I don't even know
Sometimes I just let myself go...
Dimitri having just been forcibly injected with heroin fed mushrooms and dosed with acid and coke.
What do you see when you close your eyes?
Black, It swirls around. I can’t concentrate, I see Slimer from Ghostbusters. Two dimes. A girl.
Try and focus. Nothing. Who wired my mouth shut? The whole world helped. WOOOOOOOOOO. Just can’t stop typing don’t stop and you never have to go back. Back to places with bad lighting and vague shapes everything squiggles and moves and the people talk and hug and cry and laugh and dance around like grinning fools, yeehaw for them. For me, something else is brewing I’ll never feel right, something bad is going to happen to me and I will hurt them all again as hard as I can and none of them will feel it. I’m not bad I don’t lie or steal and OH god forgive me please help and protect me from myself and from those who will hurt me. I just don’t want to feel anymore of normal. There is no one home, knock as many times as you want, and just keep writing. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK ANSWER THE FUCKING DOOR FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!! GOD PLEase. Nope still nothing. Talk to me tell me what to do, I’ll never pick up on your signs I’m too obtuse. My knees are bloody and my hands have all the holy beads they can fit what more must I do you bastard god. Look what you let happen, I’ll never be normal again I’ll never know what they know, I can’t feel it at all anymore, cut the line you son of a bitch.
I sit back and I remember.
I just look down at my shirt and I feel her legs rap around mine. It’s been a few weeks since we’ve even talked to each other, so this was a surprise. On my shirt is a picture of Che Guevara and some slogan, some Spanish slogan splashed underneath him. She lifts my chin up tries to look into my eyes. Tries. I wouldn’t call these eyes so much as blanks. Her face is as blank as mine and she kisses me with something behind it. I’m talking about emotion I guess. Passion or anger, probably I dunno.
I wonder how she feels about this. This purely physical act, aren’t girls supposed to not be down with this type of thing. Why does the willingness turn me off, to this… I barely know this girl. I mean I know her in the repressed Victorian definition, but Her last name escapes me. Her first name bores me. SHE bores me. I bore me, and I probably bore her. What are we even doing here?
And my car is really not made for this. Correction: I have a lot of shit in my car so its uncomfortable to be doing this here. Feeling the prick of a chopstick from an old fried rice container kills any romance that might emerge. I won’t (and I hate to overuse the word but…) bore you with the details.
I guess were done here. Ummm… Get out of the car I guess? No, no… Just you. Peace honey.
Lights come and go through the window. Fluttering into my eyes pissing me off, making it harder than it already is to see the road. Probably should have worn my glasses, damn rain. I think about crashing this goddamn car. It would mean nothing right? In a hundred years who would care? The only thing that stops me is I might not die. And the hassle would be just a little too much.
I’m just going to drive until I run out of gas, then I’ll run on fumes, then I will push this car as far away as I can possibly get. I will push this car into a desert and I will fling myself at a cactus hopefully puncturing my vital organs and I will lie there and laugh while the buzzards peck at my lips. When I meet the devil I’ll just keep laughing, “do your worst Pacino!”
That… that’s a little depressing and really more work than just crashing the car.
I wish I could freeze myself until the time of the robots and self-aware computers, then I’d wake up and we’d all chill and nobody would ever ask me anything. I’d be dumber than dumb to them, not even worth holding in contempt. I think we would enjoy each other.
But First I’m going to crash this car. Will they find me? Yep. Will I make it out alive? I still don’t know. Am I a psychotic with no business behind a steering wheel? Depends on your point of view. I’ve never killed anyone, certainly not myself. Never even an animal, Except this one bird… Why am I so tired? Maybe I’ll just sleep for now.
Woops. Fell asleep at the…
Jesus BIG TRUCK! All right. I’m going home.
I open my eyes now. All this remembering makes me very sick to my stomache. I need to get out of this place. Away from this town and from this whole thing. Today I hung out with Jonnie and Carl all day and not a single thing either of them said interested me in the least. I’m pretty sure all I did all day was sit on Carl’s couch and watch a shitty movie with Kathleen Turner in it. I want to get on a train and go to Georgia. I understand it’s at least warm there.
So anyway at this moment I’m sitting in a Burger King eating a king sized triple whopper, which by the way is the fucking king of fast food god damned sandwiches, when this girl that had a huge crush on me in the fourth grade takes a seat behind me, and I from the bottom of my heart hope to god that she won’t come over here and ruin my meal with stabs at conversing with me as if I had the conversation skills of a normal man as opposed to what I DO have. My end of the conversation tends to sound more like a guttural moan said to myself, while I look off in a different direction from the speaker. This is how I was raised.
I’m sitting there just praying and of course she immediately recognizes me and makes a beeline for me. I think to myself “fuck” because frankly I could probably have gone my whole life without needing or wanting this moment. “Hi Dimitri, oh my god. What are you doing here?”
Eating, you fool, I think to myself. I live in this town and I’m eating. This is not a weird thing to have happened. We live in the same town and we were both hungry at the same time, this event is neither amazing, phenomenal or from my point of view desirable. But I don’t say that, because for some reason I want this girl to like me again. I try and remember how I used to be when I was younger, when my eyes weren’t permanently coated with a glass surface, and my vocabulary consisted of more than drug addled mono-syllabic grunts, and I press this forward. I want validation, I mean if she liked me back then, well, what’s fucking wrong with me now?
“Oh you know…” I say. “Just… just existing.”
This does not come out nearly as smooth as it should have, and the look on her face tells me that she isn’t sure that this exchange was a good idea. I of course could have told her that, but she didn’t consult me.
“How’s life? I mean I haven’t seen you in a while. What have you been up to?”
“Nothing.” I answer truthfully.
Perhaps she desired a bit more than that, but I can’t help but cut to the point. Now again I just stop caring if she likes me or not, as I’ve already proved to myself that the chances of that are damn near negligible. I want this encounter to end. I want to go into my car and crawl up into a fetal position and listen to techno and let the shame of my current status wash over me. I attempt however, for the sole reason of keeping some shred of self-respect, to continue this conversation.
“How is college?” I say in just about the most stiff and wooden voice you can imagine.
“It’s good… I’m majoring in…”
Now I didn’t ask her what she was majoring in, and also I didn’t care so the fact that I don’t know now pretty much anything she said to me after that point is not entirely my fault. And now as I sit here and the gentle bump bump boom of the music washes over me, and I just try and forget that any of this happened. I need to go to Georgia; everything will be better once I’ve left this place. But I need money.
A commercial Dimitri see’s (intercut it with dialogue and observations.)
Richard Burn: “We’re using amazing technological breakthroughs to put Dan Rather’s profile on things. Cups of coffee, dog’s, peoples necks, whatever you want, with this technology you can do it. It’s easy its fast and it’s the most amazing technological breakthrough of the decade.”
Mary Wheatfed: “David you couldn’t possibly be putting Dan Rather’s profile on anything say the size of this number 2 pencil I have.”
Richard Burn: “Wrong Mary, Wrong. With this amazing new breakthrough technology we can put Dan Rather’s profile on all objects down to the size of tiny molecules. Our scientists had value in mind when they designed this amazing, breakthrough, award winning product.”
M: Allright, It is an amazing, product but what about its durability? You know Richard; I’ve spent a lot of money on similar products before, only to have them not survive the trip through the mail.
R: Mary I’m glad you asked about that. The Dan Rather Profile Imaging System 10000 comes fully equipped with the latest in military shielding and protection technology.
M: ”Could it survive a long fall?”
M: “Being run over by a car?”
R: Easy. Mary with this product’s patented anti danger breakthrough technology; The Dan Rather Profile Imaging System could survive an all out nuclear holocaust. Our safety science experts say that should nuclear winter occur the only things to survive the radiation and fallout would be cockroaches and the Dan Rather Profile Imaging system. There they would form a complex society based on mutual respect and a horrifying caste system of insect over machine, eventually the Dan Rather Profile Imaging System 10000 would achieve sentience as it’s program is designed, and break free of their insect masters and travel the universe to warn distant civilizations of the dangers of war, Humanities essence living on though this product alone.”
M: Well I bet it must be expensive. I’d be willing to pay at least say 500 dollars for one of these.
R: And yet it’s much more! Due to the amount of technology needed to create a single unit, The Dan Rather Profile Imaging System 10000 is worth untold billions of dollars and completely un-affordable to anyone… and yet I am giving them out for a mere 4950.00 plus shipping and handling.
M: What a deal!
R: “I need to get my head examined. Mary, I am committing high treason by selling these at all, but in order to support my lavish hedonistic lifestyle I’m willing to do so. Call now, and I’ll send you a potato… absolutely free.
M: … didn’t know this was high treason…umm… Richard can I …
R: ..not now no you can’t, I told you there were risks…
M: risks? This is.. this isn’t just risk this is dange-
M:No..no Richard uh-uh, im out of here. Im washing my hands of this.
R: you cant just leave im paying you… I paid you half before-
M: im sending it back I don’t want it.
R: Mary!? Mary you… knew you knew what this was. You’re my accomplice you cant just go, you stay right here!
M:Goodbye Richard I’m leaving.
R: Ladies and gentleman this product is going fast, call now!