10kocybv's Journal
[Most Recent Entries]
[Calendar View]
[Friends View]
Friday, December 31st, 2010
| Time |
Event |
| 2:23a |
@@@@@
"I don't know if that's such a good
@@@@@
"I don't know if that's such a good idea-"
"You yourself said once they're done, any effect
on the subject's probably over-"
"Yeah, probably
"Probably's good enough for me, and the Scoto's
safer than this houseEdgar, this deserves to be
seenHell, it needs to be seen
"Is it you, Wireman?" I was honestly curious He stood looking at it a moment longer
Then he turned to me"It's how I wanted to be
Maybe it's how I was, on the few best days of my
best year He added, almost reluctantly: "My most
idealistic year
For a little while we said nothing, only looked at
the portrait while Elizabeth puffed like a choochoo
trainAn old choo-choo train
Then Wireman said: "There are many things I wonder
about, EdgarSince coming to Duma Key, I have
more questions than a four-year-old at bedtime
But one thing I don't wonder about is why you want
to stay hereIf I could do something like this,
I'd want to stay here forever
"Last year at this time I was doodling on phone
pads while I was on hold," I saidTell me something, muchachoand thinking of all the other ones
you've done since you startedwould you change
the accident that took your arm? Would you change
it, even if you could?"
I thought of painting in Little Pink while The
Bone pumped out hardcore rock and roll in thick
chunksI thought of the Great Beach WalksI even
539
thought of the older Baumgarten kid yelling Yo, Mr
Freemantle, nice chuck! when I spun the Frisbee
back to himThen I thought of waking up in that
hospital bed, how dreadfully hot I had been, how
scattered my thoughts had been, how sometimes I
couldn't even remember my own nameThe
dawning realization (it came during The Jerry
Springer Show), that part of my body was AW | | 2:39a |
@@@@@
But it's not a shrine I looked into the
@@@@@
But it's not a shrine I looked into the room
opposite the formal parlorIt might once have
been a studyAn old rolltop desk sat in a puddle
of stinking waterThere were bookshelves, but
they stood empty
"So where do we look for these drawings?" Jack
asked
"I have no idea," I said A
chunk of plaster lay in the doorway, and I kicked
itI wanted to send it flying, but it was too old
and wet; it only disintegrated"I don't think
there are any more drawingsNot now that I see
the place
I glanced around again, smelling the wet reek
971
"You could be right, but I don't trust you,"
Wireman said"Because, muchacho, you're in
mourningAnd that makes a man tiredYou're
listening to the voice of experience
Jack went into the study, squishing across damp
boards to get to the old rolltopA drop of water
plinked down on the visor of his cap, and he
looked up"Ceiling's caving in," he said"There
was probably at least one bathroom overhead, maybe
two, and maybe a roof cistern to catch rainwater,
back in the dayI can see a hanging pipeOne of
these years it's gonna come all the way down, and
this desk will go bye-bye
"Just make sure you don't go bye-bye, Jack,"
Wireman said
"It's the floor I'm worried about right now," he
said
"Come back, then," I sa |
|