Illinoir

As Mitch and Matt lay in the darkness in Louis’ living room on the lumpy sleeper sofa, Mitch tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable. Matt had passed out the moment his head touched the pillow but Mitch was having trouble getting to sleep. Eventually his movement roused Matt.
“What’s wrong, Mitch?” Matt asked sleepily.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Mitch replied.
“No, I can tell there’s something bothering you.”
“Really, don’t worry about it.”
“Mitch, c’mon. This is Matt here. You can tell me anything.”
“Oh, alright,” Mitch relented. “I’m worried I didn’t lock the front door of my house when we left.”
“That’s it?” Matt laughed. “That’s what’s bothering you?”
“It’s a very valid worry,” Mitch said. “Don’t laugh at me.”
“But Mitch, we all watched you lock your front door. You had each of us sign an affidavit attesting to the fact that we had witnessed the locking of the door and had tested the security of the door and that, to the best of our knowledge, the door was locked.”
“I know, it’s just –”
“And then you had pictures taken of you locking the door. And you had a large banner made up stating that the door was indeed locked and you made smaller, keychain-sized versions made as well and gave one to each of us.”
“I know, Matt but –”
“And then you recorded yourself saying, ‘I locked the door. I locked the door,’ over and over again, hundreds of times and you’ve been playing that tape on your Walkman the whole time we’ve been gone.”
“I know, I know, Matt. And still I think about it all the time. Locking the door is such an automatic, brainless act and I forced it into the realm of the conscious. In fact, by calling so much attention to it, I forced it into the super-conscious. And now I’m doubting that it ever happened.”
“What?” Matt asked, confused.
“Yeah, I don’t know if it ever happened of if my brain’s just fooling me into thinking that it happened.”
“I was there, Mitch,” Matt said. “Trust me, it happened. And it was pretty sad, too.”
“How do I know you’re not making that up?”
“Why would I do that? Cripes, Mitch. You’re off your rocker. Good night.”
“No, seriously Matt. How do I know you’re not just making this whole story up? And that my memory of locking the door has been placed in my head through the power of suggestion? That is to say that simply by hearing your repeated telling of the story of the locking of my door, it has actually become a memory of my own.”
“What about the banner? The photos? The cassette?”
“Props? Fakes? Figments? What is memory, anyway? What’s your earliest memory, Matt?” Mitch asked.
Matt thought about it for a moment and then replied, “Throwing up on my mom at a black-tie dinner at the United Nations when I was two years old.”
“Are you sure?”
“Sure, I remember it like it was yesterday.”
“Isn’t that the sort of story your mom might tell over and over again?” Mitch asked.
Matt snorted, “C’mon, Mitch. You’ve met my mom. Does she seem like the type of woman who’d tell an amusing anecdote about being puked on in front of Boutros-Boutros Gali?”
“Now that you mention it, no, she doesn’t. But it is the sort of story that you’d tell. Especially every time someone says the U.S. should pay its late fees for its U.N. membership. You love telling that story.”
“What’s your point?”
“Well, you’ve told the story so much, and you’ve hear me tell it a few times, and I’m sure you’ve got other friends you’ve heard tell it.”
“Sure. And?”
“Well, how do you know it’s a real memory and not just a story? Is there actual recollection of an event or are you just remembering a retelling?”
“Wow, Mitch. I think I’m starting to see your point. You don’t know if you remember locking your door or if you remember a story in which you locked your door.”
“Exactly,” replied Mitch. “And therefore, I’m having trouble sleeping.”
“Well now I am too,” said Matt.
“How come?” asked Mitch.
“Because I’m worried that I didn’t plug the drain in the houseboat and the whole thing’s going to be underwater when we get back.”
“That would suck.”
“Tell me about it,” Matt replied sadly.
“Wanna play flashlight tag?” Mitch asked.
“Would I ever!” Matt exclaimed.
“Keep it down out there!” Louis shouted from his bedroom. “I gotta work in the morning!”
“Sorry, Louis!” Matt and Mitch said together.
Even though they were forced to muffle their cries of glee and delight, it was the best game of flashlight tag either man had ever played.

….as I’ve gone from having a mid-30’s woman constantly horndogging on a 15-year-old to getting him drunk. which one’s worse?

who wants to see Hobie shoot up? shoot someone? run for office?

791 of them used to describe the entry and seating of the group at a restaurant for a meal that has no bearing (as far as i know) on the outcome (which is still unknown) of the story.

and they’ve only just gotten to their table.

and the C.J. sex stuff might be getting to be too much. this second part is definitely her chapter, for sure, god bless the little putain.

Actually made Fudgie Scotch Squares today — an old family recipe (thanks, Mom!) — and though 9:30 AM is not the best time to be sampling sweets and they don’t look quite the way Mom made ’em look (i.e. nice, appetizing and delicious) they’re quite tasty. Yippie. Come on over and try one….

Last night and this morning, a sheer stroke of genius:

After dropping off their bags at Louis’ apartment, Mitch and Matt hit the streets, looking for leads on Max’s whereabouts. They visited several of Mitch’s old friends, none of whom knew anything useful. Disheartened and discouraged, they returned to Louis’ place.
“Mitch, you really ought to get a cell phone. There were about a million calls for you,” Louis said as Matt and Mitch walked through the front door.
“A million? Really?”
“Well, only three. But that’s more than my phone’s rung all month!”
“Who called, Louis?”
“Well, the Illinois State Police called.”
“What did they want? Do they have Max?” Mitch asked excitedly.
“Actually, they called to thank you for your generous donation last year.”
“I didn’t give to the Illinois State Police last year. Or ever. Why would I give money to them? I’m from California.”
“That’s what I said,” replied Louis, “but the guy insisted that you gave them money last year.”
“How much?” Mitch asked.
“How much what?”
“How much did I give them last year?”
“I asked and he said he didn’t have access to that information but that it said it was very generous.”
“It actually said that?”
“That’s what I said. I said, ‘You mean to tell me that you have a sheet of paper in front of you with a name, a phone number and the words “very generous donation” on it and nothing else?’” Louis said.
“What did he say?”
“He said that’s exactly what he had.”
“Sounds like a lie to me,” Mitch said.
“That’s what I said,” Louis replied.
“And what did he say to that?”
“He said I’d better watch myself on the state highways from now on.”
“Who else called?” Matt asked, exasperated by this exchange.
“A woman named Skinny. Or was it Sunny? Or maybe Sticky?”
“Was it Lisa?” Mitch asked.
“Yeah, that’s it!” Louis exclaimed. “Lisa Davenport. She called because she heard you were in town and wanted to have dinner with you but I reckon that’s not all she wanted to have with you, you know what I mean, she had a little, you know, edge in her voice that told me she had something more on her mind.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean it sounded like she wanted to do some really freaky bondage type stuff with you, Mitch. Some crazy stuff.”
“You got all that from talking to her for five minutes?” Mitch asked.
“Naw, I told her I was you.”
“You did what?”
“Yeah… Uhh, Mitch, we had phone sex,” Louis admitted.
“Louis, you promised you would stop doing that with my girlfriends,” Mitch said angrily.
“Sorry, cousin. She just sounded so hot…and I was so lonely.”
“Jesus, Louis, you need to get out more often,” Mitch said.
“Sounds like he doesn’t get out at all,” said Matt, under his breath.
“What was the third call?” Mitch asked.
“The third caller was a man named Jasper Mc Sweeney. He had some information he thought you might find very interesting,” Louis said.
“Really?” asked Mitch excitedly. “Does he know where Max is?”
“He sure does!” exclaimed Louis. “He knows the best place where you can get Max…imum return on your investment of only $19.95! That low, low price gets you in the door with Millennium Marketing. And remember, this is not a pyramid scheme, and is completely, 100% legal.”
“Oh Lord, Louis,” said Mitch, shaking his head sadly. “So what you’re saying is that nobody important called?”
“Sorry, Mitch. I just wanted to help out so badly.”
“It’s alright, Louis. I know you meant well.”
Matt looked at his watch. “We’ve got to get ready if we’re going to meet C.J. and Hobie for dinner.”
“You’re right,” said Mitch. “Man, I hope they’re having better luck than we are.”

what a nice night of sleep i got last night, despite being in a new place. usually my first nights in new bedrooms are tough, but i was so exhausted…. and my new quilt and blanket are so comfortable. it was delightful.

now, back to more important things:

i’ve decided this baywatch novel is a deep and intricate allegory for things. pretty amazing, yeah?

found the baywatch soundtrack cd and my baywatch novels amidst all the boxes. should have never packed them. coming in very handy writing this morning.

xbox returns to me today. oh, how i’ve missed you my sweet little xbox. you better be working damn well…. grr..

i forgot to mention i’ve passed the wacky 30,000 word mark. i’m actually 60% of the way there… and only 63% of the way through the time. whippie!

My furniture arrived today. My apartment went from really really empty to really really full in about an hour. How exciting! It’s starting to shape up, slowly but surely. I don’t have nearly as much storage space as I used to and so I just don’t know what I’m gonna do with a lot of my stuff, but Chia-Jung’s got one hell of a basement and has offered me some space (at a low, low rate even.)

Amazing things seen today:

Thousands of birds, flying across Route 1. I stopped (in a parking lot) and watched them for a while. Wave after wave kept coming. And even as I watched, I knew my ability to describe the scene was just not adequate. Ah well. I saw it and you didn’t. Hah!

At the comic book store: a mid-30’s guy in a beige trenchcoat examining two or three copies of each “new this week” title. he would take a couple off the shelf and run his fingers down the spine, examining them for imperfections. at first, i thought he was just really really particular about the condition of his new books, but then i noticed that he wasn’t taking any books to purchase. just examining and then replacing. he even examined several copies of the new donald duck comic book. flabbergasting! was going to ask the store owner, but he seemed to be typical comic book store owner guy and not very talkative. it reminded me of the scene in Clerks where the guy is examining all the eggs, looking for the perfect dozen. very very creepy. never encountered anything like it before in all my years of comic shop visitation. I should email the comix revolution guy about it. In fact, I will! Ha ha!

The heroes of my novel are taking a trip to Chicago. Was gonna be Paris but then I realized I know nothing about that city, and so….

Going to head past 28,000 words tonight. Nifty doodle doo. The climactic sequence of part 1 is nearly wrapped up. This has necessitated part 2, of course. And so, the epic adventure must continue on….

No stuff tonight though. Son of a bitch! Driver of the truck called me around 2:30 from 500 miles away saying maybe they’d get here before 9. Hmmm. Let’s see — 500 miles in 6.5 hours? They’d have to average 77 miles an hour. That’s heavy duty speeding up the east coast…. I don’t think so.

Sooo….we’ll see tomorrow. Very angry! Very very angry!

But, I’m dealing. It’s okay. Seriously.

Matt dove faster, heading straight for Mitch and the squid. He again used the same technique he’d learned through trial and error in his previous encounters with the creatures. He began hitting it in its eyes and soon, it loosened its grip on his friend. Mitch’s unconscious body floated down to the ocean floor and the squid turned its attention towards Matt.
Again, Matt was able to disable, distract or confuse the creature without permanently, or even seriously harming it. Unfortunately, the bastards over at PETA have successfully petitioned to keep a detailed description of that scene from this account. This is exactly the kind of liberal, left-winged hypocrisy that is destroying our country from within. Censorship of this nature, for the sole purpose of protecting the “rights” of a few squid who serve absolutely no purpose and make no positive contributions to our society at large is anathema to what our country stands for. Our forefathers did not fight and die to create a nation whose people were unable to read an in-depth description of a tanned, buff, young lifeguard beating the crap out of a giant squid. I apologize and urge you to take the opportunity to write an angry letter to the people at PETA, and to your representatives in Congress in hope that we might reverse this situation. Until then, you’re going to have to use your imaginations. Thank you.

as of this writing, we’ve reached the halfway mark. woo hoo.