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yes, oh yes. Yes, oh yes. Yes, oh yes. That
was him, that was the one I wanted, the one I always wanted. It was the body I could hold forever,
the face I could look at forever, the sex I could have forever.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">There was just one thing: that
body, that face, that cock was <i>familiar</i>.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">* * * *</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Answers to questions I didn't
want to ask. Bags on the floor? Where had I seen that face before? Where had I seen that body before? What had happened at that party?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">No sound. Instead I rolled over, going from face
down to face up. No sound, but my
mouth opened wide. No sound, but
my eyes opened wide. No sound, but
my mind kept going <i>no, no, no, no</i>...</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Then I was on my feet and
walking toward the bathroom. Behind
me, I could hear the sheets and cover hiss onto the carpeted floor.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Then I was walking into the
bathroom. My finger was on the
light-switch, but I hesitated. A
thought: I'd gone shopping, between then and now. Bags and bags and bags on the floor. A new look, a new self – a self I'd
hoped would attract him again. Before,
of course, I'd finally realized the who of <i>who
he was</i> had sunk in. Now that I
knew – really knew, in my brain and not down in the throbbing, meaty brain of
my dick – I wanted to throw them out, burn every last shirt, every last pair
shorts, every last pair of pants, every undershirt until there was nothing
left.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">I knew it now. Knew what had happened. But I still turned on the light.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">He was there, in the room with
me, and just like me he'd been Tommy Hilfiger – because that's who I'd been. Just like me he'd been waiting for the
perfect man; the one he'd always wanted, the one he'd always needed.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">He was there, in the bathroom
with me, staring at me with frightened eyes from the clarity of the mirror.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">After a few minutes I turned
off the light, making him vanish into darkness.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">I never slept: the rest of the
night was spent sitting in the dark, watching the door, waiting for it to open
and for him to be there.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Waiting with my hands balled
tightly into quivering fists.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span>mchristianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11887406428164757014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133731140800332850.post-48140220915453057782014-11-01T10:25:00.000-07:002014-11-01T10:25:55.255-07:00Me2: Chapter 7<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">As part of a huge - and much
needed - marketing push, I'm going to be serializing a few of my
all-time favorite books ... starting with the (ahem) rather infamous
novel that I may or may not have actually written: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp"><i><b>Me2</b></i></a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp"><img alt="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp" border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nV91RueiOyU/VByi1S_H9II/AAAAAAAANd0/Xp6BjI4f8Sk/s1600/ME2--withbannerFINAL%2Bcopy.jpeg" height="400" width="275" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"Absolutely brilliant!" says Lisabet Sarai, author of Incognito and
Fire, about Lambda finalist M.Christian's controversial manlove
horror/thriller. </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">He looks just like you. He acts exactly like you. He
takes away your job. He steals your friends. He seduces your male
lover. None of them can tell the difference. Every day he becomes more
and more like you, pushing you out of your own life, taking away what
was yours … until there’s nothing left. Where did he come from? Robot?
Alien? Clone? Doppelganger? Evil twin? Long lost brother? Then you
discover there are still more "yous." Can you be sure you are the real
you? And how do you fight to take your own life back? </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">An absorbing new
approach to the question of identity, <i><b>Me2</b></i> is a groundbreaking gay
chiller you’ll remember for a long time – no matter who you are, or who
you think you may be. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">(Despite rumors that this book was written by an
impostor - but, rest assured, this is the real 'M.Christian.' Accept
no substitutes!)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><style>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Chapter VII <br />Me7</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"They used to think it was a big circle, a loop, you know? Around and around, all the way to the
end, then back again – like that. But
that's until they got to know more about the way it all works. Last I heard it was actually like a
piece of paper that's rolled out then put back together but with different
sides at the end. Mobius strip,
it's called. So even though it's a
real thing, in three dimensions, it's also only two, because if you follow it
all the way around you come right back to where you started from, but not the
way you'd normally think about it.</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"Funny how they use paper to talk about it. People in a thousand years won't
probably understand what the hell we were talking about. I can see them now, scratching their
heads – if they even have heads anymore – and wondering what we meant by paper,
and creasing and folding ... stuff like that.</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"But that's the way they explain it now. I also heard how they think it ends, how everything ends,
really. One is that it all just
stops. It all runs out of power
... the suns, black holes, all of it.
It just keeps going out and out, expanding but there's not enough out
there for it to collect back together, right? Out and out until everything's broken up into grayness. Everything. Just gray.</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"I think that's fucking depressing, actually. But there's others who think that there
is enough matter and stuff that it won't just keep going and going, that
sometime way off in the future it's going to stop and then get sucked back
together. They thought this wasn't
going to be the way, but then they found this new kind of matter. It's really weird. You can't see it, but it has to be
there, right? But they found it – don't
know how – and now a lot of professors and doctors think that because of it the
world, universe and all, won't just keep going. So it stops, right?
It stops and then because of this dark matter it'll start to pull back,
shrink until everything's this big, then this big and then so damned small you
can't see it – just like it was at the beginning again.</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"Then something happens.
Maybe it gets so damned small and tight it can't get any smaller, so it
has to explode again. Another big
bang right? So it begins all over
again.</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"I like that, you know?
That it just keeps going, over and over again. Out then in, bang to bang. But time's like that strip, right? So even so it goes around and around it also passes itself
by, so things kind of repeat. That's
also kind of cool, you know? That
what was around before is still here, just passing us by – or layered on top of
us. Screw your eyes up and you
could maybe see what happened before, just before our bang, the time before. Maybe that's why we feel that deja vu
thing – that it's just us passing the universe that was the last time, just
bleeding through.</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"I have this friend, a real stoner, you know? But he's also kind of deep in his own
way. I told him about all this and
he goes off and starts talking about how it also could explain a lot of other
things. Like history repeating
itself, because it really does. There's
an echo, see, that plays in the background and sometimes it just gets so loud
we can't help but follow right along.
Like a groove on a record that gets worn deeper and deeper each time it
goes around.</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"Shit. There's
something else people might not understand in a few years. Records ... miss 'em sometimes, you
know?</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"But this friend of mine also says that's also what ghosts are. That the world gets thin sometimes so
what was before then comes through.
Or maybe it's the future that's coming through. Or both. He also said something else ... and this really freaked me
out. I mean really freaked. Like I couldn't sleep that night. You know? Really disturbing.</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"He said ... well, he said that it might be that we just think we
can't remember each cycle. He said
that it might be that the people we think we are, are made up of each of these
'run-throughs,' that we didn't really have minds, that we were just robots
going through the motions, because that's just the way the world works. But, because we've gone through it so
many times, we think we're getting close to being really conscious. It's the repetition, the echoes, that
causes it.</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"But what got me is that he also said we might not really be there
yet, that we have a few more cycles to go through. We might just still</i>
<i>be machines going through the motions but
we wouldn't know it. We'd never
know it. Creepy, huh?</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"I thought about it a bit more. I also thought that sometimes there might be a problem, like
things might repeat too many times and so there's a ... I don't know, a tear, a
rip, shit like that. Paper again,
right? But it might happen, and
when it does, something really weird might happen, like something from a long
time back might get here, or we might fall back to a few bangs ago. I don't know what it'd look like, but
it could be really freaky – so freaky we might not know what it is. We might never know what it is.</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"In the future they might know all about this. Big foreheads or no foreheads,
something like that. But then
possibly the future is the past, so maybe we did know, but for some reason we
aren't sharing it.</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"Gives you a headache, doesn't it?"</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">* * * *</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"Maybe you'll have a good time."</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">One, two, three, four – it
didn't look like a Lexus neighborhood, but there they were, one after another,
on the right as well as the left side of the street: points of smooth luxury in
an area that seemed more comfortable with affordability – either that or lots
of people were getting a giggly thrill out of crossing the line and parking in
an area more suited to Toyotas or Hondas.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">My Volkswagen was neither a
completely left or a totally right machine, not a Lexus or even a Honda, and so
was suitable for the area. That
didn't put me at ease, but at least it didn't ramp up my already jittery nerves. The bees in my knees, the wasps in my
ears, the spiders tap-dancing up and then down my back didn't need any more
nervous encouragement.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"Maybe you'll have a good time."</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">I didn't want to be there. A possible parking place – between the
expensive fire-hydrant red and the faded status of a filthy Civic – but I
passed it by, not wanting to risk a tow or a ticket and feeling down enough
without a WASH ME contact humiliation.
Another was close by – sandwiched between the driveway of a heavily
shaded ranch-type monstrosity and a pristine SUV – but I kept on driving, not
wishing an angry homeowner's raving insanity at blocking his drive or the
infection of being too close to a politically incorrect vehicle.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Face it: I didn't want to
stop.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ah, there it was: I didn't
want to stop – catch the lean on the "I"? The 'me' that was still rolling around in my head, the old
'me,' the failed 'me,' the crappy 'me,' the disappointing 'me,' the abandoned
'me,' was the 'me' that just wanted to keep circling the block until my tires
went bald, then flat, and the engine went completely dry. That 'me' loved parties, itched to
throw myself into the chattering, laughing, glowing pool of a good
get-together: "Did you hear?" "How didn't you know?"
"Ohmigod!" "I can't believe that!" "Never in a million
years!" "That's something else" "Who'd have thought
it!" "So like him" "Saw that coming" "Can't
believe he did that" "Like we couldn't tell" "That's fine –
for him" "Talk about dating down" "Someone's still reading
from last month's issue" "I know!" "Mee-ow!"
"You'd think he'd take the hint" "I tried to be nice"
"Did you see what he was wearing?" "Did you see what he was
driving?" "Did you see who he was with?" "That’s not what I
heard" "Girlfriend, you’ve got to pay attention to those kinds of
things" "What a bitch!"</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">But that was before my neck
got a stabbing lightning-bolt of pain from looking over my shoulder: was that
him? <i>Was</i> that him? Was that
<i>him? </i>But that was before my back got a crushing cramp from
duckng down: what <i>does</i> he want? <i>What</i>
does he want? What does he <i>want</i>? But that was before my eyes roasted in their bitter juices
from not sleeping: why’s <i>he</i> better? <i>Why’s</i>
he better? Why’s he <i>better</i>?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Twisted, bent, sore, the last
thing I wanted to do was go to a party.
I was scared of what I’d become: "Will you look at him?"
"Someone needs to crawl under a rock" "Can’t believe he came out
here looking like that" "Choo!
Choo! Here comes a train
wreck!" "Girlfriend needs to go home" "Shoot me if I ever
look that bad" "Troll seeks bridge, money no object" "God,
I hope he’s hung – 'cause he ain't getting it any other way, and then with the
lights off"</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Calm down. Take five. Breathe in. Breathe
out. Get a grip. Relax. Let go. Loosen
up. Lighten up. Unwind. Settle down: that was the old me. The new one was freshly shaved, showered, powdered,
manicured, preened, producted, clipped, styled, shopped, and carefully
assembled by Tommy Hilfiger.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">The new me loved parties more
than ever. The new me was full of
green-springy life, brilliant hope, frisky play, pearly wit, satin-smooth flirts,
tough-ass slaps, and razor-sharp darts.
The new me was bright and beautiful, starchy and fresh-from-the-box, a
me ready to knock packing peanuts off his shoes and strongly stride out into
the spotlight of "how have you been?" "You look fabulous darling!"
"Long time no see!" "Fabulous!" "You're giving me the
vapors" "You look good enough to eat" "Bravo!"
"Fathers lock up your sons" "Way to go, girlfriend"
"Fabulous!"</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Goodbye me. Hello me. Time to live again: Time to try again.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Still that voice in my ear,
the one at the end of the invitation: <i>"Maybe
you'll have a good time."</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">It was the only party I'd
heard about – even though I doubted anyone there knew me. Open call and all that. But I was still going. If anything just because the old me
wouldn't have.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Besides, I might have just
that: <i>"a good time."</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">* * * *</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Digest</i> people, at least. <i>Architectural</i>
(thank god), not <i>Reader's</i>: the door
swung open on the first ring (no knock) and there was a tight hall expanded
with silver-framed mirrors, burgundy walls adding to their Latin dimension. The opener was swarthy, a
charcoal-brazier tan, mesquite-dark hair, eyes like dots of mole sauce on fine
white linen. Once I heard a feline
acquaintance – a hissing and spitting little twink with a fondness for drawing
blood and wrapping himself in old boyfriends' cashmere – call people who liked
Latins "bean queens" and even though I was known to smile while
cutting my own share of vicious wounds, I did not grin at that. A better term was added to my
dictionary by a ripped, flexed, buff, oiled, and toned friend who told it while
eating far too many corn chips with far too much salsa as he eyed – and was
eyed back by – our South American waiter: "A Latin Lover."</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">That the man who opened the
door fit this description was evident, that he was already claimed was the same. A minute later a this-side-of-young and
that-side-of-old intellectual appeared from a connecting room and put his arm
around him. "So glad you
could make it," the leather-patched tweed coat said with a grin. The light from carefully recessed lamps
dazzled me with the reflections from his tortoise-shell glasses.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Wouldn't have missed
it," the new me said, full of life and flirt.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Did I know him? Was he the one who called?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Leading, they brought me from
the hall into the living room. Mexico
continued, filling the corners with lumpy, heavily glazed terra cotta pots,
hanging heavy iron chandeliers from the ceiling, radiating everything from
bulbs copying candles in black metal sconces. On the tables – of which there were quite a few – were
tablecloths that looked like shawls stolen from prostrating Catholic mothers,
their knees sangria-red with the stigmata of crawling to see the Virgin of
Guadalupe.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">It was a good room, clipped
out of a quality publication and made real. It made me feel comfortable to be in it, style by
association, and crave to hold my own corn chip and look at ease.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">The place was busy, full,
almost packed: my appreciation of the place was intermittent, glances between
turning torsos, ambulating arms, nodding noggins.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Hey, there." Urban
look, black pants, black shirt, heavy steel in the ears, goatee below pale lips. Hair a color not found in nature, or in
anyone bottle of dye (try three, maybe four, mixed up). Belt something Rambo would hang himself
from. On his feet, combat boats,
like thick-shelled venomous beetles.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Hey! Good to see you," the new me said,
all cool and collected.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Did I know him? Was he the one that called?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">A toast was raised to me, the
drink Kool-Aid bright and full of as much fruit as ice, in a glass that looked
cut from the bottom of a cheap wine bottle. The toaster was a Hawaiian eye: shirt that needed to be
adjusted for vertical hold as well as Red/Green tint, shorts that were way too
short, sandals that showed off tanned-to-begin-with feet, but then recently
burned. His face, too, had gone
from golden-brown to crispy, and his hair was toasted to the point of being
broken enough to cut your hand.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">The new me nodded back to him,
all warm and cheery. Did I know
him? Was he the one that called?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Next to him, tracking from the
drink to what it was doing and then to whom it was doing to, was a queen. Eyelashes, lipstick, rouge, hair,
dress, shoes, nails – all applied with a skill and diligence that made real
women hiss "bitch." He was a thin one, fine about being between the
two, as opposed to some who might have giggled into their perfumed hankies at
tricking the unwary. A caterpillar
as well as the butterfly, he could fly as well as inch along the nearest branch. After the track, he smiled and blew me
a pink bubblegum kiss.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Two fingers to my own lips I
passed the same back, the new me all relaxed and comfy.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Did I know him? Was he the one that called?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">A drink was passed over, the
same brightly colored and cold combo the Man from Maui was still sipping. Sangria, that was it: the decor
immediately traveling a few thousand miles to the right, landing in Madrid
rather than in Acapulco. Did that
mean the professor's partner was a Spanish Fly, to be catty, or a Spanish
Dancer, to be less so? A sip made
the fluttering in my mind still, quieting the stupid question. I was there. I was at a party: a chance to begin again, to grow into a
brand new person. Another sip, and
with it a thought about it, the drink, and myself, the drinker: it was good,
and this new me liked drinking it.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"Maybe you'll have a good time."</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">So far so good. Yes, so far – only a few minutes, so
good – nothing to complain about. A
third sip and I felt a few previously unknown knots of muscle begin to loosen. They all seemed to be nice people:
grins wherever I looked, the bodies of the same all casual, contented, at ease.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Contented, casual, at ease,
and so far (oh, yes) I was as well.
There was absolutely nothing to complain about. If anything, it was worth celebrating. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like,
being contented, casual, at ease. I
might not have known everything about this new self, but I did know that this
new me liked it.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sipping and mixing, I found
myself accidentally rubbing elbows (literally) with an outdoorsman. Tanned and rough, frizzled and
calloused, denim and well-worn boots, he looked like Half a Dome, a class-six
climb, an up-at-dawn, six-mile hike, a fifty-pound backpack, a kayak, or a
scuba tank. Out of our bump, he
flashed me a strong, toothy grin, eager, it seemed, to tell of his latest
perilous adventure hundreds of miles from the nearest Internet connection.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">From this I drifted away,
further into the party, but not before returning my own version of his smile;
the new me assured and confident.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Did I know him? Was he the one that called?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"Maybe you'll have a good time."</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">A rocker ("Righteous,
dude! "), next season's model
("Well, that's what they're saying this year"), a sneering sexfiend
("... just before I fucked
him in the ass"), a sticky meth freak ("If you got the bucks I know
where we can score"), a jolly Santa ("Hohohohoho"), wit
("the only thing worse than not being talked about..."), and my mind
swam, my thoughts did the crawl, my brain frantically performed the butterfly –
and I needed to piss.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Retreating, one half of the
hosts, the Intellectual, touched me arm, asking if I was okay, if there was
anything he could help me with. I
must have mumbled something ... something about what had been happening because
he told me about theories, science, loops, and time.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Not understanding a word he
said, I finally managed to escape and stumble off to relieve the one pressure I
could.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">* * * *</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">The bathroom was a little
boy's version of the main room: burgundy walls, ferns, decorative baskets, and
mirrors framed with hammered silver.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">After washing my hands in a
mosaic sink, I glanced up from the bits of tile and glass to see my eyes (no
bags), hair (needed a trim, but okay), teeth (needed a bit of cleaning but
okay), and skin (pretty damned good) in reflex and even though the eyes, hair,
teeth, and skin were familiar, the person they were part of was someone I
didn't immediately recognize.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Bit of brains in the eyes, a
tad of stylish in the hair, a touch of good humor in the smile, health and
stamina in the glow of his skin. He
seemed like a nice enough guy. Cute
but not precious. Sexy without
being sleazy. Clever without being
trite.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">The new me. I liked him. More important, I could see where other people might like
him.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">The mirror, though, also
brought up a ghost: the spirit of the last few days. Somewhere he was out there, walking around in my old shoes,
doing my old job, living in my old space, making my old friends laugh, making
my old lovers come. What was he? Who was he? What did he want?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Reflections: maybe he <i>was</i> me, but a me that'd gotten bounced
here, a self that was somehow tweaked or twonked, or shifted, or twisted, or
warped from his native world to a place that already had me in it. Maybe he was a slightly different me,
one that was me but with a little something extra, a tiny 'whatever' that'd
made him better suited for the slot I thought I'd, been ideally filling.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Whatever. Let him have it. The old me had been good, or so I'd
thought. Now, though, looking at
my new and improved character in the mirror I didn't miss myself at all. This was a good thing, a chance to
become a new person, with new hopes and new potentials. He was the past, he was a bad memory,
decisions I shouldn't have made, regrets better left unsaid. Now I was fresh and clean, spotless and
full of potential. Lots of good
things could be in my future.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">And so, after drying my hands
and winking at the sexy devil in the bathroom mirror, I stepped out into the
chattering party to see what kind of good things my new life had to offer.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">* * * *</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Did you hear?" said
the Latin Lover when we found ourselves away from the main gaggle. When I said that I hadn't, all the time
trying to catch his deep mahogany eyes, he replied: "How didn't you
know?" When I said I had no idea how I couldn't have known, moving closer
all the time, working my way to an accidental touch, he answered:
"Ohmigod!" When I laughed at his indignation I thought seriously
about simply putting my hand on his shoulder – but then didn't. There was warmth, certainly, but he
wasn't what I wanted.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">"I can't believe
that!" said the intellectual as he refilled my glass. When I said that it was the god's
honest truth, all the time trying to look deep into his bright blue eyes, he
replied: "Never in a million years!" When I said I had no idea how I
couldn't have known, inching nearer all the while, making my way to an
inadvertent contact, he shot back: "That's something else." When I
chuckled at his disbelief I honestly played with the idea of just putting my
hand on his hip – but didn't. There
was a heat there, obviously, but he wasn't what I wanted.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Who'd have thought
it!" Urban said when we found ourselves on the couch together. When I said that it was all totally
true, as I made a move to lock my eyes with his deep brown ones, he replied:
"So like him." When I said I had no clue who he was talking about,
sliding down the fabric toward him, he zapped back: "Saw that
coming." When I giggled a bit at his dismissal, I truthfully entertained the
fantasy of simply placing my hand on his thigh – but didn't. There was clearly interest from him,
but he wasn't what I wanted.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Can't believe he did
that," said the Hawaiian eye as we both stepped out of the living room. When I answered that I'd been
completely truthful, as I edged nearer to him, he replied: "Like we
couldn't tell." When I said I had no answer as to why he couldn't tell,
stepping so our bodies were just about touching, he countered with:
"That's fine – for him." When I chuckled at his catty comment, I
pondered just kissing him – but didn't.
There was a very positive vibe coming off him, but he wasn't what I
wanted.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Talk about dating
down" said the Queen as we stood by a picture window looking out onto a
tropical back garden. When I answered
that I knew what he was talking about, as I eased up next to him, he replied:
"Someone's still reading from last month's issue." When I agreed that
I might be a little out of touch, moving ever-so-nearer, he affirmed with
"I know!" When I laughed a bit at his playfulness, I thought
seriously about just grabbing his ass – but didn't. There was a hunger between us, but he wasn't what I wanted.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">A rocker ("You're
righteous, dude!"), next season's model ("You've really got
potential"), a sneering sex-fiend ("I could fuck you in the
ass"), a sticky meth freak ("If you can score, I'll suck you"),
a jolly Santa ("Hehehehehe"), wit ("... you know what they say about a big
dick."), and my mind swam again, my thoughts did the crawl again, my brain
frantically performed the butterfly again – and once again I needed to piss.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Having a choice was wonderful. No, it wasn't wonderful, it was
fantastic, glorious, spectacular, incredible and ... well, it made me something
I thought I'd never feel again: happy.
Yep, having a choice was wonderful, but trying to decide ... it wasn't
unpleasant, but it was confusing. I
barely knew who I was, what I was all about, let alone what I liked – and the
kind of man I liked to do it with.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Puzzled, confused, distracted,
I wandered deeper in the house, hoping my body's memory (because it certainly
wasn't in my bubbling brain) would remember which door was the one to the
bathroom, I pushed the door I thought was the right one.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Partial darkness, just enough
for me to see more Spanish colors, shapes, textures, and elements – but not the
ones I'd seen in the bathroom. As
the door closed behind me and it became pitch as in 'pitch black,' I fumbled
for where I thought the switch was.
Instead, I hand grazed smooth fabric and then the whisper of bare skin.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">No, not the bathroom.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Sorry," I stumbled
around, the words squeaky and childish in shock and embarrassment, trying to
turn, to find the way out.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Wait," came a
voice, one husky and heavy, and with it a quick touch to my shoulder, my hip,
my thigh, and even my ass.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">I did – I waited. I hesitated, slowing down from my exit,
and he said: "Good." Then he said something else, something that made
me stop completely: <i>"Maybe you'll
have a good time."</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">* * * *</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">His hands went back to my
shoulders, this time with a firmer rubbing of my unconsciously tensed muscles,
massaging to where my shoulders lead to my back and then down ... down to where
my pulse was already making my pants far too tight.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">His hands went to my chest,
caresses to my pecs, down along the miniscule swell of my stomach, a
mischievous tickle to my belly button.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">His hands went back to my
hips, this time with strong grips to my corded physique, a tug forward that
brought me up onto the balls of my feet and then stepping forward – so off
balance I had to put out a hand to stop myself. A hand that made contact with the flat, ripped plane of his
own trunk.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">His hands went to my arms,
contacts delicate as well as determined down from upper to lower, and then from
lower down to my wrists. Each
movement of his own fingers, each sensual gesture of his own hand, sending
tingles mixed with goose bumps with a touch of shiver up and down my body – and
not just where he was touching.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">His hands went back to my
thighs, this time with much more determination. Confident and eager, he kneaded rather than just touched,
rubbed rather than tickled, squeezed rather than just poked, and with each
knead, rub, and squeeze I got hotter and hotter and hotter still.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">His hands went to my ass, both
hands reaching around to grip, then clasp, then clench them both firmly. In answer, I gripped, clasped, and then
clenched: a dialog developed between what he was saying with his fingers and
how I was responding with my cheeks.
The translation was simple.
He: I like this. Me: So do
I.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Then we were kissing, hot
breaths becoming hotter breaths when shared – and we shared (oh lordy, we
shared) for what seemed like ... well, a really long time. Metaphors, similes, and awkward and
forced observations are for when you're cold, thoughtful, and contemplative,
and I was not. No, I was – we were
– hot, primitive, and urgent. And
it was good.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Then we were hugging, arms and
legs wrapped around arms and legs in a knot of please don't let this stop.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Kissing and hugging, me very
aware of his hard cock, he no doubt aware of mine, I couldn't help but think
two things: who was he and <i>please don't
let this stop</i>.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Then it was time, a kind of
mutual turn-on schedule: breaking the kiss with a soft, wet pop of moist
suction, he carefully, precisely, tortuously, began to slide down my body.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">I was still standing, but now
he was kneeling.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yes, you know what happened
next. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">No, you don't know what
happened next.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">In the darkness, the bell
chime of my brass Tommy Hilfiger buckle being undone. In the soft, warm, darkness, the raspberry of my steel
zipper fly being undone. In the
black, the rustle of my pants being loosened.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">In the gloom – no sound. But a sensation, a feeling: his mouth
swallowing my very hard cock. Sounds
simple, direct, doesn't it? But it
was anything but. The Latin Lover,
the Intellectual, The Urban, the Hawaiian Eye, the Queen, the Rocker, The
Model, the Sex Fiend, the Meth Freak, the Santa, or the Wit knew what he was
doing – knew exactly what he was doing: the right amount of tongue, the correct
application of lips, the perfect usage of throat, the ideal performance of
teeth – each and every one a seductive coaxing of sweat from my skin, moans
from my throat, tremors from my muscles, and come from my cock.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">No, not yet – I thought,
trying to think of anything but baseball.
I mean, trying to think of baseball instead of the superb job the Latin
Lover, the Intellectual, The Urban, the Hawaiian Eye, the Queen, the Rocker,
The Model, the Sex Fiend, the Meth Freak, the Santa, or the Wit was doing with
my dick. The problem was I didn't
know anything about baseball – or at least I hadn't found out yet if this new
me even liked baseball – and the only thing I did know, with absolute
certainty, was that the Latin Lover, the Intellectual, The Urban, the Hawaiian
Eye, the Queen, the Rocker, The Model, the Sex Fiend, the Meth Freak, the
Santa, or the Wit was a master of the blowjob.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">So what to think about? How to distract myself from the
excellent performance the Latin Lover, the Intellectual, The Urban, the
Hawaiian Eye, the Queen, the Rocker, The Model, the Sex Fiend, the Meth Freak,
the Santa, or the Wit was giving my cock?
I had to think of something ... anything, or it would be over too soon,
the play concluded too fast, the fun finished too early.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">There was a problem. I was fresh, unblemished, clean, and
spotless: I was new, too new to have anything that wasn't still tainted by my
old self, the one that had been stolen from me.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">My cock began to sag. I'd thought of something better – no,
worse – than baseball: that being new could be good, but it also meant that I
was empty, shallow, and hollow. The
Latin Lover, the Intellectual, The Urban, the Hawaiian Eye, the Queen, the
Rocker, The Model, the Sex Fiend, the Meth Freak, the Santa, or the Wit was
sucking a cock – but whose cock was he sucking?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">No. In the dark room I shook my head, cleaning away the storm
thoughts. No. This was a good time, a great time. I might not have a past but I had a
huge future. Tommy Hilfiger shirt,
Tommy Hilfiger pants, Tommy Hilfiger socks, and Tommy Hilfiger underwear, and
the rest for me to pick and choose.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">And a great guy was giving me
the best blowjob of my new – or even my old – life. It was good. It
was damned good.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Fuck baseball. I decided right then that whoever I was
– I sure as hell didn't like, or care, about baseball. Blowjobs, though ... that was another
matter.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">A great matter. A fantastic matter. A glorious matter. A matter that in a matter of minutes
pushed out every doubt, every hesitation, every falter out of my mind – and
then in a shake from my feet to the top of my head, a quake from one hand to
the other, a rattle all up my throat and out my mouth, a roll all along my
spine, what I'd kept bottled up came squirting out and into his mouth.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">My strings were cut, my bones
jellied, my heart fluttered, my knees failed, my eyes rolled, my jaw twitched,
and I fell backwards. Luckily, the
door was behind me, so when I did, something stopped me going from standing to
sitting in a painful, and worst of all, embarrassing collapse.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">After a time – how long I had
no idea – my senses switched back on.
First was taste, and with the taste a smile that what I was tasting was
my own come, a sweet gift of his kiss after sucking me off. The next was sound, known because I
could hear our ragged breathing. After
sound was touch, announcing itself in the weight and texture of him curled up
in my arms. After that was smell,
the room redolent with salt from sweat, and best of all salt from come.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">The last was sight. As the room had been lightless, it was
the longest to come back – it took as long as our time together for my eyes to
adjust to the black. Adjust they
did, enough for me to look down and see what my other senses had told me: that
in the gloom I was sitting down with my back against the door, a very dim glow
leaking down where its paneling met the floor, my lover curled up in my
still-shivering arms.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">He wasn't the Latin Lover, the
Intellectual, The Urban, the Hawaiian Eye, the Queen, the Rocker, The Model,
the Sex Fiend, the Meth Freak, the Santa, or the Wit. Nope, he was better than any of them.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">He was exactly what I'd
wanted: what I'd always wanted in a lover.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">One last logical thought:
funny, isn't it, how you never recognize your own voice. Recorded, or on the phone.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span>
mchristianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11887406428164757014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133731140800332850.post-43298938379142749342014-10-24T11:15:00.000-07:002014-10-24T11:15:02.540-07:00Me2: Chapter 6<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">As part of a huge - and much
needed - marketing push, I'm going to be serializing a few of my
all-time favorite books ... starting with the (ahem) rather infamous
novel that I may or may not have actually written: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp"><i><b>Me2</b></i></a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp"><img alt="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp" border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nV91RueiOyU/VByi1S_H9II/AAAAAAAANd0/Xp6BjI4f8Sk/s1600/ME2--withbannerFINAL%2Bcopy.jpeg" height="400" width="275" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><i>"Absolutely brilliant!" says Lisabet Sarai, author of Incognito and
Fire, about Lambda finalist M. Christian's controversial manlove
horror/thriller. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">He looks just like you. He acts exactly like you. He
takes away your job. He steals your friends. He seduces your male
lover. None of them can tell the difference. Every day he becomes more
and more like you, pushing you out of your own life, taking away what
was yours … until there’s nothing left. Where did he come from? Robot?
Alien? Clone? Doppelganger? Evil twin? Long lost brother? Then you
discover there are still more "yous." Can you be sure you are the real
you? And how do you fight to take your own life back? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">An absorbing new
approach to the question of identity, Me2 is a groundbreaking gay
chiller you’ll remember for a long time – no matter who you are, or who
you think you may be. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">(Despite rumors that this book was written by an
impostor - but, rest assured, this is the real 'M.Christian.' Accept
no substitutes!)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
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<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Chapter
VI</span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Me6</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>"Like, for instance, yesterday I thought about going to the movies
to see that new Hugh Jackman thing.
But instead I, like, went down to mall to Sharona and Liselle, 'cause
you know that Liselle used to work down the Gap – I know, can you believe it? Talk about being a loser – and so she knows all the people who work
down there and when the good stuff is supposed to come in. Not that she really does but sometimes
you can still find something really cute or hot.</i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>"But I didn't go to the movies, see? I went to the mall instead. But Bobby also called when we were walking to my car but I
didn't talk to him 'cause I saw it was him and 'cause he was such a fucking
asshole last Saturday, so maybe I'd talk to him and maybe he'd, like, majorly
apologize and do something really cute which you know he can do sometimes. So maybe we I would have not gone to
the movies or the mall and instead, like, have gone out with Bobby.</i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>"But Bobby's an asshole – most of the time. So I didn't pick up. But maybe I did, somewhere, right? Like today I came to but I also thought
about not, you know? Just called
Betty and said that I was, like, sick or something. Just stayed home, or gone to the movies, or even to the mall
even though Sharona doesn't get out of work until five and Liselle's got school
till four. But I could have. Maybe I would have called Bobby, just
to chew his ass out or something, and maybe he would have said the right things
and made it all better, or maybe he would still be an asshole and that would be
it, right? I mean he's nice and
all but there's lots of other guys out there who are a LOT less asshole that
Bobby. It's just that he's there,
you know?</i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>"The girl who works from eight-thirty to noon, Tammara I think her
name is. Her mother, like, died a
week ago. Just fell down the
stairs. Sad, yeah, but it makes
you think, you know? Like the next
time you go down the stairs you could be like her mother, you know? One wrong step and you fall down and
break something, or just drop dead just like that. Alive and then you're not, right? Could happen at any</i>
<i>time. Like maybe today or tomorrow or this weekend. Or maybe it did, you know? Somewhere you step on the wrong fucking
stair and down you go. Just not
here, you know?</i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>"Sometimes you might want pancakes – like from Ihop, you know? Other days you might want a McMuffin,
'kay? But maybe one day there's a
bunch of old people in the Ihop, or a lot of cars at McDonalds so you can't
have either of them so instead you gotta get something from Starbucks, right? But not here, you know? Somewhere maybe the Ihop was empty, or
you could real easy get into McDonalds.
It's not a biggie, right? But
there you did get the breakfast you wanted – but not here. There you did, but not here, you know?</i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>"Like somewhere the planes never hit New York. Like that. Here they did, but somewhere maybe they didn't. That kind of thing. I don't know why or any of that shit,
but it could be that way – somewhere, right? Maybe it would be better but ... what the fuck do I know? I just think about it sometimes. Like that I do something here but maybe
there's another me out there who did something else instead. Like going to the movies or going to
the movies or fucking dropped dead.
Maybe she's out there or maybe I'm just fucking nuts. But I think about that sometimes, like
if maybe she's a bitch or something or maybe even really cool and all – or if
I'd even like her if I met her or something. Shit like that, you know?"</i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">* * * *</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Unfamiliar territory. Good. Heard about it, of course, but never went: it was one of
those places, for those kinds of people, who liked to do <i>those</i> kinds of things.
A Lexus place, a Gap place, a Borders place, a Starbucks place, a Lane
Bryant place... okay, everyplace
was a Starbucks place, but <i>there</i> it
was upscale, a sign of progress, instead of just being there.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Parking, I walked across
asphalt steaming from an early morning light rain, blinking at hard sunlight,
exhaustion a crushing weight, and then up to and inside the mall. Hotdog on a Stick, Orange Julius, Panda
Express, Star of India – all of them under the heat lamp of huge, high windows.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Noon on a weekday, it was a
geriatric institution. Wrinkled
eaters sitting at tables, finishing by wrinkling napkins, but not getting up,
not leaving: nowhere better to go.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Hotdog on a Stick, Orange
Julius, Panda Express, Star of India behind me, Warehouse, Sanrio, Container
Store in front of me, Lenscrafters, Sunset Video next to me. I stopped at the directory while
giggling schoolgirls, professional hooky players, walked by.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Finding it wasn't that hard. It stood out: an oddity that the place
had one. Theories abounded, at
least inside my own bubbling brain: a sign of approaching progress? A last vestige of status before
submerging into mediocrity?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Lenscrafters, Sunset Video
behind me; Warehouse, Sanrio, Container Store next to me, I stopped and turned
hard right, into the coolly air-conditioned mouth of a two-storey Borders: a
sign of approaching progress or a last vestige of status before submerging into
mediocrity.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">No <i>GQ</i>, no <i>Men</i>, no <i>Architectural Digest</i>, no "Boys of
Summer." The other magazines made me dizzy, bright cover stocks making my
head bob in a hurricane of smiling faces, sun-splashed beaches, and smoldering
good looks. Then one was in my
hands – not there one second, there and open to a spread the next without
reaching out, being even aware of picking it up. Um, interesting: Tom Cruise's mortgage-expensive dentistry
alongside tight columns of serif-text.
"You may think you know him, but you'd be surprised..." the
article began.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">It went back on the stand,
Cruise's false happiness vanishing among the other so-bright, so-fake colors. <i>Details</i>. That sounded right. A <i>Details</i>
kind of guy. A guy who reads <i>Details</i>. A guy who goes to malls like this, who buys Details in
places like <i>Borders</i>.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">No <i>GQ</i>, no <i>Men</i>, no <i>Architectural</i> <i>Digest</i>, no "Boys of Summer." Not anymore. That wasn't working out. Especially after last night. "You may think you know him, but
you'd be surprised." I certainly was.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">From the magazine section, the
newest <i>Details</i> rolled into a tight
club in my left hand, I strolled as carefully, cautiously, as possible back
toward the front. Yes, that felt
right: I was a slow and careful guy, a thoughtful and controlled fellow. A <i>Details</i>
kind of guy. A guy who reads <i>Details</i>. A guy who goes to malls like this, who buys <i>Details</i> in places like <i>Borders</i>, and when it comes time to buy
his newest issue he's the kind of guy who walks carefully, cautiously toward
the front.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Maybe I was an art fag? Was that the kind of guy who reads <i>Details</i>? I used to have a Keith Haring print, so maybe art fag was
too close to what I'd been. But
then again maybe a guy who reads <i>Details</i>
should be even more of an art fag.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Maybe I was a foodie? Was that the kind of guy who read <i>Details</i>? I used to like to eat – nothing fancy mind you – so maybe
foodie was too close to what I'd been.
But then again maybe a guy who reads <i>Details</i>
should be even more of a foodie.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Maybe I'd be ... better. Couldn't be worse, eh? This could be a chance, the magazine
rolled up in one hand. An
opportunity to be more than I could have been before. A potential to be great, good, successful, praised, and – there's
the sting, the ache, all coming as I rolled the magazine even tighter in my
hand – desired.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">A lot can happen in a few
days, a lot of thinking can go on in a few steps. During the last few days he'd shown up, strolled through my
life, stealing at first little bits then huge hunks then parts I didn't know I
had. Part of my thinking as I
walked toward the register: flattering, really. He was somehow an extrusion of me (image of black pasta
oozing out of a deep mind, id-manufactured piece of cranial machinery). A sense of pride had come with that
image: that there had been something wonderful and nice and special and grand
and great about me, something I'd missed even myself. A wonderful and nice and special and grand and greatness
that'd been so wonderful and nice and special and grand and great that anything
sour and nasty and evil and horrible and bad had been squeezed out.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">A lot can happen in just a few
hours, a lot of thinking can go on in a few steps. During the last few days he'd appeared, walked through my
existence, taking small things to begin with, then bigger ones I didn't realize
had even been. Minor element of my
thoughts as I moved to the register: so fucking insulting. Bad enough he took what was mine, worse
that he'd been so much better at being me that I had. I knew now that he hadn't been dark pasta squeezed out of my
right ear, he hadn't been my personal Stalin, Manson, Hitler, or even just my
own externalized Ann Coulter.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">It was now pretty damned
obvious that he wasn't bad – because he was so much better at being me than I'd
been.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">And with a bitter taste on the
back of my tongue was hidden information, reclusive knowledge: I thought I
hadn't cared about being great, good, successful, praised and – a hard pain, a
belly-low and the magazine crunched in my hand – <i>desired</i> but it had taken him getting it for me to see that I really
had, and now it was too late for me to ever get it.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">To ever get it, that is, as <i>me</i>. But maybe I could get my greatness, my goodness, my success,
my praise as someone else?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">So I bought my magazine and,
before I knew what I was saying, I was chatting with the gum-chewing girl
behind the counter about a copy, a duplicate, a knock-off, but one far better
than any original, and she started talking about parallel realities and
alternative selves.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">* * * *</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">You don't know me. Oh, sure, you may <i>think</i> you know me, but you'd be wrong. You see the stylishly cut blond hair, the blue eyes, the
tight ass, the hard (enough) chest, the good smile, the pretty-close-to-perfect
teeth, the refined dress sense, and it would no doubt cross your mind that
there he goes, here he comes: A Boy of Summer, full of Cape Cod life and
vitality, a sexy young man, a sparkling little erotic treasure, a clever
entertainer, but you'd be wrong.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">No Boy of Summer am I. Was, sure, but that was a life ago. This me, the one you see coming, the
one you watch going, is still blond-haired and blue eyed, still nicely buff
without being all body and no dick, still funny without being nothing but
guffaws and stupid giggles.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I may stand on the deck of a
yacht and sip a perfect gin and tonic, or look admiringly out at a fat red sun
setting over the spires and ivy-wrapped bricks of Kennebunkport from the
polished cream boards of a cottage's deck. I may tie a cerulean sweater around my neck and playfully
twirl a racket in one hand while Buffy and Mandy smooth the mischievous pleats
of their skirts. I may stroll the
sands of Fire Island, just as happy to smile back at one of my dozen immediate
admirers as not, and simply keep walking.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I may, but not as a Boy of
Summer.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">It was hard to deal with, a
change like this: from Summer to Fall, from Boy to ... well, maybe not a 'man'
but not a 'boy' either. Not a <i>GQ</i>, not a <i>Men</i>, not what I'd been.
But it was also exciting: a new chance, a fresh start, a new me – and
best of all a chance to do some shopping.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">From Borders down through the
echoing canyon of the mall. Hallmark
Cards, Circuit City, Hot Topic alongside me; Gymboree, Radio Shack, Sprint
store approaching. Then, after a
few more strides over a few more minutes Gymboree, Radio Shack, Sprint store
were alongside and in the distant future was a Brookstone, a Kay Jewelers, and
the reason I'd come: the whites and colors of my new self, the outfits I'd have
to come to know and love.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Never thought I'd ever become
a Tommy Hilfiger guy – but there I was, and inside I went.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">* * * *</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I liked what I saw – or I
should say the person I had become liked what I saw, because the person I used
to be probably wouldn't have liked the colors, patterns, cut, design, or the
style.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The salesman, looking what I
imagined I might look like when I left, floated over. He said something – probably "Can I help you" or a
derivation thereof – but I just replied with something like "No, just
looking" or a derivation thereof.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Later, maybe, I'd need his
Tommy Hilfigerness expertise but at that moment I couldn't think, could barely
handle just wandering, looking, sampling, trying, and admiring.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">You may know me, but you don't. Sure I might look like a boy who spent
the summer with <i>GQ</i>, but I'm not. Yeah, I might appear to be a <i>GQ</i> summer kind of boy, but I wasn't. I certainly might be taken to be a
summer boy from <i>GQ</i>, but that wasn't
correct.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The problem was that I didn't
know – at least not yet – what I was – at least not specifically. Maybe a red linen shirt and banana leaf
shorts Tommy? Perhaps a Noyo
Madras top and linen bottoms of Tommy?
Could I be a Pacific V-neck and California trunks Tommy? How about a prep above and a Manhattan
jeans Tommy?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Daunted, my sight glazed over;
a too loud, too bright, too stylish glaucoma. So many types, so many kinds, so many choices. I was tempted to open my <i>Details</i> and choose a look, something – anything
– to push me in a direction – any direction – rather than just stand there like
a blank slate, with a blank look, in the Tommy Hilfiger store.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">To occupy my mind and hands, I
reached out and grabbed the first bit of cloth. Unhooking a painfully illuminated canary shirt from a rack,
I held it in front of my chest then turned around looking for a reflection to
see how it looked on me, even though I knew the look was not good.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">A steel-clad pillar was a good
enough mirror, and so I stepped over toward it. Yes, it was bad.
But at least the store and I were down one type, one kind, one choice. It went back, to be replaced by a
royally purple short-sleeve number.
At least that type, that kind, that choice wasn't as alarmingly bright a
failure. If anything it was a
darker one – but still a failure. It
went back, to be replaced in front of me, bounced back by the polished metal of
the pillar, by a beetle-green version.
Better, a closer type, kind and choice. A perhaps. A
maybe. A could be.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Eventually, I began to relax,
the knotted fibers of my back and arms releasing from the Gordian Knot stress
I'd unconsciously tied myself into.
I was shopping. Just
shopping. Only shopping. It was an ordinary thing, a common
thing, a thing I'd used to do, a thing I used to enjoy doing – and looked like
I might enjoy doing again.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Whew.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The green shirt was a
possible, then a near-certainty when I saw a plaster or plastic consumer model
wearing nearly the same thing in the front window, though no way in hell was I
going to wear it with those tangerine pants. <i>Tres</i> <i>gauche! </i>In pursuit of something shorts-like, slacks-ish,
jeans-reminiscent, I moved between the islands of other manikins and wheels of
comparable displays letting my eyes get wonderfully exhausted from looking at
everything there was to see. Those
shorts? No, they wouldn't hang
right. Those slacks? No, I didn't like the fabric. Those jeans? No, I didn't like the weight. Maybe those? Maybe
these?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">"Having a good
time?"</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I jerked, my finally relaxed
spine bolted tight by the shock of a human voice. "Oh, yeah," I said before doing anything, not even
trying to find out who'd done the speaking.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Turning around, I saw that it
was the salesperson again, talking from behind the register. With the same visual machine gun I'd
aimed at shorts, slacks, and jeans I shot him into my brain: young but not so
much as to bruise easily. He knew
what he had and – most importantly – what to do with it. Beneath a light cotton shirt I could
see enough of a chest to know that he also more than likely had flesh where it
should be and muscle where it was nice.
His face was a good combo of dark eyes below a skull well-defined by
close-cropped black hair, an elegantly shaped and sized Grecian nose above plum
red lips. The counter kept me from
estimating below the belt, but above it he seemed to be something worth trying
on. All in all, he was the perfect
picture of a plaything: fun for a night, delight for a weekend, but beyond that
– well, who thought that far ahead with someone like him all sweaty and naked
in the same room?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">A grin at all this, almost a
laugh: I was cruising. Just
cruising. Only cruising. It was an ordinary thing, a common
thing, a thing I used to do, a thing I used to enjoy doing and looked like I
might enjoy doing again. Thank
god.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">"Always like to see
someone having a good time," he said, rounding the counter – though my
view was still blocked, this time by the items under the sign: HALF OFF.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">"Makes two of us," I
fenced back, letting my relaxation and perhaps happiness out in a short, but
loud, laugh. "Finding
everything you need?"</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">"Oh, you mean the clothes! Yes."</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">"Great. Well, if you need anything else just
give me a yell. That's what I'm
here for."</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">"I hope it's not the only
thing you're here for – in life, I mean.
Not the store." Did I say that? Shit, I was either out of practice or just out of my mind. Whichever came first.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">At least this Plaything didn't
seem to mind. He fenced back with
his own laugh: a deep, gruff sound that made me feel cut adrift and floating. "Never!"</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">"That's good." What
else to say walked off the roof. Momentarily
floundering, I plucked a shirt from the pile in my arms. "Actually, you might be able to
help."</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">"Sure! What do you need?"</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">"Any suggestions for this? I like it but I'm not seeing any thing
I like to go with it."</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">"Hummm..." he said,
body in a delightful, pondering posture.
"I think I have just the thing..."</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">He didn't, but I didn't care. For the next few minutes I followed him
around the store, letting him make suggestions of shorts (even though they
didn't hang right), slacks (even though I didn't like the fabric) and jeans
(even though I didn't like the weight).
As he lifted each and even more from the racks to stroke his elegant
fingers across, praise with his musical voice, hold up to me with his strong
arms, I said less and less and blushed more and more. With each demonstration and recommendation my mind got
noisier and noisier, reason becoming harder and harder to maintain: <i>he's really kind of cute</i> broke down into
half-felt and half-thought bits and pieces like <i>hope he's a good kisser, hope he's got a good one, hope he wants to,
really hope he wants to, please let him want to</i>, and finally <i>how to get him away from here...?</i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">"I really shouldn't say
this–" but you could tell he wanted to, the tone and melody of his words
skipping from nerves "–but would you like to get some coffee or
something?"</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">It was old, it was dumb, it
was trite, it certainly wasn't stylish, but it was something I needed and
wanted to hear. You may not know
me, and I might not even know what I was going to become, but at least it
looked like I was going to be someone who could be needed and wanted.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">But then a thought came. A bad one. The light at the end of my tunnel changing into a howling
locomotive. Coffee? Yes. Giggles and good conversation? Absolutely. A
hand touching another hand? Certainly. A kiss? Definitely. Your
place or mine – and there was the impact, the crash, the smash, the twisted
wreckage of the day before.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I didn't have a place. <i>He</i>
had a place – and what was worse was that this all might happen, could happen,
possibly might happen, if I was damned lucky.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">But <i>he</i> didn't need luck.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>He</i> was better – better than I
could ever have been. In all
things, but especially where it really mattered.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">* * * *</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Lack of sleep was a part of it. But not all of it. Having lazy eyes drifting too often
toward closed didn't explain the whole thing. Going crazy – well, yes, that was another portion. But I couldn't say how much. A question: did being completely crazy
mean you could no longer tell how much of what you did was acting crazy?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I also didn't care. Maybe he'd be there, maybe he wouldn't. Was or wasn't, neither bothered me. The amount of emotion between opening
the door and seeing him, seeing the thief of my life right there in my
apartment, or opening the door and not seeing him, the copycat, was about the
same.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I had to do something,
anything. Even if it wasn't smart
– or, yes, sane – I couldn't be frightened all the time, couldn't run away,
couldn't hide, or fret, or panic, or scream, or cry, or shake. Anything but.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">So I drove, letting my hands
and my feet weave my car down streets, avenues, boulevards, streets, drives,
and everything between any of them, until I was in my neighborhood: rows and
rows of brightly shining windows set in cream-colored, stucco-slathered
apartment blocks.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Still not thinking, still
driving with just my hands and my feet, I was turning into the dark hole of a
garage before I was even consciously aware of it. 215? Yes, slot
215. Then, with a turn of the
wheel, my Volkswagon found its home.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">My home? His home? I didn't know for sure.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">With a push of a 5, I rose in
the elevator past 1 then 2 then 3 then 4 and finally to my floor. Opening to cream-colored stucco walls,
a stutter of industrial fixtures overhead illuminating door after door after
door of neighbors, I was walking before I realized what I was doing. Then, with a turn of by body, I was
standing in front of my home.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">My home? His home? I didn't know for sure.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Hand on the knob, cool metal –
even though it was thin, cheap brass – I had fished out my key before I was
even aware that I'd done it. Then,
as I fed gleaming steel into the lock and turned it, I realized a very certain,
powerful, fact: the knob wouldn't turn, the door wouldn't open.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">His home: he'd changed the
lock.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Screw that. I knew <i>that</i> for sure: a blast, a bolt, a shock that made me stand up
straighter, get a bit taller, feel a bit stronger. I hoped he was in there, I prayed he was so scared of me
that he'd had to change the lock. Right
then, he had a good reason to be scared and hiding.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I was pounding on the door
before I knew what I was doing, the meaty side of my hand going from unfeeling
to sore and possibly even bruised with a few reckless full-body swings of my
arms. The door, of course, didn't
budge.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I was about to try the moves
of every private detective I'd ever seen – and no doubt break every bone in my
shoulder or foot, when a cheerful bell announced that the elevator had returned
to my floor.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Turning quick, I half expected
be see myself walking toward me, having spent another full day creeping around
behind my back, stuffing the people, places, and things of my life into his
own: taking what didn't belong to me, replacing what had been mine with his
replication.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">If my hands hadn't been sore I
probably wouldn't have realized I'd curled them into fists, but they were – so
I was aware my knuckles had lifted from my joints in a tight fury.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Then they released, uncoiling
from their compression into my palm, muscles releasing furious tension. No him. Not him at all.
Breath held, breath released.
Not him at all.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Jingle, jingle, a new kind of
bell, meaning instead of possible arrival, the coming of a feature of the
building – for all buildings for that matter. "<i>Hola</i>,"
the Handyman said with a nod of his dark hair, his dark skin gleaming with the
perspiration of a hard day's work.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">"H–hello," I said,
this and that and something else shy at his arrival: "this" being the
cheek-warming shame that he might have seen me banging my fists into puffy
bruises on my door; "that" being the embarrassed blush of my not
remembering his name; the "something else" being the humiliation of
not knowing whether I'd ever met him before – because they all looked alike to
me.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">"You ... have
problem?" he said, face aglow with innocent happiness. I envied him for that grin, for the
pure averageness, everydayness, commonness behind it.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">"No–" I began then
stopped. Instead, I gave him my
own smile, but with anything but happiness, without any kind of averageness,
everydayness, commonness behind it.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">"Well, yeah, there kind
of is a problem. I did something
very–" <i>how do you say stupid in
Spanish? </i>"–silly. I forgot my keys at work. Can you let me in?"</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">"Sure," he said, the
word very English, obviously a word that didn't exist with a Latin accent. "I do that for you. I know you."</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">"Thanks," I answered
through clenched teeth. Did you
know me? Did you know me at all? Or did you just know <i>him</i>?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">So, just like that, I was in.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">He wasn't in the apartment. But that's not why it was good – so very
good. At least to start, that is.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Saying goodbye to the
handyman, hoping that he'd never know his sweet-sweet-sweet kindness was to a
pair of refisted hands that'd been ready to swing-swing-swing at anyone in the
place, I closed the door behind me.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">It was odd to be home: an
oddness that made my hair bristle, run goosebumps up and down my arms, make my
breath come in ragged gasps. A lot
was the same, like I'd just stepped out, just come back: the Ikea catalog of
perfectly assembled living, the same knicks and the same knacks just as they'd
appeared in that same issue of the same catalog, the same little things here,
the same little things there that spelled each letter of HOME: Haring print on
the wall, Olberman book that'd been number one on Amazon this week,
Mapplethorpe calendar magneted to the fridge, and the <i>Enigma</i> CD that was number one on iTunes this week.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">It was my home – but it was
still his home more than it was mine.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">He'd changed the rug in the
kitchen (mine had been from the Fall Ikea catalog; he'd replaced it with one
from a different season), the pillows on the bed (mine had been Bed, Bath and
Beyond royal blue; he'd bought Bed Bath and Beyond blood red), in the kitchen
he'd thrown out my Restoration Hardware silverware for crap from Target ... I
think. In the bathroom the towels
I'd bought from Bloomingdales were gone, and instead there were some
run-of-the-mill fluffy things that could have been from Ross ... I think.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">He'd started, but hadn't
finished making what had been mine into his. I had time. But
there was something else, something that was that good – so very good. At least to start, that is: In the
sink, dirty dishes. On the bed,
dirty sheets. In the living room,
dirty clothes. In the bathroom, a
dirty tub. In the window, dirty
glass.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Good – so very good. He wasn't perfect, wasn't superior. He was dirty. Wonderfully, gloriously, magnificently, excellently,
gloriously, filthy. Under his
bright, shiny lie that was my stolen life, he couldn't keep it up.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I'd show him, I decided. I couldn't punch him, couldn't slap his
mirror-face, couldn't kick him in the nuts, couldn't do anything to him – but I
could show him who was the better man, the better me.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">It took at least two hours. For the first hour every sound was him
coming back, walking in. For the
first hour every sound made me want to scream, bellow, roar in rage, and go
after him for what he'd done to me.
But all during the second hour, I didn't hear anything, or if I did I
didn't notice any of it.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I pulled Windex out from under
the sink, opened the front windows, leaned out, spritzed and sprayed, wiped and
rubbed until the glass was clear enough to be gone, the view out the front
obstructed only by the playful reflections of my earnestly grinning face.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I pulled Formula 409 from
under the sink, pulled aside the shower curtain, leaned in, spritzed and
sprayed, wiped and rubbed until the porcelain was white enough to be surgical,
its antiseptic appearance marred only by the mirroring of my earnestly
scrubbing face.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I pulled a Hefty garbage bag
out from under the sink, bent down and yanked, plucked, swept up, collected,
and stuffed all the socks, shorts, slacks, jeans, shirts, and sweaters that
were on the sofa, under the sofa, between the cushions of the sofa, and even
behind the sofa.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I pulled another Hefty garbage
bag out from under the sink, leaned across and yanked, pulled, stripped,
collected and stuffed the fitted and cover sheet that was twisted up, wadded
up, bunched up, and tangled up on the bed.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I pulled Dawn out from under
the sink, bent over and soaked, soaped, rinsed, dried, soaked, soaped, rinsed,
dried, soaked, soaped, rinsed, dried every last pot, pan, glass, plate, bowl,
knife, fork, and spoon, until the kitchen gleamed, shone, and dazzled with
lemon-scented, spectacular cleanliness.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Walking around my apartment,
looking at what I'd done with what was mine, admiring my handiwork, an emotion
fluttered through my bones, played a lovely tune on my tendons and muscles, and
out through my grinning lips in the form of a happy little tune: la, la, la – <i>I'd show him</i> – la, la, la – <i>the fucking bastard – </i>la, la, la – <i>I'm better than he is</i> – la, la, la – <i>he's the loser</i> – la, la, la – <i>I'm better</i> – la, la, la – <i>I'm so much better</i> – la, la, la – <i>I'm so much better at being me – </i>la, la,
la.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I felt very good: the best I'd
felt in days. I was the one that
was perfect, I was the one who was superior. I was wonderfully, gloriously, magnificently, excellently,
gloriously, me.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Then my walking stopped, my
humming stopped, my singing stopped.
The bedroom. It was because
of the bedroom. It was because of
the trash in the bedroom.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Because of that, he'd shown me. He wasn't there to punch me, he
couldn't slap my face, couldn't kick me in the nuts, couldn't do anything to me
– but because of the trash in the bedroom, he showed me that he was the better
man, the better me.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The apartment didn't matter. Dishes didn't matter. Sheets didn't matter. Clothes didn't matter. The tub didn't matter. Windows didn't matter.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The apartment was just a
place: rented, occupied, left behind for a new one. Dishes, sheets, clothes, tubs, windows, all of them – clean
or dirty – were just things: purchased, used, thrown away, then replaced.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">There were the things that <i>did</i> matter. Six of them, in fact.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">One: People mattered, and what
they thought of you – that's what mattered.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Two: Being wanted mattered,
being able to get it whenever you needed it – that's what mattered.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Three: Being successful was
good, being who they thought about when they were with other guys – that's what
mattered.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Four: Being able to pick up
who you wanted, to be the first one out with the best pick – that's what
mattered.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Five: Never being alone,
unless you wanted to be – that's what mattered.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Six (the most important of
all): Your dick mattered, getting it sucked or getting to fuck with it – that's
what mattered.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Each of them – one, two,
three, four, five, six – were why I walked, ran, ate, worked, drove, slept, or
earned. In fact why anyone walked,
ran, ate, worked, drove, slept, or earned.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">And each of them – one, two,
three, four, five, six – were there in the trash, proof that he was better at
this, at what really mattered, than I was.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">It was worth admiring, I had
to admit, even though to do so made my heart break into six irregular pieces. I should have applauded, rather than
leave to try and become someone else, but I just couldn't.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Six condoms in the trash. Six fucks in one night, three fucks on
two nights, six fucks in six days.
Whatever the math – more than I'd ever done.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">That had been it: that had
finished it. That had been why I'd
left it all behind, that's why I'd walked the mall, that's why I'd bought a
copy of <i>Details</i>, that's why I'd
shopped at Tommy Hilfiger.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">He could have my fucking life. He was obviously so much better at it
than I'd ever been.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Or maybe ever could be.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span>mchristianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11887406428164757014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133731140800332850.post-33287817429630890782014-10-17T10:27:00.003-07:002014-10-17T10:30:28.888-07:00Me2: Chapter 5<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">As part of a huge - and much
needed - marketing push, I'm going to be serializing a few of my
all-time favorite books ... starting with the (ahem) rather infamous
novel that I may or may not have actually written: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp"><i><b>Me2</b></i></a></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp"><img alt="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp" border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nV91RueiOyU/VByi1S_H9II/AAAAAAAANd0/Xp6BjI4f8Sk/s1600/ME2--withbannerFINAL%2Bcopy.jpeg" height="400" width="275" /></a></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><br /></i></span></span></span>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"Absolutely brilliant!" says Lisabet Sarai, author of Incognito and
Fire, about Lambda finalist M. Christian's controversial manlove
horror/thriller. </i></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">He looks just like you. He acts exactly like you. He
takes away your job. He steals your friends. He seduces your male
lover. None of them can tell the difference. Every day he becomes more
and more like you, pushing you out of your own life, taking away what
was yours … until there’s nothing left. Where did he come from? Robot?
Alien? Clone? Doppelganger? Evil twin? Long lost brother? Then you
discover there are still more "yous." Can you be sure you are the real
you? And how do you fight to take your own life back? </span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">An absorbing new
approach to the question of identity, Me2 is a groundbreaking gay
chiller you’ll remember for a long time – no matter who you are, or who
you think you may be. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">(Despite rumors that this book was written by an
impostor - but, rest assured, this is the real 'M.Christian.' Accept
no substitutes!)</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span></span><br />
<h1 align="center" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Chapter V</span></span></span></span></h1>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Me5</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><br /></span>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Well ... when I think about it, I bet Hitler was a nice guy.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"No, that's not what I mean. Calm down, boy. Shit, you be a bit wild and people jump all over you: don't give someone a second to explain. Yeah, you – and everyone else, too. One crazy idea and people think it's oven-time.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Hitler, now he wouldn't do that. I bet he'd keep his opinions to himself till he knew what I was saying.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"There you go again. Yeah, you didn't say anything but you still showed it in your eyes. Christ, you could see it across the street. Damned right you should be sorry. That's the problem with people these days, they don't listen. Or they pretend to but they sure as shit aren't.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Hitler would have listened.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Ha! That's better. Not a lot, but at least you're trying.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Gotta give you that. Should make you say it till you can't say it no more? 'Hitler, Hitler, Hitler,' then maybe you'd stop twitching when I say it. Like saying 'toothbrush,' you know: say it till you don't know that the fuck it is. 'Course Hitler ain't a fucking toothbrush, but you know what I mean.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Don't worry, Hitler wouldn't have figured out where the fuck I'm going with this either. At least not the one from our history books. So you're doing as good as he would. Something to be proud of, huh?</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Yeah, I'm jerking your chain. Quick one, aren't you, boy? I'm still kind of pissed, though, that you thought I had a fucking SS outfit in my closet. World must be a fucking scary place for you, with damned Nazis under every fucking bed.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"It is? Well, you seem to be handling it well enough, I guess. Lots of other folks, if I gave 'em that 'Hitler' business, they'd probably lose it lots worse than you, so don't take it so hard.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Hitler? Oh, right. Well, you asked and that's the first thing I thought about. Well, not the first time. I've been thinking about Hitler for a while. Not like that. You have been listening, right?</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Okay, just wanted to make sure. We cool now? You want to come over to my place and make sure there's no damned swastikas? You sure? You damned sure? All right then. I just want to make sure you understand. You do understand, right?</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Right. Okay. So, Hitler – he was it, you agree? The worst of the worst. Ask people who they'd kill and he'd be the one. The baddest of them all.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"It's just ... he was so bad. Too bad. How can someone be that bad? I ... I really don't think they can. Not that he wasn't horrible. He was. It's just ... have you tried to be an SOB? Yeah, I know, some people have a knack for it, but I don't mean a part-time prick. I mean SOB 24/7. I've tried it; not for real, but real enough. I can be a asshole on the playfloor, but not for very long. By breakfast I'm ready to read the paper and watch TV.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"But Hitler did it all the time. Same with Manson and all the rest. No rest, no good days, just as bad as they could be. Yeah, I guess they might have liked it. But they had to know they were hurting people, right? How couldn't they? But they kept doing it, all the time.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"I don't think we can do that. People, I mean. I know, I know, it's stupid. Real stupid, but that's what I believe. People just can't be nothing but bad, there has to be some good somewhere.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"So here's Hitler, right? He's ... wait a sec. There. He's this quarter. Heads he's bad. Very bad. The Hitler we know. Tails is the other, that's the good guy. The Hitler who's a nice guy. Paints pretty pictures, smiles a lot, cracks jokes; he's someone you'd like to know. But he's so damned good, the bad has to go somewhere, so he breaks in two, so now you have a heads Hitler and a tails Hitler. It's like, the only way any of us can be nothing but bad is if the good is pushed out, so there isn't any of it anymore.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"I don't know if it's true or not, it's just what I think, okay? Maybe after he cracks up, the evil guy gets rid of the good one. Doesn't want him around, right? Maybe the good one just disappears, fades away or something, or the good guy goes out and hides because everyone thinks he's the bad one. Good Hitler shaves off his stupid little mustache and moves to Australia – something like that.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"No, sorry, haven't a clue what to do. Get out of the way, I guess. I mean, from the bad one. After all, he's the one who wouldn't have a problem getting rid of any competition, right?</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Like I said, all of this is really fucked up at best, but for me ... well, for me, personally, I try to walk the line. Not be one or the other, too good, too bad, just down the middle. Balance. Do good, do not good, like that.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"So after being good and all, helping you out like this, I guess I'll have to go say nice things about Hitler.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"The bad one, that is."</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">* * * *</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">How could you?</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">An alley, somewhere. I must have driven there, but I don't remember exactly how. Vague memories of blasting horns, the rumble of dots under my wheels, going too fast, stopping too suddenly, the world no longer clear through the windshield, blurry from frightened tears.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">My view had gotten better. Actually, it hadn't. Clearer, for sure, but not really better. I could see, but what I saw was a rusted dumpster shoved sideways against a graffiti-mottled brick wall. Above it and to the side, squeezed into a trapezoid by perspective, was a single glowing window, jade green and diamond-webbed with reinforcing mesh.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">My cheeks felt sunburned and snot kept dribbling from my nose. In the glove compartment were the remnants of a shameful night. With scratchy napkins from Burger King, I wiped my face. But I couldn't do a good job; my hands shook too much.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">How could you?</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I thought I should get keep going. I thought I should get back on the road. I thought I should get somewhere. Then I realized I couldn't keep going, wasn't in any shape to drive – and that I had nowhere to go.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">What I needed was – what did I need? A storm behind my eyes, howling winds and crackling lightning, bolts of twitching shock, biting cold hailstones drumming on the roof of my brain: too much that was bad, too few ideas how to make it good, no idea what to do.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Then I did know what I wanted. Getting it was even easy, though my solution wouldn't be perfect, or even comfortable. The seat went back and I stretched out.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">A nag of worry, that I wouldn't even be able even do that, but then my arms, legs, and neck were in slow motion. My eyes couldn't focus, or stay open – and then it all went away.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">But before it did, I thought one last time, a tiny sad whisper in my head: How could you?</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Then I slept.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">* * * *</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Parking the car, sliding it into a too-narrow, white, painted slot, I tried to think again of options, the choices I had, the possibilities that were out there.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">But by the time I'd opened the door and stepped out into a hot summer day, I'd all but accepted what I already knew, resigned myself to having no options, no choices, and no possibilities.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">So I did what I always did. I went to work.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Walking across heat-shimmering asphalt, taking slow, deep breaths, I tried to pretend it was just an ordinary hot summer day, an ordinary hot summer day at work, an ordinary hot summer day at my ordinary work doing ordinary work things in ordinary work ways.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">So what had I always thought as I walked across – hot or cold – asphalt toward the glass doors leading to the everyday averageness of my employment? How could I force myself into being part of an average, regular, usual, typical – and yes – ordinary day?</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">How was my hair? No wild licks or frizzled ends, I hoped. How was my skin? No glaring white zits or greasy patches, I hoped? How were my clothes? No loud wrinkles or nose-curdling odor, I hoped. How was my breath? No eye-searing stink or wincing eye-yellowness, I hoped. Did I look good? I really hoped I looked good.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">A wry smile on my face, a quick sign of irony: it was too easy. Maybe there was hope, after all? If going back to the way things had been was just a matter of allowing myself to drift back to my old day-to-day, average, regular, usual, typical and – yes –ordinary thinking.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">So I went across a too-hot parking lot and up to the glass doors, at the same time hoping that I'd stay in my old daily footsteps, my run-of-the-mill working life.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">And for a while, I did.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">* * * *</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Only a while, though. At the door, a stop, a hesitation, a pause. I could see inside, of course, and it looked as it always looked: a Starbucks, with two employees behind the counter, who looked as they probably always looked (because I didn't recognize them). One of them was a big nerd, round with apple cheeks and a prissy little beard; the other was an old troll, thin with salt and pepper hair.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">That didn't mean that there wasn't a third Starbucks drone in the back, among the beans and the filters, cups and lids, napkins and CDs, sugar and sugar-free packets, and other boxes, piles, and stacks of store stuff. That didn't mean he wasn't there.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Hand on the handle I didn't move while my mind raced: how stupid, how fucking stupid. Of course he's here, or will be soon. He wants me, right? He wants to be me, correct? I'm what he wants to become: appearance, mannerisms, friends, could-be-more-than-friends </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(How could you?), </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">possessions, and more.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">And more: my job. Not that he should want it – except that it </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">was</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> mine.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Despite myself I kept my eyes focused inside the store, waiting for him to appear from the storeroom, from where he'd been kneeling behind the counter; or even from behind me, running characteristically late.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I almost turned around, went back to my car, drove away – destination somewhere. Somewhere else.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">But where? Another friend or could-be-more-than-friend's house </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(How could you?)</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">, a club, an eatery, the community center, take in a flick, head for the border, hop on a plane, get a room somewhere and hide under the covers?</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Inside the store was the nerd, chubby with even chubbier cheeks and a little fey beard, and the old troll with grey-sprinkled hair. Inside the store was my life. Simple but satisfying, average but pleasant, typical but happy – and I wanted it back.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I was in before I knew what I was doing. Heart hammering, breath rasping, I went up to and then around the counter, saying "Hello" to the fat guy in the finely trimmed beard and "Howdy" to the thin and gray-haired troll.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">They answered back, but I don't remember what they said. Slowly, carefully, terrified, I checked under the counter (he wasn't there), looked in the back (he wasn't there), and watched the front door for an eternally long hour (he didn't come in).</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I didn't know where he was, but it looked like he wasn't coming to work. With a shuddering sigh, I finally began to relax, welcoming the cocoon of those old daily footsteps, my run-of-the-mill working life.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">* * * *</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"I just can't see it. Really. I've tried, I really have, but it's a world I just can't comprehend. I was just IM-ing a friend of mine about this last night because he told me about this comment war that was going on about who would win in a battle, the Enterprise or Darth Vader and the Death Star. Stupid, right? I mean, so damned stupid I can't believe I'm even taking the time to say it's stupid – that kind of stupid. I mean, seriously (snort) just think about it. Sure the Empire and the Rebels looked pretty technologically advanced but they really aren't. Their ships are just big, nothing special about their capabilities. The Death Star's just a big blaster, that's all it really is. Lightsabers are just energy swords, which is a pretty stupid weapon if you think about it. Oh, sure, the movies make it look like they're effective but that's just CGI cheating. That fight with Yoda? Come on, give me a break! Okay, they're pretty good with robots, I got to give them that, but they look like they're gonna fall apart. 'Hi, I'm C3PO.' Crash, bang, boom, nothing but parts on the floor. Now the Federation, they've got some really serious tech: transporters, replicators, warp drive, not to mention Commander Data – now he's a truly advanced artificial being. So here comes the Empire, with all those stupid steam pipes and big push button controls; and here comes the Enterprise or better yet the Defiant. No contest, right? Bam, zap, and the Death Star's toast. Sorry, but there's no way Star Wars is going to kick Star Trek's ass. Star Wars is just weak. Lucas really doesn't have any real imagination, he just uses other old movies and shit. But Star Trek, that's been going on since the 60s and it's got this huge and really well thought-out universe behind it. Like I said, I just can't see why anyone wouldn't take Trek over Wars. It's just not a contest, right?"</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The morning rush had ebbed, becoming just a few straggling business zombies in search of high-octane caffeine. Bleary-eyed, barely managing to get their ATM cards out of their fine leather wallets, they'd stumble out with a cup in their hands, holding it like it was the answer to every problem in their buffed, manicured, and expensive lives. Feeling an ebb myself, I also tapped into the vibrating god of espresso, though while I sipped, I kept looking down into the gritty black pool wishing it really was the answer to every problem in my own toned, trimmed, and moderately-affordable life.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The pause between the morning and the afternoon surges was also a window between the nerd and me, one where he took no time at all to fly through, phasers blazing. Nodding to what he said, I thought for a moment about asking him about ... well, about what was happening to my athletic, preened, and middle-class life. But after hearing about the battle between Trek and Wars, I just couldn't.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"I used to know this dancer. Beautiful young man, he was. All toned muscles and polished skin. Watching him ... the way he moved, it was like music. Each step like a perfect note. You know, you remind me of him. I hope that's okay to say. But it really is true: the way you walk, even the shape of your eyes, just like Rudolf. Dear, sweet, wonderful, Rudolf. Those summers on Fire Island, the winters in Miami. The sun always seemed to follow us, wherever we went. Oh, if I were only a few years younger (sigh). But in my heart, I'm just as young as I was when I was with my elegant little dancer. It's just the outside that's gotten all gray and wrinkled, you know?"</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The gap between the afternoon and the late afternoon rushes was also an opening between the troll and me, one where he didn't hesitate to stroll through, well-oiled seductive patter at the ready. I pondered for a second about confessing ... well, what my life had become. But after being on the receiving end of his sticky-sweet words, I just couldn't.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Mocha java, house blend, espresso, latte, chai, tea, cold drinks, very hot drinks in a tall, a grande, or a venti cup. Me being a barista, me behind the register, me cleaning up, me circulating with a tray of cranberry muffin samples, me mopping the floor, me trying to stay away from the nerd, me avoiding the troll. Me doing everything but thinking about what was happening to me.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">So I thought, for a few minutes, about my co-worker: a life that was anything but real, full of fantasies other people had provided. Making out with Uhura, screwing Seven of Nine, or a blowjob from Janeway. Or maybe even a kiss from Worf, a fuck with Data, or a blowjob from Picard. Whatever the bend, it really didn't matter: he was always somewhere else, this world not interesting – or way too damned scary.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Then I pondered, for a little while, about my other coworker: a life that was behind him, full of memories without a prayer of adding a good new one. Those hot months getting sweaty even beyond the heat, those cool months cuddling in front of a mumbling fire, tricks here and there, nights swallowing, days arranging for more swallowing. But all that behind him, while a younger world cruised right on by, not even glancing in his gray-haired, wrinkled, sagging, and impotent direction.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">They were people avoided, ignored, or forgotten; so I avoided, ignored, and would no doubt completely forget them.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Cold water dribbled down my back right in the middle of cleaning the cream and sugar station. Safe? Most definitely. The only place left to go? Absolutely. But I'd also stupidly walked back because there was something I still didn't understand, the 'what' in 'what makes me so different' from this nerd, that troll: what made me worth stalking, mimicking, or stealing?</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">There had to be something. Some part of my life that I couldn't see because I was in too deep, way too close to myself. Going back to my wiping, I tried to calm my shivering nerves, take a bit of an inventory: my youth? Plenty of younger guys out there. Sex appeal? I did pretty well in that department – could always be better. Money? Had none. Brilliance? I was smart enough to know I wasn't smart. Friends? Not that many and none that good – not even him. A special something I didn't know I had?</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">As theories went, it was a momentarily playful one, so I went with it: was he a mental shadow, a thought projection, a ghostly manifestation of my unconscious mind? A mental twin living the life I wished I could? Doing the things I'd only dreamed of doing?</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">A pause again, my work stopping. What did being psychically hung feel like? Did I have a big honking mind but didn't realize it? Not special enough to copy, but instead special in being able to copy myself?</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The sugar and non-sugar sweeteners were full. The stirrers were plentiful. The napkins were sufficient. Shaking myself out of my self-staring, I reached out, lifted, and shook thermoses: half-and-half more than half full, whole milk pretty whole, low fat low but not too low.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">No, I thought, shaking my head. It didn't make sense. Unless I was so advanced, so superior, I was able to hide my advancement, my superiority, from even myself, I had to face that I was just who I was: kind of young, keeper of a few fuck buddies, not very rich, not very smart, with only a few real friends... but with something worth copying, whatever the fuck that was.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Maybe I was the perfect worker? An ideal barista, a superb cashier, a magnificent storeroom cleaner, an incredible floor sweeper? Wry smile on my kind-of-young face, I finished my wondrous buffing and fantastic polishing of the cream station, imagining myself beyond nerds and trolls, beyond the rest of the world, because I was the ideal Starbucks employee but never knew it.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Then, when the door opened and a supervisor came in, I found out I wasn't even that. But someone else was.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">* * * *</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">He was ebony, as in </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Ebony</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">: black and smooth, glassy and classy. Refined and polished, he glided more than walked, sang more than spoke. Crisp and starched, you knew that he was walking out the door to a world of flowers and perfume for the ladies, gold and diamonds for him, quality and elegance for both.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Good afternoon," he said with a polished white-toothed smile. "How are you doing?"</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Um," I said, suddenly clumsy and pasty white, "fine I guess. "</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"That's good. That's very good." Under one arm was an official clipboard. You could tell the way he held it, like it was silently burning his fingers, that it was far too common for him, but a necessity of his profession. "Fine is a good thing to be. Some people would say it's the best thing, in fact. Not too good, and not too bad. The Golden Mean, the Romans called it. The perfect state."</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Okay..." I said, inversely inarticulate to his articulate. </span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Things also fine here? In this place, with you in this place? "</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I glanced back towards the counter, catching a quick glimpse of the nerd, looking frightened and nervous, and the troll, looking nervous and frightened. "Everything seems okay, I guess."</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">A grim, wide and warming. "Another way of saying fine, I take it? The good 'fine' I mentioned previously, I hope."</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Yes ... that's it."</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Superb. Very much so. I'm very pleased," the clipboard came out from under his arm, and with a gold pen he very quickly wrote on it. Looking around, his dark eyes stopping here and there, he added to his notes.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">He strolled away on well-oiled bearings, leaving me with a smile. Even though his voice was a rumble, it didn't travel far enough for me to hear what he said to the nerd, still looking scared and twitchy, and the troll, also looking similarly scared and similarly twitchy. I thought for a moment about walking back toward them, joining them in Starbucks camaraderie, but instead stayed where I was, between my well-maintained cream station and the door.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Eventually, he left them – the nerd as well as the troll looking quite relieved – and walked back toward me, toward the way out.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">But then he stopped, turning that brilliant smile my way. Under its light. I felt somehow warm, taken care of, worthwhile, and that the world was back to the way it was supposed to be.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">His hand then came to my shoulder, a weight that was a further connection between where I was and where everyone else was. He seemed to like me, and that felt nice.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"I'm glad you're here," he said, voice a feeling as much as a sound. "I heard of the great job you did at the downtown store. Coming in on your off-hours and such. Working so hard when you didn't even need to. Everyone there was raving about your performance. Admirable. I just wanted to say that. "</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Then he shook my small hand with his large one, a contact that didn't make me feel warm, taken care of, worthwhile, or that the world was back to the way it was supposed to be.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Because it wasn't. It never was.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">* * * *</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Passing through a Toyota neighborhood, then a Chevy one (at least I had the foresight to lock my doors), followed by a Honda one (look at all the pretty rainbow flags), leading into and out of a Hummer one (so damned tacky), then finally along a boulevard of broken commercial dreams: storefronts without stores, movie theaters playing SOON TO BE DEMOLISHED, coffee shops without coffee, and liquor stores (thriving). The rent here was low, the neighbors gone or just very drunk, so no one noticed – or cared – when a bookstore that no longer sold books was rented out to a dozen or so over-earnest queer boys, deadly serious dykes, militant boys-who-used-to-be-girls, and militant girls-who-used-to-be-boys.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Not wanting to be seen hanging out with over-earnest queer boys, deadly serious dykes, militant boys-who-used-to-be-girls, and militant girls-who-used-to-be-boys, I barely even looked when I used to drive by. When the community center came up in conversation, the expected response was "that's nice for them," "glad someone's doing it," "wish I had time to help out," "have you seen the losers there?" "how desperate do you have to be to go in there?" and, never being someone who failed to meet expectations, I'd always agreed.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">But that was before. This was now, and I didn't care – or, at least, I didn't care that much. At least it was night; less of a chance of being spotted.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">A bell announced me, a cheap electric sound for a cheap space. Gray office partitions cut across the large room, putting those in need away from those there to hand it out. A half-dozen chairs had their backs to them, showing any wino who wandered by the big front windows a perfect face-on look at the desperate. Flyers were taped up – yellow and pink bond announcements for Wiccan AA; Trannyshack nights at the Double-up Lounge; Anal Polyp Support Groups (ewwww); and the four scary initials beginning with 'A' and ending in 'S' I knew about but hated to even think about.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Overhead were banks of flickering fluorescents, buzzing with glee as they drove any potential beauty out of the air.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I wasn't alone in the waiting area. Reading a two-year-old copy of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Outlook</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> ("what do YOU think about Heath Ledger?") was a namesake pants, namesake vest, namesake cap, Leather Daddy, who looked over Heath's face, made quick contact with my eyes, and said: "Howdy."</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"H–hello," I said back, looking for somewhere far from him to sit down.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Nothing to be ashamed about.' The eyes under the cap were brown and soft, leather but without the slap and whip of black.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Sorry?" The words had finally reached me but the meaning hadn't.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Whatever you're here for. There's nothing to be ashamed of."</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Oh. "Oh. Thanks. I – I appreciate that." </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">But you don't know what the hell you're talking about.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Life's hard." A toothy grin, also under the cap. "I know, that's a fucking fortune cookie. But people still forget. Keep that in mind, it helps. "</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"I understand," I said, but I didn't.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Hope you do. I find that keeping it up here," he tapped the forehead under his cap "keeps it in perspective. You know, that no one has it easy. No one, right?"</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Right." </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">But you have no idea why my life is anything but easy.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Talking also helps. Sometimes even with someone who might be a stranger. No baggage."</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Yeah, I understand. I don't think I'm up for that, though. Hope you understand."</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"I do. No worries." Heath's face rose up again, eclipsing again a smile. "But if you need to talk I'm willing to listen."</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"I appreciate that," and I did. But that didn't mean I really wanted to tell him. So I asked him something else, starting off with: "You know, there is something you might be able to help me with. It's kind of a puzzle..."</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">That's when he told me about Hitler – and evil pushed out into the world.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">* * * *</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">By the time he'd finished, and I was ready to get up and leave, a sound bounced off the acoustic ceiling from somewhere in the back: a deep soothing voice, dropped octaves in sympathy.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">A lipstick lesbian came in a few seconds later, immaculate make-up immaculate no more: rouge too bright from a background red of flushed cheeks, mascara melted and flowing, and red lips thoroughly awry. Dressed for stylish business, she looked like she'd slept in her clothes. I felt myself sneering at this doll handled by a sloppy child, but only until I realized I must have looked as bad or even worse.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"If you need to talk, please call anytime," a flowery voice said, petals of high notes sharp even though he was still hidden behind partitions.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"T–thank you," the lipstick said, dabbing her corroded beauty with a tissue excavated from the Prada handbag looped over one delicate shoulder.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I was breathing hard, harder than she was. What to say? How to say it? This approach? That approach? This choice of words. That choice of words. How to make someone – anyone – understand what was happening. How to make it real for them. How to make myself sound sane.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Now – who's next?" the owner of the chiming voice said, stepping around the partition. He was Ernest, the kind of jeans-and-flannel-shirt, battered running shoes, dull-brown-hair-virginally-free-of-product kind of guy you'd expect to find in a community center: living for the life, not of the life; queer as everything, not just who he liked to fuck; Saturdays in group sessions; Sundays helping with fundraisers; other nights thinking of what to say in group, how else to raise funds. He'd been on every AIDS walk, walked every marathon – even though he'd probably only kissed three men in his life.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"You go," the leatherman said, a gruff voice lacy with kindness. "I'm in no rush."</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"You sure?" Ernest said back, care-giving radar on full to make sure there was nothing but kindness in the leatherman's offer, and not avoidance masked in politeness.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Oh, yeah," leather said, then with a tip of his cap in my direction: "You go first."</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"If that's okay with you, it's okay with me, I guess,"</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Ernest said, then with a nod towards me: "You all set?"</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Yeah, I guess so." Even though I wasn't ready. I doubt if I ever really could be.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Just this way," he said with a sincere smile, gesturing me toward the back. "There's a place where we can talk."</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Behind the partitions, there were no surprises: filing cabinets, ancient telephones and prehistoric computers, more posters, still more flyers, myriad Post-its in a rainbow of reminding colors, and read/write boards so written on they'd become dark grey at the edges. Weaving right along with him as he snaked between battered tables and seen-better-days chairs, I caught a quick glimpse of smiling Polaroid faces pinned to a bulletin board. Above them a clumsily printed sign: WE MISS YOU.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I almost turned around, almost mumbled something about "...a mistake," but instead I kept following, letting him lead me to a table in the back.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Here we are," he said, picking up a clipboard from the top of small, and very battered, bookcase. Sitting as he sat, I noticed the cover sheet said WEDNESDAY in thick, black marker. Was it really? Only Wednesday?</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Before we begin I want to assure you that whatever we talk about is completely confidential. I'm only going to make some very basic notes, just so the center will have a rough idea what we talked about. Is that okay?"</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I nodded, not really knowing what I was expected to say. </span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Now, what would you like to talk about?" His eyes gleamed, floating in luminescent sincerity. He'd listen, he'd dribble out some platitudes, some sugary empowerments, he'd grin like an idiot, he'd try to hold my hand, but he wouldn't be able to do a damned thing. For a second, I really hated him; felt a lightning, cramping urge to punch his bright, pink face. So damned happy to help, even though he wouldn't be able to at all.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"I – it's just that ... something's been happening," I said, fists clenched under the table, arms shaking from tightened muscles.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Go on, you can tell me anything," Ernest said, so damned earnestly.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"I – I don't understand it. It doesn't make any sense. It started a few days ago. It sounds so fucking crazy. But I know it's been happening. I know it has. I just didn't know where else to go, who I could talk to."</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"That's what I'm here for," Ernest said, even more earnestly – if that was possible.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Breath in, breath out. I had to say it. I had to. It's what he was there for, what I was there for. Open your mouth and say it. Don't think, don't worry, don't hesitate, don't wait, just say the words: there's another me–</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Well, hello there!" Not so earnest, not too soothing: instead rough and loud and coarse. At the shock of the volume and boisterous familiarity, I jerked around.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"I didn't expect to see you again." Rough and loud and coarse was short and heavy and strong, a dyke if ever there was one: plaid shirt, work boots, durable jeans, chopped short hair, heavy iron ring in one ear, nothing in the other, a pink enameled triangle around her neck. "Not that I'm complaining, but come on, man, you've got to take a break. You've been in here three times this week. Dedication is one thing but you can't keep this up."</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">My mouth was open, but I couldn't make anything come out. Across the table, Ernest looked earnestly puzzled.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"No, no – no arguments now. You're too damned good with people. I can't have you burning yourself out. Rent a movie or something, call a friend – do something for yourself for once." Laughter: even rougher, even louder, even coarser. "Go on, get out of here. That's an order."</span></span></span></span></div>
</div>
mchristianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11887406428164757014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133731140800332850.post-1967212078708433792014-10-10T14:35:00.001-07:002014-10-10T14:35:54.062-07:00Me2: Chapter 4<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">As part of a huge - and much
needed - marketing push, I'm going to be serializing a few of my
all-time favorite books ... starting with the (ahem) rather infamous
novel that I may or may not have actually written: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp"><i><b>Me2</b></i></a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp"><img alt="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp" border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nV91RueiOyU/VByi1S_H9II/AAAAAAAANd0/Xp6BjI4f8Sk/s1600/ME2--withbannerFINAL%2Bcopy.jpeg" height="400" width="275" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"Absolutely brilliant!" says Lisabet Sarai, author of Incognito and
Fire, about Lambda finalist M. Christian's controversial manlove
horror/thriller. </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">He looks just like you. He acts exactly like you. He
takes away your job. He steals your friends. He seduces your male
lover. None of them can tell the difference. Every day he becomes more
and more like you, pushing you out of your own life, taking away what
was yours … until there’s nothing left. Where did he come from? Robot?
Alien? Clone? Doppelganger? Evil twin? Long lost brother? Then you
discover there are still more "yous." Can you be sure you are the real
you? And how do you fight to take your own life back? </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">An absorbing new
approach to the question of identity, Me2 is a groundbreaking gay
chiller you’ll remember for a long time – no matter who you are, or who
you think you may be. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">(Despite rumors that this book was written by an
impostor - but, rest assured, this is the real 'M.Christian.' Accept
no substitutes!)</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
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<h1 align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 18.0pt;">Chapter IV</span></h1>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 24.0pt;">Me4</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">"The phenomenon has been observed, albeit rarely, for a long time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Quite a number of Saints, including St.
Anthony, St. Ambrose of Milan, and St. Severus of Ravenna, were reported to
have manifested it, the act – of course – lending additional evidence toward
their canonization.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">"Various contemporary mystics, including the celebrated Emanuel
Swedenborg, have also been said to have had the ability.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Skeptics, however, have pointed out
that these manifestations have lacked any confirmation.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">"This, naturally, doesn't deter believers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Claiming that this outré practice may
very well require outré evidence, they continue their researches, hoping that
something outrageous yet undeniably concrete may someday surface, proving their
faith was justified.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">"While bilocation – the conscious, willing projection of the self
– has been reported, albeit scantily, a similar yet distinct phenomenon has
been much more widely observed.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">"The most celebrated, or at least fairly authenticated, occurrence
of a doppelganger was the Emilie Sagée incident, as told by Robert Dale Owen,
who was in turn quoting from Julie von Guldenstubbe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Owen reported that Guldenstubbe, a Latvian aristocrat, was
with many others, present from 1845 to 1855 when her teacher, Emilie Sagée</span></i><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was somehow
spectrally duplicated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
performed many of the French teacher's similar behaviors – including writing
and teaching – yet obviously intangibly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What was even more telling, Owen noticed, was that the doppelganger was
visibly in good health, a clear difference between the real and the ghostly, as
Sagée was extremely ill at the time.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">"Other doppelganger incidents include descriptions of the
phenomenon by the famed French author, Guy de Maupassant, the English poets
Percy Bysshe Shelley and John Donne, and even President Lincoln.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While Sagée's duplicate was apparently
benign, these other incidents carried with them a clear foreboding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Donne and Lincoln, especially, felt
that the presence of their ghostly copycats was a sign of looming disaster,
Lincoln's suspicion being most dramatically true.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">"Those who have studied bilocation as well as the doppelganger
effect have theorized that they are more similar that disparate, both being
mental or spiritual projections.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
bilocation it is conscious, the act of an extraordinarily advanced psyche.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the case of the doppelganger, they
hypothesize that, although it's a projection, it is generated by the lower
mind: an independent being created from the depths of the id, from frustrated
unconscious drives or repressed desires.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The negative presence being that the subject is somehow wishing himself
out of existence because of profound dissatisfaction with his original,
physical life.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">"But, like all speculations regarding bilocation and
doppelgangers, it is a theory lacking still more outrageous evidence of
unqualified reality."</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">* * * *</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Away, in the general direction
of I-don't-care-where.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The details
of how are kind of fuzzy, shot with a Vaseline haze of this-can't-be-happening
head shaking.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Hard night, not the soft stuff
that came with the sun having set only a few hours before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead it was long gone, having
vanished into deep darkness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Out
of the elevator, heading to my space (225) to get in my car (a Volkswagon GTI),
I hoped to follow it, and do my own, very personal disappearing act.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Then I stopped, caged bare
bulb hanging from gray insulation-flocked cement beams glaring mercilessly into
my eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dad, when he was still
alive, would have said that I was watching a ghost taking a slow meander,
meaning in his cryptic, down-home, hayseed, plowed-earth kind of way – even
though he was really an examiner for the Federal Reserve and couldn't shuck
corn with a gun to his head – that I was caught between thoughts, paralyzed
with indecision.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Dad would have been wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, I didn't move.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Certainly I didn't want to go forward
and sure as hell didn't want to go back, but it wasn't because I was between
anything.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I was right in front of
something: my car, my German engineered blobject that dad would very much have
approved of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Curved ivory fenders,
dull ruby taillights, rear window tossing back a bit of the garage's dazzling
bulb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was my car ... right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The license number was the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The kitschy pinecone air fresher was
there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rainbow stripe above
the bumper was there.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I could walk up to it, put my
key in the lock, climb in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
could, but that's why I didn't.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because
what if I did walk up to it, did put my key in the lock, did climb in – and
found that the stain where that Venti mocha latte splashed a sticky map of Peru
next to the parking break was gone?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Or that the crumbs of too many lifted-from-work snickerdoodles had been
vacuumed up from the carpeting?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or
that the white crumbles of unwanted receipts had been picked up from the
backseat?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">What if <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">he'd</i> been there?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Standing there in the garage,
trapped by what was in front of me – or what might be in front of me, I finally
did move, but not externally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
the chalky cage of my skull, I felt the jelly-stuff of my brain burn with a hot
summer bolt of fury.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Screw it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Screw <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">him</i>.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Up to it, key in the lock, and
then in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pause.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wait.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then eyes down, then eyes back: the stain was still there,
the crumbs were still there, the wads of paper were still there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The car was still mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My sigh of slow-hissing relief was loud
in the tight insides of the car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Needlessly
adjusting the rearview mirror for a few minutes, relishing in the control – if
I could only move it an inch up, down, and then left and then right – I
eventually started the engine, pulled P to R, and twisted around to make sure
no one was behind me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">And paused.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The garage was dark, quiet, and empty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No other cars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
that wasn't why I was relieved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even
though the car was mine, I'd halfway expected to see someone behind me,
standing in that circle of caged light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Even though he hadn't touched my car, I'd halfway expected to see him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Another sigh, even more relief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pulling out, twisting the car in a
two-point turn ending with it facing up the exit ramp, I paused one more time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still just me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Who had no idea where to go.</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">* * * *</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">So I just drove.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pedal down, I navigated from light to
light, losing myself the act of controlling the car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I turned the wheel, it went to the right; I turned the
wheel, it went to the left; I stepped on the gas and it went fast; I stepped on
the brake and it slowed or stopped.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Who was he?</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">The lights might be an
interruption but it was my choice to ignore or obey them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Red could mean stop, green could mean
go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, disregarding them might
mean a smash, crash, bang, boom of twisted metal and long-term medical care,
but it was still up to me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">What did he want?</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Approaching an intersection, a
traffic and road decision was up to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I could turn right onto Fourth going east, I could turn left onto Fourth
going west, I could go forward and stay on Main going north, I could even turn
around and go back on Main going south.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Actually, it was only three choices: I still didn't feel like going
back.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Why me?</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">With a deep breath I let my
subconscious make the call, a spontaneous choice of right onto Fourth going
east.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew what was out that way
– which was not a lot – but tried not to worry, to trust my deep and mysterious
mind.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">What was he?</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">It was happening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A fact as undeniable as the nighttime
traffic coming at me with dazzling headlights, passing with crimson taillights,
or pulsing red turning indicators.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As clear as the glowing fast-food signs that rushed by.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As apparent as the black night sky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As plain as the black road.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">What was less evident was
everything else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sane and cold
part of my mind – as opposed to the fright navigating that night – said that I
should go to the police.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But even
as it was said, that sane and cold part of me realized it might not be a good
idea after all: you are a cop, bored and underpaid, long past caring, long past
trusting, and into your station comes a blond-haired, blue-eyed, handsome (hey,
I have to be honest) young fag, who opens his mouth and says: "He looks
like me, he sounds like me, he acts like me, but I don't know why he does it,
or even what he is."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">What to do?</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I needed help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The section of my brain that wasn't
driving suggested pulling my cell phone out of my pocket and dialing one of the
dozen or so friends and acquaintances.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But even as it made that proposition that section of my brain realized
that it might not be a good idea after all: you are a queer young man, jaded
and catty, not yet understanding intimacy, not yet understanding trust, and over
your cell comes not quite a friend, not quite a lover, not quite an
acquaintance who says: "He looks like me, he sounds like me, he acts like
me, but I don't know why he does it, or even what he is."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Who was he?</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Was he a person I knew?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A jilted lover, fawning friend, envious
stranger, who had so little he saw me as having too much?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was an idea, but try as I might, I
couldn't remember anyone like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In fact, I could think of a lot more people I wish I could become.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">What did he want?</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Did I have something he
craved, so much so he'd put on my life and wear it out and about, fooling
friends and strangers?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn't
think of a damned thing: no mysterious artifacts, no relatives with links to
Area 51, no drug connections (aside from some pot now and again), no family
fortune (hardly), no one to even pay my ransom.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Why me?</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Was I someone he wanted to be,
so much so he'd copy me down to the very last detail?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn't think of a damned reason he'd want to: I was
young, but there were better preserved guys out there; I wasn't dating anyone
remotely fascinating (except for a YMCA fling with a middle-aged porn star); I
didn't have any prospects worth hijacking; I didn't even have anything to look
forward to.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">What was he?</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I'd had some crazy ideas over
the past few days, but none of them really described what was going on.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">What to do?</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">The light changed, so I pushed
down on the gas, feeding the engine, turning the tires, propelling me forward
through the intersection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
well-tuned, German-engineered motor purred when it was stopped, nicely throbbed
when it was in motion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On either
side were rows of condominiums very much like mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the far end of the block where another light was waiting,
one side changed into a mini-mall, the opposite a glass-walled suburban office
block.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">As I approached, permission to
cross changed to prepare to slow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once
again, my foot began to push down to bring me to a stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't know who he was, what he
wanted, why he'd chosen me, what he was, or even what to do about it, but one
thing was furiously certain – and feeling it I jammed down hard on the other
pedal, pushing the car's calming throb up into a throaty roar of bad gas
mileage and very high RPMs.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Horns from the few cars that
had jumped off the green, seeing me blast past them on my way – somewhere – in
a goddamned hurry.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I had no idea exactly where I
was going, but I had that new certainty: I was going to do something – anything
– about this.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">About him.</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">* * * *</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">A few blocks later – another
mini-mall, another small office building – a splinter of boulevard signage made
me glance, look, then turn the wheel into the nearest parking lot.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">For the middle of the week,
the place was busy: cars coming, cars going, people doing both.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It took me longer than it should have
to find a parking place.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">The hustle and bustle of early
evening people made everything jarring and noisy, but it was also wonderfully
normal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Looking at the asshole
kids in their Japanese toy cars, all desperately wanting to be Japanese
drifters despite their <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">gaijin</i> genes;
watching the baby gang bangers, all ferociously hungering to be the next TuPac
despite their Caucasian lineage; the girls, hoping to be a picture-perfect copy
of Christina Aguilera even though they had no looks and even less talent; the
old farts, frightened of it all, hiding behind their Bush/Cheney bumper
stickers even though they got in worse trouble when <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">they</i> were kids.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I could almost guess where
they were going or where they'd been, the normalcy of them all a cool bath on a
hot day, a bit of everyday living when mine had taken such a hard and twisting
turn: the kids and their cars would find a quiet street somewhere and rev, burn
rubber, slide, their way up their totem pole; the gang bangers would crank
their bass up to window-rattling obnoxiousness hoping to convince themselves
they were bad-asses; the girls would pose and prance, paying more attention to
the nearest reflective surface rather than any circling boys; the old farts
would escape in their Lexuses to the nearest Denny's for hash browns and ham
steak, glaring out the greasy windows at everyone else.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">My own mission was out of
character.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I should have been on
the phone making a date, having a drink in a stylish spot, bumping hips in a
place too loud to think, instead of slipping past all these flavors of
nighttime city life toward a little coffee shop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I always felt sorry for Tully's, seeing them get slowly
pushed off the map by stronger brews.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Especially sorry seeing as I was serving the competition in grande,
venti, and tall cups during my own daily grind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This one had something that'd caught my eye: the logo of an
Internet cafe service.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">At the register, I bought a
medium – ha!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What a weird size – coffee
and sat down at the machine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With
a swipe of plastic – with a hope that I hadn't maxed the damned thing out again
– I was greeted by Google.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I didn't know who he was, what
he wanted, why he'd chosen me, what he was, or even what to do about it, but
the least I could do was pick the brain of the Internet about who he could be,
what he might want, why he chose me, and even what I might be able to do about
it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Naturally the first word I
typed in was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">clone</i>.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">The same, molecularly similar,
genetically identical.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A stolen
cell, a laboratory full of men in lab coats, many Petri dishes, a few
centrifuges, hypodermics, microscopes, computers, chemicals, drugs – and lots
and lots of science.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">The idea was easy, the
practice – according to the sites I flipped through – was hard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One cat, one sheep, maybe a dog, lots
of small wriggly things, and that's about it after years of lab coats, Petri
dishes, centrifuges, hypodermics, microscopes, computers, chemicals, drugs – and
lots and lots of money.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Not that it couldn't be done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That wasn't the issue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The theory was sound, even put into
practice with that cat, that sheep, perhaps even that dog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But with a few exceptions, cats, sheep,
and clearly dogs are less complex than you or I.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">You, definitely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wasn't so sure.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">It all made a kind of weird,
sideways, twisted sense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mouse
hand stopped, the black arrow cursor hovering above a blue-shaded link.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A copy of a person is a clone, everyone
knows that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A biological
reproduction exactly like the original.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Indistinguishable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perfect.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Grown in a vat, released into
the world: a second me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was
the nuts and bolts of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Answers
tickled the back of my neck, a goose-pimple thrill as the puzzle pieces began
to snap together.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">He was me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A gene and protein knock-off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A flesh and blood facsimile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had my organs, my bones, my hair, my
skin, my eyes, maybe even my fingerprints.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Strip us naked, make us stand next to one another, and you
couldn't pick out the original.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">He wanted to be me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was clear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here and there, subtle and
less-than-subtle, he'd been stealing my life, bit by bit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, Christ.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heels of hands into my eyes, a hard rub and fireworks of
compressed eyeballs, with the sudden thought: how long had this been going on?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was this not the beginning, but instead
a rushed ending; he knowing to his sly comfort that there's nothing I can do
about it?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Or maybe not, maybe I had
plenty of time to figure this out, keep him from taking any more of me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That's what I decided to think, chose
to believe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Better that than have
a breakdown in a Tully's.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Okay ... keep going.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Work it out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There has to be an answer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let's see, you can clone a person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That's a definite.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They say no one's done it because of missing bits of science and lots of
cash.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But someone <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">has </i>done it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Who</span></i><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"> did it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I'd clicked though site after site
of info, I'd picked up a thread, a pattern, a road map that too often led me
from the slick and professional pages of info to badly spelled, ALL CAPS, no
punctuation, corners where black helicopters mutilated cattle while freemasons
poured fluorine into the water supply to make all us hard-working, god-fearing,
gun-owning, AMERICANS into porn-addicted, lazy, peacenik COMMIES.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I grinned as I sipped my coffee, then frowned at the taste.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But my frown stayed after the bad taste
was gone: rightwing nightmares, libertarian horrors, fundamentalist
apocalypses, all making no sense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hell,
they made <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">negative</i> sense, a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">total</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">absence</i> of sense, a sense <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">black
hole</i>.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Who else could do it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who else would <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">want</i> to do it?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Old straight men, rich but
always wanting to be richer, in control but wanting to have even more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If they found a way – more science
found, much money added to perfect it – it'd be something they'd do:
definitely, absolutely, positively, without a doubt.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">All of that answered
"what was he?" But a question stayed behind, refusing – as yet – to
click into a perfect picture.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">This was happening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No doubt about that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The evidence was clear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought I was a simple,
run-of-the-mill, average, typical kind of guy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But this was happening to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me</i>: there had to be something in my life, in the curls and whorls
of my brain that made me worth being replaced by another me, a biological copy.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I thought, then thought some
more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When that didn't work I
rubbed my temples.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When that
didn't work I sipped my coffee again, and again winced at the taste.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When that didn't work I drummed the
desktop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When that didn't work I
began to hum.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I thought again about asking
my gay friends for help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I
thought about ringing up some old boyfriends for help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I thought about posting something
to 365gay.com or gay.com asking for help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Then I thought about going into a gay bookstore for help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I thought about cruising a few
dozen gay bars for help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I
thought about going to a gay disco for help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I thought about dropping by the gay community outreach
office for help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of them – I
thought – might have some clue, offer some suggestion about why the government
would want to replace me with a clone.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I felt cold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The coffee shop was humid from perking
coffee, but I shivered and shook.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That couldn't be it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They wouldn't – would they?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">It made sense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lots of sense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Too much sense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But even though it made it, lots of it,
too much of it, I just couldn't accept it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At least not yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was just too frightening.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">So I did some more typing, and
up came the word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">doppelganger</i>, but I
barely even noticed it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My head
was too full of swirling plots and roaring conspiracies – the loudest one being
the very obvious reason why they'd want to make a copy of a gay man.</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">* * * *</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">An hour later, the
competition's awful coffee dead cold, my time ran out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could have stayed, but didn't.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't need to.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I think the chubby black girl
behind the counter said something when I left, but I can't be certain.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Outside, the crowd had thinned:
the rice burners off to burn rubber, the gang bangers home to their gated
hoods, the girls to chirp into their cell phones, the oldsters to somewhere
safe and traditional.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The few
remaining looked a bit lost, like they desperately wanted to join the party but
didn't know where it was.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">My cell came out of my pocket
again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Name after name scrolled
by: sort-of-friend, kind-of-fuckbuddy, acquaintance,
sort-of-friend-of-a-friend, casual companion, almost stranger, hanger-on – I
could call any of them, but there'd be flirting, laughter, gossip, shopping
tips, bitching, activism, and nothing else.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Even though there was another
me out there, a circling copy no doubt matching my footsteps, I was very, very
alone.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Then I realized who I'd
forgotten: the one person who might actually listen to me.</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">* * * *</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Back out into the nighttime
traffic, easing my car into the middle-evening stream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Out of early movies, heading toward
late ones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dinner done and so to a
nightcap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cocktails done and so
out to dinner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Amateurs off to
clubs, pros out to score drugs before clubs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rice burners, the gang bangers, the girls, the oldsters off
to all their worlds between dusk and midnight.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">He'd been working some kind of
temp job with weird hours, but he should have finished that tonight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His place was on the West side, a good
hour – or maybe two hours depending on traffic – away.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I should call.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I really should.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not that he had a life to interrupt – hardly
– but it would be the polite thing to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>At the next red light I pulled my phone out again, scrolled down to his
number.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">But that's all I did.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Red went to green.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was a pro, so I could have dialed as
I drove and more than likely got him, but instead I closed the phone and tossed
it onto the passenger seat.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Every fag has one, or if not
then they should: a fuckbuddy you didn't fuck, a trick you'd never think of
tricking, friends with jack shit in common, bar buddies who didn't drink
together, a one-step-in-the-closet who hangs out with a proud-and-out-loud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That's what he was to me: my buddy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To him, I was a big brother who knew
the ropes: how to tie them, what to wear with them, what not to wear with them,
how to get knots undone when needed, and how not to get too hung up with them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">My buddy was nice, my buddy
was smart, my buddy didn't flirt (at least not well), didn't laugh (at least
not at Margaret Cho), didn't gossip (at least not about anyone I cared about),
didn't shop (at least not where you were supposed to), didn't bitch (at least
not about anything I cared about), and didn't do activism (at least not in
public).</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">But I couldn't call him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I couldn't phone anyone else
because they'd do everything but listen to me, would offer nothing smart or
useful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My buddy, though, I knew
would at least hear me, would possibly even be able to say something smart and
maybe even useful.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">It's just that ... well, I was
worried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thinking of him – of how
level-headed he was, how educated he was, how observant he was – I wavered,
hesitated, paused.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wasn't</i> happening?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if a government-created clone
wasn't trying to take over my life?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What if a government-created clone was trying to be everything I was – except
for one very important difference?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What if I was wrong?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Another light stopped me, and
for once I was grateful for the pause in forward motion.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">It sounded so damned stupid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But that wasn't really it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Time to be honest.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Truth-or-dare.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A queer tradition if ever there was one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Truth: it was happening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There really was another me out there,
taking my life away moment by moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I felt it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had evidence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It
was fucking happening!</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Dare: admit it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn't doubt, it was desperation: I
needed him, needed him more than anyone else, that was the root of my twitch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My sweet little Buddy was nice, smart,
didn't flirt without meaning it, laughed at the right things, didn't gossip
because it wasn't important, didn't shop just for the sake of shopping, didn't
bitch because he tried to understand everyone, and didn't do activism just
because it was what we're supposed to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If he couldn't help me, no one could.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">A good hour – or maybe two
hours depending on traffic – and I'd be at his place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'd park my car on the street, get out, walk to his
apartment, push No.4 on the call box, and he'd answer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe he'd be a little surprised that I
was there but he'd buzz me in anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Tea?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, please.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How are you doing?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could be better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What do you mean?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Then I'd say "He looks
like me, he sounds like me, he acts like me, but I don't know why he does it,
or even what he is." Then I'd add "but I think he's a government
clone created to replace me with a more acceptable substitute."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">It had to be in person so I
could be there with him, to know I wasn't alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had to be in person so he could see I was serious.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">It had to be in person: that
was the only way I could beg, plead, and cry for my buddy's help.</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">* * * *</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Not one hour, not two, more
closer to three: By the time the landmarks of my immediate neighborhood began
to become the landmarks of his immediate neighborhood middle-evening had become
early-late night: late movies going home, late dinners going to nightcaps,
nightcaps going home, amateurs in bed, pros going home with tricks, rice
burners, gangbangers, girls, and oldsters either long home or almost there.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">His immediate neighborhood was
very different than mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For me,
home was block after block, mile after mile of concrete and glass
apartment/condo, thoroughly tamed palm trees, precisely maintained miniature
rectangles of domestically whipped grass, glimpses of azure pools flashing in
the narrow gaps between buildings, and the dark mouths of underground parking
garages lurking below them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">The street was always busy
with rushing traffic, the sidewalks always behind the flashy chrome, fleshy
plastic, and black rubber, of not-living-there, only-visiting cars.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">For him, home was street after
street of dark red brick buildings born in the middle 1900s, rather than my
late ones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Glass was there, but
not the made-by-the-thousand glistening squares.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead each apartment had the fingerprints of workmen,
craftsmen, and a different architect – though of the same school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No steel; instead the uniquely twisting
balconies and railings of wrought iron.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Clipped carefully, but not with the cold precision of mine, the lawns
were huge rugs of green.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Rather than palms, here were
trees from someone's childhood: thickly branched, tough-barked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They'd been there for a long time, and
would stay there for even longer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
grandfather's tire swing became a son's tire swing became a grandson's tire
swing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Even though the street was
quiet, near his house and then not quite near his house and even pretty damned
far from his house didn't have a spare space to park, so a very late evening
edged toward seriously deep, awfully dark night as I hunted for a place to pull
in.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Cranking my wheel right at
every stop sign, I looked with more and more impatience for a clear spot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Frustration tempted me to become an
outlaw: risk that driveway?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gamble
on that red zone?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Commit the
ultimate urban outrage of the double-park?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I don't have time for this.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Hope was a bright red pair of
taillights far down one murky lane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I accelerated toward them, but then 45 went down to 15 as ordered by the
sign that flashed by my right side window.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Disappointment was that the taillights belonged to a car
breaking the rules of a civilized society by parking in front of a fire
hydrant.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I thought about crossing that
line myself, but knowing my recent luck – or lack of – I decided it wasn't
worth the risk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At least not yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Besides, my chest was tight, my hands
cranked, my shoulders ached, my stomach acid was anxiety.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things were odd, different, and
frightening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Driving, even if it
was in more and more frustrating circles, was common, ordinary, and routine.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">But I didn't have time for this.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I circled one more time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At a stop sign, I turned right, at
another I did the same, eyes tracking back and forth for a break, a slot, an
opportunity.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Headlights in my eyes, a sign
of life in the blackness of the city street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Brighter and brighter, until my eyes watered and I had to
blink.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then the car was just in
front of me, right by me, and with a rush of air, past me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">A Volkswagon, white and smooth
and new.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just like mine.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Just like mine.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">My foot slipped and the engine
growled, as angry as I was frightened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The next corner came at me fast, faster than it should have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Panicked, face flushed and hot, my foot
went from one pedal to the other and the car and I screamed to a rubbery stop.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Black and silent, quiet and
dark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was alone on the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing behind, night in front.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Peering into the rearview I saw nothing
but streetlights flickering between trees and leaves, the soft gold of lit
windows and even, high up in the mirror, the pinpoints of stars.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">And – was it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was – a space, a void in the regular
line of parked cars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Carefully,
coolly, calmly I pulled forward into the intersection and backed into it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">And then I was there, a few
doors down from my Buddy's place, arrived and parked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ready to go in.</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">* * * *</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">"He looks like me, he sounds like me, he acts like me, but I don't
know why he does it, or even what he is." Then I'd add "but I think
he's a government clone created to replace me with a more acceptable
substitute." </span></i><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I rehearsed it in
my mind, trying out different flavors of phrasing, new approaches of posture,
fresh ballets with my hands in persuasive gestures.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Tea?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, please.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How
are you doing?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could be better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What to you mean?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I'd say it, yes I would, I'd say
it and then I wouldn't be alone.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Ready?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ready.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All set?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All
set – or as much as I'd ever be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Funny
how something private, strange, and terrifying could be embarrassing, foolish,
and ridiculous when you decided not to keep it to yourself.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Was it time?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was time – or as much as it ever
could be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hand on the door handle,
I was ready to pull it, ready to open the door, step out, take the few dozen
steps from my car to the sidewalk, from the sidewalk to the door, door to the
intercom, intercom to his apartment number.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">But then the street was still dark
– but not as quiet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The steps of
someone walking was loud, even through the carefully machined insulation of my
car.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I stayed in, didn't get out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hearing him before I saw him, I didn't
move out of simple shyness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Embarrassed,
feeling foolish, and more than a bit ridiculous, I was ready to expose myself
to Buddy, but no one else.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Then the figure was by my
window.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was going from the
sidewalk to the door, and from the door he turned to the intercom, pressing one
of the apartment numbers.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I couldn't see which one, but
I didn't need to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was dressed
in green and black, obviously something for work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A job that came in three sizes: tall, grande, and venti.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a look I recognized.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">He was young, handsome enough,
with blond hair and a nice face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
body under the black was no stranger to the gym – tight, but not buff.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Under the porch light, his
hair glowed, haloed from an energy-saving bulb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even from where I sat I could see his eyes were blue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was a guy I might have smiled at,
winked at, maybe even flirted with, given the opportunity.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">But I didn't smile, didn't
wink, didn't flirt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead I sat
and stared as he said something into the speaker grill of the call box, his
voice carrying across even to me sitting in my car, grinning all the time as he
spoke, and when the door buzzed he pushed quickly against it, vanishing into
the apartment building.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">He looked like me, he sounded
like me, he acted like me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't
know why he does it, or even what he is, but I thought he might be a government
clone created to replace me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">It didn't make me feel better
– not at all – but after I finished begging for it to stop, pleading for it to
stop, crying for it to stop, I realized that I'd been wrong.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .2in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">He couldn't be a straight copy
of me, a copy bent to be straight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not if he'd rung my Buddy's apartment number, and then smiled widely as
he'd been buzzed in, and then walked up the stairs to see him.</span></div>
<br />
<br />mchristianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11887406428164757014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133731140800332850.post-20035108066122821642014-10-03T09:40:00.003-07:002014-10-03T09:40:54.235-07:00Me2: Chapter 3<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">As part of a huge - and much
needed - marketing push, I'm going to be serializing a few of my
all-time favorite books ... starting with the (ahem) rather infamous
novel that I may or may not have actually written: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp"><i><b>Me2</b></i></a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp"><img alt="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp" border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nV91RueiOyU/VByi1S_H9II/AAAAAAAANd0/Xp6BjI4f8Sk/s1600/ME2--withbannerFINAL%2Bcopy.jpeg" height="400" width="275" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"Absolutely brilliant!" says Lisabet Sarai, author of Incognito and
Fire, about Lambda finalist M. Christian's controversial manlove
horror/thriller. </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">He looks just like you. He acts exactly like you. He
takes away your job. He steals your friends. He seduces your male
lover. None of them can tell the difference. Every day he becomes more
and more like you, pushing you out of your own life, taking away what
was yours … until there’s nothing left. Where did he come from? Robot?
Alien? Clone? Doppelganger? Evil twin? Long lost brother? Then you
discover there are still more "yous." Can you be sure you are the real
you? And how do you fight to take your own life back? </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">An absorbing new
approach to the question of identity, Me2 is a groundbreaking gay
chiller you’ll remember for a long time – no matter who you are, or who
you think you may be. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">(Despite rumors that this book was written by an
impostor - but, rest assured, this is the real 'M.Christian.' Accept
no substitutes!)</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><style>
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</style><h1 align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Chapter III</span></span></span></h1>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Me3</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"It's funny you should ask, 'cause I've put some thought to this.<span> </span>Really.<span> </span>Yeah, I know how it sounds.<span> </span>But I have, 'kay?<span>
</span>I don't think it's all that fucking weird.<span> </span>At least I'm thinkin'.<span>
</span>Hell, you're the one who's askin'.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"Nah, nah, I ain't upset.<span>
</span>It's just ... well, the whole thing freaks me out, you know what I'm
sayin'?<span> </span>It's just you asking makes
me think about it some more.<span> </span>Ain't
good thoughts, either.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"You know they can do it.<span>
</span>You can't tell me they can't.<span>
</span>They got stuff you and I ain't even dreamed of.<span> </span>All kinds of freaky shit.<span> </span>No, I don't mean no fucking UFOs.<span> </span>I mean the really serious shit.<span> </span>Chips in your head kinda stuff.<span> </span>Stuff in the water.<span> </span>Beams from the TV.<span> </span>That kinda thing.<span> </span>Like I said, really serious shit.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"Like I said, you know they can do it.<span> </span>The fact that you've heard about it means they can do it.<span> </span>I mean it.<span> </span>Look at it this way, they tell you all about it so when they
really start doing it anyone who tells about it thinks you're crazy.<span> </span>Like the chip thing.<span> </span>They tell you about it, that no one in
his right mind thinks it's true, 'cause that way anyone who finds out about it
gets called crazy.<span> </span>See what I'm
sayin'?<span> </span>Doesn't that make sense?</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"This cloning shit is the same.<span> </span>They tell ya all about it, so everyone knows it.<span> </span>They make it sound crazy.<span> </span>But I tell ya, it's not.<span> </span>I don't know exactly how they do it.<span> </span>But it doesn't take a fucking genius to
figure out that they're doin' it.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"The way I see it, they want you a certain way.<span> </span>But not 'you,' you see?<span> </span>They can't just make you disappear – at
least not yet – so they're testing this out, seeing if it works.<span> </span>If it does, they'll do the same to
everybody.<span> </span>Think it has something
to do with their 'plans' for the country.<span>
</span>Maybe this other one will always do what they want, but all the time
it's fucking 'thinking' it's doing what it wants to do, but it never does,
right?<span> </span>Or they've done something
to it, so when they snap their fingers it'll become a soldier, or a killer.<span> </span>Bet ya somewhere out there there's a
hole in the fucking ground with the real Lee Harvey Oswald's body in it.<span> </span>You know what I mean?</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"How do I know?<span> </span>Open
your fucking eyes!<span> </span>Look around!<span> </span>The only thing they want you to do is
fucking obey.<span> </span>The government is
nothing but assholes behind big fucking desks, guys in black suits with hypos
in their pockets, and up in Oregon I know they're starting to put up
concentration camps.<span> </span>I hear it all
the fucking time.<span> </span>What's happening
to you is just the next thing.<span> </span>A
way to make you disappear but not really disappear.<span> </span>It's fucking perfect.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"It's true, I know it!<span>
</span>Don't give me any shit.<span> </span>I
know it fucking first hand, 'kay?<span> </span>I
started asking some questions.<span> </span>I
found a couple of Web sites, too, with all kinds of weird shit on them.<span> </span>A couple of guys I know did the same
shit, looking where they didn't want us to look.<span> </span>Oh fuck, the stuff they found out.<span> </span>Made my fucking skin crawl, ya know?</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"Then they found out.<span>
</span>Don't know how.<span> </span>Maybe they
always knew and were just waiting for the right time to go after us.<span> </span>But they did, man.<span> </span>My pal, Joey, he used to work for the
VA.<span> </span>One day he just ups and dies.<span> </span>Like that!<span> </span>They said it was his heart but I'll tell you, that's what
they wanted me to think.<span> </span>When I
asked to see the body his mother freaked out, but that's 'cause they just got
to her first.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"The next week someone broke into my car.<span> </span>Glass fucking everywhere.<span> </span>What's real weird is that I had a whole
bunch of papers, but all they took was the stereo.<span> </span>I knew what they'd done, though.<span> </span>I got the fuckers.<span>
</span>So I tossed my papers and stuff in the trash.<span> </span>I didn't know where they'd screwed with them, but I knew
they had, see?</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"Then I got this letter.<span>
</span>Looked like it was real, right?<span>
</span>But I noticed that the postmark had this weird color to it, like nothing
I'd seen before.<span> </span>I knew they were
just trying to scare me, you know?<span>
</span>I'd been fucked by the mortgage people before, I knew what they were
like.<span> </span>They wouldn't just send a
fucking letter.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"They started to call, too, so I couldn't do anything, focus, like
that.<span> </span>I think they also put
something in my water, 'cause while I know I like to drink, I started to really
fucking drink.<span> </span>Used to be a
bottle, maybe two, a week.<span> </span>Jack
Daniels.<span> </span>But then it was five or
six fucking bottles.<span> </span>I tried to
tell my landlord about it, but all he did was call me a fucking drunk, that
fucking asshole!<span> </span>They did it, you
see?<span> </span>That's what they wanted
everyone to think about me.<span> </span>They
did it!<span> </span>The fuckers did it!</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"Just like they're doing to you.<span> </span>You watch, you just fucking watch.<span> </span>This other guy'll be everywhere; he'll take what's yours,
put his out there instead, piss off your friends – or just fucking steal them
from you.<span> </span>Then one day they'll
come for you, and no one will fucking know because this other one will be you,
hell, he might even be a better you than you are.<span> </span>But you won't fucking care 'cause you'll be in some hole
somewhere or up there in Oregon in one of those fucking camps.<span> </span>You just see.<span> </span>That's the way it's going to be, that's the way it's always
going to be.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"But we gotta fight them anyway.<span> </span>We got to!<span> </span>We
gotta win, too, 'cause if we don't, then they'll get away with all the shit
they've done.<span> </span>They'll win.<span> </span>We can't let that fucking happen.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"But we also got to be careful.<span> </span>Real fucking careful.<span>
</span>'Cause if we're not then they might think we're fighting them, might
even think we're fucking winning, but you know what would be happening?<span> </span>Well, you know how fucking twisted they
are, right?</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"We gotta be sure, extra fucking sure, we don't end up doing
exactly what they want us to..."</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>* * * *</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Day and night.<span> </span>Night and day.<span> </span>Twenty-four hours.<span> </span>Two lumps of twelve hours.<span> </span>Two huge lots of minutes.<span> </span>Two heaping mounds of seconds.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>One of them routine and
peaceful, typical and quiet, safe and sane.<span> </span>One uneventful day.<span>
</span>One ordinary day.<span> </span>One
humdrum day.<span> </span>One run-of-the-mill
day.<span> </span>One everyday-day.<span> </span>One unexciting day.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>The day was mine.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>The night belonged to him.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>* * * *</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Wakey-wakey.<span> </span>Up and at 'em.<span> </span>Time to get up, sleepyhead.<span> </span>Yawn.<span> </span>By my loyal clock radio, as recommended by the editors of <i>Consumer Reports</i>, I actually wasn't late.<span> </span>Imagine that.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Fuzzy thoughts while still in
bed: call in sick, hide under the covers, pretend the world doesn't exist – make
believe none of it had happened.<span> </span>Catch
up on the popular highlights of daytime TV, as recommended by the editors of <i>TV Guide</i>.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>It was tempting.<span> </span>Oh, so tempting.<span> </span>But I didn't.<span> </span>Don't ask me why – at least not the details – because my
thinking was very definitely still fuzzy.<span>
</span>Before I could tempt myself with further sheets and zzzz's I found
myself getting out of bed and stumbling towards the bathroom.<span> </span>So ... once up, might as well go all
the way – and head out.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Pretend that everything was
normal.<span> </span>Ah, my fashion choices.<span> </span>"The Boys of Summer" was
devilishly tempting, with that Cape Cod briskness so delightfully clean and
fresh, not to mention being a fashion delight, as recommended by the editors of
<i>Men</i>.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>But I didn't put it on.<span> </span>Answer: apartments cost money, driving
a brand new Volkswagon takes money, sipping drinks takes money, bounding from
one club to another takes money, life takes money.<span> </span>Work delivers money, and I'd definitely pushed work – and
work's spokesmen, bosses – pretty far lately.<span> </span>Sure I could roll the dice and hope for "one of them
doesn't come in today" but considering my luck, I'd probably roll
snake-eyes and get "in, and in a crappy mood" instead.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>So, no blazing white linens
and Protestant elegance.<span> </span>Sigh.<span> </span>Still, as far as 'uniforms' went I
could have done a lot worse.<span> </span>Sure,
I like clothes – and so far, clothes like me – but even I couldn't make a
Weenie on a Stick outfit work.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>So into my black shirt and
pants.<span> </span>Sigh again.<span> </span>Bathroom again, a quick check for
blemishes (none), flat hair (have to make an appointment), yellowing teeth
(have to make an appointment) and any sign of unsightly age (not yet, thank
god).</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Then I was ready to go.<span> </span>One problem, though, and it was a big
one: with a chuckle from the cosmic comedian in the background I realized that
I wasn't late, I was early.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>So I stood there, totally
unsure what to do.<span> </span>Sure, I could
walk out the door, down to the garage, into my car, drive the highways, drive
the byways, get there with some minutes to spare – maybe even put a grin in the
face of my maybe-there boss.<span> </span>But
that wasn't me.<span> </span>Not at all.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>So – yeah – I stood there,
totally sure I didn't want to get there early.<span> </span>This is where the really big one surfaced, with a
spine-chilling laugh from the Cosmic Son of a Bitch.<span> </span>Problem with not walking out the door, going down to the
garage, getting into my car, driving the highways, driving the byways, and
getting there with some minutes to spare is that, since I wasn't doing any of
that, I had nothing to do but think – and thinking was bad.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Had it happened?<span> </span>I could almost convince myself that it
hadn't, that it had been a dream, an illusion, a set of improbable
circumstances, a bad trip.<span> </span>But I
couldn't.<span> </span>It felt too real.<span> </span>Too damned real.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>I had at least twenty minutes
(and a smattering of seconds) before I had to go, but I left anyway: walking
out the door to head down to the garage, climb into my car, drive the highways,
drive the byways – and actually get to work early.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>It wasn't like me – and then,
closing the door behind me, I tried not to, but thought anyway: was it also not
like someone else?</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>* * * *</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Traffic kept my mind busy, the
focus necessary to keep my movable object movable and not suddenly stationary
in a crashed fist of metal and glass.<span>
</span>For once, I was grateful my car lacked the drive to ... well, drive
itself.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>After a few blocks – the
landmarks of Subway and Burger King and McDonald's meaning I was about halfway
there the commute turned routine, the novelty quickly wearing off.<span> </span>Sure enough, the back of my head
started to itch, a stinky thought crowning.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>At a light, looking for
anything to give my squirming brain a break from turning itself inside out, I
looked this way (right) and then that way (left).<span> </span>This way was a bubblegum blonde, tanning-bed skin about to
slip into a way-too-early leather hide, behind the wheel of the family car of
the month.<span> </span>I could see the back of
her left ear, her head cocked ever-so towards the cell phone I couldn't see.<span> </span>That way was a BMW and its favorite
accessory, a power-player in Armani.<span>
</span>This time I could see his phone.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>When I looked past the BMW and
its power-playing accessory in Armani, one car beyond him was a Volkswagon,
just like mine.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Just before the light
officially let me go, I slammed down on the gas, jetting me forward into horns
and ASSHOLE!<span> </span>from the few cars
who'd rushed past the yellow.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Looking behind me, past the
cars who'd followed my leap from the light, there was the bubblegum girl, still
chattering away on her cell; there was the BMW and its Armani driver,
business-dealing with his; and next to them was the Volkswagon that was just
like mine.<span> </span>But behind the wheel
was a middle-aged Asian woman, phone also glued to one ear.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Heart eventually settling back
to its regular beat, beat, beat rhythm, I drove on, giddy at being unique in a
swarm of morning commuters.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>* * * *</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Pulling into the parking lot,
I decided to be a model employee – at least for today – so I picked a spot at
the back.<span> </span>Okay, okay,
professionalism was only part of it ... okay, none of it.<span> </span>Turning in, I spotted a car that could
belong to one of my bosses, a
regional-district-supervisor-manager-something-or-other.<span> </span>Of course there were plenty of other
seafoam green Acuras – in fact there were a lot of seafoam green Acuras in the
lot that day – but it was rare to see one with a Bush/Cheney bumper sticker, at
least in my part of the country.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Getting out, I glanced at my
cell for the time.<span> </span>Grinning wide
at my Team Playing and Responsible Employee-ness, I jogged across the warming
asphalt, and in the front door.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Two of my fellow 'bucks were
behind the counter.<span> </span>As usual,
their names slipped through the cracks in my overly spongy brain.<span> </span>But I didn't really need them.<span> </span>Turnover being what it is in the
Starbucks galaxy, there really wasn't a lot of time to get to know anyone.<span> </span>So today there was Dreads at the
register, and Goth Girl at the espresso machine, and – clipboard in hand,
corporate uniform on under her supposed-to-be-casual blouse and skirt – was
Go-Getter.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"Hey, mon," Dreads
said, his Marley channel coming in loud and clear that morning, a usual
Jamaican sedateness put aside for the boss.<span> </span>"Good to see you."</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Goth Girl, who I guessed by
her stern mask never said more than three words, said one of them as I rounded
the counter and grabbed an apron: "Hello," she whispered over one
thin shoulder, chin almost touching her breastbone.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"Good morning,"
Go-Getter said, polished smile hiding evaluating fangs.<span> </span>"Ready to get to work?"</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"As always," I
snapped-to-attentioned back to her, my voice way too loud in the
before-customer quiet.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"That's good," she
said, looking down at her clipboard, pen in one hand moving across a sheet of
paper, making a mark somewhere on it.<span>
</span>"I was just saying that I'm here only to observe some customer
interactions for Marketing.<span> </span>I'm
not here to evaluate anyone, so relax and kick back and do your usual great
job."</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"Cool with me," I
said, slipping past her and to the storeroom to get the morning pastries.<span> </span>Danishes, Cinnamon Swirls, and Toffee
Almond Bars (in that order), I came back out to load up the display case.<span> </span>Yesterday I would have chatted with
whoever was there, bubbled and giggled and laughed about who Colin Farrell was
screwing, who Jake Gyllenhaal was fucking, who Pam Anderson was blowing, or who
Beyonce was balling; yesterday I would have preened and polished in the
bathroom, tamed any wild hairs, checked myself for anything blemishing between
my apartment and my job; leisurely sipped my own special mocha-java-espresso
rocket fuel until either it was gone or my heart was threatening to attack.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>The way she'd said 'kick
back,' the way she'd said 'not here to evaluate anyone,' the way her pen kept
checking and noting when we hadn't even opened the doors made it damned clear
that we shouldn't kick back, and that she was sure-as-shit evaluating everyone.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Great.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Then I realized it actually
could be.<span> </span>Putting cheese Danish
and pound cakes in neat, orderly, official display rows, I smiled a bit – in a
neat, orderly, official way, of course.<span>
</span>It would be a tough day, a stressful day, trying to tall, grande, and
venti our way through the morning rush, look busy during the slow hours, and
then tall, grande, and venti our way through the evening rush, and look busy
until cleaning and closing, but could also keep me from thinking about anything
but being a model Starbucks employee.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>And so I was.<span> </span>After about half an hour – fifteen
minutes after Dreads had opened the front door and the first early zombies
stumbled in for their life-giving Juice of the Bitter Black Bean – I was
clicking and whirring like the register; after the first full hour I would have
bled motor oil; after the second I had gears where my fluttering,
caffeine-super charged heart would normally be; by the third my brain was
nothing but the contents of the Starbuck's three-ringed binder of Truth; when
the fourth rolled up, and the first tidal surge had faded almost completely
away, my skull was brass and my skin was like the plastic fenders on my GTI.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>It was good.<span> </span>I was nothing but a cog, a gear in
black pants, a black shirt, and a green apron.<span> </span>When I glanced up from taking orders, bagging pastries,
making coffee drinks, or selling raw beans, I noticed that Go Getter was still
standing off to one side, still writing and check-boxing on her clipboard, but
with a whisper-soft smile on her corporate face.<span> </span>Seeing that, I allowed myself the glow of 'good job' even
though she actually hadn't said it.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Then it was the first eye in
the java storm, the calmness of cleaning the machines, polishing counters,
re-ordering the storeroom, restocking and prepping the cream and sugar
stations, and a tiny screw worked its way free in my brass skull, making the
gears slip, the cogs jerk, and the pistons scrape.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>I thought about what had
happened.<span> </span>I thought about
machines.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Beep.<span> </span>Hello.<span> </span>Beep.<span> </span>Greetings.<span> </span>Beep.<span> </span>He is a Mark something or other android.<span> </span>Maybe he escaped from a lab.<span> </span>Frankenstein with circuits, wires,
computer chips...<span> </span>all that kind of
stuff.<span> </span>Military, of course,
because you know they'd do something like that.<span> </span>A metal soldier.<span>
</span>But what if he doesn't want to fight?<span> </span>Just wants peace and love and hippies and a nice manikin to
settle down with: ASAP AWOL.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Or he's Disneyland's Abe
Lincoln.<span> </span>One too many
"Emancipation Proclamations" (that was his, right?), too many times
being fucked with by The Mouse.<span> </span>So
late one night Abe looks this way, that way, then slips off stage, past dozing
security guards and out into the parking lot where he grabs a ride (as one
machine to another it would be easy for him) and out into the wide world: free
at last.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Or maybe he began as something
else.<span> </span>An ambitious toaster.<span> </span>A daydreaming hair dryer.<span> </span>A DVD player wishing for a better life.<span> </span>A blender that wants to see the world.<span> </span>Fed up with being a servant, it waits
for the right opportunity, then ... I don't know what, but it gets out, hits
the road as a footloose and fancy free appliance.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>But he is still a machine.<span> </span>Beep.<span> </span>Machines are good at a lot of things, like playing chess or
connecting to the Internet, or being cell phones.<span> </span>But they can't paint a picture, write a book, make dinner,
sing a song – stuff like that.<span> </span>They
don't do the originality thing.<span> </span>A
Xerox machine copies; it doesn't make new stuff.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Beep.<span> </span>Hello.<span> </span>Beep.<span> </span>Greetings.<span> </span>Beep.<span> </span>A machine ... right.<span>
</span>Footloose and fancy free.<span> </span>A
robot stepping out into the world.<span>
</span>But he can't – 'cause even Mr. Lincoln couldn't pass for a real person
in this modern world.<span> </span>So what does
he do?<span> </span>What anybody would do.<span> </span>He peeks, sneaks, scopes out the real
world until he sees a way to perfectly blend in.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Theories had come and gone.<span> </span>It was only natural I'd be considering
a machine when I'd been trying to become one myself.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>But it didn't make any sense.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Wiping the fake marble
countertop, under the approving gaze of the corporation, I tried to maintain my
own precision engineering while also trying to think logically, rationally,
precisely about what had happened.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Tempting, sure.<span> </span>Xeroxing and all that.<span> </span>But it didn't – and I had to use the
next word, even though I was all clicks and whirls of the perfect employee – 'feel'
right.<span> </span>Sure we've got all kinds of
great and powerful technological toys, iPods with thousands of songs, cell
phones that chat with satellites, a Web full of all the porn in the world, but
having a copy full of gears, cogs, and pistons was crazy.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>* * * *</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Taking my break at six, with
another hour or so of evening rush to go, wasn't a good idea, but I did it
anyway, causing Go Getter's smile to fade completely into a subtle frown,
making her hands perform damning check-boxes on her clipboarded form.<span> </span>Goth Girl sneered even more.<span> </span>Dreads looked like his buzz was being
seriously harshed.<span> </span>But I stepped
out anyway.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Night had come down while I'd
served, processed money and plastic, and said for the thousandth time,
"Welcome to Starbucks.<span> </span>May I
take your order?" With the night, neon had come out, sparkling up the
parking lot with all kinds of pretty colors.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Worry was still nibbling the
back of my head, fear was still beating up my heart, freakiness jiggled my
eyeballs, but walking out on a twelve-person line, proving my humanity under
the glass and steel camera lens eyes of the corporate Go Getter, made me feel the
best I'd felt in days.<span> </span>If I could
stand up to the gears, cogs, and pistons of my punchclock then I could
sure-as-shit stand up to ... whatever the hell was happening.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Standing in front of the
Subway next door, taming a few wild hairs that had threatened to push me from
perfect to sloppy, I tried to hold onto the strength I'd felt when I'd walked
out.<span> </span>It was slippery, but seeing
that – damn – I still looked good even after six hours of slaving over steaming
espresso, greasy desserts, plastic cups, half-and-half thermoses, and a popular
selection of CDs kept up my feeling of empowerment.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Behind me, caught up in my
preening mirror, a hand truck rolled by, pushed by a wild scarecrow of a guy,
all feral hair, NASCAR baseball cap, just-barely sunken cheeks, and grinning at
my back.<span> </span>I never remembered his
name – or maybe he'd just never told me what it was – but I called him NASCAR.<span> </span>I know, I know, not the most original
label in the world, but when that word – or is it an acronym?<span> </span>What is it when a word is made up of
initials?<span> </span>– is right in front of
your face it's hard to be original.<span>
</span>At least for me.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"Hey, man," he said,
putting the cart down, the boxes on it wobbling but not quite falling.<span> </span>"What's up?"</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"Hey," I said,
smacking a mental hand on an imaginary forehead at ever first talking with the
guy.<span> </span>One "what's up?"
and suddenly a delivery guy who looked like he was actually looking forward to
the cosmetic appeal of meth mouth became your best friend.<span> </span>"Not much."</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"That's cool.<span> </span>Taking a break?" Chipper, eager,
happy to see me.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"Yup." <i>Go away</i>.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"Got a smoke?"
Desperate, needy, a bit pathetic.<span> </span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"Nope, sorry.<span> </span>Don't smoke." <i>Go away</i>.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"That's cool.<span> </span>That's cool.<span> </span>No problem, man.<span>
</span>No problem at all."</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"I'm glad.<span> </span>Really." <i>Please, just go away</i>.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"Hey, man.<span> </span>Can I ask you something?" Really
desperate, really needy, really pathetic.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"Well, I've really got to
get back to work." <i>Got to get out of
here</i>.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"Won't take a minute, man.<span> </span>Really.<span> </span>Just want to ask you something." Incredibly desperate,
incredibly needy, incredibly pathetic.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"Well, okay." <i>You big softy</i>.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"It's just that, well,
I've seen you around town.<span> </span>When
I'm driving, you know.<span> </span>And you
always look...<span> </span>kinda nice.<span> </span>Not that I'm like that or nothin', no
way in fucking hell.<span> </span>You get my
drift?<span> </span>But that don't mean I can't
say when a guy looks good, right?<span> </span>I
just wanted to know how you do it.<span>
</span>How I could get to look as good as you."</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>I didn't know what to say.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"I hope I haven't freaked
you out or nothin'."</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>I had to say <i>something</i>, so I did: "No, you
haven't.<span> </span>Just that no one's asked
me before." Fuck that, no NASCAR fan had ever asked me before.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"Can't imagine why they
wouldn't.<span> </span>You always look good,
man.<span> </span>Always.<span> </span>I can't figure out how you do it."</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Then a light came on.<span> </span>Poor guy.<span> </span>NASCAR life on the outside, GQ or even Men on the inside.<span> </span>Trailer park world hungry for even a
taste of Tommy Hilfiger, a meal of Armani, a snack of Boxer.<span> </span>It would have been sweet – and sadder –
if he was queer in world fueled with testosterone and beer, but it was hard
enough that he just wanted to look better than he was supposed to.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"Nice of you to say so.<span> </span>Can't think why anyone would really
want to look like–" then I stopped, chilly even though the night wasn't.<span> </span>I'd almost said: me.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"What is it, man?<span> </span>Look, I really didn't mean to freak you
out.<span> </span>"</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"No, it's not that,"
I said, shaking my locks, trying to clear the head they grew out of.<span> </span>"It's just..."</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Why?<span> </span>Don't know.<span> </span>Maybe
because he was being so innocent with me, so unbelievably desperate,
unbelievably needy, unbelievably pathetic, I felt I could be a touch of the
same with him.<span> </span>So I told him a
little about it, about how I might well be worthy of someone trying to be me,
someone wanting to become all that I was.<span>
</span>I asked him what he thought about that.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Then NASCAR talked about being
a clone.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>* * * *</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Time to leave, so I did:
putting my green apron in its appropriate spot, not caring what the Go Getter,
Goth Girl, or Dreads thought about me.<span>
</span>Tomorrow I might not have a job to come back to, my performance not
being up to the high Starbuck's standard, but frankly I didn't care.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Despite it all, the day had
gone well.<span> </span>I felt in control.<span> </span>I felt like whatever was happening, I
could handle it.<span> </span>I didn't know
what was happening, or how I would handle it, but that didn't matter.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>So I drove home, looking
forward to ending my day with a top-rated TV show, maybe some empty-headed chat
on my cell, maybe a to-go pizza, or maybe delivery Chinese, maybe a cruise of
porn sites and a good, long, professional-grade jerk-off.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Who knows, in the morning all
this could be just a misunderstanding, a weird twist of circumstances, a day or
two of strangeness that just happened to feel real, right, actually happening.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>So ended my day: in a good
way.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>But when I got back to my
apartment, his time began.<span> </span>And his
was much better than mine.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>* * * *</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Along Main to Broadway,
Broadway to Martin Luther King, Martin Luther King to Main, Main to a row of
apartment buildings, one of which was mine.<span> </span>Down then, down into the cool
more-night-than-the-night-outside garage, and into slot 511, my car's home
several floors below its owners.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>American Idol?<span> </span>CSI?<span> </span>Which CSI?<span> </span></span></i><span>A glance might be
needed, a sampling of what was the must-see of the Summer according to <i>TV Guide.<span> </span></i>Afterwards: Pizza?<span>
</span>Chinese?<span> </span>What does the
happy young gay man eat after a long day at work?<span> </span>Which sites after dinner?<span> </span>Which oh-so-pretty, oh-so-horny, domains of delicious
masculinity to drown myself in fantasies of porn movies made reality?</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Out of the car, into the
elevator, a push of "5" to take me to my floor.<span> </span>With each number counting up a bit more
certainty: I'd check <i>TV Guide</i> online
for the new top show of the evening, and watch whatever that was.<span> </span>Pizza for dinner.<span> </span>Beer to drink.<span> </span>After, Manlove.com for pictures,
followed perhaps by the indulgence of actually paying for a download of
something juicy and hard to my desktop, a video of someone young, blond, hard,
and eager.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Out of the elevator, into the
hall, stroll down to my door.<span> </span>But
I wasn't the only one there.<span> </span>Passing
me, waiting for me to leave the elevator so he could go up – or maybe down – was
a suntanned and calloused jeans and work shirt, tool belt and boots part of the
building's family, an element of its until-now-invisible paint, plaster, and
planting workforce.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>“Hola,” the Handyman said as
we passed.<span> </span>"We ... have your
key?<span> </span>You not forget?"</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"I have it," I said
as he went in and I went out of the elevator.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"Good," he answered
with a large-toothed smile.<span> </span>"If
you need again, I help."</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"Okay ... thanks."
No idea – not a one – what he meant, not caring enough to try and work through
what he was trying to say, I grinned, and walked away as the elevator doors
closed between us.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>And so: home.<span> </span>Key in lock, door open and in.<span> </span>It felt safe to be there, damned good
to be there.<span> </span>It was my place.<span> </span>I paid the rent, filled the fridge with
food, slept (a lot) and fucked (not as often as I wanted) in the bed, played
with the computer, watched the television, and sometimes even cooked in the
kitchen (okay, I warmed or microwaved).<span>
</span>Tonight, even though I had people I could call, fuck buddies I could
lay, clubs I could shake my ass at, restaurants I could eat at, bars to drink
in, it was going to be just my apartment and I: just the two of us.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>I must have been tired.<span> </span>The day before – and the day before
that – must have been larger, heavier than I thought.<span> </span>I must have been distracted.<span> </span>Pick one: they were all good enough to explain why it took
me so long.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>I didn't notice when I came in
the door, dropping my keys on my tiny computer desk.<span> </span>I didn't notice when I passed the kitchen – a quickly
arriving and just as quickly passing thought about getting a beer.<span> </span>I didn't notice when I went for a piss.<span> </span>I didn't notice when I went into the
bedroom and changed into evening wear of running shorts and last year's AIDS
walk T-shirt.<span> </span>I didn't notice when
I finally did decide to have that beer, and went into the kitchen, then the
fridge, for a Corona.<span> </span>I didn't
notice it when I sat down in front of the TV, grabbed the remote, and began to
aimlessly surf the world of basic cable.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>My place, I thought, was still
my place.<span> </span>Picture perfect as only
Ikea could create: each nick and each knack as seen in the Spring issue of <i>Genre</i>.<span> </span>It was comfortable, it was safe.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>But it wasn't.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>It sometimes takes an hour or
more for me to start thinking about it.<span>
</span>Other times, like if I'd had a really frisky trick over or been
extra-lazy, it would smack me in the face the instant I walked in.<span> </span>Between the two extremes, I usually
didn't think should really clean up until my beer was half full – or was it
half empty?</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>But that day I didn't think
that.<span> </span>Instead, I thought: <i>No</i>.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Right after that, came: <i>It</i> <i>couldn't</i>
<i>be</i>.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Off the couch and into the
kitchen.<span> </span>Out of the kitchen and
into the bathroom.<span> </span>Out of the
bathroom and into the bedroom.<span> </span>Out
of the bedroom and back into the living room.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>In the kitchen the counters
sparkled, the dishes all put away.<span>
</span>In the bathroom, the toilet gleamed, the products neat and orderly on
the sink.<span> </span>In the bedroom the bed
was made, the only clothes on the floor were the ones I'd just put there.<span> </span>In the living room there was order, no
dust anywhere.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>I'd forgotten I'd cleaned.<span> </span>It slipped my mind.<span> </span>Lots going on.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Sitting in the sofa again, my
bare feet left the shampooed indoor-outdoor carpet.<span> </span>Wrapping my arms around my knees I pulled them close,
turning myself into an aching ball.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>I could see where there used
to be a full trashcan next to the desk.<span>
</span>Now empty.<span> </span>Turning away, I
could see the kitchen and where there used to be a spiteful brown stain in
front of the fridge.<span> </span>Now gone.<span> </span>Twisting, I could see the front
windows, the view of other apartments across the street normally cloudy.<span> </span>Now clear.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>Fuck</span></i><span>, was my next thought.<span> </span><i>No</i>
<i>fucking</i> <i>way</i>, was the one right after.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>It wasn't my bedroom, not
anymore, but I had to get in there.<span>
</span>Holding my breath, even though I didn't need to, I rushed in, stripped
down, put on the clothes I'd just taken off.<span> </span>They were dirty, they smelled like work, but they were still
mine.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>I didn't know where to go, but
I had to get out.<span> </span>I had to leave.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>It wasn't my home anymore.<span> </span>It was his.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span>mchristianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11887406428164757014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133731140800332850.post-47420788116292997182014-09-26T10:54:00.000-07:002014-09-26T10:54:53.193-07:00Me2: Chapter 2<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As part of a huge - and much
needed - marketing push, I'm going to be serializing a few of my
all-time favorite books ... starting with the (ahem) rather infamous
novel that I may or may not have actually written: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp"><i><b>Me2</b></i></a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp"><img alt="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp" border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nV91RueiOyU/VByi1S_H9II/AAAAAAAANd0/Xp6BjI4f8Sk/s1600/ME2--withbannerFINAL%2Bcopy.jpeg" height="400" width="275" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>"Absolutely brilliant!" says Lisabet Sarai, author of Incognito and
Fire, about Lambda finalist M. Christian's controversial manlove
horror/thriller. </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He looks just like you. He acts exactly like you. He
takes away your job. He steals your friends. He seduces your male
lover. None of them can tell the difference. Every day he becomes more
and more like you, pushing you out of your own life, taking away what
was yours … until there’s nothing left. Where did he come from? Robot?
Alien? Clone? Doppelganger? Evil twin? Long lost brother? Then you
discover there are still more "yous." Can you be sure you are the real
you? And how do you fight to take your own life back? </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">An absorbing new
approach to the question of identity, Me2 is a groundbreaking gay
chiller you’ll remember for a long time – no matter who you are, or who
you think you may be. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">(Despite rumors that this book was written by an
impostor - but, rest assured, this is the real 'M.Christian.' Accept
no substitutes!)</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><style>
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</span></span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Chapter 11</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Me2</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span>"What?<span> </span>What did you
say?<span> </span>That's what I thought you
said.<span> </span>No, no, it's okay, it's not
that weird.<span> </span>I just don't get asked
this kind of question very often.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span>"Well, if I had to guess, I'd say it probably had to do with
technology, with a machine.<span> </span>It
does sound kind of ridiculous, doesn't it?<span> </span>But that's what I'd think if it was happening to me.<span> </span>I saw too many movies when I was a kid,
I guess.<span> </span>Something like that.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span>"There's just so much happening.<span> </span>Hell, I remember Liquid Paper, even black and white
television.<span> </span>It feels like only a
year ago that cell phones were like bricks; now you can swallow them if you
inhale.<span> </span>I have an iPod now.<span> </span>I hold it in my hand and just can't
believe that it can hold 5,000 songs.<span>
</span>That's more than I've ever owned.<span>
</span>5,000 – and it's this big.<span> </span>Amazing.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span>"But that's nothing.<span> </span>Have
you seen some of the stuff coming out of Japan?<span> </span>We lost the race.<span>
</span>They won.<span> </span>Sure some of our
stuff is okay – I think Macs are sexy – but what they're doing.<span> </span>It's all wonderful but also creepy.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span>"I saw this thing a week or two ago on a Web site – and</span></i><span> <i>that's something,
too.<span> </span>When was the last time you
read a newspaper?<span> </span>Pretty soon we
won't have books anymore.<span> </span>Just
screens and little beeping devices everywhere.<span> </span>Like bugs.<span> </span>Fireflies.</i></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span>"What?<span> </span>Oh, the site.<span> </span>Yeah, it was one of those technology
ones.<span> </span>Cell phones, new iPods, flat
screen TVs, that kind of thing.<span> </span>I
don't look at them very often, but I was just clicking around one day and saw
this new thing they'd developed.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span>"It was really creepy.<span>
</span>I said that, didn't I?<span> </span>Well,
it was.<span> </span>Really.<span> </span>I mean I know they've done some great
things, but this was over the top.<span>
</span>It looked just like a woman.<span>
</span>Perfectly.<span> </span>A Japanese
woman, of course.<span> </span>But you couldn't
tell it was a machine.<span> </span>Not at all.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span>"They had a video clip of it.<span> </span>This Japanese guy was talking to it – just like you and I
are talking – and it was talking right back to him.<span> </span>I</span></i><span> <i>couldn't tell what they were talking about,
of course, because it was all in Japanese, but the way it was moving ... it was
like she was a real, live girl.<span> </span>Lips
moving, eyes blinking, she even raised her hand and brushed aside some hair,
like this.<span> </span>Well, better than this
because I'm not doing it right, but she did.<span> </span>It was ... well, I'm not going to say it was creepy again.</i></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span>"It looked so real.<span> </span>I
mean it was real but she wasn't a real woman. <span> </span>Listen to me, 'she' wasn't real.<span> </span>See what I mean?<span>
</span>If I didn't know what was going on, I'd think she wasn't anything but a
girl.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span>"That's what I'd think was going on.<span> </span>I know it's stupid – that something like that robot could be
walking the streets.<span> </span>But I tell
you, and don't you dare tell anyone I said this, but after I saw that clip I
had a nightmare.<span> </span>I know, it's
nothing to be ashamed of, but I don't get nightmares, at least not since I was
a kid.<span> </span>But I had one that night.<span> </span>It was a real doozy, too.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span>"No, I'm not going to tell you what it was.<span> </span>I said no, and I mean it.<span> </span>Yeah, I've heard that, too, but it's
just kind of ... embarrassing.<span> </span>Even
if it will make it better to talk about it, I just – well, I don't want to.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span>"Okay, okay.<span> </span>Just
don't tell anyone.<span> </span>Promise?<span> </span>I mean it.<span> </span>Alright ... well, I was walking near Third and Spring, you
know, where Crate & Barrel is?<span>
</span>It wasn't exactly it, because there was a lot of things that didn't fit
– like I remember a cop car was green, not black and white, but it's a dream,
right?<span> </span>They don't make a lot of
sense.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span>"I was walking down the street.<span> </span>It was sunny.<span> </span>I
remember that.<span> </span>Sunny and hot.<span> </span>Hmm?<span> </span>Yeah, I guess I do have pretty vivid dreams.<span> </span>Color, sounds, things like being hot
and cold.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span>Don't know if that's really lucky, it just is.<span> </span>There were a lot of cars on the street,
heavy traffic.<span> </span>Honking horns,
engine noise – that kind of thing.<span>
</span>Then there was this woman, older, kind of like ... I don't know, an
older Liz Taylor.<span> </span>Fancy, all done
up.<span> </span>Pearls around the neck, Prada
handbag – that kind of thing.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span>"She also had a dog.<span> </span>A
little thing, one of those hyper purebreds, pulling at a leash.<span> </span>A white puffball.<span> </span>It was yapping, too.<span> </span>Barking at everything.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span>"When ... when I was a kid there was this lady on our block with a
dog just like that.<span> </span>'Pixie' she
called it.<span> </span>I hated the thing.<span> </span>It bit – well, nipped, really – and
never shut up.<span> </span>One day it got out,
got hit by a car.<span> </span>I didn't see it,
but the next day on the way to school I saw some blood on the street and knew
that's where it had happened.<span> </span>Maybe
it'd have been better if I saw it, because the rest of that summer all I could
do was think what it must have been like, guts and bones and all that.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span>"That's where the dog in my dream came from.<span> </span>Pretty obvious, really.<span> </span>So naturally the thing slipped off the
leash and ran into the street.<span> </span>Got
hit – of course.<span> </span>"</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span>"But no guts or blood or bones, that kind of thing.<span> </span>It was – it was really weird.<span> </span>I mean, odd.<span> </span>Said 'weird' too many times.<span> </span>But when the car hit the dog, there was this sound like ... I
don't know what it was like.<span> </span>Snapping.<span> </span>Grinding.<span> </span>Like that.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span>"The woman was shrieking, really wailing.<span> </span>Tears and everything.<span> </span>But when I looked at the dog there was
nothing but springs, gears, electronic parts, metal.<span> </span>A machine, you see?<span>
</span>Like a toy ... a real toy poodle.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span>"But then I looked at the woman, the woman who owned the dog, and
instead of skin on her face I saw it was plastic, like a mask, and her eyes
were like those things at Disneyland.<span>
</span>A robot.<span> </span>Her mouth was
open, but inside was a speaker, and that's where her crying was coming from.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span>"I'm not telling it right.<span>
</span>But that's what happened.<span> </span>It
was ... I kept thinking about it all day.<span>
</span>Actually for the rest of the week.<span>
</span>The sound she made, the way her skin looked – like a plastic toy.<span> </span>Her eyes clicked and clacked when they
moved, but even though she was a ... thing, she kept trying to be like a person.<span> </span>That was the worst of it.<span> </span>Not that she was a machine, but that
she – it – was trying to be like a real, human, person.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span>"It was sad, that she couldn't ever do it.<span> </span>She could just go through the motions.<span> </span>Be the way she was programmed, I mean.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span>"Hmm?<span> </span>Oh, sorry, just
thinking about it again.<span> </span>I just
can't tell it right.<span> </span>It was ... well,
I keep wondering if the machines, like her, would think the same thing about me
if they saw me.<span> </span>Just doing what I
was doing, trying to be a person, and not doing it very well..."</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>* * * *</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Leaving work, merging with
traffic, I kept more than my usual focus on driving, seeing stoplights two
blocks away rather than just one, noticing every car on the highway instead of
the ones only in front and behind, eyes on a coming then going 35-miles-an-hour
sign and flickering back to my speedometer to make sure the needle wasn't on 34
or (heaven forbid) 36.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>I visualized my fridge – the
racks and shelves and bins – and what was in there, and then what wasn't in
there that I might need.<span> </span>Beer?<span> </span>Always needed beer.<span> </span>Dutch?<span> </span>German?<span> </span>Japanese?<span> </span>A commercial played between my
thoughts: a couple on a beach, looking sedately out at a pure blue sea, a
bottle between them with a wedge of bright yellow lemon wedged gently in the
neck.<span> </span>Corona, that was it.<span> </span>Mexican.<span> </span>Sounded good.<span> </span>Mexican
sounded real good.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Where to find Mexican?<span> </span>The store, obviously.<span> </span>A liquor store, even more obviously.<span> </span>Supermarket, very convenient – there
was a Safeway only a few blocks from my place.<span> </span>But the thought of walking into the buzzing fluorescents,
yellowed linoleum, and screaming signage wasn't exactly appealing.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Home had been the promise made
to myself, but the idea of stepping into the silent rooms, the institutional
indoor/outdoor carpeting, and the cold, staring blue of my monitor, wasn't
appealing at all.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>They had Coronas at Chevy's.<span> </span>There were people at Chevy's.<span> </span>I wouldn't be alone at Chevy's.<span> </span>The next light, far ahead, was green.<span> </span>The lane to my right was empty, so I
drifted over, turned hard at the next corner.<span> </span>Even though it was Monday, Chevy's it was.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Driving.<span> </span>My fridge.<span> </span>Beer.<span> </span>Chevy's.<span> </span>One after another, in way too much
detail, with more thought than was really needed.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Anything but thinking of what
had happened after work.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>* * * *</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>For a few more signals (one
red, one green, and one a yellow 'what light?') I considered the Chevy's on
Twelfth, and not my usual one downtown.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>No, I finally decided: it
would be the old haunt.<span> </span>The usual.<span> </span>The place to go before or after dancing
for a protein fix of cheap Mexican.<span>
</span>If I was lucky, some of the various hangers on would be there in all
their flirty, silly selves.<span> </span>Not
really friends, not really strangers, just people I might recognize:
distractions with colorful drinks in their hands.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>But I wasn't there yet, and so
no colorful distractions: without a blip of warning my mind returned to
twitching, fretting, sweating about myself.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>...and myself.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>* * * *</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Even though it wasn't exactly
my specialty, I tried to reason it out.<span>
</span>Breathing deep, gripping the steering wheel tightly, I put real effort
into it.<span> </span>Logic: the power of
mental exertion.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Tail and headlights coming and
going reminded me of the stars I couldn’t see for the coming and going tail and
headlights.<span> </span>Thinking of stars
became thinking of other worlds.<span> </span>Other
worlds became thinking of other kinds of life.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>This is the way my thoughts
went: the universe was a big place – a very big place.<span> </span>Why couldn’t someone from somewhere, a
someone very weird from a someplace even weirder, have come to our little
corner of that very big place?<span> </span>Why
not?<span> </span>And wouldn’t he – as someone
very weird from someplace even weirder – not want to appear out of place?<span> </span>When in Rome, he’d want to look Roman
... right?</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Had I been Roman enough?<span> </span>Had I been what he’d needed not to
stand out as someone weird form someplace even weirder?<span> </span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>This is the way my thoughts
continued to go: the universe is so damned big that maybe it’s not ‘if’ but
‘when’ someone from somewhere, a somewhere very weird from a someplace even
weirder comes to my place that isn’t that weird, looking for someone totally
not weird.<span> </span>Me: totally not weird.<span> </span>He: wanting to be totally not weird.<span> </span>He tries to look like me.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>A few signals and my brain
cells began to calm a bit.<span> </span>It all
seemed too silly.<span> </span>Ridiculous.<span> </span>Face it, accept it, the theory I’d been
mulling, chewing, pondering made no sense.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Beer made sense.<span> </span>Think about that: go back to beer.<span> </span>Long-necked, the color of ... well, I
always thought it looked like piss, and according to a few of my snobbier
friends that’s just what it tasted like.<span>
</span>But they were also the guys who wanted to look like a spread in Vanity
Fair.<span> </span>Not me. <span> </span>I was a proud Boy of Summer, tanned and
buffed, pearly white teeth, bright gold hair, pure blue eyes.<span> </span>Much more accessible, a more fleshy,
more bloody kind of guy, someone you could really see waking up next to you.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Not like the manikins my
'Looks like piss, tastes like piss' friends wanted to be.<span> </span>Too pretty, too perfect – and, yes,
there really is such a thing.<span> </span>Michelangelo's
David is a masterpiece – is absolutely a masterpiece – but marble can be
awfully cold, and way too stiff to have fun with, or at least not stiff in a
good way.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>A sigh at another light.<span> </span>It felt good to only think about beer –
even beer that looked like piss.<span> </span>Damned
good.<span> </span>My brain finally felt like
it was beginning to wind down, going from 120 to the legal limit of 35 ... 25
in a school zone.<span> </span>What had
happened had been ... odd, that's all it was.<span> </span>Not weird from outer space.<span> </span>There were lots things right here that are just as weird:
grown men who like Saturday morning cartoons (knew one), all that <i>Ripley's Believe it or Not</i> crap, ghosts
(knew someone who saw one), Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster, guys who didn't get
their teeth whitened, even though they were a horrible shade of yellow (knew
one), gay Republicans (knew two), people who collect plates (never knew one,
thank god) – those kinds of things.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Then I was there, at Chevy's,
where I could get some Coronas – piss or no piss – and, hopefully, after a
bottle or two in a place where nothing was ever strange, or odd, or weird, or
disturbing I could return to routine, dull-as-dishwater, predicable, ordinary
normalcy.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Like hell.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>* * * *</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Turning this way, then that
way, light to light to light, and before I knew it I glimpsed a familiar
landmark, a signpost up ahead, which meant I was just about, almost at the
Chevy's.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>It would have been easy to
miss if you didn't know what to look for, as the marker was just about as gaudy
and bright as the restaurant.<span> </span>I
turned in, green/red/blue neon of the Lowe's Megaplex thrown into my car as I
passed.<span> </span>Eyes off the parking lot
for a second, I saw on the marquee, in black letters, that a new blockbuster
had opened.<span> </span>The title rang a
commercial bell or two.<span> </span>Ben
Affleck?<span> </span>Matt Damon?<span> </span>Nicholas Cage?<span> </span>All three?<span> </span>Macho chests, rippled and gleaming ... with explosions?<span> </span>Definitely explosions.<span> </span>A Saturday with popcorn and a
well-oiled Ben Affleck, Matt Damon, Nicholas Cage, or maybe even (sigh) all
three.<span> </span>It was a date, even if I
didn't have a date (heaven forbid).</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>The Chevy's was in the back,
its own tequila and mariachi neon not as bright as the Lowe's, but it was still
a throbbing, eye-hurting, fake Acapulco island against the black sea of the
parking lot.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Fuck, it was busy.<span> </span>I had to circle and weave around at
least four times before I spotted a pair of bright white tail lights.<span> </span>Parking where the minivan had left, I
killed the engine, opened the door, checked myself out in the rear view by the
glare of the dome light, after a quick hand through my hair to fluff it up a
bit, I saw that it was all still good – or at least not bad – and stepped out.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Terracotta tiles, heavy iron
patio furniture, fake and real ferns (or were they really fake ferns?): Chevy's
was a Disneyland Mexico, but remembering my last trip down to the real Acapulco
– and the three days out of the week I'd spent with both of my ends spewing
into a toilet – I liked the safety of a fake cantina.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>A peasant-skirted waitress
waved a five out of ten Commandments-sized plastic-coated menu, but I shook my
head, pointing to the bar and the gaggle waving back at me from a booth.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Ladies (well, 'gentlemen'
then), the gaggle (well, a few of them to be general, three to be specific):</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>'Intense' was hard brown eyes,
severely cut black hair, one heavy steel ring in one ear (the left), a
speckless turtleneck and black jeans.<span>
</span>He was rap, minimalist living rooms in Architectural Digest,
fresh-on-DVD Japanese movies, and meth.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>'Sandy' was drifting blue
eyes, always wind-blown and always 'producted' gold hair, a 90-decibel Hawaiian
shirt, painfully white shorts, and sandals.<span> </span>He was the Beach Boys, a van, zinc oxide, Quiksilver,
Billabong, Volcom, Hurley, Roxy, Reef and O'Neill, the perfect curl (both in
the water and on his head), and weed.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>'Family' was dark green eyes,
caramel brown hair, Mister Rogers sweater, sensible cotton pants, and
Florsheim's.<span> </span>He was a committed
relationship, a cream-colored ranch house in the suburbs with a manicured front
lawn, three dogs, an SUV, a boxed set of <i>Sex
& The City</i>, and Amstel Light.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>"Hey there," chirped
The Family Man, toasting my arrival with a lift of his diet ice tea.<span> </span>"Welcome back."</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>"Dude," saluted
Sandy with a thumbs up from one hand, a margarita in the other.<span> </span>"Glad you came."</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>"Ta," said Intense
with an almost-not-there nod.<span> </span>"Always
good to see you."</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Sliding along cheap leather, I
tapped hips with Family Man, returned Sandy's thumb, and then Intense's bare
nod.<span> </span>"Good to be back."</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>"Thought you weren't
going to come," Family said, a mellow bite to his words.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>"Yeah, dude," Sandy
added with a distracted twirl of his faggy drink umbrella, "we were
thinking it was, like, something we said or some shit?"</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>"Or you just needed your
eyes checked." Intense's voice was maybe a touch tighter than usual.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>"Sorry guys, didn't mean
to keep you waiting," I said, twisting to scope out the waitress.<span> </span>That and to get away from their stares.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>"It's okay," Family
said.<span> </span>"You're here now."</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>"Yeah, dude," Sandy
said.<span> </span>"All's forgiven."</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>"Friends are too
rare," Intense said.<span> </span>"No
problem." </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>"Whew!" I pantomimed
wiping mythical sweat from my brow.<span>
</span>"Glad that's all over." Laughs from each, more from some
(Sandy), less from others (Intense).</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Once past the rocks,
conversation drifted into calmer waters.<span>
</span>Around the table, slices of their lives were casually offered up.<span> </span>Family wondered if he should trade in
his SUV, having read good things about a new Ford model – and, besides, the old
one was at least two years past its brand new showroom prime (we said that it
was a good idea).<span> </span>Sandy pondered
out loud whether his hair was getting too long, and asking the table if Zachary
Travis's look on American Idol would be good on him (we said it probably would).<span> </span>Intense threw out his pissed-ness at
having to get rid of his Buddhist books after reading an article online saying
the Dalai Lama wasn't gay-supportive (we said that was upsetting).</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>I followed their chatter,
losing myself in the to and fro, in and out, up and down, of their voices,
trying to vanish into what <i>Car and Driver</i>
and <i>Road and Track</i> said about the new
Ford SUV, how wonderful Zachary's hair looked, and how it would have been
better not to read that article on the Web.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Eventually things rolled to my
direction.<span> </span>"Anything new with
you?" Family asked.<span> </span>"What's
up, dude?" Sandy inquired.<span> </span>"Life
worth reporting?" Intense questioned.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>"Same old," I
responded with a forced smile.<span> </span>"It
goes on." </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>"That's good,"
Family replied.<span> </span>"Groovy,"
Sandy grinned back.<span> </span>"Cool,"
Intense said.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>It was ... life as usual, same
old, nothing special going on.<span> </span>But
with a tickle behind my ear, a shiver where my spine ended and my ass began, I
had a niggling feeling of oddity.<span> </span>I
looked at them – carefully, slowly – peering surreptitiously into brown, blue,
and green eyes as they continued to chatter at each other.<span> </span>Ever walked in thinking something had
just started, not realizing that it was actually halfway over?<span> </span>A new car, a new haircut, a new belief
system – laughter, giggles, smiles, but I felt like I'd missed the setups,
hearing only the punchlines.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Brown, blue, green were
staring at me, Chevy's plastic Mexifornia the quiet eye of a conversation storm.<span> </span>"Sorry," I coughed out,
realizing that they'd asked me something, and a while ago at that.<span> </span>"I spaced."</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>"No sweat," Family
said.<span> </span>"That's cool,
dude," Sandy said.<span> </span>"Meets
with my approval," Intense said.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Relief untied the muscles of
my jaw, especially the ones I didn't know I'd knotted.<span> </span>Pushing myself, I squeezed into the
conversation: "That model seems really popular," and "If he
looks that good then you certainly will," and "I'd hate to be queer
and Buddhist right now."</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Slowly, one word at a time, I
melted, becoming just one of the gang, so much so that when Family and Sandy
slipped out to go to the can, it wasn't only Intense and I, just a slightly
smaller group.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>But then he looked across the
table at me, saying nothing for a long stretch of time.<span> </span>Just when I was about to cough (again),
he said "What's up?"</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>From anyone else it would have
been casual, cheaply tossed out.<span> </span>Two
words that didn't mean anything.<span> </span>But
for Intense, who chose the contents of his vocabulary as carefully as he picked
out the complementary colors of his living room (charcoal and burgundy, if you
have to know), "What's up?" was a sentence made up of
two-thousand-pound letters: weighty, unable to be ignored.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>"Nothing," I lied.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>"You're lying," he
said.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>"No, really.<span> </span>I'm fine."</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>"No, you're not.<span> </span>I've seen you fine.<span> </span>What you are right now ain't
'fine.'"</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>"It's just–" I
began, but then didn't.<span> </span>Family
would've feigned concern, maybe say a few greeting card words about how he
'understood' how I might be disturbed, how he'd 'feel' for my discomfort, how
he'd try and 'be there' for me.<span> </span>But
he wouldn't.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Sandy couldn't feign anything,
let alone concern; his laughter would be too loud, his smile too broad, his
joke about it not funny, and that would be that.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Intense, though ... if I could
tell anyone about it, it would be the serious, the thoughtful, the
intellectual, the perceptive one.<span> </span>But
even with him there was a risk.<span> </span>I
had to be careful, cautious.<span> </span>It
sounded so stupid.<span> </span>Or rather I <i>knew</i> it would sound stupid, because
that's how I felt just thinking about it.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>So I said.<span> </span>"Really, I'm okay.<span> </span>But there's this thing that's been kind
of ... preying on my mind.<span> </span>Something
I just can't stop thinking about..."</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>So I said it that way, hidden
in a game, in an intellectual exercise.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>He listened, then he told me
about a dream he'd had.<span> </span>A dream
about a robot.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>* * * *</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>After he'd finished, I looked
across the table, met his firm brown eyes and said with as much honesty and
kindness as I could: "Thank you."</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>In return he didn't do
anything but pass me another of his subtle nods.<span> </span>I didn't know what to think – at least not right then – but
knew he'd stepped far into very harsh sunlight.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>From returning my look, his
head tilted up, an inch or so that said we wouldn't be alone for too much
longer.<span> </span>Sure enough, Family and
Sandy announced themselves a moment later, a duet of laughter at an unheard (at
least by Intense and I) bit of bathroom humor.<span> </span>Getting up to let Family slide in, I grinned back at both of
them, hoping they wouldn't be aware of the deep oddness that had been shared
between the serious one and me.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>I shouldn't have worried.<span> </span>Not about them, at least.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>"So glad you decided to
come," Family said, making himself comfortable next to me.<span> </span>"We really were thinking that
maybe you were pissed at us or something."</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>"Yeah, man" Sandy
echoed, playing with his umbrella again.<span>
</span>"We didn't know what to think there for a while."</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>"Like I said,"
Intense said, "Friends really are rare." His own few words hinting of
softness, continued reflection at the momentary vulnerability between us.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>"Really sorry,
guys," I repeated, finishing the second of the two words with a trickling
drip down the back of my neck.<span> </span>The
chill wasn't from Intense and my conversation; the shivers were from finally
not just hearing what they were saying, but beginning to understand what they
were saying.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Cold became ice, the stuff you
find in drinks.<span> </span>"There you
are, hon," a waitress said, appearing at my side.<span> </span>"I know you said you didn't want
another, seeing that you were leaving, but since you're still here I thought I
might tempt you."</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>It was a beer.<span> </span>My drink of choice.<span> </span>"Thought you weren't going to
come," "we were thinking it was, like, something we said or some
shit." "Or you just needed your eyes checked.<span> </span>"</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Reaching out, I pushed the
bottle away, causing the Corona to get dangerously close to the edge of the
table.<span> </span>Family, Sandy, and Intense
had seen me sitting at another table, but I'd ignored them.<span> </span>I told the waitress I didn't want
another beer.<span> </span>Then I left.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>But that hadn't been me.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>* * * *</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span>Run!<span> </span></span></i><span>Ass sliding along faux leather, and then I'm on my
feet.<span> </span><i>Run!<span> </span></i>Behind me, three
quick voices of shock (Family), concern (Sandy), and disappointment (Intense).<span> </span>Run!<span> </span>Three hurried excuses tossed over my shoulder: "I
forgot...<span> </span>I forgot
something," (to Family); "I've really got to get going," to
Sandy; "So sorry," (to Intense).</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span>Run!<span> </span></span></i><span>The waitress stepped quickly back, reflexively
shielding her breasts behind a serving tray.<span> </span><i>Run!<span> </span></i>I heard glass hit the fake terra
cotta-tiled floor with an explosive yet musical chiming.<span> </span><i>Run!</i></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>The Corona had fallen off the
table.<span> </span>Broken.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>As things went, it didn't
count for much, but it did, at least, count for something: despite panic
beating up my heart I didn't actually run.<span> </span>Instead I walked – okay, it was very, very fast walking, but
still walking nonetheless – through the bar, past plastic ferns, and up to and
then out the front door.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>The night felt good: brisk and
clear.<span> </span>Stopping a foot away from
the edge of the curb, I took a shuddering, careful breath.<span> </span>Calm down ... take it easy ... breathe
easy, breathe slow ... in and out, in and out ... there's a reasonable
explanation ... there's <i>always</i> a
reasonable explanation.<span> </span>Always.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Eventually, it worked: my
chest didn't feel quite so tight, my pulse not quite so hammering.<span> </span>I probably should have gone back in,
made my apologies, tried to slip back into the chatter and laughter of three
friends.<span> </span>A drink.<span> </span>That would be good ... a stiff one.<span> </span>Not just a beer.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>But I didn't go back inside.<span> </span>Sure those guys were nice enough, but
turning around, going back through those doors, down the length of the bar, to
the booth, would mean seeing bits of broken glass and a gleam of wet on the
butterscotch-colored tiles – from the beer I hadn't ordered.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Instead, I finally stepped off
the curb and headed out across the parking lot toward my car.<span> </span>At first I didn't recognize mine, it
blending in with the other Jello-mold machines – and my mind being still very,
very rattled.<span> </span>After a minute or
so, though, I remembered the view through the windshield when I'd parked, and
got my bearings.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Still, I tried to open the
Volkswagon GTI next to mine, only realizing my mistake when my key stubbornly
refused to work.<span> </span>Finally behind
the wheel, safe in my home away from home, I didn't immediately turn the
ignition.<span> </span>Breathe, I thought.<span> </span>Take it easy.<span> </span>There's always a reasonable explanation.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>I didn't know what it was, but
there's always a reasonable explanation.<span>
</span>I wished to hell I did know what that reasonable explanation was.<span> </span>But I couldn't think of one.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>What I did think of was that I
didn't want to be there anymore, friends, beer or not.<span> </span>Away, was what I thought of.<span> </span>As in, I have to get <i>away</i>.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>So with a twist of my wrist, I
started the engine – a comforting German-engineered purr – and pulled out of
the parking lot, into sparse late-night traffic.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>A stoplight – another machine
– stopped me.<span> </span>Time for breaths,
one after another, one after another.<span>
</span>In out.<span> </span>In out.<span> </span>Scared, freaked, creeped?<span> </span>Yup.<span> </span>But I held the wheel tightly, maybe too tightly, using the
fleshy and bloody reality of 'hand' on 'wheel' engaged in the act of 'driving'
to keep me from dissolving into a greasy puddle.<span> </span>It might not be a real answer, but it kept me focused.<span> </span>It might not be colorful drinks, beer,
and friends, but it kept me from freaking out.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Red to green, foot down, and
me and my car moved through the intersection.<span> </span>Joining, as always, a surge of fellow machines racing to
their various destinations, or at least the next red light.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Home.<span> </span>Yes, home.<span> </span>Apartment safety.<span>
</span>Life safety.<span> </span>Close the door
behind me, curl up on the couch with a hit show, try to let the creamy
smoothness of my Ikea living room set lull me into cool and tranquil safety.<span> </span>When sleep finally began to tug at my
eyelids, I'd stumble into the bathroom for my nightly regime of scrubs and
peels, and then to bed and a snug womb of Crate & Barrel sheets with a Bed,
Bath & Beyond comforter.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Then with the hated morning,
reverse it all: bed to bath, bath to clothes, clothes to the door, door to my
car, car to my job.<span> </span>I never really
thought about it before – my life always just <i>being there</i> – but it was nice to have it be so common, so
predictable, so average, so ordinary.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>But was it?<span> </span>There had to be a reason, something
about me that <i>wasn't</i> a part of the
crowd.<span> </span>There had to be something
special, something unique about me.<span>
</span>If all of this was happening – <i>really
</i>happening, I mean, and I wasn't just having a breakdown or something – then
I wasn't just, only, merely, simply, who I thought I was.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Why me?</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>mchristianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11887406428164757014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133731140800332850.post-11976592944119973532014-09-19T14:43:00.000-07:002014-09-19T14:43:14.130-07:00Me2: Chapter 1<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">As part of a huge - and much needed - marketing push, I'm going to be serializing a few of my all-time favorite books ... starting with the (ahem) rather infamous novel that I may or may not have actually written: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp"><i><b>Me2</b></i></a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp"><img alt="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092B8VOA/ref=cm_sw_su_dp" border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nV91RueiOyU/VByi1S_H9II/AAAAAAAANd0/Xp6BjI4f8Sk/s1600/ME2--withbannerFINAL%2Bcopy.jpeg" height="400" width="275" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"Absolutely brilliant!" says Lisabet Sarai, author of Incognito and
Fire, about Lambda finalist M. Christian's controversial manlove
horror/thriller. </i></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">He looks just like you. He acts exactly like you. He
takes away your job. He steals your friends. He seduces your male
lover. None of them can tell the difference. Every day he becomes more
and more like you, pushing you out of your own life, taking away what
was yours … until there’s nothing left. Where did he come from? Robot?
Alien? Clone? Doppelganger? Evil twin? Long lost brother? Then you
discover there are still more "yous." Can you be sure you are the real
you? And how do you fight to take your own life back? </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">An absorbing new
approach to the question of identity, Me2 is a groundbreaking gay
chiller you’ll remember for a long time – no matter who you are, or who
you think you may be. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">(Despite rumors that this book was written by an
impostor - but, rest assured, this is the real 'M.Christian.' Accept
no substitutes!)</span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Chapter 1</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Me</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"They're everywhere.<span> </span>Here,
there – even next to here, even close to there.<span> </span>You see them all the time, but you don't see them ... understand?<span> </span>You look right into their eyes but
don't know what they are inside, down deep, where their real selves are – where
it really matters.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"I knew you'd say that.<span>
</span>Heard it a million times ... nah, more than a million times.<span> </span>Billions.<span> </span>Billions of times.<span>
</span>More than billions ... what's more than a billion-billion?<span> </span>Is it something like a gazillion, a
multi-billion?<span> </span>Gigillion?</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"Heard it lots.<span> </span>That's
good enough to say I guess.<span> </span>Lots.<span> </span>But lots more than lots.<span> </span>Like, when I say 'lots' you take the
number that comes to mind and you add it by another billion – and then add that
by still more billions.<span> </span>That would
only be a bit of the real number of times I've heard it.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"Just like you, they say 'You're nuts' when I tell them the truth
of what's going on, what's up, what's happening.<span> </span>Bonkers, mad, insane – majorly, completely, totally – fucked
up.<span> </span>That's me ... I mean, that's
not me.<span> </span>Really!<span> </span>That's just what they say when I say
what I say, when I tell them about the shit going down.<span> </span>I'm not crazy, though.<span> </span>Lots of other things, sure – but then
who isn't, right?<span> </span>But I'm not.<span> </span>Crazy, I mean.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"I know how it sounds.<span>
</span>I do.<span> </span>Really.<span> </span>But I say it anyway, because someone
has to say it.<span> </span>Even if they do say
I'm not right in the head when I say it.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"But aliens are out there.<span>
</span>Here, I mean.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"Don't look at me that way.<span>
</span>You know what I mean, like I'm crazy or something.<span> </span>Everyone looks at me that way when I
tell them the truth – or did I say that already?<span> </span>Not about the aliens, I mean, but that people always say I'm
fucked up when I tell them.<span> </span>I did
say that, didn't I?</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"But not because of the aliens.<span> </span>They're there.<span> </span>You
know it.<span> </span>Don't tell me you don't.<span> </span>You see them all the time.<span> </span>There might be one standing behind me,
or next to you, or in front of you, or next to you when you ride the bus ... or
do you drive?<span> </span>They're like the guy
my friend Larry saw while he was at the clinic waiting for his meds.<span> </span>He told me – and I trust Larry in this
even though he really is nuts, but never about the aliens – that he could just
tell, you know, that there was this guy there who wasn't ... like the rest of
us.<span> </span>Humans, I mean.<span> </span>And when someone just isn't human then
what else could they be but an alien, right?<span> </span>Doesn't that make sense?<span> </span>I think it does.<span>
</span>That's not the kind of logic a real crazy person would use – is it?</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"Nah, I don't know where they come from.<span> </span>I'm not an astrologist.<span> </span>Maybe nearby, like Mars or Venus or Vulcan, or maybe
somewhere real far away.<span> </span>Don't
know how they get here, either: ships, or rays, or maybe they have homes and
stuff.<span> </span>But they're here.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"Here and everywhere.<span>
</span>Everywhere ... but they're aliens, see?<span> </span>So they don't quite 'get' us, what it means to be us.<span> </span>And that's what fucks them up.<span> </span>All of us got all our guts in the right
places, the right spine, the correct feet ... but the aliens, they aren't born
like us.<span> </span>I don't know how they
come out – hatched, grown, built, whatever – but they don't have mothers or
fathers.<span> </span>They have to copy the
rest of us who do ... have mothers and fathers I mean.<span> </span>Not that having them is good, you
understand, mothers and fathers I mean.<span>
</span>Fathers, especially.<span> </span>Like
mine.<span> </span>Not to complain, you know.<span> </span>Just that sometimes having one – like
mine – isn't a good thing.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"But having one – even a bastard like mine – makes us people,
right?<span> </span>They don't have one, or a
mother either, and because of that they have to cheat.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"So what they do is they just look around, right?<span> </span>They look at us and find one that looks
right to them.<span> </span>Maybe pretty
because – I don't know – they want to be pretty if they are a girl, or handsome
if they are a boy, or maybe they think ugly is pretty, or pretty is ugly,
whatever.<span> </span>I don't know what they
think, or why they do it, because they're aliens, right?<span> </span>And no one can know what an alien
thinks.<span> </span>But they do look at us,
you can tell that, and after they look at us they go back to their planet, or
their ship, or their houses and they put on makeup and all, fake faces, like
masks, maybe even fake eyes and fake hands like you see in the movies, and
because they do, these aliens, and you can't tell one of them from one of us.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"But they aren't like us, or they can just pretend to be like us,
like humans I mean.<span> </span>That's how you
can tell that they aren't like us, because they look just like us.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"Why?<span> </span>Don't know that.<span> </span>They're aliens, right?<span> </span>They do alien things because they like
alien things for alien reasons.<span> </span>I
used to think they wanted our jobs, like Mexicans, but no one wants to do our
jobs, not even Mexicans.<span> </span>Then I
thought they might want our human women, like maybe they don't have any where
they're from.<span> </span>But if they do then
why don't they all look like movie stars?<span>
</span>They could want to take over, but I'll tell you, friend, I hope they do
because even something with alien arms and weird, creepy alien eyes could
probably do a better job than those fuckheads in Washington.<span> </span>Or they could just need water, food, or
shit like that.<span> </span>Or they might just
want a new place to live.<span> </span>Like I
said, they're aliens – so I don't know why they're here, just that they're all
over place, looking just like us.</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span>"Hmm?<span> </span>Yeah, I guess
that could be it.<span> </span>But like I said
I don't know why they're here, just that they are.<span> </span>They could be here, like you said, because they just like to
look like us and all, like maybe they are real ugly – ugly, ugly, ugly, and we
might be the best looking folks in the universe.<span> </span>Maybe, but – well, have you looked in a mirror lately?"</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>* * * *</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Morning.<span> </span>Belch.<span> </span>Monday morning, double belch in a <i>venti</i> cup.<span> </span>Nothing
special in that: lots of people hate mornings.<span> </span>Hell, everyone hates Monday mornings.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Blink, blink, blink.<span> </span>The red numbers on my nightstand still
there, still too high, no matter how many times I blinked, hoping each time I
wasn't reading them right.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>But I was reading them right.<span> </span>I was also late.<span> </span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Crap.<span> </span>No, not just crap: double crap in a <i>venti</i> cup.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Covers tossed aside, I jumped
– or rather stumbled – out and into the bathroom.<span> </span><i>Hello, me</i>, I
thought, greeting my reflection, my face hovering in the mirror above the sink.<span> </span>My blondness looked to be inching
toward too long, and bit jagged with imminent shag, but nothing to worry about
– for today.<span> </span>Note to self:
schedule time for a trim, then a shampoo and repeat.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Skin looked clear, no
obviously pitted pores, no unnecessary roughness; but you – or more importantly
I – could never be too careful.<span> </span>Lepers
might only be on basic cable's <i>10
Commandments</i>, but zits were the next best – I mean worst – thing.<span> </span>Second note to same self: while getting
my locks done, also get a peel.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Above the cheeks, below my
hairline, no red beyond the blues of my eyes.<span> </span>I heard that they could even bleach it out when it did
appear.<span> </span>It hadn't, but still it
might be worth asking about when I got clipped and slathered.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Was that ... well, not yellow,
not yet, but they weren't as pearly as they could be.<span> </span>So, another note, this time for my dentist to bright them
back up to their brilliant best.<span> </span>"Your
teeth say hello long before your voice does."<span> </span><i>GQ</i>?<span> </span><i>Esquire</i>?<span> </span><i>Men</i>?<span> </span>Couldn't remember which – just that the
headline sounded too true not to be.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Piss, comb, brush, exfoliate,
deodorate – then back to the bedroom.<span>
</span>This time I knew it was <i>Men</i>,
because the July issue was still there on my nightstand, folded back to
"The Boys of Summer."<span>
</span>The second page of the spread on top, all Cape Cod dazzling blue-sky
backdrop, sand under his sandaled feet, the model all tightly gleaming youth.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Late – <i>very</i> late – sure, but I hadn't spent Saturday and Sunday shopping
to go out on Monday with what I'd been wearing on Friday.<span> </span>Diesel, Gap, Nordstrom, opened and tags
carefully cut off with the manicure scissors from the nightstand's drawer.<span> </span>Shirt, drawers, shirt, sandals, then my
closet door full-length reflection with a grin to the Mr. July who smiled back
at me.<span> </span>If my supervisor saw me
without my regulation black shirt and pants ... well, there are jobs and then
there are jobs, but looking good is better than anything.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Now it was time to get going –
or at least not to be so late.<span> </span>On
the way to the door a glance back to the white elegance of my Mac.<span> </span>Nope, no time to check my email.<span> </span>That was an option.<span> </span>What wasn't was the silver elegance of
my cell phone, which went in a "Boys of Summer" pocket.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>The hall outside my apartment
door was cool, dark, and way too long: more like winter rather than the
cloudless summer I'd seen going to and coming back from work on Friday and
retailing on the weekend.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>It only got darker and colder
after a trip down in the elevator.<span>
</span>Arms crossed, goose bumps not at all complementing my Boy of Summer
self, I walked past spaces, 112, 113 and then to 114, where my 115 Volkswagon
GTI sparkled.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Fishing out my keys, Dad was
there in my brain, brought up with the clinking metal echoing in the garage and
the smooth plastic in my hand.<span> </span>When
I told him about the make and model, he'd originally tisked and tutted,
vanishing for a few months into <i>Consumer</i>
<i>Reports</i>, only to finally emerge
during one of our monthly family phone calls to say that he thought it had
been" a good decision," his tone of voice clearly making his
agreement with something I'd done a too rare event.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Key going from fished out to
lock inserted, I thanked dad for his 'support' in my 'intelligent' and 'well
thought out' decision.<span> </span>Sliding
into the driver's seat, twisting my carefully gym-toned butt into the leather,
I adjusted the rearview, putting on my best Boy of Summer grin at how my
'intelligent' and 'well thought out' buy made me look so damned good.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Turn of key, spin of wheel,
back out and then forward and up the way-too-steep ramp, out of the cool
darkness of the garage and into a dazzling, blinking, summer morning: feeling
damned good, and looking even better.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>* * * *</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"Bet they'd even follow
us home," Buddy said once, talking about driving the same route over and
over again and how our cars could probably do it by themselves by this time.<span> </span>Shake things up by taking the bus home
and there they'd be in the garage when you got there, wounded expressions on
their chrome faces.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>His car, maybe.<span> </span>Mine was a bit more absent-minded.<span> </span>Rather than letting it take me from my
apartment to work, I had to put it in the right lane, pay close attention to
the correct number of stoplights, and keep an eye out for the proper landmarks.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Martin Luther King Boulevard
was a wide and busy one.<span> </span>Waiting
in the left-hand turn lane to merge with it, I checked myself in the rearview,
noticing a stray lock of blond.<span> </span>Sighing
at the betrayal of yet another product recommendation, I managed to tame it
just before the green arrow popped up.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>The road split in two, one
side staying MLK, the other the beginning of Main.<span> </span>It was a weird corner, a triangular oddball in the usual grid,
a marker obvious enough for my ditsy car to drive it without a thought in my
head.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>So, what to do tonight?</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>I could go out, of course.<span> </span>Light dinner at the scene of the
season, or a casual diner at an acceptably tawdry eatery.<span> </span>From there a cruise down to a few of my
favorite spots to check out some batting eyes, bump some hips, and stroke some
chests all toward some possible early week play.<span> </span>So far my dance card had been nicely filled with a good
number of guys between the sheets, or even in the damp darkness between
buildings.<span> </span>A stud?<span> </span>Not really, certainly not like the one
I wanted to be.<span> </span>But I sure wasn't
a blushing, stammering, shoulder-rocking, eye-drooped wallflower.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>There was always Buddy, of
course.<span> </span>Speaking of blushing,
stammering, shoulder-rocking, eye-drooped wallflowers.<span> </span>Buddy wasn't his real name, but that's
what he was to me, so that's what I called him.<span> </span>That's <i>all</i> he was
to me.<span> </span>But for a blushing,
stammering, shoulder-rocking, eye-drooped wallflower he was still kinda fun to
hang out with.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>But so much for him (I
remembered): Buddy had some kind of temp gig that began at neon-switch-on-time
and ended too-damned-late, and he was stuck on it for the next few days.<span> </span>Setting up a new office for some kind
of mortgage company, I think.<span> </span>Poor
guy.<span> </span>My own employment definitely
sucked – sometimes with extreme determination – but at least I had from
neon-switch-on-time to too-damned-late to put it behind me.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Blink, blink, blink.<span> </span>Shit, did I miss the turn?<span> </span>Luck was a red light and a quick turn
left and then right, trying to get my bearings.<span> </span>Dirty-windowed Domino's on one side, McDonald's on the
other, across the intersection a Burger King.<span> </span>Ah, behind the Burger King was a familiar sign, meaning I
hadn't overshot.<span> </span>Passing the
Carpeteria, I gave it a friendly salute, the shoppers inside too focused on
either indoor or outdoor styles to notice.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Turning into the packing lot,
I winced at the time on the dash.<span> </span>Crap.<span> </span>Crud.<span> </span>Corruption.<span> </span>Way
beyond the "fifteen minutes of safety."<span> </span>I wasn't supposed to park in front, but I did anyway,
sliding the Volks into a no-man's-land space between the Blockbuster and the
Site For Sore Eyes.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Mumbling the Prayer of the
Late Employee – which went something like "please don't notice" or
"be in a good mood" – I jogged down the sidewalk.<span> </span>Before hitting the door, I sighed that
there were only two people behind the counter: Black Girl with Attitude, and
Hippie.<span> </span>Whew, no sign of a
supervisor, for which I thanked the slacker gods, promising I'd stay home and
tap the remote and gulp beer in praise of their intervention.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>I got a "you're so lucky,
dude" expression from the Hippie, and a "fucking asshole" one
from BGWA.<span> </span>Coming around the
counter, I gave them both a quick nod – agreeing with both of them – punched
myself in, and grabbed my green apron.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Welcome to work.<span> </span>Burner of days, deliverer of money.<span> </span>Too much of one, not enough of the
other, but who was I to complain?</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Dad, of course, thought I was
wasting my life.<span> </span>When it came up,
and it always did, I explained that it was a good gig – something that provided
regular bucks, and even pretty good health insurance.<span> </span>I sure as shit didn't want to do it for the rest of my life,
but it was an adequate enough situation while I weighed my various career
options.<span> </span>That my temporary
situation had so far gone on for three years and that my various career options
equaled a big, fat goose egg was also something that always seemed to come up
during our monthly spats ... I mean calls.<span> </span>Mom didn't seem to care one way or another, everything was
fine with her as long as I was happy.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>I was here and they were
there, a chasm of more than a thousand or so cashed-in frequent flyer miles.<span> </span>I tried to imagine how their minds
worked: jobs were for life, sex was mostly secret and too often shameful,
America was the Greatest Country in the World, pants for men, skirts for girls,
and gay people should always be secret and always shameful.<span> </span>I tried, like I said, but I always had
a headache afterwards.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>My life was good enough.<span> </span>I had people (beyond my 'not really a
boyfriend'), movies to see, magazines to read, clubs to club, shops to shop, a
gym to keep me tight and firm, vacations to plan, eateries to try, and an easy
enough job that kept it all going.<span>
</span>It wasn't a big life, extra shiny, well-padded, or splashed on
headlines, but then most people's weren't.<span> </span>Sure there were things I would liked to have changed, and
who knows?<span> </span>– maybe someday I'd
have that Porsche, that <i>Architectural</i>
<i>Digest</i> house with that <i>House</i> <i>and</i> <i>Garden</i> backyard, a
film career, a picture-perfect boyfriend who was also a picture perfect model,
but for now it was all average, ordinary, and agreeably satisfactory.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>It was then that the place
began to hop, the second surging wave of sleepy-eyed commuters on their way to
their own life-enabling jobs pushing through the doors and wobbling toward the
counter.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Assuming the recommended
frozen smile, chipper tone, and plastic politeness I took the disliked position
of manning the register as an act of penance.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Saying "Welcome to
Starbucks," I began another day at work.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>* * * *</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Ding.<span> </span>"Thanks for stopping
by."<span> </span>Ding.<span> </span>"Have a nice day."<span> </span>Ding.<span> </span>"Thank goodness the weekend's almost here,
eh?"<span> </span>Ding.<span> </span>"Have a <i>real</i> nice day."<span>
</span>Ding.<span> </span>"Be excellent to
one another."<span> </span>Ding.<span> </span>"See you tomorrow."<span> </span>Ding. <span> </span>"<i>Love</i> the
sweater."<span> </span>Ding.<span> </span>"Have a <i>damned</i> nice day."<span>
</span>Ding.<span> </span>"Don't work too
hard, okay?"<span> </span>Ding.<span> </span>Ding.<span> </span>Ding.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>The Volkswagon parked outside
might not be smart enough to get home on its own, but I was a real efficient
autopilot.<span> </span>Prop me up in front of
the register and the machine gets going, the numbers begin flashing, and the
drawer starts popping – and then the register revs up.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Briefcase in hand – who
carries those anymore?<span> </span>– was the
stiff and ironed Double Espresso.<span> </span>Handing
him his Tall, I imagined the cup as cardboard outside but a steaming hot jungle
with pounding native drums inside.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Caramel Macchiato was right
behind him.<span> </span>A schoolteacher type,
all mom and graying curls, she sipped her <i>grande</i>
with a look of religious ecstasy on her beginning-to-wrinkle apple face.<span> </span>Watching her moment of caffeinated
bliss, it was easy to see her bouncing off the playroom walls with her
terrible-two students – and then crashing along with them when it was nap time.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Next was Cinnamon Dolce Latte,
but not just a Cinnamon Dolce Latte – heaven forbid she'd only order a plain
and simple Cinnamon Dolce Latte.<span> </span>No,
she had to have it with this much cinnamon, that much Dolce, only the right
kind of espresso, with this measure of steam, a cup from the center of the
stack, a lid from a fresh box, and a wooden stirrer untouched by human hands.<span> </span>The joke goes that that the length of
an order is directly proportional to the amount of assholeness in the orderer.<span> </span>Ms. Cinnamon Dolce Latte was definitely
one, so long was the order, and so great her anus that I doubt she could sit
down for fear of it swallowing the chair.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Hands softly curled together,
head gently bowed, native-sewn skirt, peasant blouse, Tazo Green Tea
Frappuccino Blended Creme with Melon Syrup was ordered with a voice like temple
bells.<span> </span>Even though her order was
long, it was simple and spiritual.<span>
</span>Accepting her drink, she bowed ever-so-slightly before shuffling out the
door.<span> </span>Even though she ordered it
with a chiming voice, the order was still long – and she was still an asshole.<span> </span>Through the front window I saw her
climb behind the wheel of a mountainous SUV, dreamcatcher hanging from the rear
view mirror.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Then there was Just Coffee.<span> </span>God, not Just Coffee.<span> </span>The day is "special" when he
shows up.<span> </span>"Special"
meaning extra crappy.<span> </span>No Breakfast
Blend, no Brazilian Ipanema Bourbon, no Guatemala Antigua, no Gold Coast, no
Yukon – Just Coffee.<span> </span>Not in a <i>tall</i>, not in a <i>grande</i>, not in a <i>venti</i>.<span> </span>Just Coffee, in a medium cup.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Funny, he doesn't look insane.<span> </span>Every blue moon or so someone wanders
in, their eyes bright and clear with innocence, faces a moon glow of childish
delight, and orders a 'coffee' in a 'medium' cup.<span> </span>Innocent, childish, until my Hippie or BGWA Starbucks pal of
the week runs them through the laundry list of flavors, cup sizes, and all the
rest, with our plastic smiles on our plastic faces.<span> </span>But Just Coffee was different.<span> </span>No matter how many times we tried, he just never got it.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>The worst of it was that the
day had ebbed, the commuters were on their way to their various destinations,
and the place was practically empty.<span>
</span>With only an audience of employees, he could (sigh) chat a bit more than
usual.<span> </span>"They're everywhere,
all around us–" he began, the words tumbling out of him loose and broken
up.<span> </span>In clean jeans, new-looking
tennis shoes, bright blue hoodie, cleanly clipped hair, freshly shaved cheeks,
he was a picture of Average Joe, not a loony who refused to order anything but
a Just Coffee in either a tall, grande, or venti cup – and who though that
aliens were everywhere.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>* * * *</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Just Coffee, after he finally
left, signaled the official eye of calm.<span>
</span>The storm of the morning gone, along with the cars in the parking lot – the
next not due until people swung in to grab a booster for the night.<span> </span>There was little to do but clean, play
around with the thermos mugs and CDs, or chill out in the store room while
'checking the inventory.'</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>So for an hour I grabbed some
supplies and scrubbed, dusted, swept, polished, wiped, deodorized, and
sanitized until the cream station, the displays, the floor, the restroom, the
windows, and the espresso machine gleamed, glittered, shined, shone, sparkled,
and reflected.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>For another hour I arranged
the CDs by title, band, lead singer, height of hairstyle (where appropriate),
and eventually by degree of awfulness.<span>
</span>I sorted the thermos cups by height, color, popularity, and my own
'looking like a jerk while using' scale.<span>
</span>I organized the chocolate by color and pomposity.<span> </span>I classified teas by flavor, caffeine
strength, country of origin, and lastly by hipness.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>The last hour, I tried to get
comfy in the storeroom, but gave up when the bags of beans, boxes of cups, and
cartons of lids just wouldn't cooperate in my quest for comfort.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Lunch came and went like the
regulating tick of our time clock.<span>
</span>1PM: exited, proceeded down sidewalk to corner.<span> </span>I had a wide range of choices,
eventually settling for KFC (love their desserts).<span> </span>2PM: returned, entering to see that a rush hadn't rushed in
my absence, that the place was still spotless and still empty.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>So I thought about Just
Coffee, and what Just Coffee had said about aliens.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Seriously.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>* * * *</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>I've traveled ... some.<span> </span>No backpacking through the Andes, no
throat-singing on the steppes, no sailing the Caribbean – just a bit of Mexico,
a touch of Canada, a summer in Paris when I was in college.<span> </span>But the point is I've done it – just
not a lot of it.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>But when I have, I've noticed
something odd about my foreign tourist self that's very different than my USA
residential self.<span> </span>Same guy, inside
and outside, even though the money in my pockets was a bunch of different
colors and the street signs made no sense.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Sure I like to be part of the
crowd, among my own people – whether they know what to do with a throw pillow,
sling Jamaican blend all day, dance the night away, keep on an eye on the
latest fashions, or can tell you what Celine Dion is up to – but take me away,
plop me down where they spit before shaking hands, put cloves of garlic under
their armpits, talk like they're clearing out a ton of phlegm, boil <i>everything</i> they eat (and a lot of things
they don't), or shriek like warbling banshees when they're happy (and even when
they aren't) and I change.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>What happens is I suddenly <i>want</i> to hock a loogie before 'putting it
there,' stick an elephant's head in my pits, gargle my words, put everything in
a stewpot, or trill at the slightest provocation.<span> </span>Anything, you see, to fit in; to not be the tourist sticking
out like a sore ... well, whatever they stick out there.<span> </span>I want to blend.<span> </span>I need to blend.<span> </span>Blending becomes a very good thing to
do.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>So it isn't hard to imagine
what it might be like to travel a bit further than the Rio Grande, Quebec, or
to get a shot in front of the Eiffel Tower.<span> </span><i>Stranger in a Strange
Land</i>, right?<span> </span>Where did I hear
that?<span> </span>Anyway, there you are, away
from home, friends, the usual and comforting anything.<span> </span>So what if you have ... weird hands,
tentacles, bug eyes, slimy organs, weird heads, and all that kind of sci-fi
stuff?<span> </span>Wouldn't you want to be
anything but a tourist with a camera around your eight-foot neck, sandals on
your blue feet, zinc oxide on your elephant nose?</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Of course you would.<span> </span>You wouldn't want to stand out – especially
if you've seen flicks like <i>Independence</i>
<i>Day</i> and <i>Aliens</i>.<span> </span>E.T.<span> </span>might have had a nice visit if he looked
like one of us, right?</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>But cruising the mean streets
of Mexico City, I might have wanted to vanish into the brown-skinned crowd.<span> </span>Meandering the avenues of Toronto, I
definitely would have been happier knowing when to say – or not say – "eh."
Skipping down the boulevards of the City of Lights I absolutely wanted to
understand why Jerry Lewis wasn't known as a complete and total asshole.<span> </span>But wanting to and being able to were
at least a thousand miles apart.<span> </span>Sure,
I could have practiced my Spanish, tried to love syrup, and puzzled out the
genius in <i>The Lady's Man</i>, but I'd
never be able to really blend in.<span> </span>I'd
be the gringo who ordered <i>cerveso</i>
rather than <i>cerveza</i> and got a bowl of
baby shoes instead of a beer; the tourist from down south who cheered for this
guy rather than that guy and got a fist to the face instead of a clap on the
back; the Ugly American who ordered French Fries instead of ... whatever they
call them.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>So what would I do?<span> </span>What would a spaceman do?<span> </span>The same, I bet.<span> </span>He'd look around at what everyone else
was doing, and try to do what they were doing, look the way they looked, smell
the way they smelled, and sound like their voices.<span> </span>He couldn't make up a new person; he'd just copy what
everyone else was.<span> </span>I couldn't do
it well, but I bet someone who could go from Mars to here could.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>So I think Just Coffee might
have been on to something.<span> </span>Nuts,
sure.<span> </span>Freaky, absolutely.<span> </span>But he had something there.<span> </span>They wouldn't want to stand out – so
they'd look like you or me, or that guy over there, or that girl, that old guy,
so forth and so on.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>The late day surge rushed in
and rushed out, forcing my mind back to mochas, espressos, lattes, chais,
macchiatos, americanos, cafe au laits, and frappucinos rather than on the
business woman, the surfer dude, the yuppie, the Gen X'er, the Baby Boomer, the
fossil, or any of the others I took an order from, made cash for, and handed
drinks to.<span> </span>I had no time to think
about what they looked like on the outside, or what might be on the inside.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>On a side note, as someone who
works in the food industry, that's exactly the concern they should have about
the drinks they were walking out with.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>As the rush trickled down to
just a stream of lead-eyed coffee buyers, and night began to turn neon and
fluorescent lights inside the store – and I only had an hour and a half of both
left before I could escape – and out along the mini-mall, I began to look at
the dribs and drabs that stumbled in and buzzed out.<span> </span>Him?<span> </span>Her?<span> </span>Them?<span> </span>I never really thought about UFOs and stuff but ... well,
could that many people be wrong?<span> </span>Even
if they had crooked teeth and no indoor plumbing there was just too many of
them.<span> </span>Sure, scientists were smart,
but did they really know everything?<span>
</span>Who was to say that aliens <i>weren't</i>
out there?</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>At one hour to Getting the
Hell Out, I asked my Hippie co-worker about what had been percolating in my
mind.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"Aliens?" he said,
rearranging pastries in the case, the scorn in his high-pitched, mouse-squeaky
voice coming clearly through the thick glass.<span> </span>"Yeah, right, man."</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"Just think about it for
a second," I tried, carefully outlining my theories, laying out my
well-thought-out logic.<span> </span>Never, of
course, mentioning that Just Coffee was my inspiration.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Out from the case with a
toffee almond bar in his tongs, he looked at it to see if it was too stale to
sell, then at me to see if I was too nuts to engage.<span> </span>The toffee almond bar went in the trash, a too-loud noise in
the empty shop, and to me he said: "Get real, man.<span> </span>Aliens.<span> </span>What a fucking crock."</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>At half an hour to Getting the
Hell Out, I asked the Black Girl with Attitude about what I'd been pondering.<span> </span>She told me I was crazy and to fuck
off.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Then it was time to leave.<span> </span>Hippie drew the short straw, so he had
to close up.<span> </span>The BGWA and I could
get out a bit early.<span> </span>Leaving our
aprons behind, I could tell she was just itching, positively burning, to get
the hell away from me, so I did her a favor and snuck out a bit early so as not
to be anywhere near her.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Time for the drive home, time
to honor the slacker gods with my ass on the couch, a remote in one hand, a
beer in the other.<span> </span>No time for
aliens.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>But "Hey, hey, hey,"
came a familiar voice nearby.<span> </span>Twisting
from the beeline to my car and Getting the Hell Out I looked for who said
it-and looked right into the bright-eyed faced of Just Coffee.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"Eh, hello," I said,
quickly trying to think of a way to escape.<span> </span>Sick mother?<span> </span>Urgent
appointment?<span> </span>Had to beat traffic?<span> </span>Favorite show to catch?<span> </span>Not feeling well?<span> </span>Too many options jammed up my head,
gummed up my mouth.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"Won't keep ya," he
said.<span> </span>"Just wanted to thank
you is all.<span> </span>No one says that
enough, do they?<span> </span>Must be something
really fucking wrong with this world.<span>
</span>Screwed up, it is.<span> </span>Anyway
... just wanted to say it."</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"No – no problem," I
sputtered, at least having the brain cells to jingle my keys.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"It's just it takes a
real nice person, a great guy, to take time with someone like me – a person
they don't even know.<span> </span>Just
deserves thanks, it does.<span> </span>So I'm
saying it."</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"No problem at all."
<i>Now, I really must be</i> <i>going</i> ... was what I was about to say.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"If it wasn't for you ...
well, I bet a lot of folks would think I was stupid, or crazy, or maybe a bit
of both.<span> </span>Right, right,
right?"</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"Never!" I protested.<span> </span><i>Well,
yeah</i>, was what I wanted to say.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"Anyway – don't want to
start running off at the mouth again.<span>
</span>Saw you and just wanted to say 'thanks.' Because of you I'll never make
an idiot of myself again by ordering 'Just Coffee.' Now I know to say 'Coffee
of the day in a tall, grande, or venti cup.'''</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Then he ... well, I couldn't
call him 'Just Coffee' anymore, could I?<span>
</span>... left, turning around and walking off, looking back one last time
with a light and cheery wave of his hand.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Being complimented can be
nice, being complimented can make your day, being complimented can give you a
warm feeling inside.<span> </span>But being
complimented can also be bad, being complimented can ruin your day, being
complimented can give you goose bumps when the compliment is for something you
didn't do, but for what another person did.<span> </span>A person else who sounded like you, looked like you, acted
like you.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Yeah, he was crazy, even
though he didn't look it.<span> </span>Positively
nuts, even though he'd gotten me thinking.<span> </span>For sure bonkers, even though he acted like a normal human
being.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>I got in my car, slid the key
in the ignition, but didn't turn it.<span>
</span>Instead, I adjusted my rear-view mirror, seeing in the reflection the
glare of nighttime traffic, the bright colors of mini-mall signs-and my own
eyes.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>And thought about coffee,
three sizes of cups, and someone else sitting behind the wheel of another car,
key in the ignition, looking at the bright spots of rushing headlights, the
glow of advertising – another pair of blue eyes, very much like mine.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span>mchristianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11887406428164757014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133731140800332850.post-49962374250835309872014-09-18T12:09:00.001-07:002014-09-18T12:09:22.202-07:00 Billierosie LIkes Dirty WordsThis is very, very wonderful: my great friend, Billierosie, <a href="http://frequentlyfelt.blogspot.com/2014/09/dirty-words-brilliant-collection-from.html?zx=499f3d51f475cef6">just posted this touching review </a>of my queer collection, <a href="https://www.blogger.com/"><i><b>Dirty Words</b></i></a>. Thanks so much, sweetie!<br />
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<br />
What is it about M.Christian’s DIRTY WORDS, that has me thinking of
tapestry? In particular the Bayeux Tapestry, in Northern France? DIRTY
WORDS is M.Christian’s collection of erotic, if not pornographic
stories, displaying human sexuality at its most raw and crude. The
Bayeux Tapestry, as I remember it, has nothing to do with sex and
everything to do with Queen Matilda and her refined Ladies in Waiting,
stitching away in chilly castles in Normandy, France, while their men
folk sail off to conquer the unrefined British.<br />
<br />
I think in my muddled way, my brain is drawing comparisons between two
wonderful forms of storytelling. I’ve been privileged to see the Bayeux
Tapestry, three, maybe four times. And each time I’ve wandered around
that museum in France, going from panel to panel, I’ve been struck by
the tiny stories that it carefully tells. The journey across what we now
call the English Channel. The logistics of transportation. The battle
itself and the death of poor King Harold. Even a panel dedicated to
those lonely ladies, stitching away at home. And there’s the little
people. Those who don’t get noticed.<br />
<br />
In DIRTY WORDS, M.Christian weaves us stories, stories that challenge
and inspire. Stories of the little people; the dirty people. The people
we try not to notice. In SPIKE, Christian gives us narcissism at its
most extreme. Identical twin brothers sucking on each other’s cocks. No
way! Shocking. But Christian doesn’t shy away from the truth about the
two Spikes. Their self love is all consuming; dangerous; overwhelmingly
passionate. It’s uncontrolled. The only control here, is finding out who
is in control. Finally, carving out one’s own identity.<br />
<br />
The wonderful HOW COYOTE STOLE THE SUN, gives us a drifter. A life
without purpose. Or is it? The dog will cheat you, turn you over. Seduce
you; rape you, steal your lover. Why? Just because he can. The odds are
against dog. Even the elements are against him. The cruel sun pounds
down on him and still dog wins. He doesn’t even want his prize and
throws it away. But he still leaves with a smile on his face.<br />
<br />
So who’s got the biggest cock? Mammoth or Monster? Ask Pup; he knows.
THE HARLEY tells of biker culture. But not a biker culture like you’ve
ever imagined it. Mammoth and Monster are crude, ugly, without any
endearing features. They ride bikes and they fuck. Mostly Pup. There’s a
competition going on for the Harley. Who gets it? Who deserves it?
Perhaps Pup should decide.<br />
<br />
The brilliant ECHOES is worthy of Edgar Allen Poe, at his most gruesome.
Sex and Death, and all the horrors of beyond the grave. Guilt, and
secrets coming back to haunt us. The sort of story that reminds me of
why I check under the bed, on those dark nights.<br />
<br />
I seem to have drifted a long way from the ladies stitching the Bayeux
Tapestry. It’s about the excellence of great story telling. M.Christian
weaves his exquisite words. The tapestry is another art form entirely.
It tells a big story and lots of little ones. Moments in time. DIRTY
WORDS tells the big story of sexuality. It also tells the little stories
of those small people. Again. Moments in time.<br />
<br />
Dirty Words is at <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=Dirty%20words%20m%20christian">Amazon UK </a>and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=dirty%20words%20m%20christian">Amazon US</a>mchristianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11887406428164757014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133731140800332850.post-68807588753103062552014-08-08T13:02:00.001-07:002014-08-08T13:02:13.541-07:00 Billierosie Likes Finger's BreadthThis is just too touching: check out the always-amazing <a href="http://www.billierosie.blogspot.com/">Billierosie</a>'s <a href="http://frequentlyfelt.blogspot.com/2014/08/fingers-breadth-mchristian.html?zx=d353935c23c8af1f">review of my queer SF/Thriller/Erotic novel</a><i><b>, </b></i><a href="http://amzn.com/1934841463"><i><b>Finger's Breadth</b></i></a> (new edition coming soon from Sizzler Editions):<br />
<br />
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<br />
From
the Prelude onwards, we’re carried along on a roller coaster, with this
fasted paced novel, fresh from the keyboard of M.Christian. <a href="http://amzn.com/1934841463"><i><b>Finger’s Breadth</b></i></a> starts with the cops, as they interview the latest character to
be mutilated after a sleazy night, out on the San Francisco streets.
Typically, the interviewee can tell them nothing; he doesn’t remember,
or doesn’t want to:<br />
<br />
“He cut part of your f*****g finger off,” says the exasperated cop.<br />
“Yeah, but it could have been worse.” is the philosophical response.<br />
<br />
The city is terrified. Someone is haunting the streets of near-future
San Francisco, drugging queer men and amputating the tip of their little
finger. But worse than this is how the terror transforms the men of the
city. For what's worse—a monster, or that something can, all too
easily, turn any of us into something even more horrific?<br />
<br />
One thing you can rely on M.Christian for, is a damn good story. And
“Finger’s Breadth is no exception; I think it’s his best one yet. As
always, I get the feeling that he’s dancing ahead of me; laughing,
teasing. Never taunting; M.Christian is a writer who respects his
reader. He just has fun along with us, weaving his superbly crafted
tale.<br />
<br />
I mean, who’d have thought that you could write a story about Gay men
waking up in the morning, minus part of a finger? It’s surreal; a crazy
notion. “right hand little finger amputated at the first joint…” Yes
it’s a ridiculous idea -- and yet -- it works.<br />
<br />
This is a visual novel, in the tradition of the best Film Noir. Dark,
still and silent. Characters moving into shot, then out of shot. Yet, as
I said earlier, fast paced too, as one character, then another, tells
their part of the story. A jigsaw put painstakingly together and it’s
only on the final pages that the reader sees the complete whole.<br />
<br />
It’s erotic; a comment on desire. A comment on our crazed need to have the ultimate fashion statement.<br />
<br />
This book is totally weird and unsettling. And the reader just accepts
what is going on, with all its weirdness. The reader is complicit. But
more than anything, it’s a great story, a great read. Takes me back to
long ago, when I first discovered what a joy reading could be. It’s as
simple as that; being intrigued, being told a good story.<br />
<br />
Available at <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Fingers-Breadth-M-Christian/dp/1934841463/ref=sr_1_cc_1?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1406919871&sr=1-1-catcorr&keywords=finger%27s+breadth+m+christian">Amazon US </a> and <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/FINGERS-BREADTH-Christian-May-17-2011-Paperback/dp/B00GTWUET0/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1406919977&sr=1-2&keywords=finger%27s+breadth+m.christian">Amazon UK </a> Also available for Kindle.
<br />
<span class="post-author vcard"></span>mchristianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11887406428164757014noreply@blogger.com0