To Amy for dealing with my late nights and coffee binges as well as for putting up with my anxiety and impatience while she edited this work.

To LJ for pushing me to find my emotional side buried deep beneath the layers of my critical, thought-driven, academic self, but also for dealing with my intensity and my ambitious due dates.

To Ryan for keeping me grounded, and to Doug for allowing Amy and me to stay in L.A. with him for such a short time. ,¶YHPLVVHG\RXJX\V

Finally, to the music for inspiring me through this long run.

ii

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This thesis, as well as any creative work I have done, would not have been possible if it were not for Professor Laura Jean Baker. Her careful insights and honest criticism allowed me to search for the story I truly desired to write. She accepted my philosophical side, but she guided me to find the creativity in it. She read drafts promptly and questioned everything, which has ultimately made this thesis better.

I would like to also acknowledge Dr. Paul Klemp for his guidance since I started my career in English Studies. His final English 281 assignment, which forced me to reflect on what kind of writer and critic I was and would be, pushed me to always scrutinize everything and strive to be the best. I am eternally grateful for

3DXO¶VWZLVWHGKXPRUDQGZDUPKHDUWEHFDXVHKHLQVSLUHGPHWRJRWRJUDGXDWHVFKRRO to complete this thesis, and to one day, hopefully, become an instructor as diabolical and successful as him.

Lastly, I would like to thank every professor who had me as a student. I could never have written this thesis, much less finished school, without you. You all have encouraged me to excel HYHQLI,ZDVQ¶WDWWKHWLPH

iii

TABLE OF CONTENTS

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INTRODUCTION: WRITER ON THE STORM««««««««««««...... 1

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WORKS CON68/7('««««««««««««««««««««««« 166

iv

1

INTRODUCTION: WRITER ON THE STORM

When I set out to write Writer on the Storm,VWXPEOHGRQ3ODWR¶VFRQFHSWRI artistic imitation, which he outlines in Republ i c+HVWDWHV³$QGVRLIWKHWUDJLFSRHWLV an imitator, he too is thrice removed from the king and from the truth; and so are all

RWKHULPLWDWRUV´  I experimented with many different styles and voices, and I

RULJLQDOO\ZDVIDVFLQDWHGZLWK&KXFN3DODKQLXN¶VFight Club and transgressive fiction; however, I quickly learned that I did not possess the desire needed to write the violent, sexual, and nihilistic content required of a transgressive fiction piece. Therefore, I sought something else, and that is when I came upon dirty realism. I wanted Wr i ter on the Storm to depict real struggles in our real world, and I found the styles of Charles

Bukowski, Hunter S. Thompson, and Ernest Hemingway inspiring. However, I tried to

PROGP\SURWDJRQLVW-DNH)LVKLQWR%XNRZVNL¶V+HQU\&KLQDVNLRU7KRPSVRQ¶V

Raoul Duke from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Finally, I returned to Francine

3URVH¶VJXLGDQFHZKLFKVWDWHV:

In the ongoing process of becoming a writer, I read and reread the authors I

most loved. I read for pleasure, first, but also more analytically, conscious of

style, of diction, of how sentences were formed and information was being

conveyed, how the writer was structuring plot, creating characters, employing

detail and dialogue. And as I wrote, I discovered that writing, like reading, was

done one word at a time, one punctuation mark at a time. It required what a

IULHQGFDOOV³SXWWLQJHYHU\ZRUGRQWULDOIRULWVOLQH´FKDQJLQJDQDGMHFWLYH

2

cutting a phrase, removing a comma, and putting the comma back in. (3)

3URVH¶VDGYLFHLQVWUXFWVZULWHUs to read other works and to understand the structures that other authors use; however, by focusing too much on structure and style, I began imitating without end to ensure Writer on the Storm was a dirty realist story and thus I realized that I imitated their style as well as their themes. I had not even found my own story yet, but the texts already confined me.

The pitfalls of imitation were not my only obstacle when starting to write; I grappled with my transgressive fiction and dirty realism for a long time²I have worked on and evolved the character of Jake Fish for two and a half years²before deciding what Writer on the Storm was to be. The fiction I read for entertainment often times does not coincide with the academic definition of literary. John Gardner, in The Art of FictionH[SODLQVWKDW³it is common to find teachers indifferent to the kinds of poetry and fiction that go most directly for those values we associate with

VLPSOHHQWHUWDLQPHQW«WKHFDXVHLVWKHVHQVLWLYHUHDGHU¶VWRRIUHTXHQWH[SHULHQFHZLWK disappointmenW´   I found myself indeed disappointed because I wanted my story to resonate with others, to linger with readers and teach them of our society without shocking or disgusting them. A few of my earlier stories from creative writing courses had done this because I have always enjoyed controversial material that rejects the status-quo on all levels. Therefore, I chose to write Writer on the Storm within dirty realism because it maintains the edge I have wanted while also tempering itself, which allows other readers to bond with it.

By finding my reasoning for writing and becoming aware of my imitation, I

3 was able to settle on a topic I have researched extensively: Marxist attitudes within society. I did not immediately go to Karl Marx and Friedrich EQJHO¶VThe Communist

Manifesto RU0DU[¶VCapital for inspiration. Instead, I searched through many books on writing craft to somehow enhance my topic into a creative entity instead of the metaphysical, ideological views I hold. Finally, I came across a page from Margaret

$WZRRG¶VNegotiating with the Dead: A Writer on Writing, which states:

Now I would like to explore a different dichotomy ± between art and

PRQH\«7KLVLVZKHUHWKHZULWHUILQGVKHUVHOIVTXHH]HGEHWZHHQWKHURFNRI

artistry and the hard place of having to pay rent. Should a writer write for

money? And if not for money, then for what? What intentions are valid, what

motivations pass muster? Where to draw the line between artistic integrity and

QHWZRUWK"7RZKDWRUWRZKRPVKRXOGWKHZULWHU¶VHIIRUWs be dedicated? (62-

63)

Because of Atwood, I questioned the motivations of writers in relation to money and chose that relationship as Writer on the Storm¶VPDLQWKHPH7KHQRWLRQWKDW$WZRRG has to mention money in a book on writing craft disturbed me. From that thought, I knew I wanted to explore and satirize the American DreDP0RQH\LVKXPDQLW\¶V essence and the definition of the American Dream, and that dream has consequently

FKDQJHGWKHGHILQLWLRQRIVXEVLVWHQFHOLYLQJ,QVWHDGRIVXUYLYLQJWKURXJKRQH¶VODERU the American Dream has cornered us and created material being dependent upon money to live lives that capitalism glamorizes, or as Marx explains:

We have seen the development of the capitalist mode of production and of the

4

productive power of labor²at once the cause and effect of accumulation²

enables the capitalist, with the same outlay for variable capital, to set in action

more labour by greater exploitation (extensive or intensive) of each individual

labour power. We have further seen that the capitalist buys with the same

capital a greater mass of labour power, as he progressively replaces skilled

labourers by less skilled, mature labour power by immature, male by female,

that of adults by that of young persons or children. (Capital 314-15).

Aside from the outdated rhetoric as the end of this passage, Marx explains the emotions I saw when reading the Atwood passage. Writing transitioned from the artistic realm to a financial institution. Capitalism thus began inserting ideas into

ZULWHU¶VPLQGVDQGWKRVHDXWKRUVEHFDPHFRPPRGLWLHVThis is what I hoped to depict with Writer on the Storm. Atwood reflects my sentiment, stating:

$OUHDG\\RXPD\EHWKLQNLQJLW¶VSHUKDSVDOLWWOHYXOJDURIPHWRKDYHEURXJKW

this up²WKLVPRQH\EXVLQHVV,¶PWKLQNLQJLWP\VHOIVLQFHIRUP\

generation²penny-pinchers though we were²talking about money was right

down there with talking about your dirty laundry. But times have changed, and

dirty laundry is now a salable commodity or else an installation in a cutting-

edge gallery, so although you may be thinking this is vulgar, you may also be

WKLQNLQJLW¶VGLUHFWDQGKRQHVW²indeed, almost respectable²IRULVQ¶WPRQH\

now the measure of all things? (63)

Therefore, ,ZURWHDQRYHOODGHSLFWLQJWKLV³GLUW\ODXQGU\´FRQFHSWEHFDXVHLWFDSWXUHV the metaphysical properties of capitalist-style subsistence, and it shows how

5 destructive money and labor can be on a writer as Jake Fish struggles with whether he is an individual or a commodity.

Moreover, I decided my novella would revolve around the American Dream because I, like many others, strive to become wealthy enough to live happily; therefore, the underlying themes of Writer on the Storm UHIOHFWWKHZULWHU¶VVWUXJJOH with surviving as a person and a creator. Economics controls life; I felt it was pertinent to set my story in Los Angeles because it symbolizes the American Dream for many people. Above all the ontological themes, Writer on the Storm has love, loss, depression, and a plethora of emotions and feelings I have pulled from reality.

Bukowski was happiest drinking boilermakers and observing the world around him while Henry Miller loved to lie around ranting and contemplating the state of the world. They had much to say and I felt I could add to the discourse.

Once I chose to satirize the American Dream, I needed to find the connection between the American Dream and dirty realism. I examined various dirty realist texts for patterns of satirical style to augment my attempt at satire but eschewing imitation.

,JUDYLWDWHGWRZDUG3DODKQLXN¶VFight Club+HPLQJZD\¶VTorrents of Spring0LOOHU¶V

Tropic of Cancer, and BukRZVNL¶VFactotum and his short stories. I needed to primarily find the metaphysical properties of the less wealthy or the Marxist

SUROHWDULDWWKHUHIRUH,FRQVXOWHG)UHGULF-DPHVRQ¶VPolitical Unconscious to understand textual individualism. Jameson asserts:

[B]y definition the cultural monuments and masterworks that have survived

then necessarily to perpetuate only a single voice in this class dialogue, the

6

voice of the hegemonic class, they cannot be properly assigned their relational

place in a dialogical system without the restoration or artificial reconstruction

of the voice to which they were initially opposed, a voice for the most part

stifled and reduced to silence, marginalized, its own utterances scattered to the

winds, or reappropriated in their turn by the turn by the hegemonic culture. (85)

-DPHVRQ¶VH[SODQDWLRQHPSKDVL]HVthe need for an individual text, which causes a

³SROHPLFDQGVWUDWHJLFLGHRORJLFDOFRQIURQWDWLRQEHWZHHQWKHFODVVHV´ 85). This applies to dirty realism because the characters are from the oppressed class and they search for their dialogical position. The use of satire is the proletarian voice builds a textual individualism because it deconstructs the oppressive hegemonic text to show the real world instead of the idealized version. -DPHVRQFRQFOXGHV³>2@QO\DQXOWLPDWH rewriting of these utterances [nonhegemonic cultural voices] in terms of their essentially polemic and subversive strategies restores them to their proper place in the

GLDORJLFDOV\VWHPRIVRFLDOFODVV´  7KHUHIRUHJake Fish is not a revolutionary leader, but his oppression forms powerful motivation for his individual desire to control his writing as well as its distribution.

'LUW\UHDOLVPLOOXVWUDWHVWKHVLOHQFHGYRLFHRIWKHRSSUHVVHGDQG3DODKQLXN¶V

Fight Club brings that voice to the surface. Literary consciousness allows readers to

KHDUWKHRWKHUYRLFH,WLVDV5RODQG%DUWKHVVWDWHV³WKHUHDder of the text at the

PRPHQWKHWDNHVKLVSOHDVXUH´ TWGLQ'RER]\ KRZHYHU%LOO%XIRUGWUDQVIHUVWKH

LQFHSWLRQSURFHVVXSRQWKHWH[W¶VDXWKRU%XIRUG¶VGLUW\UHDOLVPDOWHUV%DUWKHV¶s literary consciousness, and it distorts authorial intention as a self-conscious,

7

K\SRFULWLFDOIRUFHZKHUHLQWKHDXWKRUEHFRPHVVRPHRQH³ZKRDEROLVKHVZLWKLQKLPVHOI the barriers, all classes, all exclusions, not by syncretism but by simple discard of that

ROGVSHFWUHORJLFDOFRQWUDGLFWLRQ´ TWGLQ'RER]\ 'irty realist authors, as Tama

Dobozy argues, are conscious of the hypocrisy and inconsistences they create and use

WKHPDVD³VXEYHUVLYHSUDFWLFH´WRFRQWHQGZLWKKHJHPRQ\  This subversion thus explains the nihilist attitudes portrayed in Fight Club. In the novel, the narrator feels trapped inside a commercialist lifestyle and his only means of subversion are by attending self-help groups²he does not share the afflictions from which the other group member suffer²to feel some semblance of human emotion; however, we are

OHIWXQFRQYLQFHGZKHQKHH[SODLQVKLVDSDUWPHQW¶VIXUQLVKLQJV

You buy furniture. You tell yourself, this is the last sofa I will ever need in my

life. Buy the sofa, then for a coXSOH\HDUV\RX¶UHVDWLVILHGWKDWQRPDWWHUZKDW

JRHVZURQJDWOHDVW\RX¶YHJRW\RXUVRIDLVVXHKDQGOHG7KHQWKHULJKWVHWRI

dishes. Then the perfect bed. The drapes. The rug. (Palahniuk 44)

The narrator exhibits 'R]RE\¶VK\SRcrisy because he desires human connection but also wishes to maintain his materialistic lifestyle. In a way, Jake Fish also represents these qualities because he wants to write and be successful, but he cannot write and have quality human contact; therefore, he feels diminished as a human because hegemony forces him to decide between the two instead of allowing him access to both.

Fight Club became a source of inspiration but not imitation as I continued working out my story because I found the relationship of the narrator and Tyler

8

Durden, his alter ego, a fascinating look at surface details versus subtextual themes.

Durden forces the narrator to abandon his materialist ways and together they form a sadomasochistic, underground fight club. Palahniuk uses the counter-FXOWXUH¶s popular stance of capitalist-oppression through the narrator and Durden as reflection of self-

GHVWUXFWLRQ-HVVH.DYDGORVXJJHVWVWKDW³3DODKQLXN¶VQDUUDWRUVUHEHODJDLQVWZKDWWKH books position as the emasculating conformity of contemporary America (IKEA takes

DELJJHUEHDWLQJWKDQILJKWFOXE¶VPHPEHUV EXWUHDOO\ZKDWWKHQDUUDWRUKDVEHHQ

ILJKWLQJOLWHUDOO\DQGILJXUDWLYHO\LVKLPVHOI´   Writer on the Storm builds from

WKHVHTXDOLWLHVKRZHYHU,GLGQRWZDQW-DNH¶VVHOI-depredation to be as literal as Fight

Club¶V7RUHPDLQFRJQL]DQWRIWKHK\SRFULV\QHHGHGWRFDSWXUHWKHFRPPRQHPRWLRQV

RIUHEHOOLRQDQGGLVVDWLVIDFWLRQ,DQDO\]HG3DODKQLXN¶VXVHVRIGLUW\UHDOLVWWUDLWVDSDUW from his transgressive ones. Palahniuk uses counter-cultural emotions to depict the futility of living with dissatisfaction and angst. As Jeffery A. Sartain explains, when the narrator and Tyler Durden, two ideologically polarized characters, combat each

RWKHUQRRQHZLQV³WKHHSLVWHPRORJLFDOWXJRIZDULQGHHGLWis the war of beliefs between the two characters that is the foundation for all the tension in the

QRYHO«7\OHU¶VUKHWRULFDQGLGHRORJ\DOPRVWFRPSOHWHO\VXEYHUW-RH¶V>WKHQDUUDWRU¶V@

GRPLQDQWQDUUDWLYHYRLFH´  7KLVVXJJHVWVWKDW7\OHU¶VVXEYHUVLRQKinders the counter-FXOWXUH¶VDUJXPHQWDJDLQVWWKHKHJHPRQLFFXOWXUHEHFDXVHZKHQWKHFRXQWHU-

FXOWXUH¶VYRLFHEHFRPHVRYHUSRZHULQJWKH\EHFRPHWKHRSSUHVVRUVLQDVRFLHW\GHYRLG of anything constructive.

(YHQZLWK-DNH)LVK¶VHPERGLPHQWRIFight Club¶VXVHRIK\SRFULV\,GLGQRW

9 want Jake to become the clear ideological symbol that the narrator or Durden are; therefore, Jake had to remain complex and human. Jake could not fall into the proletarian structure because it would strip him of his individuality, which is important to remaining humanly realistic. Furthermore, I decided that Jake needed to function within hypocrisy, otherwise he would be one of two binaries. He would be either a capitalist commodity or a Marxian revolutionary; however, neither binary fit my goal for humanism.

Moreover, Fight Club¶VQDUUDWRUDQG7\OHU'XUGHQ¶VFRQIOLFWLQJLGHRORJLHV make a broader statement about society. Because society has become a melting pot of

LGHRORJLHVXQGHUFDSLWDOLVP¶VVKURXGWKHUHLVDGLVUXSWLon of the discourse between the hegemonic class and the oppressed; however, when the oppressed voice becomes too loud and its argument becomes more oppressing and unproductive, we see a shift in power. This dichotomy between Tyler Durden and the narrator represents the

EUHDNDJHDQGGLVUXSWLRQLQGLVFRXUVH7KHQDUUDWRUVWDWHV³0\ZLVKULJKWQRZLVIRU

PHWRGLH,DPQRWKLQJLQWKHZRUOGFRPSDUHGWR7\OHU´ 3DODKQLXN +HLV unaware of his split personality and the ideological battle occurring in his mind. The

QDUUDWRU¶VRULJLQDODFFHSWDQFHof Tyler shows his unhappiness with material capitalism and the American Dream. His jealousy and defeated disposition exemplify his struggle

WRFRPSUHKHQG7\OHU¶VYLHZVHYHQWKRXJKWhey are subconsciously his. Therefore, at the end of the novel when the narrator finally kills Tyler, both sets of personalities

UHPDLQLQRQHERG\ZKLFKIRUPVWKHQDUUDWRUDVDFKDUDFWHU³containing the full potential and knowledge of two mutually exclusive, competing identities and

10

LGHRORJLHV´ 6DUWDLQ  Palahniuk uses dirty realist techniques to create the depraved situations in Fight Club, but the highly ideological, binary, and violent conclusion represent the transgressive parts; however, he successfully creates a dialogic understanding between ideological classes, which allows the two ideologies to discuss and compromise before they destroy everything through oppression and opposition.

Palahniuk is one example of the dirty realist method of hypocrisy, but he uses it not within the genre, instead using it as a catalyst for a larger, pedantic message against violence and revolution.

7RDFKLHYH-DNH¶VKXPDQLVPDQGUHWDLQP\YRLFH, I needed more stylistic examples than Fight Club to create a dirty realist text about the American Dream. I found that hypocrisy also functions in dirty realism as satire. Satire is powerfully manipulative albeit truthful. In the case of Fight ClubWKHQDUUDWRU¶VGHVLUHWRGHVWUR\ capitalism leaves him beaten and results in his death. We can see this as satire, but it is not the satire for which I searched or was it the ironic, sarcastic tone of my creative voice. I instead looked to Bukowski and Miller, whose works deal more with

FKDUDFWHULQHSWLWXGHDQGZKRVHPHWDSK\VLFDOOHYHOIDOOVEHQHDWKWKHWH[W¶VVXUIDFH

Russell Harrison explains how Bukowski and Miller share similar styles, which include their misogynistic tones and apathy toward labor (153). Harrison states,

³Perhaps their primary area of congruence, however, is that of work or more correctly,

UHIXVDORIZRUN´   This suggests tKDW%XNRZVNLDQG0LOOHU¶VODERUDSDWK\LVWKH more efficient connector between writer and reader. They are distinctly different writers, and readers should not assume each dirty realist author writes with the same

11 style or about the same content. This is an assumption I had to overcome. Norman

Mailer explains 0LOOHU¶VQDUFLVVLVPE\ stating³It is too simple to think of the narcissist as someone in love with himself. One can detest oneself intimately and still be a narcissist. What characterizes narcissism is the fundamental relation. It is with oneself´ TWGLQ+DUULVRQ154). Harrison, E\H[DPLQLQJ0DLOHU¶VFULWLFLVP, explains

WKDW0LOOHU¶VXVHRIPHWDSKRUUHSUHVHQWVWKHFRQQHFWLRQEHWZHHQVHOIDQGVRFLHW\ 154).

If we look at Tropic of Cancer, we see that 0DLOHU¶VDUJXPHQWKDVYDOLGLW\ but I argue that the fictional Henry Miller¶VQDUFLVVLVP is a satirical and hypocritical representation

RIGLUW\UHDOLVPLQVWHDGRI0DLOHU¶VFODLP. In the novel, Miller lives in Paris as a writer who does not write²he drinks, fornicates, and muses. To show that Mailer¶V argument holds truth, Miller says:

Everything that belongs to the past seems to have fallen into the sea; I have

memories, but the images have lost their vividness, they seem dead and

desultory, like time-bitten mummies stuck in a quagmire. If I try to recall my

life in New York I get a few splintered fragments, nightmarish and covered

with verdigris. It seems as if my own proper existence had come to an end

VRPHZKHUHMXVWZKHUHH[DFWO\,FDQ¶WPDNHRXW,¶PQRW$Perican any more,

QRUD1HZ

allegiance, any responsibilities, any hatreds, any worries, any prejudices, any

SDVVLRQ,¶PQHLWKHUIRUQRUDJDLQVW,¶PQHXWUDO -53)

The passage appears self-indulgent and perhaps existential; however, Miller buries the satire of an apathetic writer with no responsibilities in the subtext. He shows that if a

12 person disavows allegiance to society or tries to fight the labor force, he or she will figuratively cease to exist. The individual becomes a hallow apparition of his or her

IRUPHUVHOILQVWHDGRIIRUPLQJDGLDORJXHZLWKWKHKHJHPRQLFFXOWXUH0LOOHU¶VVDWLUH depicts the self-destruction caused by DSHUVRQ¶V abandonment of his or her labor.

7KHUHIRUH0LOOHU¶VFKDUDFWHUEHFDPHRQHVLJQLILFDQWSDUWRI-DNH)LVK¶VFKDUDFWHU

Jake had to abandon his labor to satirize counter-cultural beliefs. For Jake, I wanted him to delineate the American Dream in a similar way to Miller by showing the polarization between commodities and individuals as well as show how laborers cannot function without their labor. Jake cannot be a writer unless he writes, but his initial rationale is that he has money and thus does not need to labor. He realizes, however, that without writing, his life has no meaning.

(YHQWKRXJKWKHVDWLULFDOQDWXUHRIODERUDSDWK\IRUPVDODUJHSRUWLRQRI-DNH¶V character, I still did not feel Jake was as rounded and complex as I wanted; therefore, I turned to Bukowski and discovered his use of observational satire which shows the effects of capitalism and oppression on society. Bukowski takes a different approach by showing a character that simply lives within the system. His stories function around the idea that capitalism has appropriated everything with a counter-cultural label; therefore, Bukowski does not trust any sort of economic rebellion and thus, like

Miller, he remains apathetic. Dobozy states, however, that even though Marxism is the counter-FXOWXUH¶VQHZPRGHRIUHEHOOLRQDQG³0DU[KDVEHFRPHDJRG«%XNRZVNL¶V

>ZRUNVDUH@XQTXHVWLRQDEO\WKHDYRLGDQFHRIVHUYLWXGHWRDQ\JRG´  As a result, we can view Bukowski as a member of the nonhegemonic class for which Jameson

13 argues we need because Bukowski refuses to trade one hegemonic class for another. It would create the same oppressive structures, the same hegemony, experienced within

WKHODWWHU%XNRZVNL¶VVDWLUHLVQRWagainst Marxism as much as it is against the blind

Marxist ideology that acts as a rationale for the counter-FXOWXUH¶VVWUXJgle against

FDSLWDOLVP,I,ZDVWRPRGHODSDUWRI-DNHDIWHU%XNRZVNL¶VVDWLULFDOPHWKRGVWKHQ, could not allow Jake to blindly follow an ideology. Appropriately then, I made Jake

OLNH%XNRZVNL¶V+HQU\&KLQDVNLDFKDUDFWHUZKRZRXOGUather take a drink than become actively involved in a problem. However, I wanted Jake to again be complex

LQVWHDGRIDQLPLWDWLRQRI&KLQDVNLVRLQVWHDGRIXVLQJ%XNRZVNL¶VPLQLPDOLVWVW\OHWR portray his apathy and satire, I chose to have Jake muse, like Miller, about the metaphysical and ontological concepts of life and society as they pertain to him. Jake

GRHVIROORZ%XNRZVNL¶VPRGHORIEHLQJDWRGGVZLWKWKHHFRQRPLFVWUXFWXUHDQGQRW

ILJKWLQJDJDLQVWLW+DUULVRQVWDWHV³:LWKSDUWLDOH[FHSWLRQof Women [and

Hollywood] YHU\OLWWOHRI%XNRZVNL¶VILFWLRQFRQFHUQVLWVHOIZLWKZULWLQJ(YHQLQ

Women [, Hollywood, and his short stories] the writing most often manifests itself through poetry readings, i.e., as work, that is as a relation to the world and indeed as

FRQIOLFW´(155). Henry Chinaski is in conflict with his economic status and thus any sort of labor seems futile; however, Jake¶Vconflict is with his personal life, of which writing is more a part%XNRZVNLVKRZVWKHGLUWDQGJULWRI&KLQDVNL¶VVXUURXQGLQJVDV a pURGXFWRIFDSLWDOLVPDQGWKHUHIRUH&KLQDVNL¶VDSDWK\LVWRRDSURGXFWEHFDXVHLIKH is a writer, then writing should be his means of production instead of his wage-labor to

VXUYLYH,FKRVHKRZHYHUWRKDYHZULWLQJEHPRUHLPSRUWDQWIRU-DNH¶VFKDUDFWHr, as a

14 part of his humanity instead of simply a means of production. I wanted the writing to be its own character.

Finally, in regards to Writer on the Storm as a dirty realist story and Jake as a dirty realist, oppressed character, I wanted to incorporate dirty realist irony and satire of other works deemed acceptable in the literary community. As Robert Olen Butler

VWDWHV³>$@OLWerary desire is on the order of: I yearn for self, I yearn for an identity, I yearn IRUDSODFHLQWKHXQLYHUVH,\HDUQWRFRQQHFWWRWKHRWKHU´ -42), which all pertain to the struggles a dirty realist character must endure to live in society. He must yearn for a better life than what the hegemonic culture has granted him. Therefore, I knew Jake needed to subvert everything accepted and established in his society. Like

Bukowski, Jake observes every area and that included the literary community as well.

Hemingway humors this concept in his novella, Torrents of Spring. A man,

ScripSV2¶1HLOHPRWLRQDOO\DEDQGRQVKLVZLIHIRUDVHUYHUDWDUHVWDXUDQWEHFDXVHVKH stimulates his lust for literature. The waitress, Mandy, mentions Henry James in

FDVXDOFRQYHUVDWLRQZKLFKWHPSWV2¶1HLOWRWKLQNDVWKHQDUUDWRUVD\V³6FULSSV

2¶1HLOZDVthinking about Mandy, the waitress. What a background she must have, that girl! What a fund of anecdotes! A chap could go far with a woman like that to

KHOSKLP´ +HPLQJZD\ 2¶1HLOZLWKKLVZLIHVLWWLQJDGMDFHQWSUHIRUPVHPRWLRQDO adultery becausHRIWKHVWLPXODWLQJHIIHFWOLWHUDWXUHDQG0DQG\¶VORYHRIOLWHUDWXUHKDV on him. Hemingway mocks the elitism of the literary community to subtly draw the

UHDGHUWR³HQJDJHPRUWDOLW\QRWRQO\DVDWKHPDWLFLVVXH>ZLWKLQWKHQRYHOOD@VFDQQLQJ like gleanerVLQWKHZDNHRIZKDWRWKHUERRNVPLVVEXWDOVRDVDQDUWLVWLFSULQFLSOH´

15

(Saltzman 432).

These gleaners that Saltzman discusses are human emotions which the literary community has tossed away as lesser forms of humanity, or, as I argue, it is more simply established as reality (dirty realism) versus literary perception (literary elitism).

2¶1HLO¶VZLIH'LDQDVWUXJJOHVWRUHHVWDEOLVKWKHORYLQJFRQQHFWLRQVKHILUVWVKDUHG

ZLWK2¶1HLOEHFDXVHRIKLVGHVLUHWREHFRPHPRUHZHOO-read; however, she understands

KHUHIIRUW¶VIXWLOLW\DVWKHQDUUDWRUVWDWHV

She had a man now. A man of her own. For her own. Could she keep him?

&RXOGVKHKROGKLPIRUKHURZQ"6KHZRQGHUHG«'LDQDOHDUQHGHGLWRULDOVE\

John Farrar by heart. Schipps brightened. A little of the old light shining in

6FKLSS¶VH\HVQRZ7KHQLWGLHG6RPHOLWWOHPLVWDNHLQWKHZRUGLQJVRPHVOLS

in her understanding of a phrase, some divergence in her attitude, made it all

ring false. (Hemingway 42-43)

'LDQD¶VQHUYRXVGLVSosition reflects her desire WRNHHS2¶1HLl; however, her failure to keep his attention symbolizes how literary elitists pass off true human emotions for books, linguistics, and philosophies because the elitists cannot coexist with unaccepted forms of humanity, or, as the novella suggests, cannot accept new literature that diverges from the accepted forms of craft and content. This creates the metafictional satire that Hemingway includes in his novella. I knew I could not imitate

+HPLQJZD\¶Vuse of satire for Jake because -DNH¶V%XNRZVNL-like disposition does not

OHQGLWVHOIWR+HPLQJZD\¶VVDWLUHBukowski prefers apathy to literary substance, and

-DNHUHIOHFWVWKLVDSDWK\ZKLFKLVQRWLQKHUHQWLQ+HPLQJZD\¶VQRYHOOD

16

Another example that Hemingway uses is openly mocking the literary community, and I employ this satirical method to Jake because Bukowski also uses this method. His narrator steps away from the story and directly addresses the reader, saying:

It was at this point in the story, reader, that Mr. F. Scott Fitzgerald came to our

home one afternoon, and after remaining for quite a while suddenly sat down in

the fireplace and would not (or was it could not, reader?) get up and let the fire

burn something else so as to keep the room warm. (Hemingway 76)

+HFDOOVXSRQWKHUHDGHU¶VLQWHUWH[WXDONQRZOHGJHRI)LW]JHUDOG¶VOLWHUDU\VWDWXVWR

RYHUWO\PLPLFDQGVDWLUL]HWKHOLWHUDU\FRPPXQLW\¶VSUHWHQWLRXVQHVVE\XVLQJDUHDOLVWLF event as a metaphor, which suggests that literary elitism smothers the fire of new styles of artistic expression of young and new writers. Hemingway depicts his style,

GHVFULEHGDV³VLPSOHREMHFWVDQGHYHQWVHQFORVHGLQVLPSOHSURVHRIIHUDELGLQJ

FRQVRODWLRQ´ 6DOW]PDQ DVXQDFFHSWHG%XWIRUmy voice to exist within dirty realism, I had to find recurring examples, and Bukowski ironically employs this same

PLPLFNLQJWHFKQLTXHZLWK+HPLQJZD\LQKLVVKRUWVWRU\³:RXOG

DVD&DUHHU´+DUULVRQH[SODLQV+DUROG%ORRP¶VLGHDVRIDSRHW¶VLQIOXHQFHRQKLVRU her successors to suggest that BukowskLXVHV³DVSHFLILFWH[WRIDQHDUOLHUZULWHU´EXt

PRGLILHV³LWVWKUXVW µVZHUYH¶) as well as the idea that both earlier and later writers can share an impulse, as stance towards society µGLDPRQ¶ ´ EHFDXVHWKH\³DUHXVHIXOIRU

IUDPLQJ>KLV@UHODWLRQWRSUHGHFHVVRUV´  7KLVLVDQH[WUHPHO\LPSRUWDQWFRQFHSW

LQ-DNH¶VOLIHEHFDXVH-DNH¶VFULWLFVGRQot let his fiction stand. According to them, his

17 fiction does not have literary merit unless it relates to other similar, established authors. Bukowski deals with the same metafictional satire I have discussed with

Hemingway. For Henry Chinaski, Hemingway is now part of the community; therefore, when a professor invites him to a party, Chinaski humorously describes him,

MXVWOLNH+HPLQJZD\DVEHLQJ³UDWKHUGHDGWRR+HNHSWWDONLQJDERXWOLWHUDWXUHDQG writing ± RIDOOWKHIXFNLQJVXEMHFWV´ ³:RXOG

By XVLQJ%XNRZVNL¶VVDUFDVWLFVW\OHDJDLQVWWKHFDSLWDOLVWHOHments of the writing profession, I discovered a unique way to avoid imitating Hemingway, but it also allowed me to reference &KLQDVNL¶VYLHZVRIWKH literary community. I needed to

FDSWXUHDFRPPXQLW\WKDW&KLQDVNLFDOOV³>M@XVWDEXQFKRIEXOOVKLW´ ³:RXOG

6XJJHVW´ VRWKHPLQLPDOLVWODQJXDJHOHIWPHZLWKDYDULHW\RIGLUHFWLRQVWRSXUVXH

,QHHGHGKRZHYHUWRUHPHPEHU+DUULVRQ¶VZRUGVZKLFKVD\WKDW%XNRZVNL³GHSLFWHG alienated labor and sketched a mode of working-class resistance in ways having much

LQFRPPRQZLWKFRQWHPSRUDQHRXV1HZ/HIWDQDO\VHV´  7KHGHYRWLRQWRKLV satire without taking a firm, counter-cultural stance connects Bukowski to

18

Hemingway, Palahniuk, and Miller because not one of them yields to hegemony. They form new utterances for a dialogical system without prescribing to hegemony. I had to remember, therefore, that satire does not search for solutions; it creates observations and depictions of life as mockery.

I understood that if Writer on the Storm was to take its place among other dirty realist literature, I needed a single story example that encapsulated the satirical views of capitalism and the American Dream. I realized that I could not ignore my passion for

Marxism. Dirty realism partly functions as a Marxist genre; therefore, I felt it was important for Marxism to be an undercurrent for my satire without applying Marxist metaphysics. Furthermore, I could not allow my story to abandon my passions and my voice. That voice includes Marxist undertones. To abandon those undertones would be

WKH³LQFOLQDWLRQWRGLVRZQRQH¶VZLVKHVDQGWRJLYHLQWRWKHRPQLSUHVHQFHRI8QLYHUVDO

%DQDO´ %D[WHU Writer on the Storm needed to remain personal and I could not submit those Marxist issues for more personal ones. I wanted my experiences as a proponent of Marxism to resonate with readers and give them hope so they do not succumb to the expected fate of those without money. My novella does not subscribe to revolutionary ideals. Any subversion on the part of Jake is because of his yearning; therefore, I chose to write about a writer trying to write without losing his individualism

DQGKXPDQLW\LQWKHSURFHVV,FKRVH%XNRZVNL¶VHollywood as my example of a dirty realist text involving Marxist themes.

Hollywood LV%XNRZVNL¶VPRVWEODWDQW depiction of Marxist themes because it focuses RQDOLHQDWHGODERUDQGFDSLWDOLVP¶VRYHUUHDFKLQJKDQG, which FORVHVVRFLHW\¶V

19

PRXWK3DPHOD&\WU\QEDXPGHVFULEHVWKHQRYHO¶VLQFHSWLRQVD\LQJ³:KHQ&KDUOHV

Bukowski gets angry, he writes books²and HollywoodKHVD\VLVDQRYHORIRXWUDJH´

(246). I also have had similar feelings toward capitalism and society, and I wanted apply them to my novella. It is why I place my story in L.A., just as Hollywood takes place in

/$,DJUHHZLWKWKHQRYHO¶VGHSLFWLRQRIWKHFLW\DVDSODFHWKDWIDOVHO\DGYHUWLVHVWKH

American Dream as a conceivable and tangible thing, and as Andrew J. Madigan states,

³/$LVWKHSODFHZKHUHLQWKHUHDOPRIILFWLRQSHRSOHPLJUDWHLQSXUVXLWRIGUHDPV

One category of migrant dream-VHHNHULVWKHZULWHU´  . I agree with Bukowski when

KHVD\V³,JXHVV,QHYHUEHOLHYHd Hollywood²,KHDUGLW¶VDKRUULEOHSODFH²but when I went there, I found out how really horrible, horrible, horrible, horrible it was, black and

FXWWKURDW´ TWGLQCytrynbaum 246) because my time in L.A. and Hollywood reflected these same emotions. Therefore, for Writer on the Storm, I chose L.A. because it set me up for a story about the American Dream. Bukowski has dealt with proletarian working conditions in earlier novels; however, Hollywood PDNHVXVHRIVRFLHW\¶VIDVFLQDWLRQZLWK

Los Angeles and Hollywood as a city of immense fame and wealth. Bukowski perverts

VRFLHW\¶V perception of Hollywood; therefore, I felt Hollywood was the most logical and practical inspirational model for Writer on the Storm.

I try to remain objective in Writer on the Storm, but I am aware that readers may

PDNHFHUWDLQLGHRORJLFDOFRQFOXVLRQVDERXWPH7KHUHIRUH,WXUQWR%XNRZVNL¶VUHVSRQVH to William Packard, who asked Bukowski if he restricted himself to what he will and will not write. Bukowski says:

20

,SKRWRJUDSKDQGUHFRUGZKDW,VHHDQGZKDWKDSSHQVWRPH«,DPQRWDPDQZKR

looks for solutions in God or politics. If somebody else wants to do the dirty

work and create a better world for us and he can do it, I will accept it. In Europe

where my work is having much luck, various groups have put a claim on me,

revolutionaries, anarchists, so forth, because I have written of the common man of

the street, but in interviews over there I have had to disclaim a conscious working

relationship with them because there isQ¶WDQ\ TWGLQ+DUULVRQ)

Harrison says world affairs have always been important to Bukowski, but I disagree

(159). This interview takes place before Hollywood, but %XNRZVNL¶VVW\OHDQGYRLFHGR not change. ChinaVNLLV%XNRZVNL¶VDOWHU-ego, and he comments on society with a labor- intensive voice, but Chinaski never advocates for Marxism. For my story, I wanted Jake to function in the same manner as Chinaski by not standing on a Marxist soapbox and explaining every thematic element.

Therefore, I decided that Writer on the Storm would follow a similar formula to that of Hollywood and I will give an analysis of the novel to demonstrate how it pertains to Marxism, capitalism, the American Dream, and dirty realism. When the film industry commissions Chinaski to write a screenplay²something he finds irritating, saying,

³/RRNDWZKDWLWGLGWR)6FRWW)LW]JHUDOG´ Hollywood 14)²Chinaski commits to the screenplay because he does not think it will be much work for him. At that moment

&KLQDVNLEHFRPHVDZDJHODERUHULQVWHDGRIDQDUWLVW³7KHERXUJHRLVLHKDVVWULSSHGRI

LWVKDORHYHU\RFFXSDWLRQKLWKHUWRKRQRXUHGDQGORRNHGXSWRZLWKUHYHUHQWDZH´0DU[ and Engels ZULWH³,WKDVFRQYHUWHGWKHSK\VLFLDQWKHODZ\HUWKHSULHVWWKHSRHWWKH

21

PDQRIVFLHQFHLQWRLWVSDLGZDJHODERXUHUV´  7RDYRLGWKHERXUJHRLVRSSUHVVLRQ

Chinaski decides to write the screenplay; however, when confronted by the only financier for the movie, Harold Pheasant, they have a heated exchange. Harold begins by saying:

³

DPDUYHORXVVHQVHRIGLDORJXH,¶YHUHDG\RXUZRUNvery ILOPDWLF´

³6XUH\RXZRQ¶WKDYHD GULQN"´

³1R,KDYHWRJHWEDFNWRP\WDEOH´

³

³-XVWILQLVKHGSURGXFLQJDILOPDERXWWKHOLIHRI0DFN'HURXDF´

³

³7KH+HDUW¶V6RQJ´

I took a drink.

³+H\ZDLWDPLQXWH

+HDUW¶V6RQJ"´

³2K\HVWKDW¶VZKDWLW¶VJRLQJWREHFDOOHG´

He was smiling.

³

Jesus Christ!´

³1R´KHVDLG³,¶PVHULRXV´

He suddenly turned and walked off. (Hollywood 25)

The exchange is Chinaski¶V first H[SHULHQFHZLWKKRZ+ROO\ZRRG¶VVWUXFWXUHZRUNV

3KHDVDQW¶VUHDFWLRQWR&KLQDVNLVXJJHVWVKLVERXUJHRLVVWDWXVEHFDXVHKHLVSD\LQJ

22

Chinaski to write the screenplay, which he has yet to start. By insulting the bourgeois,

&KLQDVNLKDVDVVXUHGO\ORVWWKHILOP¶Vfinancial support. Sarah&KLQDVNL¶V wife, responds

DVWKHYRLFHRIUHDVRQZKRKDVDFFHSWHGWKHFDSLWDOLVWV\VWHPVD\LQJ³

RYHUWKHUHDQGDSRORJL]H«

'HURXDFEXW&KLQDVNLWDNHVWKHSUROHWDULDQUHYROXWLRQDU\URXWHVD\LQJ³7KDW¶VLW ,¶OO

ZULWHWKHVFUHHQSOD\DERXWP\VHOI´ Hollywood 27). The scene uses satirical methods to

VKRZFDSLWDOLVP¶VVWXSLGLW\EHFDXVHPheasants¶ original title is 7KH+HDUW¶V6RQJ, a cliché, Hollywood title, and Chinaski tells Sarah the title is The Furry Flotsam Flies to further enhance the satire. However, Chinaski decides to reappropriate his art by making it about himself and tentatively titling it Flies in the Furry Flotsam to suggest that his title is just as ridiculous as his previous mockery, but at least it is his title and his art.

I wanted to capture the same sort of tension in my novella that Bukowski has between Chinaski and Pheasant. I chose to use Jake and his agent, Toby, as a similar example of Hollywood and L.A.¶V control of artists. However, unlike the exchange in

Hollywood, Jake and Toby have multiple meetings because Jake knows he cannot survive without ToE\¶VKHOS-DNH submits to capitalism instead of wanting to escape. Each

H[DPSOHKRZHYHUVKRZVDQDOLHQDWLRQIURPRQH¶VODERU

To establish the complexity of the alienation of labor, I had to remain aware of

ZKDWFDSLWDOLVPZRXOGPHDQWR-DNHDVKHWULHGWRZULWH-DNH¶VOLWHUDWXUe has always dealt with the counter-FXOWXUHDQGWKHLVVXHVRIVXEVLVWHQFHOLYLQJKRZHYHU-DNH¶VZRUNV have not changed or even had an impact on society outside of a select group of devout followers. -DNHPLUURUV&KLQDVNL¶VFRQIXVLRQDERXt his own writing. Chinaski reflects on

23 what his art has become. When the director, Jon Pinchot, and other film industry figures court Chinaski, they constantly remind him how much they adore his work; however,

&KLQDVNLQRWLFHVWKHIDOVLWLHVVWDWLQJ³, scaled in at 228, most of it fat instead of muscle.

My fighting days were over. To think I had once weighed 144 pounds on a 6-foot frame:

WKHJUDQGROGVWDUYLQJGD\VZKHQ,ZDVZULWLQJWKHJRRGVWXII´ Hollywood 51). As

Chinaski puts on pounds, he symbolizes the stagnancy of capitalist subsistence. It is what

6WDQ7KHLVGHVFULEHVDV³EHFRPLQJWKDWRWKHUNLQGRIZULWHUDUWLVWWKHRQHZLWKDGHVN

DJHQWDVVLJQPHQWIURQWPRQH\´  ,XVHGWKHV\PEROLVPRIH[FHVVZHLJKWWRGHSLFW

-DNH¶VVWDJQDQF\DV well; however, instead of having weight gained by capitalist writing,

I chose to have Jake gain weight because of a lack of writing. This makes Jake conscious of what it means to be a writer in a capitalist society instead of a confused artist like

ChinaVNL-DNHXQGHUVWDQGVWKDW³>F@DSLWDOLVPDWWDFKHVLWVHOIWRUDWKHUWKDQRSHQO\ opposesWKHRWKHU´ 'RER]\). He, along with the publisher and agents, initially

NQRZVWKDW-DNH¶VGLUW\UHDOLVWILFWLRQZLOOPDNH money regardless of its subversive content. Thus, Jake feels alienated from his work because it cannot escape hegemony.

+HEHFRPHVZKDW.DUO0DU[DQG)ULHGULFK(QJHOVH[SODLQDV³ODERUHUVZKRPXVWVHOO themselves piecemeal, are a commodity, like every other article of commerce, and are consequently exposed to all the vicissitudes of competition, to all the fluctuations of the

PDUNHW´  7KHUHIRUHOLNH&KLQDVNL-DNHILQGVKLPVHOIXQGHUFDSLWDOLVWLQIOXHQFHEXW the difference lies within positionality which explains &KLQDVNL¶VFRQIXVLRQYHUVXV-DNH¶V assimilation.

24

We must, however, remain aware of the problems of applying Marxist metaphysics to Jake and Chinaski. As Jameson explains:

:KDWWKLVLPSRVVLELOLW\RILPPDQHQFH &KLQDVNL¶VFRQIXVLRQDQGUHDOL]DWLRQ 

means in practice is that the dialectical reversal must always involve a painful

³GHFHQWHULQJ´RIWKHFRQVFLRXVQHVVRIWKHLQGLYLGXDOVXEMHFWZKRPLWFRQIURQWV

ZLWKDGHWHUPLQDWLRQ«WKDWPXVWQHFHVVDULO\EHIHOWDVH[WULQVLFRUH[WHUQDOWR

conscious experience. (283-84)

This suffering is essential for dirty realist characters in a Marxist-influenced story.

Chinaski must suffer before his consciousness can change, and Jake has to suffer to discover his passion for writing. Jake and Chinaski believe money outweighs their writing and if they have money, they do not need their art to be representative of themselves. Therefore, both characters search for extracurricular activities to keep their statuses. Chinaski finds love in alcoholism and horse racing while Jake expresses himself through alcoholism and music. They are egotistical about their respective passions, as

Chinaski explains about horse racing:

As for horses, I became a real student of the game. I had about two dozen

V\VWHPV7KH\DOOZRUNHGRQO\\RXFRXOGQ¶WDSSO\WKHPDOODWRQHWLPHEHFDXVH

they were based on varying factors. My systems had only one common factor:

that the Public must always lose. You had to determine what the Public play was

and then try to do the opposite. (Hollywood 177)

:HVHHDGLVWXUELQJO\FDSLWDOLVWLFWRQHWR&KLQDVNL¶VZRUGVDQHOLWLVPWKDWKHUHMHFWV when the film industry tries to influence his screenplay. This disposition revolves around

25 control. Chinaski has found something of which he is in complete control; therefore,

Bukowski creates an ironic personality trait for Chinaski which makes him complex and human. I chose to use music to create a similar effect with Jake because it references another artistic medium, but it also gives some form of control and elitism to an otherwise dejected human being. Both Chinaski and Jake adapt to the evolving nature of their personal passions, adapting their interests to maintain superiority over others. In essence, they create a personal hegemony to give them comfort in the overall hegemonic

FXOWXUH-DNHDQG&KLQDVNL³FDQQRWH[LVWZLWKRXWFRQVWDQWO\UHYROXWLRQL]LQJWKH instruments of production, and thereby the relations of production, and with them the

ZKROHUHODWLRQVRIVRFLHW\´ 0DU[DQG(QJHOV :LWKRXWWKHVHIODZV&KLQDVNLDQG

Jake would function only as archetypes or Marxist templates instead of humans with individual goals and dreams. Without these passions, Chinaski and Jake would come to

WKH³UHDOL]DWLRQRIODERU>PDQLIHVWLQJ@LWVHOIVRPXFKDVORVVRIUHDOLW\>WKH\EHFRPH@

XQUHDOWRWKHSRLQW>WKH\VWDUYH@WRGHDWK´ 0DU[³$OLHQDWLRQRI/DERU´ ,f having elitism in one minuscule hobby brings Jake and Chinaski solace, then that is a way of satirizing both capitalist oppression and the counter-FXOWXUH¶VK\SRFULV\IRUVXEYHUVLRQ

Labor is the driving function behind the plots of Hollywood and Wr i t er on t he

Storm because it demonstrates the futility oIXVLQJRQH¶VODERUDVDVXEYHUWLQJDSSDUDWXV against capitalism. Jake and Chinaski feel weighed down by their inability to write. I took the vivid exchange between Sarah and Chinaski as inspiration for how Jake relates

WRZULWLQJ&KLQDVNLVWDWHV³µ/RRN¶,VDLGWR6DUDKµZHKDYHMXVWODQGHGXSRQWKH

RXWSRVWRIGHDWK0\VRXOLVSXNLQJ¶´ Hollywood 9). Andrew J. Madigan explains,

26

³7KHRSHQLQJSDJHVRIHollywood reverberate with both acquiescence and disdain for

>&KLQDVNL¶V@IDWH´  DQG,NQHZ, had to capture that specific feeling to drive my

VWRU\LQVLPLODUGLUHFWLRQVDV%XNRZVNL¶VVWRU\7KHUHIRUH,KDGWRILQGZLWKLQ

Hollywood H[DPSOHVRIFDSLWDOLVP¶VSHUYHUVLRQRIDFWXDOODERUWREULQJDERXWWKH submission and disdain that creates the opening atmosphere of my novella. Edward

$QGUHZH[SODLQV0DU[¶VYLHZVRIWKLVVWDWLQJ³7KHPHDQVRISURGXFWLRQDUH«WKH

FRQGLWLRQIRUWKHH[SUHVVLRQRIKXPDQSHUVRQDOLW\«7RSRVVHVVWKHPHDQVRISURGXFWLRQ

LVWREHDEOHWRH[SUHVVRQH¶VQDWXUHLQSURGXFWLRQ to be separated from the means of

SURGXFWLRQLVWREHIRUFHGWRDOLHQDWHRQH¶VSHUVRQDOLW\LQODERU´  -DNHDVVRFLDWHV his labor with his relationship with his ex-girlfriend, Jules. Without her, he has lost his personality for writing; therefore, he submits to capitalist oppression at the beginning, but this sets up the opportunity for Jake to change and solve the mystery of the American

Dream, which is not the conventional, hegemonic definition.

)XUWKHUPRUH,FKRVHDOFRKROLVPWRUHIOHFW-DNH¶VVXbmission and to satirize

%XNRZVNL¶VXVHRIOLTXRU$OFRKROLVPLVSHUVRQDOIRUPHEHFDXVHRISHUVRQDO experiences with the damaging effects of alcoholism personified in my mother; therefore,

,GLGQRWZDQW-DNH¶VGULQNLQJWRUHIOHFWWKHIUHH-spirited, joyous drinking in Hollywood. I felt that alcohol consumption should reflect reality as dirty realism hopes to achieve; consequently, I chose to show that alcoholism hinders the writing process just as capitalism because alcohol is a luxury that I attribute to capitalist greed. Jake, because of his alcoholismODFNV³FODVVFRQVFLRXVQHVVWKHSUROHWDULDW¶VFRPSUHKHQVLRQRIWKHLUOLIH

VLWXDWLRQDQGWKHLUDFFHSWDQFHRIWKHLQWHUHVWVDQGHQHPLHVZKLFKDFFUXHWRLW´ 2OOPDQ

27

 $WZRRGVWDWHV³7KHZULWHUFRPPXQicates with the page. The reader communicates with the page. The writer and the reader communicate through the page.

7KLVLVRQHRIWKHV\OORJLVPVRIZULWLQJDVVXFK´  WKHUHIRUH,IHOWDUHVSRQVLELOLW\WR treat alcoholism as the life-damaging actLYLW\WKDWLWLV%XNRZVNL¶VVW\OHVDWLUL]HV

VRFLHW\¶VSHUFHSWLRQRIDOFRKROLVPWKHKHJHPRQLFYLHZWKDWWKHORZHU-class simply drink

LQH[FHVVKRZHYHU,ZDQWHGWRFUHDWHDVWRU\WKDWVDWLUL]HV%XNRZVNL¶VVDWLUHWKLV perception of accepted and expected alcoholism. Therefore, I made the conscious choice to give Jake hope of escaping his addiction. I found a strange connection between alcohol and writing, more specifically the connection between authors and drinking. For

Bukowski, he became a part of that alcoholic culture, which Ron Blunden explains:

Bukowski might be a loser because the idea is dawning on him that no matter how

oblivious you are to feedback, there is no denying the simple, scary fact that

success is like having your soul up for auctioQ

yourself anymore ± other people, the critics, the editors, the readers, have, in

every sense, an interest in you. (161)

I did not want Jake to become another part of the alcoholic community of writers to which Bukowski submits Chinaski in Hollywood. Jake wants to subsist and be happy while writing, but writing has lost all its creativity. Alcohol becomes a hindrance to

-DNH¶V writing and a stigma of the literary community instead of a mode of inspiration.

Moreover, alcoholism only enhances apathy in Jake and Chinaski, whose inability to create true, individualistic art grows from a lack of understanding the culture around them. Chinaski does not recognize the wages of others as similar to his because the

28 individual wage-systems are different; however, wage-systems are concurrent under capitalist ideology. Marx states:

A direct consequence of estrangement of the humans from the product of their

labor, from their life-activity, from their species-being, is the estrangement of

humans from humans. When a human confronts himself as a stranger, so he

confronts another human as a stranger. The relationship of humans to their labor,

to the product of their labor, and to themselves, is also the relationship of humans

to each other, and to the labor of others and to the object of others. (Marx,

³$OLHQDWLRQRI/DERU´

Chinaski cannot relate himself to the other labors that surround him. The actor, Jack, has a clause in his contract that stipulates that he will be paid whether he works or not, and

&KLQDVNLLQDYHU\WHOOLQJSKUDVHDVNV³:KDW¶VWKDW"´ Hollywood 105). I used this same confusion for Jake when hHFDOOVKLVSXEOLVKHUDQGDJHQW³VXLWV´&DSLWDOLVPKDV alienated Jake from his labor and the broader metaphysical properties of labor. He does not realize that others must subsist within their systems as Jake must subsist in his. He feels what Chinaski feels with the film industry and that is intrusion. Madigan explains

WKDW&KLQDVNL³UHVHQWHGWKHFROODERUDWLYHQDWXUHRIILOPDQGLWVSURSHQVLW\WRLQWUXGHLQWR the ofWHQREVHVVLYHO\SHUVRQDOFUHDWLYHOLIHRIWKHZULWHU´  DQG,XVHGWKLVFRQFHSWWR show how personal writing can be. Jake has not written anything since Jules left him; however, the symbols of capitalism, the agent and publisher, work to get Jake to write

VRPHWKLQJFROODERUDWLYHRUWRVXLWWKHLUPHDQVDQGQRW-DNH¶V7KHUHIRUH,IHOWWKH relationship with Jules added an interesting dichotomy to the concepts of personal labor.

29

For Writer on the Storm, I needed Jake to reappropriate his labor to make it

SHUVRQDODJDLQ0DU[DQG(QJHOVVXJJHVWWKDWWKH³SUROHWDULDQFDQQRWEHFRPHPDVWHUVRI their productive forces of society, except by abolishing their own mode of appropriation,

DQGWKHUHE\DOVRHYHU\RWKHUSUHYLRXVPRGHRIDSSURSULDWLRQ´  ,Nnew I needed a story that referenced proletarian struggles through various epochs. Therefore, I related

&KLQDVNL¶VVWUXJJOHDJDLQVWWKHILOPLQGXVWU\DQGWKHLUDWWHPSWVWRDSSURSULDWHKLVZRUNDV

WKHLURZQWR-DNH¶VVWUXJJOHVWRZULWHDSHUVRQDOVWRU\ZLthout outside influence. I wanted Jake to go through a personal, conscious journey to discover what story he could

ZULWH-DNHKDGWRUHDOL]HWKDWKHKDG³QRWKLQJRI>KLV@RZQWRVHFXUHDQGWRIRUWLI\>KLV@ mission is to destroy all previous VHFXULWLHVIRUDQGLQVXUDQFHVRILQGLYLGXDOSURSHUW\´

(Marx and Engels 92). I found the ending of Hollywood effectively represents this concept. Chinaski has to destroy the movie based off his screenplay, but not in the literal sense. Chinaski has to express his personality in a form of labor that reappropriates the screenplay as his. He reveals his solution to Sarah:

³:KDWDUH\RXJRLQJWRGRQRZ"´6DUDKDVNHG

³$ERXWZKDW"´

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³2K\HV´

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³7KHUHDUHWKHKRUVHV´

³%HVLGHVWKHKRUVHV´

30

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PRYLH´

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³,FDQ,WKLQN´

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³Hollywood´

³Hollywood"´

³

And this is it. (Hollywood 239)

Chinaski chooses to write the story about writing the screenplay, which makes the entire experience of his alienation a reappropriation of self that he can sell and make money.

Chinaski still lives within the epoch of the American Dream, but he decides to take those

Marxist VWHSVWRGHVWUR\WKHPRYLH¶VVWRU\E\WXUQLQJLWLQWRDVWRU\RIFDSLWDOLVW corruption and the vicious cycle through which one must survive.

If my story were to function under the same formula as Hollywood, Jake had to discover a personal form of reappropriation of his DUW%HFDXVH-XOHVUHSUHVHQWV-DNH¶V artistic drive, I had to have the two reconnect and reconcile; however, I knew that Jules could not be the only catalyst. Therefore, I chose to have Jake focus on his love for music to create a story that did not represent anything he had previously written, which

PDNHVWKHFODLPWKDW-DNH¶VSUHYLRXVZRUNVDUHQRWUHSUHVHQWDWLYHRI-DNH¶VSHUVRQDO creativity. Therefore, it was pertinent that I find the perfect voice and tone for the story.

,QHHGHGWRXVH-DNH¶VIODZs to progress the story without becoming too didactic. I could

31 not use long asides to make sure the reader knew the story had Marxist undertones; however, I wanted a voice that would bring out the satirical, humorous tone that I always have in my writing. I first sought to emulate Raoul Duke from Fear and Loathing in Las

Vegas because he had the quirky tone for which I searched, but as I began writing, the

YRLFHVRXQGHGIRUFHGDQGLWFDPHRIIDVDVWXQWLQVWHDGRI-DNH¶VWUXHSHUVRQDOLW\7KH first paragUDSKRI7KRPSVRQ¶VZRUNH[HPSOLILHVWKLVVD\LQJ

We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs

EHJDQWRWDNHKROG,UHPHPEHUVD\LQJVRPHWKLQJOLNH³,IHHODELWOLJKWKHDGHG

PD\EH\RXVKRXOGGULYH«´$QGVXGGHQO\WKHUHZDVDterrible roar all around us

and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching

and diving around the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with

the top down to Las Vegas. And a voice was screaming: ³+RO\-HVXVWhat are

WKHVHJRGGDPQDQLPDOV"´ (1).

The format was what I wanted; however, Jake is never under the influence of hallucinogens. ,NQHZKHVKRXOGQRWVSHDNOLNH'XNH3URVHVD\V³7KHKXUGOHGLVJXLVHV itself as the question of voice and of who is telling the story (should the narrator be first or third person, close or omniscient?) when in fact the truly problematic question is:

Who is listening? On what occasion is the story being toldDQGZK\"´  I could not

UHODWH-DNHWR'XNH¶VLGLRV\QFUDWLFWRQHDQG7KRPSVRQ¶VRXWUDJHRXVSURVH,GHFLGHGWKDW if the tone confused me, it would also confuse readers.

My next step was to find a tone that would capture the flawed, disdained

GLVSRVLWLRQRI-DNHVRUHDGHUVFRXOGEHWWHUUHODWHWRKLP,WXUQHGWR1LFN+RUQE\¶VHigh

32

Fidelity and its protagonist, Rob, for that tone. I gravitated to the first-person point-of-

YLHZDQGWKHFRQYHUVDWLRQDOWRQHDORQJZLWK5RE¶VGU\KXPRUDQGSDWKHWLFGLVSRVLWLRQ

The passage that demonstrates this point comes toward the beginning of the novel where

Rob muses over his break-up with his ex-girlfriend, Laura, after a conversation with her followed by more musing about the universal notion of break-ups. He says:

$QGWKDW¶VWKHODVWWLPHZHZLOOHYHUVSHDNSUREDEO\³1RSUREOHP´WKHODVW

words I ever say to somebody I have been reasonably close to before our lives

take different directions. Weird, eh? You spend Christmas at VRPHERG\¶VKRXVH

you worry about their operations, you give them hugs and kisses and flowers, you

see them LQWKHLUGUHVVLQJJRZQ«DQGWKHQEDQJWKDW¶VLW*RQHIRUHYHU$QG

sooner or later there will be another mum, another Christmas, more varicose

YHLQV7KH\¶UHDOOWKHVDPH2QO\WKHDGGUHVVHVDQGWKHFRORUVRIWKHGUHVVLQJ

gown, change. (Hornby 51)

To find my voice, however, that did not simply imitate the authors I have referenced, I chose to use Rob¶VYRLFHDQRQ-minimalist voice that converses and has a discourse with

WKHUHDGHUZLWKRXWZDQGHULQJLQWR0LOOHU¶VQDUFLVVLVWLFWRQHI rejected the voice of a

SKLORVRSKHURUFULWLFEHFDXVHOLNH%XNRZVNL-DNH³LVDIWHUDOODnovelist and not a social

WKHRULVW´ +DUULVRQ  High Fidelity¶VPXVLFDOPRWLIDOVRZDVDODUJHLQVSLUDWLRQ, molded my idea and my list of music, as Nick Hornby does with his novel, but the music, in some respects, has its own story with changes. Therefore, to return to my opening concerns, High Fidelity allowed me to avoid imitation by using a tone that matched my sarcastic voice and had no relations with dirty realism.

33

With all of the dirty realist and Marxist concepts I have highlighted in relation to

Writer on the Storm, I also believe it is important to discuss those who may read my novella. Throughout my academic career, I have always written works that tackled topics of personal importance to me and challenged controversial and highly ideological subjects. Like Bukowski, I had many critics in classes; however, I maintained my resolve to find my voice. With Writer on the Storm, I feel I have achieved that balance between realistic and ideological for which I have striven; however, I am aware that others may not see or agree with the concepts I present. A reader who is highly religious or a proponent of capitalism may reject my novella outright, but someone who comes to it with an open, literary mind will find my observations of the world told through Jake

Fish. He is a character with portions of my personality in him, but he is also a character who exists as his own person. I would have to say that the ideal readers for Wr i ter on the

Storm would be people who enjoy dirty realist literature as well as transgressive fiction and, to some extent, minimalist fiction. The novella references authors and traits of these distinct genres; therefore, it should draw in these readers. There are issues that arise with my decision to write within dirty realism. The language is crude and simplistic which may offend some people, but it is tame compared to the other authors who inspired me.

Also, if readers are not familiar with a large variety of music, they may become lost with the affluent and diverse musical references, but I feel that without the music, the novella and Jake would cease to be unique. Therefore, I invite everyone to read my work, but I am aware that not everyone will enjoy or understand it.

I will finish with wKDWPDNHVWUXHILFWLRQJUHDW*DUGQHUH[SODLQV³*UHDW

34 fiction can make us laugh or cry, in much the way that life can, and it gives us at least

WKHSRZHUIXOLOOXVLRQWKDWZKHQZHGRVRZH¶UHGRLQJSUHWW\PXFKWKHVDPHWKLQJVZH do when we laugh at Uncle +HUPDQ¶VMRNHVRUFU\DWIXQHUDOV´  7KHUHIRUH,KDYH written a novella that reaches anyone who reads it on some level because I feel that it is the most realistic piece I have written. Uncle Herman may tell terrible jokes, but one can gain life experiences from those interactions. Writing is not about imitation as it is about the writer finding creativity through individualism and recording his or her reactions to the world. For Writer on the Storm, I originally wanted a work that sought to humanize the depraved sectors of America; however, with my Marxist studies,

GRLQJVRZRXOGEHDSSURSULDWLQJVRPHRQH¶VH[SHULHQFHIRUWKHPDWLFSXUSRVHVDQG degrading them to banality. I found Jake more relatable because, like Bukowski, I know that capitalism will eventually come into play when I begin looking for a career.

I am aware of questions that will arise: How much of the story is personal experience?

How much did I make up? Does he intend for me to read this as a Marxist manifesto?

The answer to these questions is to not fall into the Intentional Fallacy. For my story,

³7KHUHLVRQO\RQHURDGWR/$± US Interstate 15, a straight run with no backroads or alternate routes, just a flat-out high-speed burn through Baker and Barstow and Berdoo and then on the Hollywood Freeway straight into frantic oblivion: safety, obscurity,

MXVWDQRWKHUIUHDNLQWKH)UHDN.LQJGRP´ 7KRPSVRQ . Everyone becomes that freak when he or she reads Writer on the Storm because I, for the last few couple of years, have been that freak who molded Jake from a crass, one-dimensional, counter- cultural drone into the complex, emotional, and individualistic person he now is. We

35 must remember that Jake, even with his issues with Los Angeles and Hollywood, is not the same kind of freak.

36

WRITER ON THE STORM

CHAPTER 1

I cross the Colorado border right before dusk,¶YHVSHQWWKHHQWLUHGD\GULYLQJWKURXJK

Iowa and Nebraska at a steady 75 MPH on Interstate 80. My Mini Cooper needs gas, but

,¶OOWHVWLW,IHHOWLUHGDQGWKHJDV-station cappuccino²Irish Crème, I think²has gone cold. As I left Wisconsin this morning, I felt both liberation and excitement because I

KDYHQ¶WVHHQWKH5RFNLHVVLQFHOHDYLQJ/$WHQ\HDUVDJR OHWPHMXVWVD\-RKQ'HQYHULV not IXOORIVKLW $QGWKDW¶VZKHUH,¶PJRLQJ%DFNWRZKHUHLWVWDUWHGPRUHRUOHVV

Ollie phoned me a week ago with a writing opportunity, and since they were still counting hanging-chads when I released my last book, The Bastard in 33 A.D., he said

LW¶VWLPHIRUDQRWKHU-DNH)LVKQRYHO+H¶GUHSUHVHQWHGPH²my first agent and best friend²when publishers tried cutting corners. He got deals done with, what I called,

British precision. I hired him for his accent and stayed for his company. I was young and naïve, trying to publish my first book, 6JW3HSSHU¶VD'LUW\2OG0DQ. He was just off the plane²an agent with no clients. We were both desperate. I needed an agent. He needed a client. Jackpot. He introduced me to good Scotch (nothing smoother than

0DFDOODQKH¶GVD\EXW,VWLOOVWLFNWRP\.LOEHJJHQ,ULVK:KLVNH\ +H¶VDOOEXVLQHVV and puts his clients first. At least he always put me first. So how do I repay him? With nervous excuses and a lack of confidence. In my defense, the last decade has seen a few short stories, a novella, an anecdote, and a couple dirty limericks, but I filed them all away in a folder labeled: Not for Sale.

37

Did Ollie care, though? In a word, no. He, as he does, sees opportunities in the market for me. He e-mailed me a list of ideas after our conversation:

1. A drunken writer searching for success in the bowels of L.A., and he

finds love in all the wrong places (how original).

2. A drunken writer trying to kick his heroin addiction through sexual

therapy (What?).

3. A drunken writer with a quick wit stuck in a lengthy divorce process,

so he takes a road trip to find himself (too Hollywood).

$GUXQNHQZULWHU«

$GUXQNHQZULWHU«

Before loading the Cooper and going to bed, I read and reread the list and thought, Christ,

Ollie needs me out there, RWKHUZLVHKH¶VFUHDWLYHO\XVHOHVV%XWKH¶VQHYHUKDGDQH\HIRU good literature. I emerged right after the release of Fight Club in theaters and as Chuck

Palahniuk gained his cult following. Ollie wanted to emulate that, buW,VDLG,ZDVQ¶WWKDW depreVVHGDQG,FRXOGQ¶WKDWHWKHZRUOGWKDWPXFK, so he caved. A little, at least. And I

EHFDPHDSRRUPDQ¶V%XNRZVNL$FULWLF¶VZRUGVQRWPLQH$QG2OOLHZDQWVWRJREDFN

WRWKHZHOO$SSDUHQWO\QRZWKHGUXQNHQQH¶HU-do-well attempting to write coherent

VHQWHQFHVSDVVHVDVJRRGILFWLRQ&RXOGQ¶WWKLVKDYHKDSSHQHGZKHQ,ZURWHSgt.

3HSSHU¶VD'LUW\2OG0DQ? No wonder I drink.

38

,FDQ¶WGULYHDQ\PRUH0\H\HVVWLQJDQG,FDQ¶WVHHWKURXJKthe bug splatters on the windshield. Wiper fluid just smears thHLUJXWV2OOLH¶VSKRQLQJDJDLQEXW,WRVVP\ buzzing phone into the glove compartment. I take a pull of my cappuccino and turn up

WKHVWHUHRZLWKKRSHVRIUHDFKLQJWKHQH[WH[LW8QIRUWXQDWHO\,¶PSOD\LQJ%RE'\ODQ¶V

³/D\/DG\/D\´DQGEXUQLQJDFURVV WKHUXPEOHVWULSVRQWKHKLJKZD\¶VVKRXOGHU

,GRQ¶WNQRZZKHUH,¶PJRLQJVR,WDNHDOHIWH[LWLQJWKHLQWHUVWDWH,EDUHO\FDWFK

WKHWRZQ¶VQDPH6WHUOLQJ7KHUH¶VD6XSHUVLJQDQG,IHHOMR\DOEHLWEULHI,W¶VSDUWRI a hotel commune. The Comfort Inn looks too pricy and the Travel Lodge, well, should offer penicillin shots and prayers with their complimentary breakfast, Wi-Fi, and HBO.

Like a bastardized Goldilocks (without the gold curls or feminine sensibilities), I found the Super 8 to be jXVWULJKW,ILQGDJRRGVSRWLQIURQWEXW,IHHO,VKRXOGUHWXUQ2OOLH¶V call.

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39

³:K\QRW"´

,KDGQ¶WQRWLFHGEHIRUHEXW2OOLHVTXHDNVZKHQVRPHRQHUHMHFWVKLP+H¶VQHYHU taken rejection well. How many of us do? He also reverts to the thick cockney he spoke in London¶V(DVW(QGEHIRUHPRYLQJWRWKH6WDWHV7KHUH¶VQRWLPHIRUWKLV5XELN¶VFXEH

I need to calm him down.

³0\SUHYLRXVERRNVGHDOWZLWKWKRVHWUDQVJUHVVLRQVbut FDQ¶W,RIIHUVRPHWKLQJ

HOVH"´

³%ROORFNVPDWH´KHVD\V³

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DQ\PRUH´

³:HOO,¶OOWHOO\RXZKDW+RZDERXWZHGLVFXVVWKLQJVIXUWKHUZKHQ\RXJHWKHUH eh? Get you some sun and a drink. We always did our best thinking while pissed on

6LQJDSRUH6OLQJVZKLOHOLVWHQLQJWRVRPH=HSSHOLQ´

,¶PUHPLQGHGRI³*RRG7LPH%DG7LPHV´DQG,DOPRVWIHHOWKHIURVWJDWKHULQJRQ the side window.

³6RXQGVJRRGEXGG\´,VD\³EXW,QHHGWRJHWVRPHVOHHS,¶PGULYLQJWKURXgh the Rockies and Utah tomorrow, so unless you want to scrape my fat ass out of a canyon,

\RXEHWWHUOHWPHJR´

³)LQH-XVWJLYHPHDFDOOZKHQ\RXKLW%DUVWRZ´

,KDQJXSDQGVWDUHLQWRWKHQLJKW,IHHOXQHDV\DERXWWKLV,QWKHSDVW,ZRXOG¶YH fROORZHG2OOLH¶VOHDGZLWKRXWTXHVWLRQ PD\EHHYHQWRDIDXOW EXWQRZ,GRQ¶WNQRZ,

IHHODVLI2OOLH¶VXVLQJPH. He pushes harder when there are extra benefits for him, like

40 when he started dating his wife. She refused to sleep with him, so instead of pursuing the sex, he educated her about the different flavors of scotch (she preferred Johnny Blue).

³%HVWVKDJ´RIKLVOLIHDV2OOLHSXWLW'RHVWKLVPHDQKHZDQWVWRVFUHZPH"$QHPSW\ bank account, maxed out credit, and overdue rent say ,FDQ¶WFomplain. I need

VRPHWKLQJDQ\WKLQJDQG2OOLH¶VQHYHUGLVDSSRLQWHGVR,¶OOWUXVWKLP,KDYHWR

7KH6XSHU¶VOREE\LVSODLQ9DQLOODZDOOV/LWHUDOO\7KHFDUSHWLQJZDVJUD\ZLWKD few coffee stains from breakfast. Some peeling wallpaper. A guy sleeping by the payphone. A middle-aged man, perhaps in his 50s by the look of him (some grey hairs on his head and in his beard along with some droopy jowls), greets me. His beard is coffee-VWDLQHGDQGKH¶VJRWEDJVXQGHUKLVH\HV+H¶VEHHQKHUHWRRlong.

³:KDWFDQ,GRIRU\RXVLU"´KHDVNV,VWKDWGLVFRQWHQW,KHDU"

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³/RRNDURXQG6HHDQ\RWKHUFDUVLQWKHORW"2USHRSOHRXWKHUH"´

I point to the guy by the phone.

³+LP"+H¶VQRRQH´KHVD\V³'R\RXZDQWDURRPRUQRW"´

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³,¶OOWDNHLW´

³:KDW"6R\RX¶UHWRRJRRGWR say please"7\SLFDO

41

³&DQ,please KDYHDURRP",W¶VEHHQDORQJGD\²´

³$QGDOZD\VLQDUXVK&DQ¶WVORZGRZQDQGWDNH\RXUWLPH$OZD\VGRLQJ things half-DVVHGDQGVWHSSLQJRQRWKHUV´

³,FDQJRRYHUWRWKH&RPIRUWLILW¶VVXFKDKDVVOH´

His shiftiness makes me nervous. He keeps scratching his arms and neck. If I have to guess: a combination of too much coffee and lack of food. I should know. When

I pulled all-QLJKWHUVWRPHHWGHDGOLQHV,¶GVXFNEDFNWKHILQHVWJURFHU\-store coffee. Pot after pot. The gurgling stomach. The trips to the toilet. Every half-freaking-hour. This guy even has my eye-WLF7KHUH¶VRQO\RQHVROXWLRQIRUDFoffee overdose. I pull out three cigarettes and roll them to him. He stares at them for a moment. Then stares at me.

Then back to them. Like a slow bobble-head. With an occasional head tilt. Back and forth. Back and forth.

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I want to ask what a smoker looks like.

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42

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$QGMXVWOLNHWKDW,¶PWUDQVSRUWHGEDFNWRP\WZHQWLHVDQG,KDYHWRRQFHDJDLQ convince my mother and Eric²EHFDXVHP\EURWKHUFDQ¶WGHWDFKKLPVHOIIURP0RP¶V hip²that writing pays the bills. SuUHWKLVJX\¶VDOLWWOHWDOOHUWKDQ0RPLV$QGDORW

IDWWHU%XWKHVSHDNVOLNHKHU7KHFRQGHVFHQGLQJWRQH7KDWDZIXOJULQ,IWKHUH¶VD

GHYLODQG,PHHWKLPKH¶OOKDYHWKDWIXFNLQJJULQ,¶OOQHYHUIRUJHWWKDWFRQYHUVDWLRQ

Unlike then, though, 'DG¶VQRWVLWWLQJLQWKHGHQOLVWHQLQJWR7KH:KRZKLOH,SOHDGP\ case.

:KHQ0RPVDLGQRWRPHJRLQJWRFROOHJH,UDQWR'DG+HVDLGKH¶GKHOS+H went over to his bookshelf full of records, pulled out a stack, and dropped them into my arms. I still remember the plastic wrap and dust. Tickled my nose. I remember saying

VRPHWKLQJOLNH³,FDQ¶WVHOOWKHVH´'LGQ¶WPDWWHU+HWRRNWKHPGRZQWRWKHUHFRUG shop the next day and came back with cash. More than enough to send me to L.A. I, however, joWWHGGRZQHYHU\UHFRUGKHVROG'\ODQ¶VBlood on the Tracks, Zeppelin I through IV, The Beatles DOVRNQRZQDV³7KH:KLWH$OEXP´  6JW3HSSHU¶V/RQHO\

Hearts Club Band7KH'RRUV¶L.A. Woman, and a signed copy of the self-titled The

Doors. And Abbey Road. Abbey fucking Road$OOIRUWKLVOLWWOHVKLW¶VZULWLQJFDUHHU

From that day on, Dad would still sit in the den listening to records, but he traded his

Beatles and Stones for B.B. King, Joe Turner, Sam & Dave, John Lee Hooker, and his new favorite, Taj Mahal.

,¶YHDOPRVWUHFODLPHGWKHP7KHUHFRUGV,PHDQ6WLOOPLVVLQJWKHVLJQHG'RRUV¶ album (good luck) and Abbey Road,¶OOGLHEHIRUH,JLYHXS:KHQ'DGGLHG,PDGHLW

43 my only goal. So when this guy yells at me for being a writer, I think oI'DG¶VVDFULILFHV but I need a room.

³'ULIWLQJRII"1RWHYHQOLVWHQLQJHK"´WKHJX\VD\V

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Could the futility be over? Can I finally plop down on a bed, put on a Dylan tune, or even some Pink Floyd (nothing too loud), put on some earphones, open a fresh bottle

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What?

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44

³6RUU\$QGORRNDWWKDWZHGRQ¶WKDYHDQ\PRUHYDFDQFLHV,¶PVRVRUU\´7KDW fucking grin.

,IHHOVLFN0\ILVWLVVKDNLQJDQG,¶PWU\LQJQRWWRVPDFNKLP7KHJX\ZKR¶G

EHHQE\WKHSKRQHLVJRQH,W¶VMXVWWKHUHFHSWLRQLVWDQGPH1RRQHZRXOGNQRZ(ULF¶V never pushed me this far, though, so why this man? What makes him so different? So

VSHFLDO"+LVODFNRIHPSDWK\RUKLVGLVGDLQIRUP\OLIHVW\OH"1R(ULF¶VVKDUHGDOOWKRVH

WUDLWV,W¶VVRPHWKLQJGHHSHU6RPHWKLQJ,IHHO,¶YHUHSUHVVHG%XULHGGHHSEHQHDWKP\ guts. The reason I left L.A. Rejection.

,GLGQ¶WOHDYH/$EHFDXVHWKHZULWLQJVWRSSHG1R7KHZULWLQJZDVVWLOOJRRGVWLOO potent. I went for a girl. And not just any girl. The one. Or so I thought. Jules moved two months before me into a small apartment down on Venice Beach. We had tried the long-distance thing first, EXWLWGLGQ¶WZRUN,PLVVHGKHUDQG0RPVWDUWHGDVNLQJZK\, went through so many tissues. Masturbation is not something you discuss with your highly-religious mother. In January of that year²last time the Packers had won a Super

Bowl, I think²I moved in with her and went to USC for creative writing. Jules liked the

VWRULHV,¶GZULWHIRUKHULQKLJKVFKRROVR,KDGKHUVXSSRUW,WZDVEOLVV,WKRXJKWVR anyway.

Mom never warmed up to Jules. Jules was an Irish Protestant. We were Irish

Catholics. These women were doomed to a war with 16th century roots. Someone

VKRXOG¶YHWROG-XOHV:KHQ,PRYHG0RPZDVKHDUW-broken DWOHDVWWKDW¶VZKDW(ULF told me). She had a mLOGKHDUWDWWDFNDQGVSHQWQLQHGD\VLQWKHKRVSLWDO'DGVDLGKH¶G

45 take care of things. Eric really hated me after that. Jules would rub my head lain in her

ODS+HUSHWLWHILQJHUVSDVVLQJWKURXJKP\KDLUDQGEHDUG6KH¶GVD\³

XQGHUVWDQGZK\,GLGQ¶WFDUH.

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EDOFRQ\GURZQLQJP\JXLOWLQD%XGZHLVHU³+H¶OOOHDUQWRORve you and respect you in

WLPH´VDLG-XOHV:HODXJKHG+DKDKD,WIHOWJRRGWRODXJK:DVLW-XOHVWKHEHHU

RUERWK"2UQHLWKHU",GLGQ¶WFDUH,ZDVQ¶WVFDUHGWRORVH0RP-XOHVVDLG,FRXOG handle it if it happened. I believed her but diGQ¶WQHHGLWMom was home in a week and a half and on the phone yelling at me for not calling. What is it with moms?

With Mom okay, I buckled down on school (for Dad. He paid for it after all).

When I met Ollie in graduate school, Jules immediately formed a strong dislike for him.

6KHWKRXJKWKH¶GVFUHZPHRYHU +H¶GFRPHRYHUDQGVKH¶GKXIIDQGSXII,UHPHPEHU

KHUSDVVLYHO\PRFNLQJKLPEXW2OOLHFRXOGQ¶WVHHLW+HWKRXJKW-XOHVORYHGKLVDFFHQW

6KH¶GPLPLFWKHFRFNQH\DQGSUHWHQGWRKRld a monocle while Ollie and I laughed and drank.

:KHQKH¶GOHDYH,JREDFNWRWKHW\SHUWRFRQWLQXHUHYLVLQJIURPP\HGLWRU¶V notes. I forgot about sex²I would even kiss her goodnight on the forehead instead of the lips²EHFDXVHWKHZULWLQJ¶VZKDWPDWWered. Then, when I came back from dropping off my thesis, the apartment was empty. She took almost everything. Somehow she managed to take a couch/love-seat set, two rocking chairs, a flat-screen T.V. and about 50 or so DVDs. She took the kitchen utensils. The Rolling Stones posters. The bed. The

46

GHVN(YHQWKHJRGGDPQFRPSXWHU,UHPHPEHUDVNLQJQHLJKERUVLIWKH\¶GVHHQ anything. One guy said he saw two guys loading a truck, so naturally I assumed she had cheated on me. With two guys. And a truck.

(YHQWKRXJKVKH¶GWDNHQPDQ\RIWKHSRVVHVVLRQV ZH¶GVSOLWWKHFRVW ,RQO\ hated her for taking the record player. I had bins of records and nothing to play them on.

,FRXOGQ¶WKDQGOHLW,FRXOGQ¶WFOLQJWR%HQ)ROGVO\ULFV ³7KHELWFKZHQWQXWs. She

VWDEEHGP\EDVNHWEDOO$QGWKHVSHDNHUVWRP\VWHUHR´ DQGHPRWH

FDWDORJHGP\DOEXPVLQP\KHDG,W¶VHDVLHU1RVFUDWFKHVRUVFUDSHV$FFHVVLEOHDQ\ time of day to tell me what and how to feel, and why I should feel it this or that way.

,SKRQHG2OOLHEXWKHVDLGKHZDVEXV\DQGWKDW,VKRXOG³JRILQGDJRRG

SURVWLWXWH6KH¶OOVKDJ\RXSURSHU6KDJWKHGHSUHVVLRQRXWRI\RX´7KLVZDVDMRNH, knew this. But I found one anyway. And the police found me.

I catch myself thinking of Jules from time to time. I miss her green eyes and her

VPLOH3HUIHFWWHHWK1RZKLWHQLQJQHFHVVDU\$IHZSLPSOHVWRSURYHVKH¶VDQDWXUDO

After Ollie bailed me out and I paid the state of California (prison overcrowding allowed me to oQO\VHUYHILYHGD\VLQMDLO ,UDQKRPH1RZ,FDQ¶WJHWKHURIIP\PLQG,VHH her with the receptionist²who now looks more like Meat Loaf²VLQJLQJ³,W¶VDOO

FRPLQJEDFNWRPHQRZ´,KDWHWKDWVRQJ

I realize I have two choices tonight: load up on energy drinks and more shitty coffee and drive through the night, or pretzel it up and sleep in my car. I choose to sleep. Or try to sleep at least. I open my tailgate and pull out a bottle of Kilbeggen from my suitcase.

47

,W¶VSDFNHGDQGJHWWLQJHYHU\WKLng back to their places is tough. I try not to listen to pop

PXVLFEXWIRUWKLVRFFDVLRQ0D]]\6WDU¶V³,QWR'XVW´SOD\VLQP\KHDG²what I refer to as my mental turntable²while I settle into the front seat for the night. Its minor tones and soft guitars UHPLQGPHWKDWOLIHKDVQ¶WEHHQNLQG,VWDUWDVNLQJP\VHOIZK\,¶P trying to get back to L.A., to ground zero. When I moved out there, Jules and I were cramped in our apartment (as I am now sans the shifter up my ass), and we had nothing.

Like many young people moving to L.A., we packed our suitcases with love, hopes, and

GUHDPV:HWKRXJKWZH¶GIRXQGKDUPRQ\1RURRPIRUF\QLFLVPDQGH[SHULHQFHLQWKH

VXLWFDVHEHFDXVHLIZH¶GKDGWKDWZHZRXOGQ¶WKDYHOHIW'RQ¶WZRUU\7KHUH¶VSOHQW\RI that packed now. Right next to my plaid shirts and dress pants, the Kilbeggen and the

Johnny Black (for Ollie), and two cartons²yes, two cartons²RI&DPHOV7KHUH¶VKDUGO\ room for the typer, but I made it fit. Sacrificed a few shirts and pants.

:KHQ\RX¶UH\oung and suffer heart-EUHDN\RX¶UHVWLOO\RXWKIXOHQRXJKWROLVWHQ

WR\RXUHPRWLRQVZKLFKVD\WKHUH¶VPRUHRXWWKHUH&KLQXS0RUHILVKEODKEODKEODK sea. Do you know where that thinking gets you? Packing junk food, perhaps a case of beer (for qXLFNVWRSVDWKLJKZD\UHVWDUHDV DQGORDGLQJDQL3RGZLWK³%HKLQG%OXH

(\HV´DQG)OR\G¶VThe Wall even though you want, you crave, for Bob Marley to tell you

³'RQ WZRUU\DERXWDWKLQJ FDXVHHYHU\OLWWOHWKLQJJRQQDEHDOOULJKW´%XWLWGRHVQ¶W come. $QG\RX¶UHVWXFNLQDSDUNLQJORWLQ6WHUOLQJ&RORUDGRDWRZQWKDWVHWWOHUV

VKRXOG¶YHQDPHG)8%$5IRUEHWWHUUHSUHVHQWDWLRQDQG\RXUHDOL]HWKDW\RX¶GQHYHU catch Bob Marley dead in this town.

48

,¶PWHPSWHGWRIOHH0\KDQGVVKDNHDQGMLJJOHWKHkeys hanging from the

LJQLWLRQ$SXOORIZKLVNH\GRHVQ¶WKHOS,UHDOL]H,JDYHP\ODVWFLJDUHWWHVWRWKH6XSHU-

8-prick, and remind myself to avoid further charity (L.A. has a large homeless problem).

I feel my phone buzz. Just Ollie. I let it go to voicemail. Not in the mood for drunken

UDPEOLQJV1RWWRQLJKW3HUKDSVKHKDVVHWXSDPHHWLQJ2UPD\EHKH¶VORQHO\,WFDQ wait until morning.

,WU\WRFORVHP\H\HVEXWFDQ¶WJHWFRPIRUWDEOH,JHWRXWRIWKHFDUVLWRQWKH hood with the KilbeJJHQQH[WWRPHDQGORRNXSDWWKHVWDUV7KH\OHWPHNQRZ,¶YH become small and insignificant. The last time I looked at the stars was when Dad and I sat on the roof when Mom was pissed. We listened to records (The Dark Side of the

Moon, if memory serves me) and looked through a telescope. I asked Dad what was up

WKHUH³:KDWHYHU\RXEHOLHYH-DNH´KHVDLG:LWKWKDWP\H\HVJHWKHDY\DQG,OHW

Dark Side SOD\IURQWDQGEDFNXQWLOWKHUH¶VQRWKLQJEXWFUDFNOLQJ

49

CHAPTER 2

Eric calls early. I¶PMXVWRXWVLGH9HJDVRQ,QWHUVWDWH,ZHLJKWKHSURVDQGFRQVRI the forthcoming conversation. Why does everyone want to talk all of the sudden? No

RQHHYHUFDOOVLQ:LVFRQVLQ([FHSWWKHODQGORUG$QGOHW¶VQRWIRUJHWWKHFUHGLWRUV(ULF and I KDYHQ¶WVSRNHQPXFKVLQFH'DGGLHG7HQ\HDUVWRGD\,UHPHPEHUIUHH]LQJP\

QXWVRIIDWWKHIXQHUDOZKLOH,WULHGVLQJLQJ³)O\0HWRWKH0RRQ´ KLVUHTXHVW ,JLYHLQ and answer.

³$ERXWGDPQWLPH\RXSLFNXS\RXUIXFNLQJSKRQH´,KROGWKHSKRQHDZD\ from my ear and think, you chose poorly, Jake.

³,WUDQJWKUHHWLPHV´,VD\³6HWWOHGRZQ\RXFUD]\EDVWDUG´

³:HUH\RXZULWLQJ"'LG,GLVWXUEWKHJUHDW-DNH)LVKIURPZULWLQJKLVQH[W bargain-ELQQRYHO"´,SXWLWRQVSHDNHUSKRQHDQGWKURZLWRQthe passenger seat.

³&RXUVHQRW:KDWZDV,WKLQNLQJ"3UREDEO\MXVWGULQNLQJDJDLQ«´

The Mojave allows me to tune out. Years of arguing have conditioned me to just

OHWKLP\HOO+H¶VDWKLVKDSSLHVWZKHQEHUDWLQJPH,¶PZDLWLQJIRUKLVXVXDO³,I\RX¶G

VSHQGOHVVWLPHWKLQNLQJDERXW\RXUVHOIDQGPRUHDERXWWKHIDPLO\WKHQ,ZRXOGQ¶WEH

OLNHWKLV´7KHQ,¶OOVD\WKDWKHVKRXOGPLQGKLVEXVLQHVV7KHQZH¶OOEODKEODKEODKDQG

ZH¶OO\DGD\DGD\DGDEHIRUHJRLQJEDFNWRQRWVSHDNLQJ,QWKHSDVW,¶d end the fight

ZLWK³,¶PVRUU\,GLGQ¶WNQRZJLDQWSULFNVFRXOGKDYHRSLQLRQV´'DGZRXOGFKXFNOH and Mom would glare to shut him up.

50

,FDQ¶WVWRPDFKWKLVULJKWQRZDQG,ZDQWWRFDOO2OOLHVR,ILQDOO\VD\³$UHZH

GRQH\HWEHFDXVH,¶YHJRW\RXNQRZWKLQJVWRGR´

³+DYH\RXHYHQEHHQOLVWHQLQJWRPH"´+HDVNHG

No.

³

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³)LUVWO\,¶PGULYLQJ²´

³$QGZKHQ¶VWKDWVWRSSHG\RX"´

³-XVWVKXWLWDQGWHOOPHDERXW0RP´

³$VLI\RXFDUH´

³2IFRXUVH,FDUH3HUKDSV\RXGRQ¶WUHPHPEHUEXWVKH¶VP\PRWKHUWRR´

,KHDU³*LYHPHWKHGDPQSKRQH´LQWKHEDFNJURXQG,I,FRXOGJHWGRZQRQP\

NQHHV,¶GEHSUD\LQJWR*RGDQG$OODK=HXVDQG2GLQRUPD\EH7KRU,¶GSUD\WR

2VLULVDQGWR

OLVWHQLQJ",KHDU0RP¶VYRLFHRQWKHRWKHUHQGDQG,ZDQWWRGLH.QHZ,VKRXOG¶YH driven off the mountains yesterday.

³-DNHDUH\RXWHDVLQJ\RXUEURWKHUDJDLQ"´

³0RP,GRQ¶WKDYHWLPHIRUWKLV,¶PNLQGRIGULYLQJ´

³

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³/LNH\RXSURPLVHGWZRPRQWKVDJR",¶PVWLOOZDLWLQJIRUWKDW´

³)LQH,¶PZHOO$QG\RX"´

51

³%HHQEHWWHUEXWWKDQNVIRUDVNLQJ´6KHFRXJKVLQWRWKHUHFHLYHUZKLFKLV

SOHDVDQWDQGWKHQWKHUH¶VVRPHLQGLVWLQJXLVKDEOHIHHGEDFN³6RUU\MXVWZLSLQJGRZQWKH

SKRQH´6DQLWDU\ZLSHV2IFRXUVH6KH¶VQHYHUZLWKRXWWKHP

³

³

³$QGWKDWPHDQV"´

³2K\RXNQRZ2OGDJH&ORVHUWRPHHWLQJ*RG

OLNH"´

1R,¶PQRWGRLQJWKLVULJKWQRZ,FDQ¶WGRWKLV:HDOZD\VGRWKLVHYHU\

Christmas. She traps me with religion. We fight. I leave. She cries. Eric calls. He yells. I yell. Wash, rinse, and repeat. Merry fucking Christmas, eh?

2OOLH¶VFDOOLQJVR,VD\³0RPLPSRUWDQWFDOORQWKHRWKHUHQG*RWWRJR&DOO

\RXVRRQ3URPLVH%\H´

,GRQ¶WDQVZHU2OOLH¶VFDOO,¶GJRQHWKURXJKDGD\RIPRXQWDLQ-driving

(accelerating and decelerating, ironic prayers for a service station, and no cell phone reception or signs of civilization). I agreed last night to call him when I reach Barstow and WKDW¶VZKDW,¶OOGRGDPQLW,¶PH[KDXVWHGKXQJU\DELWJXLOW\ ,GLGMXVWKDQJXSRQ

Mom), and slightly annoyed. Eric and Ollie trade off calling. I want peace. If only for five minutes. With that, I turn off my phone for now.

I joke to myself thDWPD\EH0RP¶VRQKHUGHDWKEHGDQGWKDW¶VWKHODVWWLPHZH¶OO

VSHDN,GRQ¶WNQRZZK\,ILQGLWIXQQ\,WHOOP\VHOILW¶VEHFDXVH,ILQDOO\DYRLGHGRQH

RIKHUJXLOWWULSVUDQWV%XWSHUKDSVVKH¶VZRQEHFDXVHOLNH,VDLG,GRIHHOJXLOW\0\

52 last worGV³&DOO\RXVRRQ3URPLVH%\H´1RWP\EHVWODVWZRUGV LIWKH\DUHWKHODVW 

,ZRXOG¶YHDFFHSWHG³,ORYH\RX´RU³3OHDVHWDNHFDUHRI\RXUVHOI´7KDWVKRZV

V\PSDWK\6KRZV,¶PVWLOOKXPDQ%XWWKDW¶VQHYHUEHHQRXUUHODWLRQVKLS³&DOO\RX soRQ3URPLVH%\H´,WILWV,W¶VXV,GRQ¶WOLQJHUDQGWXUQXS³0DPD7ROG0H 1RW

7R&RPH ´:HOOVKHKDVQ¶W«\HW

I burn the Cooper hot through the Mojave heat, opting to forego a photo-op at The

:RUOG¶V7DOOHVW7KHUPRPHWHU in Baker, and rush over the hills and reach Barstow by dinner time. I call and tell Ollie to meet me down at my old watering hole, The Jack

5DEELWDURXQGLVK+RSHIXOO\WKH\HDUVKDYHEHHQNLQGWRLWDQG7LPKDVQ¶WVROGLWRU gone out of business. Especially in this piss-poRUHFRQRP\,¶YHDOZD\VYLHZHGLWDVP\ tiny slice of Wisconsin. In between the clubs and high-end establishments in the Valley, this tiny shack, no bigger than a double-wide, sits in their shadows. I can almost see the signed Sammy Davis Jr. photo and the Three Dog Night mirror behind the bar. What really changes in a decade?

2OOLHVD\VKH¶OOPHHWPHWKHUHDURXQGHOHYHQZLWKDIHZ³FKDSV´,WPHDQV business-W\SHV6XLWV,W¶VRND\0RUHWLPHWRSUHSDUH'ULQNDIHZZKLVNH\VRXUVWR warm me up. L.A. nights spent alone can be cold. Got to get nice and fuzzy, though.

,¶PH[SHFWLQJFRPSDQ\

/$LVH[DFWO\DV,OHIWLW7KHKLJKZD\VUXQOLNHVHDJXOOVWRIUHVKPHDW(YHU\FDU¶V

ZKLWH,QDWRZQRIVXSSRVHGFUHDWLYLW\LW¶VODFNLQJ,ILQGVFUHDming obscenities and

53 extending the bird-finger are tension-UHOHDVHUV7KHUH¶VDORWRISHQWXSDJJUHVVLRQ)RU

WKHUHFHSWLRQLVW)RU(ULF+HOOHYHQ2OOLH¶VSXVKLQJLW$Q689 DOVRZKLWH FXWVPH

RII,FDQ¶WPDNHRXWWKHZRPDQ¶VIDFHEXWKHUEDVWard kid flips me off through the back

ZLQGRZEHIRUHJRLQJEDFNWRKLV'9',\HOORXWP\ZLQGRZ³)XFNLQJFXQWDQGUXQW´

If you come to L.A., prepare yourself to change into a vile, heartless, apathetic troll. And

WKDW¶VMXVWWKHGULYLQJ

Jules once²and I made sure it was a one-time thing²ran a person into a ditch.

6KHGLGQ¶WVWRS6KHIOLSSHGWKHSHUVRQRII6KHGLGQ¶WHYHQUHPHPEHULW,VHQWKHULQWR the tub with a book (a Margaret Atwood or Alice Sebold usually did the trick) as I did after eveU\PRPHQWRIVWUHVV$QGWKHUHZHUHPDQ\³

ZRXOG,GRZLWKRXW\RX"´VKHVDLGRQHVXPPHUHYHQLQJ:HZHUHWU\LQJWRPDNHORYH² a last ditch effort, perhaps²but she received a call from the principal of the school at which she tDXJKW)LUHG7HUPLQDWHG2UDVWKHJX\SXWLW³:HKDYHWROHW\RXJR´

6KRXOG¶YHMXVWVDLG³,W¶VQRW\RXLW¶VPH´0DNHWKHUHMHFWLRQVWLFN1HHGOHVVWRVD\LW ruined the mood. Hey, at least she got a call, right?

I arrive in West Hollywood on time. Finding a parking spot²a free spot, I should say²

VWLOOLVGDPQQHDULPSRVVLEOH,I\RXGRQ¶WKDYHVRPHRQHZKR¶OORIIHUWKHLUGULYHZD\

H[SHFWDZDONRIDJRRGPLOH0D\EHWZRRUHYHQWKUHH6RPHWLPHVIRXULI\RX¶UH persistent. If five, well, it LVQ¶Wthat important. I, however, find some luck as a car leaves right across the street is a non-metered stretch of road. With a little maneuvering, my parallel-parking is successful.

54

7KH-DFN5DEELW¶VH[DFWO\KRZ,UHPHPEHULWH[FHSWIRUWKHPXUDOWKDW¶GEHHQ

DGGHGWRWKHVLGHRIWKHEXLOGLQJ7KHGRRU¶VDFXUWDLQEHFDXVHFRPHRQWKHUHDUHQ¶W bugs in paradise. Some punk-kids, with their chains, spiked-jackets, and sweeping black hair, surround the pool table right in front. I walk right through their crowd and bump shoulders with the big one.

,WDNHWKHVWRRODWWKHHQGRIWKHEDUULJKWQH[WWRWKHPHQ¶VURRPWRDYRLG accidents7LP¶VQRWKHUH0XVWKDYHWKHQLJKWRII,¶PORRNLQJDWWKHZKLVNH\VIRUWKHLU

,ULVKVHOHFWLRQ6RPHRQH¶VMXVWFRPHRXWRIWKHODG\¶VURRPDQGWDNHQKHUSODFHEHKLQG

WKHEDU,GRQ¶WOLNHEDUWHQGHUVERWKHULQJPHEHIRUH,¶PUHDG\,GRQ¶WQHHGWKHLU

VDOHVPDQVKLS,NQRZZKDW,OLNH0\VWDFNRIELOOVVKRXOGOHWKHUNQRZ,¶PDVHULRXV drinker and no upselling necessary. She finally comes over to take my order. I look her straight in the eyes to order a Jameson (on the rocks) and become sick. Sicker when she realizes who I am. Jules drops an empty Coors bottle on the tile and her eyes pop. She looks exactly as ,UHPHPEHU'HHSEURZQKDLUJUHHQH\HVSDOHVNLQ HYHQZKHQWKHUH¶V

VXQHYHU\GD\ EXWKHUWHHWKDUHDELW\HOORZ6KHGRHVQ¶WVD\DQ\WKLQJDQGSDVVHVPHD

Jameson sour before walking to the other end to attend to another barfly.

,FDQ¶WKHOSEXWVWare. She still remembers my drink of choice and even knew the

ZKLVNH\,¶GRUGHU6KHGLGQ¶WHYHQWDNHDQ\PRQH\,SUD\IRU2OOLHWRJHWKHUHWR

GLVWUDFWPHIURPWKLVDZNZDUGQHVV+RZHYHULIJODUHVDUHEXOOHWVVKH¶VVSRUWLQJD-

JDXJH/LNHLW¶VP\ fault.

7RPDNHPDWWHUVZRUVHWKHUH¶VNDUDRNH6RPHJX\²looked like a cockney chimney sweeper²MXVWILQLVKHGUXLQLQJ³:KHQWKH0XVLF¶V2YHU´E\7KH'RRUV DQG,

55

ZDQWHGWR³WXUQRXWWKHOLJKWV´ , and two girls follow with a screeching, off-key rendition

RI3DXO6LPRQ¶V³0HDQG-XOLR'RZQE\WKH6FKRRO\DUG´ ORYHWKHVRQJEXWLWZDVour

VRQJE\ZKLFK,PHDQLW¶VWKHVRQJ-XOHVDQG,GDQFHGRUPDGHORYHWRVRLWKDVORVWLWV

EHDXW\ 1H[WXSLVDZRPDQZKRILUVWVD\V³

6WLOOUHFRYHULQJIURPWKHRQHZLWK0RPHDUOLHU7KHZRPDQJRHVRQWRVLQJ³+RXVHRI the Rising 6XQ´1RWP\IDYRULWH$QLPDOV VRQJ ,¶GWDNH³,W¶V0\/LIH´RU³3OHDVH'RQ¶W

/HW0H%H0LVXQGHUVWRRG´ EXWLWGLGQ¶WPDWWHUEHFDXVHVKHZRXOGUXLQDQ\RIWKHP

She fashioned herself a professional karaoke singer (a ridiculous concept) because she has all her songs picked out and never once looks at WKHPRQLWRU,¶PVRUU\EXW\RXFDQ

GUHVVXSDGRJLQFORWKHVDQGWUDLQLWWRHDWDWWKHIDPLO\GLQQHUWDEOHLW¶VVWLOODGRJ6KH made the barflies uncomfortable by putting her arm on their shoulder and ser enadi ng them as they drained their beers. It GRHVQ¶WWDNHORQJWRILJXUHRXWWKDW7LP¶VQRORQJHU here. Gone are the days of loners and professional drinkers at the Jack Rabbit. Instead of interesting characters with intriguing yet depressing stories, the place sold out to gimmicks. What would BuNRZVNLVD\"³8KKXKDKXK«WKLVLVWKHZD\WKLVEXOOVKLW

ZRUNV´DQGJREDFNWRKLVERLOHUPDNHU:LWKHDFKSDVVLQJGULQNHDFKRIXVWKHEDUIOLHV

QRGWRHDFKRWKHU2QHV\QFKURQL]HGWKRXJKW:H¶GNLOOKHULILWZHUHOHJDO

I catch Jules looking over DWPH6KH¶VIOXVKHGDQGUXQVLQWRWKHUHVWURRPDJDLQ

,WKLQNVKHFDXJKWP\VFRZO6DPHDV'DG¶V'RHVQ¶WPDWWHUKRZKDSS\,DP,ZRQ¶W have that big smile (a family photo hung over our old sofa and it greeted guests with two boys, one smiling and one not, a woman beaming because the entire family managed to

56

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HQRXJKVKRZHGDIURZQZKLFKVDLG³,ZDQWWREHZDWFKLQJIRRWEDOOEXW,ORYHP\ZLIH

PRUH´ 

Jules exits the restroom and walks right up to me.

³:K\DUH\RXKHUH"´

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She slides me another Jameson sour before walking away. The Animals-girl taps

PHRQWKHVKRXOGHUVD\LQJ³$UH\RXXSVHWWLQJ-XOHV"´

³1R1RZJREDFNWREXWFKHULQJJUHDWPXVLF´

,NQRZ,¶Pthat asshole. The one that UXLQVHYHU\RQHHOVH¶V funEXW,GRQ¶WFDUH right now-XOHVEHUDWHVPHDQGWKLVJLUOKDVWKHEDOOVWRDVVXPHLW¶VP\IDXOW",QHYHU

ZDVJRRGZLWKRWKHUV*RRGWRNQRZ,¶YHVWLOOJRWLW

57

The cockney-schmuck goes back up for another round. I groan in between sips.

,W¶VQRWXQWLO,KHDUWKHFROODERUDWLRQRI-RKQ%RQKDP¶VGUXPV-RKQ3DXO-RQHV¶EDVV

OLQH-LPP\3DJH¶VJXLWDUULIIVIRU³:KHQWKH/HYHH%UHDNV´WKDW,ILQDOO\VHHUHG,I,

EODFNRXWDQGSRSKLPRQH,VKRXOGQ¶WEHKHOGUHVSRQVLEOHULJKW" 7KHEDVWDUGFDQ¶WHYHQ

UHDFK5REHUW3ODQW¶VYRFDOKHLJKW$VLIKHZHUHDVHDOEHLQJFOXEEHG,IRQO\,¶YH

DOZD\VKDGDUXOHWRZKLFK'DG,WKLQNZRXOG¶YHDJUHHG,IVRPHRQHFRYHUVDVRQJ they better make damn sure he or she can sing it as good as, if not better than, the original. One exception, however. )LVK¶V/DZ: No one, no matter how musically talented, should ever sing a Zeppelin tune because no one can sing like Plant.

I slam my glass on the bar. Ice flies everywhere and Jameson covers the wood. I

FDQVHH-XOHVWKURZLQJPHRXW$OVR,¶PWKLQNLQJDQLJKWLQMDLOPD\EHZRUWKWKHOHVVRQ

I should teach this man. As I stand up to charge, I feel a familiar hand.

³/HDYLQJ-DNH\"´,ORRNXSDQGVHH2OOLHVPLOLQJDWPH+H¶VKDGKLVWHHWK fixed since the last time I saw him.

³:KDW"2KVRUU\-XVWDOLWWOHDFFLGHQW´

³:KDWDUH\RXIHHGLQJPHPDWHRYHUKHUH"´2OOLHVD\VLQ-XOHV¶GLUHFWLRQDQG laughs. A loud, snorting laugh. She flips all of us off and proceeds cleaning my mess.

Just OLNHROGWLPHV,PDNHRXW³)XFNLQJMDFNDVVHV´IURPXQGHUKHUEUHDWKIROORZHGE\

³1RZRQGHU,FKHDWHGRQKLP´&KHDWHGRQPH"'LGVKHVD\cheated on me?

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³

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58

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59

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Ollie does the Jake-to-Suits introductions. Mr. Fred Stevens is a publisher near

2DNODQGORRNLQJIRUDQDXWKRUZKR¶OOVSLWDQHZQRYHORIIWKHDVVHPEO\OLQHHYHU\\HDURU two. His words are technical but translatable: selling your soul gets you a cult following and the possibly of PRUHSD\FKHFNV&UDIWLVQ¶WLPSRUWDQW7KLQN&KXFN3DODKQLXN1R wonder Ollie likes these guys.

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60

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61

Crickets.

All this talking has watered down my drink. Bastards.

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Again, crickets.

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63

³7KHQ\RX¶OOEHVHOI-publishing your forthcoming novel from some dodgy website

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Dad were here, KH¶GFUDFNPHRYHUWKHKHDGIRUIHHOLQJVRPHWKLQJGXULQJD)OHHWZRRG

Mac tune, but I never told him about my affection for Stevie Nicks. There is a lot I never said. Like I loved him or that Football Sundays with him on the couch, in our underwear,

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Hollywood club. You can mingle or sit in a corner and brood. Your choice. No, forget

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7KH\WHOOPHWKH\¶UH coming and Ollie buys a final round. Scotch for Ollie and me. Wine for the suits. Dive-EDUFKDUGRQQD\7KHKRUURU&DQ¶WZDLWWRVSHQGPRUH time with these two.

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Defeated.

65

CHAPTER 3

2OOLHZDQWVWRJHWWRWKHSDUW\HDUO\,W¶VIRUDUHFRUG-release from a new band he

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Since when does he care about appearances? And did he offer me make-up?

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66

No answer.

Like Jules, he takes forever. She never knew what to wear or if her hair looked nice (the correct answer to theVHTXHVWLRQVLVDOZD\V³2IFRXUVHKXQ´ 7HDFKLQJ forced her up before the sun. Or I should say forced us XS6KH¶GVSULQJIURPEHGDQG stumble into the bathroom. After pissing, flushing, brushing her teeth, stomping on a

VFDOHVKH¶GKRSLQWKHVKRwer. I remember because the walls separating bed and bath were like multipurpose paper. And then there was the singing. Etta James or Eagle Eye

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I-love-you-babys.

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67

Ollie huffs back out of sight. I sit on the sofa that contorted my right shoulder last

QLJKW:LWKDOOKLVPRQH\QRZ\RX¶GWKLQN2OOLHZRXOGKDYHDVSDUHEHG:RQGHUZKDW his wife thinks.

$Q\WLPH2OOLH¶VQHUYRXVKHZRQ¶WOHDYe until he drops a deuce and takes a shot

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9HQLFH&DQDOV,¶OODGPLW,¶PMHDORXV+LVIODWVFUHHQWDNHVXSRQHZDOO+LVOLTXRU cabinet²made out of oak, glass, and portions of crystal²has bottles of scotch older than me. Aside from the view (a neon green, yellow, and sky blue house across the canal), this is a dream house.

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I look down at his hands. Yep, he gave himself a quick manicure. Goddamnit.

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V-QHFNVKLUWV7KH\¶YHG\HGWKHLUKDLUGLIIHUHQWFRORUV$QGGR,VPHOO«OLODFV"2K good Christ.

I waste no time finding a spot at the end of the bar. I ask the bartender for

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68

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She coughs, a hacking cough, and spits something out (probably green) before

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70

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72

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73

CHAPTER 4

I was worried what the party would be like when I got back. ,WLVLQIDFWMXVWDV,¶G imagined: guys with gelled hair and women in short, sequined dresses dancing like fools while sipping martinis and daiquiris. I shake my glass toward the bar and Jules gives me a disgusted smirk. Her co-worker, however, pours me another. It takes skill to achieve what I have. The girl that used to love me is now incapable of speaking. $UHQ¶W, supposed to save the speechlessness for sex? Well, WKDW¶VORQJJRQHLVLW"I have to entertain somehow. 7KHUH¶VVRPHRQHLQP\VHDWEXWDVFRZOVHQGVKLPDZD\,VXSSRVH

,GRQ¶WKDYHWKDWLQYLWLQJGHPHDQRU3HRSOH JX\VJDOVJD\VVWUDLJKWV\RXQJVWHUVDQG still-wanting-to-be-youngsters) look me over, see the beard and the frown, and they run for the daQFHIORRU,¶PQRWbotheredWKRXJKEHFDXVH,¶PQRWKHUHWRVXSSRUWWKHP,¶P supporting Ollie and his clients²okay, just Ollie. So, the I-will-cut-you look works brilliantly in keeping the air guitar players and the too-drunk-to-stand girls across the club.

There are many songs that the band on stage could play, but they chose Simon

DQG*DUIXQNHO¶V³&HFLOLD´$QHOHFWULFJXLWDUIXOO-metal version that should be illegal.

Even Jules covers her ears and she used to love the more alternative, grunge scene. I

WKLQNQRZ¶VDJRRGWLPHIRUDVPRNHEXWDV,JHWXSWROHDYH7RE\DQG)UHGDUULYHZLWK

KDQGVH[WHQGHG7KH\¶UHGUHVVHGWRNLOOLQWKHLUblack tuxedos with vests and bowties. I

H[SHFWHGDIHZODGLHVRQWKHLUDUPVVHHLQJDVLW¶VDFODVV\DIIDLU and L.A. loves (and

QHHGV RWKHUVWRVHHWKHP)UHGVD\VKH¶VQRWPDUULHGDQG7RE\JRWGLYRUFHGPRQWKV

74

DJR:HDUHQ¶WVLPLODUEXWDQ\FRPPRQJURXQGGHVHUYHVDGULQN7KDQNVWR2OOLH,¶P

GULQNLQJIRUIUHHWRQLJKW ,QHHGLWWRREHFDXVH,¶YHDOPRVW exhausted my cash from last night). Luckily the bartender²not Jules²allows my guests the same courtesy. A pinot noir for my fellow loner and vodka-lemonade for the divorcee.

³6RKDYH\RXFRPHWRDGHFLVLRQ\HW"´)UHGDVNV

³*HWWLQJULJKWLQWREXVLQHVV)UHG"&DQ¶WZHHQMR\RXUVHOYHV"´

³,ZLVKEXWP\ERVVZDQWVDQDQVZHUE\WRPRUURZPRUQLQJ´

³$QGZHDUHDSDFNDJHGHDO´7RE\VD\V³7DNHLWRUOHDYHLW´

³8VXDOO\Toby,GRQ¶WOHWRWKHUVSXVKPHDURXQG%XW,¶OOWHOO\RXZKDWVLQFH you two humored me last night in my environment and are still willing to do business

ZLWKPHKRZFDQ,VD\QR"´

³7KHQWKDW¶VD\HV"´DVN)UHG

³,WZDVUKHWRULFDOVLU«

,¶YHGHDOWZLWKVXLWVEHIRUH,WGLGQ¶WHQGZHOO2OOLHhad convinced Blarney Press to publish my recent novella. Contracts were signed. The writing was done. But when the

VWRU\KLWWKHHGLWRU¶VGHVNWKH\UHMHFWHGLW:HWKUHDWHQHGWRVXHEXWWKH\SRLQWHGRXW

VRPHILQHSULQWZH¶GQHJOHFWHGWRUHDG7KH\VDLG³,W¶VQRWOLNH\RXURWKHUZRUN´:KHQ

,UHVSRQGHGZLWK³7KHQILQGDGLIIHUHQWVWRU\´WKH\GLG

,FDQ¶WJHWFDUULHGDZD\WKLVWLPHE\ZKLFK,PHDQZLWKVXLWV)UHGDnd Toby get what they came for: a KDQGVKDNHDQGDVLJQDWXUH7KH\¶UHJRQHDVIDVWDVWKH\¶GFRPH

Not even a thanks-again-for-the-drink or it-was-a-pleasure-seeing-you-DJDLQ,GRQ¶W

75 even think they talked to Ollie. Just left me with an appointment with Toby tomorrow to

GLVFXVVLPDJHLVVXHVDQGVWRU\LGHDV ,¶OOEHWKHEULQJVXSdrunken writer at least three times).

2OOLH¶VEDQGWDNHVWKHVWDJH,ORRNDURXQGIRU-XOHVEXWVKH¶VSUREDEO\JRQH

7KHEDQGKRZHYHULV«ZHOO,GRQ¶WNQRZKRZWRGHVFULEHWKHP(DFKVRQJLVGLIIHUHQW

One features a trumpet. The next features a tambRXULQH'HILQLWHO\QRWVND1RZLW¶V

FRQJDGUXPV"1HZDJH":RUOG"7ULEDO",¶PZDLWLQJIRUDUDLQVWLFN:K\QRWULJKW"

What other obscure instruments could they use? Possible choices: the triangle, a saw, a recorder you learn in grade school, and a washboard. Ollie said they were Indie. I call it lazy. They may call themselves Blueberry Muffin Afternoon, but Eclectic Misfit Toys is a better fit. I hate Ollie right now. He should know better. If music were food, I indulge in fine cuisine (healthy and nutritious) whereas these bastards are fast food (mmm, trans- fats).

,¶PZDVKLQJP\KDQGVRIWKLVDQGDOWKRXJK,¶YHEHHQEDFNIRUPHUHPLQXWHVLW

VHHPVLW¶VWLPHIRUDFLJDUHWWH3HUKDSV0RP¶VWULHGFDOOLQJDJDLQ QROXFN ,WZRXOG¶YH given mHDSURSHUH[FXVHIRUDQH[LW7KHDLU¶VDOLWWOHFRROIRU+ROO\ZRRG²60 degrees²but it still beats the single digits in Wisconsin. A few other people have the same idea but remain distant. Eyes on the stomachs. Non-smoking hands tucked in pockets or arPSLWV2QHJX\HYHQKDVDVWRFNLQJKDW+H¶VSUREDEO\QHYHUVHHQ legitimate snow.

2OOLHILQGVPHDQGKH¶VQRWDORQH7KHEDQGQHHGHGDVPRNHEUHDNDQG2OOLH wanted to introduce us.

76

³'U-DNH)LVK´,VD\VKDNLQJWKHLUKDQGV7KHUDWWOHRIIDIHZQDPHVWKDW,¶OO

IRUJHW ,WKLQNRQH¶VQDPHG*XQGHUVRQ 7KH\GRQ¶WSRSRXWOLNH'\ODQRU-DJJHURU

0RUULVRQRU+HQGUL[ IRUGLYHUVLW\¶VVDNH 

³2OOLHWHOOVXV\RX¶UHDZULWHU"´DVNVWKHOHDGVLQJHU

³7U\LQJWREH´

³7KDW¶VFRRO´+LVIULHQGVDUHQ¶WLQWHUHVWHd. They spot a girl hosed in glitter and drift away.

³$QG\RXRIFRXUVHVLQJ:KRZHUH\RXULQIOXHQFHV"´,W¶VWKHJHQHULFTXHVWLRQ posed to artists, but it shows intrigue.

³2K\RXNQRZDOONLQGV7KHUH¶VVRPDQ\WRQDPH&DQ\RXUROO\RXUVRIIWKH

FXII"´

I want to say: of course. Thompson, Ford, Sebold (thanks Jules), Bukowski, and

WKDW¶VMXVWWKHILUVWIRXUWKDWFRPHWRPLQG0D\EH%XUJHVVRU%XUURXJKV

³,XQGHUVWDQGFRPSOHWHO\´,VD\³EXWWHOOPHLIDJX\ZDQWHGDFRS\RIAbbey

Road, where sKRXOGKHORRNLQ/$"´

³:K\QRWGRZQORDGLWRUSLFNXSWKH&'"´

³,WKLQNZKDW'U)LVK PHDQVWRDVNLV´VD\V2OOLH³where can he find a decent

YLQ\OVHOHFWLRQ"´

,¶OOWHOOKLPODWHUWKDW,NQRZZKDWKH¶VGRLQJ²FDQ¶WOHWWKHZDVKHG-up client educate and humiliate the new one.

³&KHFNWKULIWVWRUHV",GRQ¶WNQRZ´WKHVLQJHUVD\V³2XUYLQ\OWKRXJKZLOOEH

DYDLODEOHDWRXUFRQFHUWVRURIIRXUZHEVLWH´

77

+HVOLGHVPHDEXVLQHVVFDUG9HU\5RFN 5ROO,¶YHJRWAbbey Road on the brain and want WREHOLVWHQLQJWR³6RPHWKLQJ´-XOHVDQG,ZRXOGVLQJLWLQWKHFDURQRXU way to Griffith Park or Beverly Hills. I want to go back to when she was here regardless

RILIVKH¶GKDYHPH$Q\WKLQJ¶VEHWWHUWKDQWKLV,¶GNHHSWRP\HQGRIWKHEDUDQGZH¶d

VKDUHPRPHQWVRIGLVJXVWIRUWKHPXVLF$QG,¶GGURZQLWRXWZLWK³6RPHWKLQJ´,MXVW want her here. To relieve me of this nightmare. Tonight Jules could come up to me, punch me in the face, spit in my hair, and I would thank her for the attention.

³6RUU\EXGG\´,VD\³EXW,¶PRQO\ORRNLQJIRUAbbey Road²´

³:KDWVWUHHW",FDQORRNLWXSRQWKH*36RQP\SKRQH´

³1RPDQ7KHDOEXP"%\WKH%HDWOHV"´

³2KKK«ULLLJJKKWW´+HGRHVQ¶WJHWLW$QGZK\VKRXOGKH"³:HOONHHSRXU record in mind. The\PDNHJUHDWJLIWV&KULVWPDVLVFRPLQJXS*LYHLWWR\RXUPRP´

,IKHNQHZP\PRPKH¶Ghave held that in.

³7KDQNV´,VD\

The band heads back inside. I tell Ollie that I should go. I lie and say my phone¶s

EDFNDWKLVSODFHDQG,¶PH[SHFWLQJDFDOO. He says he has the spare key taped to the roof

RIWKHOLRQ¶VPRXWKRQKLVSDWLR+HJLYHVPHFDVKIRUDFDEDQGVD\V³FKHHUV´EHIRUH disappearing back into the club.

78

CHAPTER 5

The next morning my buzzing phone startles me while I eat corn fODNHV,W¶VSUREDEO\

0RP0D\EH(ULFLIP\VXVSLFLRQVRI0RP¶VKHDOWKKROGDQ\ZHLJKW,¶PUXQQLQJso

ODWHIRUP\PHHWLQJZLWK7RE\WKDW,GRQ¶WKDYHWLPHIRUDFRQYHUVDWLRQ0D\EHWKLVLV me using my meeting as an alibi to tell Mom later, or maybe I dRQ¶WZDQWWRNHHSRQH foot back in Wisconsin, but I find myself missing it at the moment. Crisp long grass

UHFHQWO\FRYHUHGZLWKVQRZ&KULVWPDVOLJKWVRQKRXVHVDQGSLQHWUHHV,¶PHYHQ

\HDUQLQJIRU0RP¶VLQVXOWV2U(ULF¶VLQVXOWV$WOHDVW,NQRZZKDW¶VEHKLQGWKHPEXW

KHUHLQ+ROO\ZRRGWKH\ORRNDW\RXIXQQ\RUWKH\LJQRUH\RX

DQ[LHW\RYHUWKLVPHHWLQJ"2UGR,UHDOO\PLVVP\IDPLO\"5LJKWQRZ,¶GWDNHPRFNHU\

DQGGHULVLRQIURP(ULFEHFDXVHWKDW¶VKRPH7KLVWKLVis unknown.

I toss a notebook into my shoulder bag as a cab honks outside. It takes a little bit to get there due to road construction and what not (another plus for Wisconsin. No year- round road construction). The cabbie drops me off, and I check my phone before going

LQ(ULFKDVLQGHHGFDOOHG,¶PDOUHDG\ODWH:KDW¶VDIHZPRUHPLQXWHV",SKRQH(ULF and he answers.

³+L(ULF

³

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79

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³7ZRPD\EHWKUHHPRQWKV'RQ¶WZRUU\WKRXJK,¶YH been driving her back and

IRUWKIURPWKHKRVSLWDO´

³7KHKRVSLWDO"´

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³/XQJFDQFHU"´,WPDNHVVHQVH7KHFRXJKLQJDQGVSLWWLQJWKHZKHH]LQJDQGWKH scratchy voice.

³

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³/RRN\RXKDOI-witted bastarG´,VD\FKDQQHOLQJP\LQQHU-%XNRZVNL³LI\RX ever, ever WDONLOORI'DGDJDLQ,¶OOULS\RXUJRGGDPQOXQJVRXW*RWLWlittle EURWKHU"´

I hang up before he can respond. Yep, just like home.

80

My meeting with Toby is worse and more unproductive. I FDQ¶WVWRSWKLQNLQJDERXW

0RP,¶YHDOUHDG\ORVW'DG&DQ,KDQGOHORVLQJKHUWRR"

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&DQ¶WWKH\UHVSHFWPH"(YHU\RQHZDQWVWKHVLOO\GUXQNFDXJKWZLWKDKRRNHU

Sure, L.A. is known for off-the-cuff-antics and bat-shit-crazy-VFHQDULRVEXW,GLGQ¶WGRLW

EHFDXVH,FRXOG7KDWZDVQ¶WPH&KULVWZKDWZRXOG0RPWKLQN"7RE\UHDVVXUHVPH

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XVHVLWIRUILYHIOLFNVD\HDU"´

,WXQH7RE\RXWDQGORRNRYHUKHDGVKRWVRIFOLHQWVKDQJLQJRQWKHZDOO'RQ¶W recognize a soul. What can he really do for me? Do I become another nameless face or

³DQRWKHUEULFNLQWKHZDOO´? ,¶OOJLYH7RE\FUHGLWWKRXJK+HORRNVSRZHUIXOLQKLV

EODFNVXLWZKLWHVKLUWDQGEODFNWLHFRPER*XHVVLQJ,WDOLDQEXW,¶PKRUULEOHZLWK fashion. The Blues Brothers did it better. And Dad ZRXOGDJUHH+HRQFHVDLG³*LYHD

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81

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Hemingway have EHHQLIKHKDGQ¶WGUDQNKPP"´

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7RE\¶VVKLIWLQJEXWWFKHHNV+H¶VDVNLQJKLPVHOIKRZDZULWHUNQRZVVRPXFK about another writer.

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QR"´

³'R,ORRNOLNH%XNRZVNL"´,NLQGRIGRWRGD\'LGQ¶WKDYHWime for a brush or an undershirt.

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He was a womanizer. An Alcoholic. Apathetic. You see, Toby²´

³0U0DGLVRQ´

82

³,¶PQR%XNRZVNLToby,GRQ¶WZRPDQL]H:KDW¶VZith you all pushing

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³,¶PQRWGULQNLQJWKHLUVKLWW\YRGND´

0\RXWEXUVWJHWV7RE\RXWRIKLVVHDW,¶PILVW-SXPSLQJLQVLGH&DQ¶WWHOOLIKH¶V going to strike me or not. I decide to test it by lighting up a cigarette, breathing deep, and exhaling toward his face. He coughs and takes puffs from an inhaler.

³7KLVLVJRRG7REDFFRXVDJH*HWPRQH\E\VPRNLQJVSHFLILFFLJDUHWWHEUDQGV´

-HVXV&KULVWKHGRHVQ¶WKDYHDQRIIVZLWFK:K\LVQ¶W2OOLHKDQGOLQJWKLVVWXII"

,VQ¶WWKLVZK\,pay him? Then it hits me. The clues have been right in front of me.

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EHOLHYHLQKLPEXWP\GRXEWVPDNHPHORRNDW7RE\¶VQDPHSODWHRQKLVGHVN

Mr. Toby Madison Agent and Publicist

Ollie had me sign with a new agent? First I find out Jules cheated on me, then

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RI6LOHQFH´DQGZRQGHUZKDWKDSSHQHG0\EHVWIULHQG,WZDVDPLVWDNH coming here,

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83

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2OOLH:K\DUH\RXXSVHW"'LGQ¶W\RXsee this coming?

0H1RKRZFRXOG,"

2OOLH:K\DUH\RXXSVHW"'LGQ¶W\RXVHHWKLVFRPLQJ"

Me: Right. My best friend and agent drops me. How could I have not seen it?

,W¶VVR simple.

Ollie: WK\DUH\RXXSVHW"'LGQ¶W\RXVHHWKLVFRPLQJ"

Me: Fuck off.

0D\EH,¶PZURQJ

2IFRXUVH,¶PZURQJ/LIH¶VQRWWKDWVLPSOH&RQYHUVDWLRQVDUHFRPSOH[

)ULHQGVDUHOLNHDQ\RWKHUUHODWLRQVKLS7KHUH¶VJRRGWLPHVDQGWKHUH¶VEDGWLPHV Qow the song makes sense!). I was his best man. He was my closest friend. We shared each

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84

QRWEHWKHDQVZHUV,ZDQW2UWKHRQHV,H[SHFW%XW,¶OOJHWWKHP2QHWKLQJ¶VIRUVXUH rejection fucking sucks.

85

CHAPTER 6

³:KDWGR\RXPHDQKHGURSSHG\RX"´

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Ollie. ,W¶VRND\LI,¶PVXOOHQEHFDXVHRIKHUEXWLIVRPHRQHHOVHPHVVHVDURXQGWKH gloves come off.

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,FDQVD\PDQ\WKLQJVDERXW0RPEXWXQFDULQJ PRVWO\ LVQ¶WRQHRIWKHP She was always there to clean knee-scraps or take me in for stitches (bike accident). But can she fix me now?

³,¶PILJXULQJWKLQJVRXW1RQHHGWRZRUU\\RXUVHOI´

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\RXUOLIHRXW*RG¶VKDQGOLQJPLQH´

86

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TXLFNZHUHQ¶W\RX")RROLVK\HVEXWTXLFN´,¶OOWDNHLW,W¶VEDFNZDUGVEXWDWOHDVWLW¶V a compliment.

For a mRPHQW,¶PUHOLHYHG+DUVK,NQRZEXWLW¶VWKHILUVWDEVROXWHGHILQLWLYH

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³'R\RXQHHGPHWRFRPHKRPe? I can have the car loaded and be there in a day

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NQRZKHIL[HGWKH79LQWKHURRP":KHQGLGKHOHDUQWRIL[WKLQJV"´'DGWULHG teaching him to hammer a nail. I had never seen so many bruised fingers.

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³7DNHFDUHRI\RXUVHOIDQGLI,GRQ¶WKHDUIURP\RXDJDLQJLYHJesus hell for me,

ZLOO\RX"´

³,ORYH\RXWRR-DNH´

87

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DQG,KDYH0RP¶VZRUGVDVDPPRLQFDVH(ULFZDQWVWREHUDWHPHDJDLQ6RZKDW¶VWKH significance of having the aPPR"7KHUH¶VQRWKLQJVLJQLILFDQWDERXWLWWKHUH¶VQRWDFWLFDO advantage, but in war you relish in opportunities and good intel.

2OOLH¶VQRWKRPHZKHQ,DUULYH7KHOLJKWVDUHRIIDQGWKHFXUWDLQVGUDZQ,W¶VTXLHWDQG, hear only gentle splashing IURPWKHFDQDOV,W¶VQRWOLNH2OOLHWREHRXWRQDZHHNGD\

DIWHUQRRQ+H¶VDZRUN-from-home kind of guy. Never liked desks or nameplates or framed pictures. Not like my new agent. I used to envy him. Some days²when magazines kept rejecting story after story²,ZLVKHG,ZDV2OOLH+H¶GEHRXWPHHWLQJ people, taking phone calls, going out for drinks, or kicking back with a scotch in one

KDQGDQGD79UHPRWHLQWKHRWKHU:LWKRXWSDQWVRIFRXUVH+H¶GLQYLWHme over to watch football²ours not theirs²DQGVD\³

FKHVW5HDOJHQWOHPDQO\,WROGKLP³%ULWV\RXMXVWGRQ¶WXQGHUVWDQG´%XWKHOHDUQHG quickly. A few short months later we traded boxers for box seats, taco dip for, well, I

GRQ¶WUHDOO\NQRZZKDWLWZDV6KULPSGLSPD\EH"+HJDLQHGDIHZSRXQGV KHXVHGWR be a twig with boney arms and chicken legs), but then²in L.A. fashion²liposuction took care of his problems. I kept, however, growing.

No use in dwelling on good times. I take off my pants and throw them on the

FRXFK7KHUH¶VDEDVHEDOOJDPHRQ79²,W¶VQRWWKH$QJHOVEXWLW¶OOGR,¶PVRRQ

ERUHGKRZHYHU7KHUH¶VKXQGUHGVDQGKXQGUHGVRIFKDQQHOVEXWQRWKLng worth watching.

88

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I put my pants back on.

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89

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LAPD) when I punched²seeing a pattern?²DGLUHFWRUZKRVHQDPH,FDQ¶WOHJDOO\VD\

IRUDGDSWLQJRQHRIP\IDYRULWHV6HOE\-U¶VRequiem for a Dream. He even put the

Yuppie from American Psycho ILOP¶VEHWWHUWKDQWKHERRN DVWKHOHDG+HKDGLW

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³7KLVLVDERXWXV´,VD\KHDUWSDQJLQJ2Olie glowers.

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There are: some reality show stars, Blueberry Muffin Afternoon, Franky

McDonald (some kid who won a singing competition), and Jared Leto (of course he signed the Yuppie). Not that impresVLYHEXW2OOLHVD\V³7KH\¶UHVPDUWEXVLQHVV

90

GHFLVLRQV7KH\¶YHPDGHPHHQRXJKTXLGWRQHYHUZRUNDJDLQ´,DOPRVWIHHOKDSSLQHVV for his success. Almost. Did I hold him back? Weigh him down?

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VRPHWKLQJOHIWLQPH$QGKHGRHVQ¶WVHHLW$QG,UHDOL]HKH¶VDWHUULEOHIULHQG,¶PMXVW another dollar sign. He ZDVQ¶WDOZD\VWHUULEOH. Something changed him. He lives in his gated mansion, with his lion statue and expHQVLYHVFRWFK,GRQ¶WQHHGKLPDQG,GR

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Silence.

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Hal Melbourne walks WKURXJKWKHGRRUDQG,DOPRVWORVHLW+H¶VVWLOOJot the stupid mustache that Dads wore in the 90s. I notice a folder and two bottles of booze in his armV,I,¶PVHHLQJWKRVHULJKWWKHUH¶VDERWWOHRI&O\GH¶V%URWKHUVYRGNDDQGVRPH

91

Macallan (though not the expensive kind). Still better than the Johnny Black I brought. I

ZRXOG¶YHDIIRUGHGLWKDG,QRWERXJKWVRPDQ\ERWWOHVRI.LOEHJJHQ%XW\RXNQRZWKH doctor comes first, right? Yeah, the doctor has always come first. In everything.

Seeing Melbourne wrenches my guts. He wanders upstairs without a word. No use in staying here. I creep outside with the Johnny Black. I want to get blitzed and

OLVWHQWR6SULQJVWHHQ¶V³%RUQWR5XQ´0D\EH,¶OOVLQJRQFH,¶PWKUHHVKHHWVWRWKHZLQG

I could ODQGLQDKRVSLWDO$QG(ULFZRXOGUXVKWRFDUHIRUPH2UFKDVWLVHPH,GRQ¶W know what I want. I do know, in fact, that my drinking will be barbaric.

I want to talk to Mom. Yes, I need my mommy. I could die of alcohol poisoning.

She should know before I go. I dial the number. It rings and rings and rings. No answer.

She always answers, though. I try the house phone. Nothing. Finally, I phone Eric.

6WUDLJKWWRYRLFHPDLO$V,VWDQGRQRQHRIWKH9HQLFH&DQDO¶VZKLWHEULGJHV,NHHS trying. Still getting the voicemail. Call again. Voicemail. Again. Voicemail. Rinse.

5HSHDW5LQVHDJDLQWREHVXUH,W¶VJRWWHQGDUN,WDNHDVHDWRQWKHEULGJH,¶PVWLOO calling. Still no answer.

92

CHAPTER 7

I go down to Venice Beach. I want to see the old apartment. The concrete sidewalk is showing more wear than I remember, and the people have changed. Tourists still have fanny packs and Wel come-to-California T-shirts. And sure, the vendors are here peddling hemp jewelry, paintings, and other art. The promenade, though, is more commercialized (fashion clothing stores, cheap sunglasses, a sports bar, and a Botox outlet).

7KHEHDFKLVQ¶WPXFKEHWWHU,VWHSRYHUDKRPHOHVVJX\VOHHSLQJLQWKHVDQG+H has the right idea. The sand would¶YHEHHQEHWWHUWKDQWKDWEULGJHLQWKHFDQDOVODVWQLJKW

I always loved the feeling of sand between my toes. After kicking off my shoes and

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93

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What about me? Do I have something in my teeth? Is my hair out of place?

Acceptable responses, but I choose to be more juvenile.

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Jules and I walk along the along the beach. It feels nice. Safe. Familiar. Her left

DUPGDQJOHVE\KHUVLGH,ZDQWWRJUDEKHUKDQG+ROGLW%XWWKDW¶VORQJJRQH.LGV around us and I wonder what RXUNLGVZRXOG¶YHORRNHGOLNH RXUgreen eyes, olive skin, and terrible slouching issues). She wanted to name our boy Jacob (not Jake) after her

94

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95

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Where did this come from? I want to run. Springsteen said I was born for it.

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96

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She snaps a few to be safe and shows me them. Two are blurry but one is perfect. Figure

97

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7KH\¶OOVWDUHDQGVD\³+H\WKDWJX\ZDVRQHFRROVRQ-of-a-ELWFK´'DPQULJht he was.

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PXFKVKLW'LHGEHIRUHKLVWLPH:KDWDZDVWH´,UHPHPEHUDVNLQJKLPLIKHZDV referring to me. He never admitted LW 0RPZRXOGQ¶WOHWKLPOLYHLWGRZQ but he was a worrier. When I once got sick²I think it was the flu²KHGLGQ¶WOHDYHP\EHGVLGHH[FHSW

WRJHWPHPHGLFLQHRUMXLFHRUUXQGRZQWRWKHFRUQHUFRPLFVKRSIRUWKDWPRQWK¶V

Batman.

When he died, I emoted on paper. I sat at my desk and wrote about how L.A. had changed me. Not just Jules or the prostitute. How artists²musicians and writers alike² had to be substance-abuse cases. Had to fly off the handle. Get completely twisted.

&UD]\VHOOVLQ/$,W¶VWKHLUELJJHVWFRPPRGLW\8QIRUWXQDWHO\, people live so fast that they burn out. They either overdose (Morrison) or blow out their brains (take your pick).

(YHQWKRXJK+HPLQJZD\GLGQ¶WGULQNZKLOHZULWLQJKLVpersona drank mojitos while at the typer. Talk about pressure. I needed Dad to teOOPHLWZDVDOOULJKW7KDW,¶GJHWEDFN

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Old Man (I had it buried with him. His choice. Our secret. Everyone else thought it was a Bible. Close enough. If there¶VDKHOO,¶OOEHWKHUH5LJKWQH[WWR'DG %XW'DG

ZDVQ¶WWKHUHDQGWKLVLVKRZ,HQGHGXSSXWWLQJWKLQJVLQSHUVSHFWLYH+HPLQJZD\VKRW himself, Dr. Thompson shot himself, and Virginia Woolf drowned herself. I wondered if

I needed to die for others to appreciate me. (Also: why do so many writers have guns?)

98

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ZRUN1RKDQGRXWV´,W¶VRIIKLVJUHDWHVWKLWVDOEXP. Cataloged A for Asshole among my other albums. I could only take so much his stuff that night, so I switched to Blonde on Blonde and drank a half of Kilbeggen before passing out.

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7LPHV5ROO´6RPHWKLQJ/RXLV-RUGDQFRXOGEHSURXGRI,NQRZ,OLNHGLW$QG-XOHV was tapping her feet. A beach cop rides by on a horse. He smiles and waves. Jules waves back. I nod. Cops still make me nervous.

The currHQWWHQDQWVORYHIORZHUV7KH\¶UH all over our old balcony. Jules says,

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KDYH,ZDQWWRVD\7KDW¶VZKHUHP\ desk and typer were. Facing the ocean. There are more than just lilies, though. They have: roses, carnations, tulips, daffodils, and some blue ones KLGGHQLQWKHEDFN$QGWKHQWKHUH¶VSODQWV$QGPRUHSODQWV,WZDVWRR much. Jules beams, though.

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,W¶VDPXUDORIVRPHNLQGDQGLW¶VQHZ7KHSDLQW¶VVWLOOEULJKWVWLOOUHIOHFWLQJ sunlight. I make out a computer and the word fuck printed in bold letters on the screen.

7KHUH¶VDKDLU\FKHVWSRNLQJRXWRIDSODLGVKLUW$ERWWOHRI-DPHVRQQH[WWRWKHJX\ZLWK a glass of it (on the rocks) in his hand.

99

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FDSWXULQJZULWHU¶VEORFN ZKLFK,KDYH RULW¶VFDSWXULQJKLVKHUdisdain for technology

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FRZER\KDW+DVDVPRNHU¶VYRLFH²what great musician GRHVQ¶W"²that adds character.

7KDW¶VZKHUHWKHIDVFLQDWLRQHQGVKRZHYHU7KHJX\¶VDOLWWOHQDwYH+HGRHVQ¶W suspect anyone knows the song. He finishes and people clap and they toss him their

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He looks at us.

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101

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6WLOOWKHVDPHO\ULFV´

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After the crowd disperses and the man only has an empty case, I walk up and say,

³'RQ¶WIXFNZLWKVRPHRQH¶VDUW,W¶VWLPHOHVV3HRSOHGRQ¶WIRUJHWWKHsongs that have

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He screams and stands up. He takes a swing. His hand flies by my left eye.

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DQGODQGVQH[WWRDKRPHOHVVPDQ¶VKHDG7KHWDEOe snaps in half. The woman screams and punches his back. Wood splinters surround him as he lies there. Just defeated. I

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LW%XW,KDYHKRSH$QGVRPHWLPHVKRSH¶s all you need.

102

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DERXWWKHFKHDWLQJ,¶OOEULQJLWXSODWHU6KH¶VOLJKWHURQKHUIHHW6KRXOGVWDUWHDWLQJ better. And perhaps give up smoking as Mom suggested. I don¶WNQRZZK\,¶PWKLQNLQJ about this. My chest pains could have something to do with it.

:KHQZHJHWWR-XOHV¶FDU GRZQ%URRNVWKURXJKWZRDOOH\VDQGD6XEZD\ parking lot, across Venice Blvd., over a homeless woman, and onto Abbot Kinney Blvd.) we stoSWRFDWFKRXUEUHDWK-XOHVMRNHV³

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WRGD\5HDOO\´6KH¶VWHOOLQJWKHWUXWK+HUQRVWULOVIODUHZKHQVKH¶VWUXWKIXO$QGVKH¶V dead serious.

³7KDQNV,HQMR\HGLWWRR´

³,JRW\RXVRPHWKLQJ"´6KHGLG":KHQ":KHUHZDV,",¶YHKDGP\H\HVRQKHU all day.

³

She pulls out an album from her bag and hands it to me. I recognize Morrison

ULJKWDZD\+LVKHDG¶VWUDQVSDUHQWDQGRYHUVKDGRZVKLVEDQGPDWHV,W¶VWKHLUVHOI-titled.

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Man]DUHN-RKQ'HQVPRUHDQG5REE\.ULHJHU5D\¶VLVDOLWWOHVPXGJHG

³:KHUHGLG\RXILQGWKLV"´

103

³,ULSSHGLWRIIWKDWJX\:KLOHKHUXVKHGDW\RX,VQDWFKHGLW´

I want to make love to her. Right here. In the road. I grab her and hug her. I kiss her cheek (not the ear). I thank her more times than I should. I forget the cheating.

,W¶VLQWKHSDVW,¶PDQHZPDQDOWKRXJK,¶PVWLOOLQDUXW%XW,¶OOIL[WKDW%HFDXVHRI her, Abbey Road¶VWKHRQO\RQHOHIW7KDW¶VDVHDV\DVDQ,QWHUQHWVearch. This is great.

³,¶YHJRWWRJHWJRLQJ´VD\V-XOHV

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PH´

,¶PHPEDUUDVVHGDQGVSHHFKOHVVWhat do you say to that?

³,KDYHWRSLFNP\VRQXSIURPVFKRROEHIRUHJRLQJWRZRUN7DNHFDUH-DNH´

$QGOLNHWKDWVKH¶VJRQH7KHMHDORXV\DQGDQJVWUHWXUQ:KDWRQFHZDVMR\KDV turned to mere contentment$QG,¶PEDFNWRP\WZHQWLHVZRQGHULQJDERXWKHU6KH¶V

JRWDNLG":KDW¶VKLVQDPH"+RZROG",VVKHPDUULHG",¶PZRUNHGXS6RZRUNHGXS

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104

CHAPTER 8

2OOLH¶VKDYLQJDIHZVFRWFKHVZLWK0HOERXUQH/LNHZHXVHGWR,EXUVWWhrough the patio

GRRUEXWWULSRYHUDUXJ7KLVFRXOG¶YHJRQHEHWWHULQDQLGHDOZRUOGDQGWKH\ODXJK,

IHHODVLIWKLVZRQ¶WJRDVSODQQHG,VWDQGXSDQGEUXVKP\VHOIRII7KH\WLSWKHLU glasses. I want to be back with Jules. There was tension, but it was mutual tension.

And we had fun with it. This, this is something no man should have to do. Have a heart- to-heart with his former best friend. Men discussing their feelings never ends well.

(LWKHUWKHUH¶VFU\LQJ VRPHWKLQJQRPDQORRNVJRRGGoing) or punches are thrown

FRQVLGHULQJP\,ULVKWHPSHUDQG2OOLH¶VEUDVKQHVVLW¶VSRVVLEOH ,ZDQWWRJRKRPHDQG not do this. Home home, that is. With Dad grilling on the deck and Mom mashing potatoes. Eric would be peeling carrots. I would toss a football to myself while singing

³/XFNEHD/DG\´

The joke¶VRQPH2OOLH¶VUHDG\WRJR

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Not with him here, Ollie.

³6XUHZK\QRW"´,VD\

³+DODQG,ZHUHGLVFXVVLQJRXUQHZYHQWXUH1RZ\RX¶OOSUREDEO\WKLQNZH¶UH

GDIWEXWOLVWHQWRWKLV´,¶YHQHYHUVHHQKLPVRH[FLWHG³,W¶VDERRNRND\ERXQGZLWKD generic cover like an ocean view or a jungle. You know, something vague to inspire

SHRSOH´

³7RGRZKDWH[DFWO\"´

105

³7RZULWH(YHU\RQHKDVIDQWDVLHVDERXWEHFRPLQJDSXEOLVKHGDXWKRU´

³1RVHOI-respecting writer calls him- or herself a published author´

³([DFWO\´2OOLHVD\V

I try to piece things together. What does he mean by exactly?

³:KDWH[DFWO\"´

³7KHVHSHRSOHDUHQ¶WZULWHUV7KLQNDERXWWKHPLOOLRQV who dream of it, though.

The chap sitting at his desk while the clock barely moves. The housewife with too many

EORRG\FKLOGUHQZKRVHOLIHLVEROORFNVDQGVKHZDQWVWRIHHOLPSRUWDQW´

³6R\RX¶UHRIIHULQJSHRSOHZLWKQRH[SHULHQFHRUFUHDWLYHHGXFDWLRn, a chance at

SXEOLFDWLRQ",VQ¶WWKDWWKHVDPHDVVHOI-SXEOLVKLQJ"7KHVKLW\RXVDLGZDVSRLQWOHVV"´

³%XW\RXcan ZULWH7KHVHVRGVFDQ¶WDQGLIZHFDQFDSLWDOL]HRQWKLVVHOI-

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Ollie offers me a scotch but I decline. Not thirsty.

³

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I realize I no longer recognize Ollie, recognize my best friend. He may have been

UHFNOHVVZLWKKLVOLIHEXWQHYHUZLWKKLVIULHQGVKLSV$QGZKHUH¶VKLVZLIHLQDOOWKLV"

106

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³

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WKDW´

+HGLGQ¶WFDOOWRWHOOPH,ZRXOG¶YHVXSSRUWHGKLP:KHQKLVILUVW$PHULFDQ girlfriend left him, I was the one holding him. We listened to Smiths records and got sick on Rocky Road. That was then, though.

7KLQJVVHWWOHGRZQDIWHUWKDW0HOERXUQHVLWVLQDUHFOLQHU+HKDVQ¶WVDLGDZRUG

WRPHDQGLW¶VPDNLQJPHQHUYRXV2OOLHFRQWLQXHVZLWKKLVSKDQWRPERRNLGHD,VWLOO

GRQ¶WXQGHUstand. Apparently, the book is the DXWKRU¶V YHVVHO2OOLHVD\VWKDWWKH\¶OOSD\

HDFKZULWHUDUHDVRQDEOHVXP DQ\RQHWUDLQHGWRGHWHFWVDUFDVPNQRZVWKDW2OOLH¶VLGHDV of a reasonable sum ZLOOGLIIHUIURPWKHZULWHU¶V ,W¶VDIODWUDWHIRUDUW$VLIHYHU\RQH¶V

WKHVDPH2OOLHVD\V³6HOI-published writers need to sell their work. We take care of

WKDWVWHS7KH\IHHODWHDVH´Ease?

,KDYHWRDGPLW2OOLH¶VWHQDFLRXV,W¶VDTXDOLW\,OLNHG«ZKHQKHZDVmy agent.

Ollie wants my approval. He still craves it. He still offers me scotch, but I keep refusing.

More vehemently each time.

107

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³

I give him a thumbs-up and a half-smile.

³:K\DUH\RXORRNLQJDWPHDVLI,¶PPHQWDO"´KH asks.

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UHPHPEHULQJP\ULJKWKRRNDERXWQRZ³2OOLH,¶PVRUU\,¶PQRWXS-to-date with the

QHZZD\VWRVFDPSHRSOH%XW\RXVHHZKHQ\RXVD\WKHUH¶OOEHDQRFHDQRU trees on the

FRYHUGR\RXNQRZZKDW,¶PLQVSLUHGWRVD\",W¶VWKHGHDWKRIOLWHUDWXUH´

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KRRSVWRMXPSWKURXJK:ULWHZKDW\RXZDQW´

108

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XOWLPDWHO\LW¶VVWLOODVVHPEO\-OLQHPDQXIDFWXUHGFUDS,W¶VQRWDUW

³6XUHWKDWVRXQGVJUHDWDQGDOO´,VD\´H[FHSW\Ru still take double the profits.

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³

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Take your shit and your non-H[LVWHQWWDOHQWDQGJHWIXFNHG´+DOODXJKVLQP\WKLQNLQJ anyway, inappropriately.

They say things flash before you when you die. The same goes for friendships.

,¶PWKLQNLQJ,IRXQGKLPZKHQKHZDVQRWKLQJ KHDWH&KLQHVHWDNH-out every night and

KXQJRXWVLGHRIFOXEVWU\LQJWRSLFNXSGUXQNZRPHQ DQG,FDQ¶WUHPHPEHUZK\,FDUHG

,¶PWKLQNLQJZRXOGP\VHFRQGERRNKDYHVROGEHWWHULIKHKDGQ¶WLQIOXHQFHGLW KH thought of the title, The Bastard in 33 A.D.EHFDXVHKHZDQWHGWR³VWLFNLWWRthose

SHRSOH´WKRVHSHRSOHEHLQJUHOLJLRXVIRONV )LQDOO\,¶PWKLQNLQJZKDW¶VWKHJRGGDPQ point?

,¶YHJRWQRZKHUHWRJRH[FHSWKRPH%DFNWo a dirty apartment. Back to the cold

DQGWKHVQRZ2OOLH¶VWKURZQPHRXW,KDYHQ¶WHYHQEHHQKHUHIRUWKHIXOOWZRZHHNV VR

109 much more to do). Jules has said her peace and that book is closed. What do I have left?

A long car ride back through the Mojave, Vegas, Utah, the Rockies, and corn fields.

:LWKLF\URDGVDQGVSLQQLQJWLUHV,QVKRUW,¶PEDFNWRZKHUH,VWDUWHGEDFNWRURFN bottom²RUZLWK0RP¶VKHDOWKEHORZWKHURFNV²as I was a decade ago.

I load the car with the last of the suitcases. ,DFWOLNH,GRQ¶WFDUHEXW2OOLHwas like a

EURWKHU0RUHWKDQ(ULFKDVHYHUEHHQ5LJKWQRZ,¶OODFFHSWDFDOOIURP(ULF2UD message. Text or voice. Anything, really. I think about running down to Venice Blvd. and jumping in front of a car. I think about fighting Ollie. A true fight. One with closed

ILVWVEODFNH\HVDQGORRVHWHHWK2QHWKDWUHPLQGHG\RXWKHUH¶VPRUHWKDQDQJHU

$QJHU¶VRQO\WKHFDWDO\VWIRUSDLQ$QG,ZDQWSDLQ:KHQ,WXUQDURXQG-XOHVLV standing next to her white SUV.

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Spending money on expensive scotch and high-end club cover charges. For what? To feel important? To get noticed. Living the dream%HFRPLQJDVWDU"´

110

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Jules leans on the Cooper and puts her arm around me. It feels nice. Feels familiar. This is how home should feel.

³-DNH,¶OOWHOO\RXZKDW$QGGRQ¶WPDNHPHUHJUHWWKLV:K\GRQ¶W\RXVWD\ with me for a while?´

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³

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+RZ¶V staying with her going to help? What am I going to do? Make a move?

5HNLQGOHRXUROGIODPH"%DE\VLWWKHNLG"1RQHRIWKRVHVRXQGSURPLVLQJ:RXOGQ¶WLW be great, though? If she realized, after a few days, that she made the biggest mistake she could¶YHPDGHE\FKHDWLQJRQPHDQGZHJHWEDFNWRJHWKHUDVLIQRWKLQJHYHUKDSSHQHG

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111

7KHUH¶VRQO\RQHVRQJIRUDPRPHQWVXFKDVWKLV3HDUO-DP¶V³%ODFN´,W¶VQRW usually on the mental queue²Pearl Jam iV-XOHV¶IDYRULWHEDQG²EXW,IHHOLW¶VDSSOLFDEOH

,KHDU(GGLH9HGGHUJURZO³,NQRZVRPHGD\\RX OOKDYHDEHDXWLIXOOLIH,NQRZ\RX OOEH

DVXQLQVRPHERG\HOVH VVN\EXWZK\ZK\ZK\FDQ WLWEHFDQ WLWEHPLQH´,IRQO\OLIH was as simple as songs. Play it and things happen accordingly.

Mom will be pissed if she finds out. I feel guilty for not checking up. But I

GHFLGHWRWU\RSWLPLVP,¶OOKDYHDSODFHWRVOHHS,VWLOOKDYHP\W\SHUDQGWRDOHVVHU

H[WHQWP\KHDOWK7KDW¶VHQRXJKIRUQRZ,QWKHPRUQLQJ,¶OOFRRNEUHDNIDVW6KRZD little gratitude for once. I recall she used to love eggs.

112

CHAPTER 9

-XOHVGRHVQ¶WORRNSUHWW\LQWKHPRUQLQJ:KDWZRPDQGRHV"7KH\¶OOWLHWKHLUKDLUXS but after eight or so hours of rolling arouQGLWEHFRPHVDELUG¶VQHVW-XOHV¶VRQVLWVDW

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His brown-eyes squint. I swHDUKH¶VORRNLQJLQWRP\VRXOEHFDXVHKHVD\V³

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³-DFRE'DYLG&RQQROO\$SRORJL]H´-XOHVVRXQGVVWUDQJHO\OLNH0RPEXW,¶P not going to tell her.

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113

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ORRNDWWKHEDVHPHQWDQG\RX¶GQHYHUNQRZDFKLOGSOD\VGRZQWKHUH+H¶VVXFFHVVIXOO\ accounted for everything down to the last detail. Proper business strategy. He has the makings of a fine EXVLQHVVPDQEXWOLNHVRPDQ\RWKHUVVLPLODUWRKLPKH¶VJRWRQO\RQH route: fall in love, move in with the girl, become a writer, and get crushed.

-XOHVVWUXJJOHVZLWKKLP+H¶VYHU\DQLPDWHG ,¶YH never seen arms say so much).

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114

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Jules can only shake her head. Arms folded. Tapping her right foot. The left

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She blows on it and takes a sip. And another. Steam runs up her nose.

³

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115

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116

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She sits on a chair and crosses her leg.

³

Yes. Did I apologize? No. But try living with a person who constantly shadows you.

Reporting every transgression to Mom²DQG'DGODXJKVEHFDXVHKH¶VSURXG,FDQ¶W defend myself, but it created a vivid scene for 6JW3HSSHU¶VD'LUW\2OG0DQ³6XFK

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ZLWKUHYLHZVWKDWSRVLWLYH,ZRXOG¶YHPDGH2SUDK¶VOLVWE\QRZ*XHVVP\prose is too purple. Either that, or her staff read the letter Ollie sent, which said Oprah should read the book²in her defense, the letter was informal and perhaps a little insulting²and she,

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³+RZDERXWVHQGLQJKLPRXWVLGH"+H¶VORRNLQJTXLWHSDOH,OHDUQHGVRPXFK from falling out of trees and breaking limbs, or falling off bicycles and scraping my

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117

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³

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³6FKRROVDUHQ¶WDQ\EHWWHU.LGVDUHEUDWVDQGWHDFKHUV DUHJORULILHGEDE\VLWWHUV´

-DFREDSSHDUVDWWKHWRSRIWKHVWDLUV+H¶VZHDULQJDVXLW%ODFN$ZKLWHVKLUW and a black tie. Now WKDW¶V a Blues Brother. Hair properly combed and a pair of shined, black wingtips.

³:KRDEXGG\ZKDWDUH\RXDOOGUHVVHGXSIRU"´,DVN

³&KXUFK'U)LVK7KLVLVKRZ\RX¶UHVXSSRVHGWRGUHVVIRU*RG´-XOHVDQG,

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,W¶V-XOHV¶ turn to shower and get dressed, which leaves Jacob and me plenty of time to become further acquainted.

118

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³5HDOO\"5RFNµQ¶UROO"´

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And we pinky swear.

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-XOHVGRHVQ¶WQHHGWRZRUU\DERXWPXVLFZLWKKLP+H¶VJRWLW under control.

&DQ¶WZDLWWRVHHKHUIDFHZKHQVKHILQGVRXWKH¶VOLVWHQLQJWR3HDUO-DP+HUILUVWORYH

She lost her virginity while Vedder performed The WKR¶V³%DED2¶5LOHy´OLYHIRUWKH

ILUVWWLPH7KHIORRURI6HDWWOH¶V0RRUH7KHDWHUJDYH-XOHV¶DVVDQDVW\EXUQWRR

³,¶PROGHQRXJK,¶PDOPRVWHOHYHQ´

119

³7KDWLVROG´,VD\

7KHPDWKGRHVQ¶WDGGXSIRUPH-DFRE¶VDOPRVW-years-old and Jules left ten years ago. She was pregnant when she left? There are only three possible options:

,PPDFXODWH&RQFHSWLRQ ZKLFKLIWUXHPHDQV,¶YHEHHQZURQJDERXWever ythi ng ,¶PKLV fatheURU-DFRE¶VWKHSURGXFWRIKHULQILGHOLW\

:KDWVKRXOG,WKLQNKHUH",¶YHQHYHUEHHQJRRGDWPDWKVXUHEXW,¶PQRWDQ

LGLRW,VKRXOG¶YHH[SHFWHGWKLVWKRXJK,NQHZVKHFKHDWHGDQG,QHYHUDVNHG,¶YH

EHHQWRREXV\VRDNLQJWKLVDOOXSWKDW,¶Ye gotten lazy. Comfortable, even. While Jules is upstairs, Jacob and I have been bonding. Real bonding, too. Bonding over important things: Star Wars and music. Do you know where bonding gets you? Talking to the bastard child whose father banged your JLUOIULHQGZKLOH\RXZHUHZKHUHYHU7KDW¶VQRW fair

,GRQ¶WZDQWWRWKURZDWDQWUXP7KHER\GRHVQ¶WGHVHUYHLW,ORRNDURXQGIRU

ERR]HEXWWKHSODFHVHHPVGU\$WWKLVSRLQW,¶OOVHWWOHIRUVFKQDSSV,DVN-DFREZKHUH

Jules keeps the alcohol²any almost-11-year-old knows where to find good whiskey, right?²DQGKHVD\V³0RPNHHSVWKHDGXOWGULQNVGRZQVWDLUVLQWKHORFNHGFDELQHW´2I

FRXUVHKHGRHVQ¶WNQRZZKHUHWKHNH\LV,W¶VQRWKLVIDXOW²although kids should know these things. I excuse myself and go outside for a cigarette.

7KHVWRUPE\ZKLFK,PHDQWKHVXVSHFWHGUDLQQHYHUFDPH,¶YHVPRNHGIRXURUILYH

FLJDUHWWHVZLWK7KH:KRRQWKHEUDLQ³:RQ¶W*HW)RROHG$JDLQ´MXVWVHHPVWRILW

%HIRUH,NQRZLW,¶PRQ2FHDQ3DUN%OYGZKLFKLs ten blocks away. The street is busy,

120 as usual, and I can only make out the outlines of the cars that zip by. Bicyclists glower

EHFDXVH,GRQ¶WJHWRXWRIWKHLUZD\2QHJLUO\HOOV³:DWFKZKHUH\RX¶UHIXFNLQJJRLQJ

DVVKROH´7KHUHZDVVRPHWKLQJKDXQtingly Brooklyn about her. God forbid you mess

ZLWKVRPHRQH¶VL.A. Zen.

,ZRXOG¶YHKDSSLO\MXPSHGLQIURQWRIDFDUODVWQLJKWEXW,KDYHQRXVHIRULW

QRZ9HKLFXODUPDQVODXJKWHULVQRWLQIDFWP\SUHIHUUHGZD\WRGLH,¶OODFFHSWQDWXUDO causes, a painless illness, a sudden heart attack, or in a shoot-RXW ,¶YHZDQWHGLWVLQFHWKH first time Dad showed me Scarface). Jules and Jacob are leaving when I return. I wave

DWWKHP7KH\¶UHUXQQLQJODWH$VLPSOHWKXPEV-up from me suffices. Jules burns down the road and she reminds me how insane she is on the road. Even in L.A., if you can believe it, she stands out. Once she turns on Ocean Park and is out of view, I wait for the forthcoming horns. Like a full orchestra warming up, there are squealing tires (strings)

DQGKRUQVLQXQLVRQ KRUQVQDWXUDOO\ DVLGHIURPRQHVWUDJJOHU1RUPDOO\,¶OOVD\DJRRG band is only as good as its percussion section, but in this case (which would include bent

VWHHODQGGHSOR\HGDLUEDJV ,¶OOPDNHDQH[FHSWLRQ.

As I come up to the front door (a few potted plants, a welcome-home mate, and

PLGQLJKWEOXHODWWLFHZRUNRIIVHWWLQJWKHZKLWHVLGLQJ ,UHPHPEHU,GLGQ¶WFRRNWKHP breakfast. One thing this trip has proven is that I am, in fact, an awful house-guest. Who

FDUHVULJKWQRZDERXWLGHQWLI\LQJ-DFRE¶VIDWKHU",VKRXOGEHKDSS\WKDW,KDYHDSODFHWR

VWD\%XW,¶PQRWKDSS\²I admit being around Jules is more gratifying than it was with

2OOLH$WOHDVWVKH¶VXSIURQWDQGKRQHVWIRUWKHPRVWSDUW

121

CooNLQJLVDJRRGZD\WRUHOLHYHVWUHVVDQGTXLHWWKHPLQG

EDVWDUGFKLOGUHQ%UHDNIDVWLVHDVLHUWRR,W¶VFUDFNLQJDIHZHJJVDQGZDWFKLQJWKHP si]]OHDORQJVLGH\RXUDJJUHVVLRQ6DPHZLWKEDFRQ2UVDXVDJH,¶PXVLQJEDFRQ because, well, bacon makes everything better. After a little black pepper (freshly ground), a little garlic salt (for taste and because Jules loves garlic), breakfast is done. I

SXWHYHU\WKLQJLQERZOVVRWKH\FDQGLJLQRQFHWKH\UHWXUQ-XOHVZRQ¶WDGPLWVKH¶V grateful for it. She hates²always has hated²WKDW,¶PDEHWWHUFRRN

This father business has me thinking of sex. A search behind the record stacks into bins

RIKD]\DQGGUXQNHQPHPRULHV\LHOGVQRWKLQJ:KHQ¶VWKHODVWWLPH-XOHVDQG,KDGVH["

I recall reaching the complacent stage of our relationship²when finances and bad T.V.

WUXPSHGVZDQN\DQGGLUW\OLQJHULH'RQ¶WJHWPHZURQJILQDQFLDOVWDELOLW\LVLPSRUWDQW for any relationship to thrive, but a surprise shower together or even cuddling at night

ZRXOG¶YHEHHQQLFH,W¶VQRWWRRPXFKWRDVNLVLW",QKHUGHIHQVH, though, I had recently finished a short book tour for Bastard of 33 A.D., and touching up my dissertation. Our small apartment got smaller because I had books and articles everywhere (tables, chairs, the bed, the desk, and a book even in the utensil drawer). We also gained some weight.

OU,GLG,GLGQ¶WIHHOVH[\VH[\HQRXJKIRUKHUDQ\ZD\,¶GORRNDWP\QDNHGERG\² with fat pockets by the hips and a sagging ass²and felt sick.

,GLGQ¶WZDQWWREHthat guy. There are two types of guys: those who dRQ¶WFDUH

WKDWWKH\¶UHIDWDQGWKRVHWKDWKDYHDQLQQHU-teenage girl complete with irrational

122 insecurities. I hated that I was the latter, and I never told Jules. Probably should have.

Might have saved our relationship. Or postponed the inevitable. What guy would admit that, though?

,NQRZVKH¶VKDGVH[EXWZLWKZKR",PD\QHYHUNQRZ$QGPD\EH,VKRXOGQ¶W

NQRZ:KDWDP,GRLQJKHUH":KDWGR,KRSHWRDFKLHYH",GRQ¶WKDYHWKRVHDQVZHUV

And seemingly for the best. I pull out the typer and feed paper through it. I want to write

VRPHWKLQJPHDQLQJIXO,GRQ¶WNQRZZK\EXW,ZDQWLWWRVKRZ-XOHVLQVRPHPDQQHU

WKDW,¶YHJURZQ,ZDQWLWWRVRXQGOLNHDVDG%HQ)ROG¶VVRQJ ³,QWLPH,ZLOOIDGHDZD\

In time I won't hear what you say. In tLPHEXWWLPHWDNHVWLPH\RXNQRZ´ EXWDOVRQRW for the first time, reference any music. My words. My feelings. So I write:

Jules,

,¶YHOHIW6KRFNLQJ,NQRZ,MXVWFDQ¶WGRWKLV,W¶VQRW\RXUIDXOW,

DSSUHFLDWHWKHNLQGQHVV\RX¶YHVKRZQPH, though. More than you may

NQRZ:KHUHDP,JRLQJ"+DYHQ¶WDFOXH

YHQJHDQFHRQP\SDUWIRUZKDW\RXGLGEXWLW¶VQRW,WZRXOGQ¶WEH

gentlemanly of me to think so.

I cooked breakfast for you two. Hope you like it. ,GLGQ¶WWDNHDQ\EXW

GRQ¶WZRUU\,¶OOJUDEDPXIILQRUVRPHWKLQJRQWKHZD\,MXVW\RXNQRZ

need time to think. Jacob said he was almost 11. Getting big. Honestly,

GRQ¶WZRUU\VRPXFK

dad? Is he named after him? Or named after the person you wished was

KLVGDG"$OOWKHVHTXHVWLRQVSRLQWWRRQHWKLQJ,FDQ¶WVWD\

123

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We were drinking coffee and being all domesticated, it brought back

wonderful and painful memories. But this was better. No books or

annoying agents. And one of us still looks 20²my metabolism went on

YDFDWLRQ,WKLQN%XW,IHHOWR[LFDQG,¶PELWWHU

EDJJDJH,¶PVRUU\DERXWWKHSURVWLWXWH2OOLH¶VLGHD1RWKDW¶VQRWWUXH

I was stupid and desperate. You know me. Never could take care of

myself.

%\WKHWLPH\RXUHDGWKLV,¶OOEHQHDU%DUVWRZ,KRSH:KRNQRZV

UHDOO\"-DFRE¶VDJRRGER\,IKH¶VPLQH,¶PSURXG

Affectionately yours, always,

Dr. Jake Fish

36-DFRE¶VVQHDNLQJ3HDUO-DPUHFRUGV7KRXJKW\RXVKRXOGNQRZ

7KH&RRSHU¶VUHDG\WRJR7KHUH¶VHQRXJKJDVWRJHWPHRXWRI&DOLIRUQLDDQGWKURXJK

9HJDV,W¶VDOOEHFRPLQJURXWLQH7KLVSDFNLQJDQGORDGLQJXSRIP\OLIHWKDWLV%HIRUH

OHDYLQJ,SODFH'DUWK9DGHURQWKHQRWH,NQRZ,VDLG,ZRXOGQ¶WWRXFKLWEXWZKRKDVQ¶W

OLHGWRDNLG"7KHOHWWHU¶VUXEELVKEXWZKRKDVWKHZRUGVIRUORYH"0DUYLQ*D\HRUKHOS

XV%DUU\0DQLORZ"

124

,SXOORXWDQGJHWRQ2FHDQ,GRQ¶Wknow ZKHUH,¶PJRLQJ$V,WXUQRQWR

3DFLILF$YH,UHDOL]HWKDWQRWKLQJ¶VIDPLOLDUDQ\PRUH:KDWKDSSHQHGWRWKHKRSHDQG reinventing myself? Nice thoughts to entertain, I guess. At the very least, I wrote

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0\SKRQHYLEUDWHV,WKLQNLW¶V-XOHVEXW,GLGQ¶WOHDYHKHUP\QXPEHU,W¶V(ULF

I hold my breath and feel awful for not checking up. Sometimes I am, as Jules says, an asshole.

I answered.

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³0RP¶VGHDG´

125

CHAPTER 10

Fact: nine in ten people with lung cancer die7KDW¶V/XQJFDQFHULVDYHU\ efficient, A-PLQXVVWXGHQW6RZK\GR,FDUHVRPXFK"7KHUHZDVQ¶WDQ\WKLQJ,FRXOGGR

EHVLGHVJHWKHUGULQNVRUWKH6XQGD\FRPLFV VKHORYHGUHDGLQJKHU³*DUILHOG´ 0RP

KRZHYHUVKRXOGQ¶WKDYHGLHG,QHYHUSHJJed her for a quitter, but when Eric said she

UHIXVHGWUHDWPHQWWKDW¶VH[DFWO\ZKDWFDPHWRPLQG

I arrive at Griffith Park around noon. I choose it because of its away-from- everything feeling and because cell phones are useless. If I can deal with the no- smoking, things should be okay. If someone wants me, they can make the climb up to the observatory. But who would come? A washed-XSZULWHU¶VPRPGLHV²who gives a shit?

$OOWKDWVWXIIDERXWDUWDQGDUWLVWVZDVRSWLPLVWLFEXOOVKLW:K\FRXOGQ¶WVKH last two

ZHHNV",I0RP¶VXSWKHUH,KRSHVKH¶VQRWZDWFKLQJ²she¶G better be asking Jesus,

³:KDWWKHKHOOPDQ"´7KDW¶VZKDW,¶GDVNKLP

I should know better, as I quickly discover (maybe if I would think straight), that

SDUHQWVGRQ¶WDSSUHFLDWH\RX yelling fuck around their children. One woman gasps.

Another gives me the stink-H\H2UPD\EHLW¶VMXVWOD]\,GRQ¶WNQRZ7KLVRQHZRPDQ in particular, though, walks up and gives me an excuse-me-sir tap on the shoulder (her

KXVEDQG¶VWRREXV\\DNNLng on the phone about figures WRGRKHUGLUW\ZRUN ,W¶VD collage²her face²of Botox cheeks, collagen-injected lips, and frowning, penciled-on eyebrows. Her hair netting is showing under her wig.

126

³,GRQ¶WDSSUHFLDWHWKDWNLQGRIODQJXDJHDURXQGP\GDughter. This is a family

SODFH´VKHVD\V

³:RXOG\RXOLNHDQDSRORJ\"2UDFRRNLH"

FRRNLHWKDWLV´

6KH¶VWKLUG-world skinny. Just another drone in paradise. Who pays first-world- money for a third-world-figure? Her daughter even looks malnourished. Her ribs poke through her sundress, but thankfully her make-up covers up the flaws.

³

³7KDW¶VZKDWZRPHQWHOOPH´2QO\RQHZRPDQEXWWKHPRVWLPSRUWDQWRQH

³%XWEHIRUH\RX continue, let me point out that ,¶P not the one whose daughter looks like an assembly-line China-GROO´

³:HOO«´6KHJDVSV³«,¶YHQHYHU+DUROGDUH\RXJRLQJWROHWKLPVSHDNWR

PHOLNHWKLV"´VKHDVNVKHUKXVEDQG³+DUROG´

He puts up a finger. I¶PJXHVVLQJKHGRHVLWDORW$VVKHSUHVVHVIXUWKHUKH

ZDONVDZD\VZDWWLQJWRZDUGKHUDVLIVKH¶VDEX]]LQJIO\6KHKXIIVDQGJUDEVKHU

GDXJKWHU¶VKDQGEHIRUHVWRUPLQJRII7KHJLUOVPLOHVDQGZDYHVDWPHVD\LQJ³%\H

E\H´3RRUNLG

The sun even sets early for L.A. winters. Sunny L.A., ha! I can barely make out the first letters of the Hollywood sign. Spotlights shine up from the Kodak Theater down

EHORZ7KRXJKIDUDZD\,FDQWHOOLW¶VDPRYLHSUHPLHUH+HDULQJ0RP¶VYRLFH ³7KRVH

Godless EHDVWV´ XVXDOO\LVHHULHEXWWKHUH¶VVRPHWKLQJFDWKDUWLFDERXWLWDOO,HYHQ

DJUHHZLWKKHULI\RXFDQLPDJLQH7RKHU+ROO\ZRRGLVGRRPHG³Another Sodom and

127

*RPRUUD´6KH¶GVD\,IWKHUH¶VDJRGWKRXJKKHGRHVQ¶WJLYHWZRVKLWVDERXW

Hollywood because the Scientology building at the center of Hollywood Blvd. is more than enough for a few fireballs.

2OOLH¶VSUREDEO\GRZQWKHUH:RXOGKHFDUHWKDW0RPGLHG"3UREDEO\QRW

8QOHVVWKDWLVWKHUHZDVDVWRU\KHFDQH[WRUW$QGKH¶VRQHRIWhe friends Mom did like.

I find a bench to sit on. Families roam between the observatory and the railings overlooking the hiking trails weaved throughout the valley. I see the kids²full of joy² skipping and chasing each other around the James Dean memorial. The parents¶ faces

FRYHUHGZLWKDGRUDWLRQ,FDQ¶WUHPHPEHU0RPKDYLQJWKDW,¶PWU\LQJWRSLFWXUHKHU

IDFHEXWHYHU\WKLQJ¶VDEOXU,VWLOOFDQUHFDOO'DG¶VVWUDLJKWJUD\KDLUbrown lips, and pale skin while in the casket, yet Mom escapes me. I was her oldest but the black sheep.

*RG¶Vunwanted child. But I miss her. And I miss Eric. And Dad. And, of course,

-XOHV,IHHOKHOSOHVVDQG,ZDQWWREHKHOGDQGKDYHVRPHRQHWHOOPHLW¶VRND\

HYHU\WKLQJ¶VRND\$PRWKHUFRQVROHVKHUGDXJKWHUacross from me²the child tripped

RYHUDQXQWLHGVKRHODFH0RPZRXOGVD\³7KDW¶VZK\\RXDOZD\VWLH\RXUVKRHV´

What about a hug? Still waiting for one.

I never think about death, and my only experience was Dad. I imagine Jules dying in hopes of fHHOLQJVRPHWKLQJSURSHU,FDQ¶WOLJKWHQWKHPRRGZLWKPXVLFEHFDXVH the inner-SKRQRJUDSKLFLVVWXFN7KHUHFRUGVGRQ¶WSOD\DQGWKHQHHGOH,WKLQNis broken. I sorted out ILYHDOEXPVIRU'DGWRKDQGOHWKHJULHIEXWWKH\DUHQ¶WIRUVRPH reason, ZRUNLQJ,ZDQW7KH6WRQHV¶Let it Bleed EHFDXVHRI³

128

:KDW

HYHU\WKLQJ¶VILQHLI\RXMXVWWU\,FRXOGNHHSRQNHHSLQJRQ7KHRWKHUDOEXPVLQ order, include: The Sex Pistols¶ Never Mind the Bollocks (for my desire to break stuff and let

ORRVH 3HDUO-DP¶VVHOI-WLWOHG IRU³&RPH%DFN´ Grace by Jeff Buckley (saddest album

I own, especially because we lost him before his time), and finally The Beatles (because

LWKDV³2E-La-De, Ob-La-'D´/LIHGRHVJRRQODODODDQGDOOWKDW 

7KHVWDUVFRPHRXWDQG,WKLQNDERXW-XOHV,¶YHH[KDXVWHGP\JXLOWIRU0RPDQGEHDW myself up enough. I want something semi-HQMR\DEOH GRQ¶WPDNHLWXSWR*ULIILWK3DUN that PXFK\RXNQRZ ,KDYHQ¶WORRNHGDWWKHPVLQFHP\URRIYLVLWVZLWK'DG²it just

KDVQ¶WEHHQWKHVDPH-XOHVWULHGJHWWLQJPHRXWVLGHE\QDJJLQJ ³

DOOGD\&DQ¶WZHJRRXWVLGHIRUVRPHDLU"7KHVN\LVEHDXWLIXO´ 6KH¶GJRRQDQGon

DERXWH[SDQVLYHJDOD[LHVEXWVWLOOWKHFHQWHURIHDFKRWKHU¶VOLYHVEODKEODKEODK6KH¶G try different tactics²VRPH$ODQLV0RULVVHWWHRU6LQDWUD¶V³&RPH)O\ZLWK0H´²DQG,¶G

JUXQW³:K\JRRXWVLGHZKHQZHFDQOLVWHQWR)UDQNLQKHUH"´,¶GDVN

WKDW¶VZURQJZLWKDJX\ILQGLQJPXVLFHQMR\DEOHEXWQRWWKHVWDUV"7KHUH¶VQR

ODZ$Q\WLPH,SXWKHDGSKRQHVRQDQGWXQHLQ,VKXGGHU,WGRHVQ¶WPDWWHULILW¶V6LQDWUD or Bowie or Zeppelin, I melt. I grew out of the stars²maybe it was simply a with-Dad thing²but the music remains. Dad and I, every Sunday, would mix Bloody Marys while

OLVWHQLQJWR³6\PSDWK\IRUWKH'HYLO´KLVFRXQWHU-point to Mom and Eric going off to church. This was during my punk phase, which Dad disliked but accepted. The

Ramones or The Clash, Pixies, Sex Pistols, and anything else I could find. I had it all:

129 green mohawk, metal studs on a black leather jacket, patches on my jeans, army boots, a piercing in my ear, and a wallet-chain.

I tried writing a punk story before Dad died. And before Jules left. Sort of a Sid and Nancy tale²Jules and I fought a lot around this time²about forbidden love. Drugs.

Sex. Uninhibited, raw passion. With guitars, drums, bass, and a cello player for variety.

I wrote a few pages and mailed them to Dad, and he wrote back a week later²'DG¶V penmanship was horrendous, and he hated stamp, DQGGLGQ¶WOLNHOLFNLQJHQYHORSes, and never knew what to write about²saying he liked it. But the characters were, as only he

FRXOGVD\³NLQGRISXVVLHV´+HZanted true musicians who cared about craft and not mine who cared about the sex and drugs. For a story about PXVLFWKHUHZDVQ¶WPXFK

URFNµQ¶UROO

There was one element that Dad made sure to highlight, though. My story meant

VRPHWKLQJ,W¶VZDVQ¶Wdogmatic like the others. People did stuff. Maybe they were lazy, but they still had dreams. Hopes for families and kids. They wanted to be happy but

GLGQ¶WNQRZKRZWREH,¶OOQHYHUNQRZWKRXJKEHFDXVHHYHU\WKLQJFUDVKHGWZRZHHNV later.

As peRSOHZDONWRWKHLUFDUVWKH\JLYHPHSHFXOLDUORRNV,WLVQ¶WIURZQLQJ-disgust or squinting-confusion but more of a wide-eyed, oh-my-god-he-wants-money look. Sad

IDLOXUHVORRNWKHVDPH,JXHVV7UXWKLVWKH\¶UHRQHYHU\FRUQHUZLWKFDUGERDUGVLJQV asking for spare change or outside a Seven Eleven hoping someone drops their doughnut.

$QG,ILWULJKWLQ,FDQ¶WEHPDGDWWKHNLGVSRNLQJPHRUWKHWHHQDJHUNLFNLQJP\VKLQWR

130

LPSUHVVKLVJLUOIULHQG,ILWPDNHVWKHPKDSS\,VDOXWHWKHP,W¶VHDVLHUto cope, though,

EHFDXVH,NQRZZKHUH,VWDQG7KHZRUVW,WKLQNLVRYHU0RPFDQ¶WGLHDJDLQDQG,¶YH closed the chapter on Jules. Maybe I can live down on Venice Beach as my fellow failures do.

It feels good to be up here with the crowd thinning, but The Doors and my typer

DUHLQP\EDFNVHDWXQDWWHQGHG VKDPHIXO,NQRZ $V,ZDONGRZQ,¶PUHPLQGHGRIP\

SRRUKHDOWK7KHURDGZLQGVDURXQGDODUJHFOLIIDQGFDUVKRQNEHFDXVH,¶PLQtheir way.

When I reach the car, I see a familiar white SUV parked behind me. I dive

IRUZDUGZLWKRXWWKLQNLQJDQGVPDFNLQWRP\EXPSHU,¶OOKLGHKHUHIRUHYHUEHIRUH,OHW

Jules know where I am. The gravel hurts my stomach and my left foot smacks a pipe.

,¶YHVFUDSHGP\KDQGVDQGNQHHV,WKLQNWKHUH¶VDKROe in my good pants, too.

Remember rock bottom? This is lower, much lower, but I know that things can only improve from here. They have to. If nRWWKHQ,¶PZRUVHRIIWKDQ9HQLFH%HDFK¶V homeless people are. They at least have sand. I will remember this and file it away:

Rock Bottom and Tomfoolery.

³

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I slowly poke my head out.

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131

³,GLGFRPHKHUHDORWHK"´

,WU\WREHQRQFKDODQW$QGTXLUN\$VLI,¶YHOLYHGKHUHDPRQJWKHWUHHVDQG insanity has taken me.

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Sweet? She said sweet? Praise Aphrodite and Dionysus and the rest that loved to

ORYH7KLVLVJUHDW,W¶VQRWDQLURQLF³VZHHW´but a genuine, butterflies, eyes batting,

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³,NQRZ,GLGQ¶WWHOO\RXDERXW-DFREWhat gave it away besides the age? Was it

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132

³*RRQ´

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She lights up a cigarette²,¶PQRWJRLQJWROLHLW¶VDURXVLQJ²and exhales toward me. The flickering street light above adds to the mysteriousness.

³'R\RXUHDOO\QHHGWKHKRZ"

7KLV,GRQRW7KH\GRQ¶WWHOOXVPHQDERXWELUWKLQJVSHFLILFVWKHUH¶VSRRS and blood and other fluids LQYROYHGLQFKLOGELUWK,WH[SODLQVZK\,¶YHDOZD\VEHHQDOLWWOH shit.

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³)LUVWZHQHHGDOLWWOHSick-me-XS´6KHSXOOVRXWDIODVNRI.LOEHJJHQVD\LQJ

³&KHHUV´EHIRUHWDNLQJDSXOO6KHSDVVHVLWRIIWRPH

³&KHHUV´

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³,QDblunt, degrading, but all-around justified sort-of-way, I had sex. I cheated.

No protection. And in three minutes, we were done. I got up, wiped myself off, and left.

%LQJEDQJERRP´

133

³,¶PLQKHOOULJKWQRZ´

³,NQRZ6R,GLGQ¶WFRPHKRPH,Kire a moving company to pick up my stuff²´

³

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³2ND\RND\)LQH,WZDVyours´

³$Q\ZD\DIWHUWKHJX\¶VPRYHG\RXUVWXII²which was quite the surprise²what

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³,VWD\HGLQ6DQ)UDQwith Steph until I heard about your breakdown«´

³

³

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³*XLOt, I guess. A lack of honesty, PD\EH,GRQ¶WUHDOO\NQRZ3OXV\RX¶YHKDG

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134

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³,ZDVILQLVKLQJP\GHJUHH0\ILQDOGHJUHH,¶GEHHQLQVFKRROIRUDOPRVWD decade. Can you imagine raising a kid during that? I know I was making money from my writing, EXWFRPHRQ,WZRXOG¶YHEHHQVXLFLGH´

³,JXHVV,JRWVLFNRIZDLWLQJ,ZDQWHGPRUH´

³,WVKRXOGQ¶WPDWWHUULJKWLIWZRSHRSOHlove HDFKRWKHUWKH\¶OOPDNHLWZRUN´

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Guilty.

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135

³1R1RWDWDOO´

³/HWPHJXHVVLW¶VQRWPHLW¶V\RX"´

³,W¶VFRPSOLFDWHG´

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1HLWKHURIXVKDVDJRRGSRLQW,W¶VDOOFLUFXODUFRPLQJEDFNWRRQHWKLQJZH

VXFNHG,W¶VVWXSLd to think we can fix years of problems sharing a whiskey and a few

VPRNHV:KDW¶VPRUHGHSUHVVLQJLVKRZPXFKZHERWKKRSHGRXUSRLQWVZRXOGPDWWHU

DQGKRZPXFK,ZDQWWREHZLWKKHUHYHQDIWHUDOOWKDW,FDQKHDU-RKQQ\&DVK 0RP¶V favorite) singing, ³:KDWKDYH,EHFRPHP\VZHHWHVWIULHQG(YHU\RQH,NQRZJRHVDZD\

LQWKHHQG´DQG,WKLQNLW¶VDOOWUXHEXWLVLWEHFDXVH,PDNHLWVR"$UHQ¶W,VXSSRVHGWR

GLWFKGHDGZHLJKWDQGPRYHIRUZDUG")RUJHWWKLQJV,FDQ¶WFRQWURO"

We hug as Jules says, ³

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$V\PEROLFJHVWXUHWKDW¶OOIHHOQLFHVRPHZKDW

,W¶VWRRODWHIRUXV,XQGHUVWDQGWKDWQRZ,FDQ¶Wstop things from ending. But when Men complain about their wives or girlfriends nagging²during Football Sunday²

EHFDXVHWKH\KDYHQ¶WWDNHQRXWWKHWUDVKRUPRZWKHODZQWKH\GRQ¶WUHDOL]HWKDWDWVKH¶V still there. Still loving their ass. I imagine Jules giving up after cheating, saying,

³:KDW¶VGRQHLVGRQH´ZKLOHWKURZLQJKHUDUPVXS6KHSUREDEO\XVHGPRUHFRORUIXO metaphors. I have that effect on people.

,¶PDERXWIRUW\\DUGVDKHDGRIKHUZKHQ,VHHKHUYHKLFOHURFNLQJ6KDGRZV surround her car. I debate leaving her and it all behind. She left me with my problems,

136

VRZK\VKRXOGQ¶W,OHDYHKHUWRKer own"6KH¶VDOZD\VKDQGOHGKHUVHOI:K\QRWQRZ",

NQRZWKRXJKWKDW,¶OOIHHOUHJUHW²my desire (not my ability) to please her has always outweighed everything else. It is, in fact, time I do VRPHWKLQJ,FDQ¶WNHHSUXQQLQJ, turn around and the tires burn. I pull up with my high-EHDPVRQDQG\HOO³*HWWKHIXFN

DZD\IURPKHU´0HQRUEHDVWV,VKRXOGVD\VZDUPKHUDQGSRXQGDWKHUZLQGRZV Her windshield is already busted in.

³*LYHXV\RXUVKLW´RQHRIWKHPVD\V+HZHDUVDWRUQWUHQFKFRDWEXWQRVKLUW

+LVSDQWVFRXOGQ¶WEHGLUWLHU7KH\¶UHJULP\DQGEURZQDQG,GRQ¶WHYHQZDQWWRNQRZ what the green stain is. He runs toward my car and kicks in the front bumper.

³

+H¶VJRWDJXQ²a magnum²pointed directly at my head.

³*LYHPHDOORILWWKHFDVKDQGWKHFDU1RZ´-XOHVLVFU\LQJDQG\HOOLQJDQG

KROGLQJWKHZLQGVKLHOGXSZLWKKHUIHHW,¶PSLVV-\RXUVHOIVFDUHGEXW,¶PKHURQO\KRSH

³7DNHLW,W¶V\RXUV-XVWOHWKHUEH´

³1RVHH,VDLGall RILW6KH¶OOEHDJRRGIXFNODWHU$OOWLHGXSDQGZKDWQRW´

I toss my keys to him and raise my hands above my head.

³7DNHWKHFDU3OHDVHMXVWJR6KH¶VQRWZRUWKLW´

As soon as he looks back at her, I rush him and wrestle the gun from his hands.

His smell is alPRVWLQGHVFULEDEOH WKHUH¶VGHILQLWHO\VRPHJDUOLFDQGIHFHVLQWKHUHEXW

WKHUH¶VVRPHWKLQJHOVHWRR&DEEDJHPD\EH" . The gun falls to the ground and I dive

RQLW%HIRUH,FDQVWDQGXSWRWDNHEDFNP\VWXIIWKH\¶UHDOOLQWKH&RRSHUDQGSHHOLQJ

137 out. This LVP\ORZHVWSRLQW,WKLQNDERXWVKRRWLQJRXWWKHWLUHVEXW,¶YHJRWWHUULEOHDLP

(hunting was the one thing Dad and I never did. After coming close to shooting his foot,

KHVDLG³

On the ground is my Doors album (with signatures), one of my suitcases, and my

W\SHU7KDQN2GLQ*RRGWKLQJ,¶PQRWZRUWKPXFK7KHUHFRUGWKRXJKZRXOG¶YH gotten them more than the car. Probably.

³7KHUHJRHVP\ ULGHDQGRQO\ZD\KRPH´,VD\0\SKRQH¶VLQWKHJORYHER[

WRR&DQ¶WFDOO(ULF,NQHHORQWKHEODFNWRSDQGUHDOL]H,¶PVWXFNLQ/$-XOHVJHWVRXW and sits next to me and holds me. She smells like apples and cinnamon. Home should smell like this. As home VKRXOGVPHOO%XWLW¶VQRWKRPHEHFDXVHEHKLQGWKDWDSSOHSLH,

VPHOOLVWKHIDLQWUHPDLQVRIWKH&RRSHU¶VEXUQWWLUHV,KROGWKHUHFRUGWLJKWDQGDP

JUDWHIXOIRUWKHDELOLW\WRGRVR7KHUH¶VQRWKLQJPRUHH\H-opening, more humbling, than having a gun²no, a cannon²shoved in your face to make you contemplate your life. In

DPRUELGVHQVHLW¶VOLNHEHLQJUHERUQ6KLWDQGDOO,OHW-XOHVKROGPHORQJHU:H¶OO

KDYHWKHFRQYHUVDWLRQFRQFHUQLQJRXUIXWXUHODWHUEXWZH¶UHMXVWKDSS\WREHDOive.

+HUH¶VP\SURPLVHIURPQRZRQDQ\WKLQJ,GR,¶OOGREHFDXVH,¶PKDSS\DQG,¶PDOLYH

,NQRZ,¶OOKDYHWRGRVRPHWKLQJDERXWWKHZULWLQJ²give up or write something²but I

FDQ¶WWKLQNDQ\PRUHWRQLJKW7RRPXFKGHDWKWRGD\0D\EHWRPRUURZWKRXJK

138

CHAPTER 11

:HDUULYHDW-XOHV¶SODFHZKLFKLVGDUNDQGTXLHW:HVWXPEOHDURXQG²too drunk to think²looking for light switches. I find the blender. It roars, only for a second, before

-XOHVULSVWKHSOXJRXW³'RQ¶WWRXFKWKDW,WZDVDJLIW´VKHsays. Our feet hit the lino like H-bombs, and Jules trips. She gasps at first and then cries and then laughs. I get a picture of what she was like while pregnant.

³:LOO\RXTXLHWGRZQ"

³2KQRZH¶UHILQH+H¶VDWD VOHHSRYHU´

My heart pangs: she looks beautiful while giggling on the floor. Her hair falls in front of her face, hiding one eye. Tiny crows-feet make her look elegant and

VRSKLVWLFDWHG,¶YHJRWWREHVWUDLJKWKHUHEHFDXVH,ZDQWWRPDNHVXUHWKHVH are legitimate feelings and not whiskey-emotions. Jules goes downstairs to fix us drinks. I

VXJJHVWFRIIHHEXWVKH¶VQRWKDYLQJLW,DGPLWWKRXJK,¶YHPLVVHGRXUGUXQNHQ stupidity. Some of our best (and most passionate) nights started like this. It was like a first date all over again. After surviving a hold up (an obscure excitement, something to

UHPHPEHU ZH¶YHPRYHGWRVDIHOLEDWLRQVZKLFK,KDYHQ¶WKDGVLQFH«FROOHJH",FDQ

ODXJKKHUH,FDQFU\,FDQVLQJ FDQGRHVQ¶WPHDQ,GR ,WDOPRVWIHHOV«ULJKW

Jules reappears with drinks in tall glasses.

³:KDW¶VWKLV"´,DVNWDVWLQJVRPHSLQHDSSOH

³0\VHFUHWUHFLSH&UHDWHGLWDWZRUN´

³7KHFOXE"´

139

³

³7KDWQLJKWZDVKRUULEOH/XFN\IRU\RXWKDW\RXOHIWHDUO\´

³$UH\RXNLGGLQJ? They had me running around in back fishing out bottles of

YRGND´

³

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PRUQLQJ´

Jules sits down and sprawls out on her sofa. I sink into a leather recliner next to

KHUED\ZLQGRZ6KHVSLOOVRQWRKHUFDUSHWEXWVKHZRQ¶WILQGLWXQWLOPRUQLQJ%XWZKR cares? We laugh and bullshit, not caring about anything else but ourselves. And it feels good. For a while, we are young again.

I want to make Jules a mixtape. A collaboration of every song that reminds me of her.

%RWKWKHJRRGDQGWKHEDG

2Q´E\0DUYLQGaye³/DQGHG´E\%HQ)ROGV³6XQQ\'D\LQ+HOO´E\$UJ\OH-RKDQVHQ

(my morning theme soQJ DQG7KH&ODVK¶V³6KRXOG,6WD\RU6KRXOG,*R´,W¶VDVWDUW but these things take time and careful planning. A SHUVRQFDQ¶WWKURZDEXQFKRIKLVRU her IDYRULWHVRQWRDWDSHDQGVD\³+HUHWKHVHUHPLQGPHRI\RX´/LNHZULWLQJWKHWDSH

LVDQDUUDWLYH-XOHV¶WDSHZLOOVWDUWRXWVWURQJ ³/HW¶V*HW,W2Q´LWDOZD\s gets me), and move to the dark times, by which I mean the period when she was worse than Satan and

140

Hitler. Then it will hit the climax²GRQ¶WNQRZLIZH¶UHWKHUH\HW²and then resolve itself. All in 12 to 14 songs, or chapters. Make them count.

³

,¶YHIRUJRWWHQWKDW,KDYHQ¶WWROGher.

³8P«ZHOO«0RPGLHG\HVWHUGD\PRUQLQJ7KDW¶VZK\,ZHQWWRWKHSDUN,

ZDVQ¶WWKLQNLQJVWUDLJKWDQGP\GHDWK-records were out of sorts. I wanted different ones than I used for DaGEXWWKRVHZHUHWKHRQO\RQHVWKDWFDPHWRPLQG´

³-DNH,¶PVRRRVRUU\$QG,KLW\RXZLWKQHZVRQ-DFREDQGFKHDWLQJZKLOH\RX

FUXPEOHLQVLGH´

³,ZDVORVW,ZDQWHGWRIHHOVRPHWKLQJDQGQRWKLQJ,GRQ¶WKDQGOHGHDWKZHOO

Not in my programming. But in a way, your honesty helped. It gave me focus. Think

DERXWKDSSLQHVVDQGVHUHQLW\7KHQWKHVZLQHPDGHRIIZLWKP\FDU´

Jules makes us some coffee as our drinks get low and the fuzziness wears off.

She has me move to talking about Mom. I explain how I miss her and wish I was a better son.

³,¶PVXUHVKHORYHG\RXZLWKRXWFRQGLWLRQ´

³-XOHV\RXGRQ¶WKDYHWREHQLFH6KHKDWHG\RX$QG,PHDQWKDWLQHYHU\OLWHUDO

VHQVH6KHZRXOG¶YHFDUERPEHG\RXLIJLYHQWKHFKDQFH´

³2KZRZ5HDOO\"´

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³*RG$QGZK\DUHZHEHLQJVRQLFHWKHQ"´

141

³%HFDXVHVKHKDQGOHGWKHZRUVW son ever like a professional. She was driven by

ORYH«PRVWO\´

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³2K\RXNQRZKHUHDQGWKHUH8VXDOO\,NHHSWKRVHWKLQJVLQVLGH´

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ZLWKPH´

6KHOHDGVPHXSVWDLUVWRKHUEHGURRP7KLVLVQ¶WOLke Jules. She was always more conservative²aside from the cheating²ZKHQLWFDPHWRVH[,DVVXPHWKDWWKDW¶VZKDWLV

KDSSHQLQJ6KH¶VORRNLQJ to become a Barry White song, and like when we were

\RXQJHUZH¶UHVXUURXQGHGE\3HDUO-DPDQG1LUYDQDSRVWHUV 0\KHDUWVLQNVDQG,¶P

FRQIXVHG:KHUH¶VWKLVJRLQJ":KDWZLOOFRPHRIWKLV"

6KHXQEXWWRQVP\VKLUW,WU\WRVWRSKHUEXWVKHVD\V³6KKKMXVWUHOD[´,FDQ¶W

IRFXVDQGWKHDOFRKROLVDIIHFWLQJWKLQJV,I-DFREZHUHKRPHWKLVZRXOGQ¶WEH happHQLQJ%XWZK\DP,HYHQWKLQNLQJDERXWKLP"1RZ"5LJKWWKLVVHFRQG",¶P going to have sex for the first time in years, with the only girl I have ever and will ever

ORYHDQG,¶PWKLQNLQJDERXWDNLG",¶PQRWVXUHKRZ,IHHODERXWWKLV

³

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6KHPRYHVWRP\SDQWVDQGEHIRUH,NQRZLWWKH\¶UHRQWKHIORRU6KHFOLPEVRQ top of me and kisses me and smiles. Now this is what home should feel like. I hesitate to join in, but it becomes more difficult as she removes each layer of clothing (tank-top, pants, bra, panties, and then, because everyone forgets, socks). I finally let go and return

142 her kLVV,W¶VQRWKXPDQLW\¶V JUHDWHVWRUPRVWVHQVXDONLVVEXWP\KRUPRQHVGLGQ¶WJLYHD damn. Then time slows, and I feel every hair that dangles in my face and I hear every whistle of her nostrils²maybe she has a cold. Will I get sick?²and her tiny chin hairs tickle my lips.

³-XOHV,GRQ¶WZDQW²´

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Before I can say another word, she kisses me again. After a second, longer and

PRUHSDVVLRQDWHNLVV,VD\³)XFNLW´DQGIOLSKHURYHU,NLVVKHUQHFN²her kryptonite²DQGVKHWUHPEOHV,NQRZ,VKRXOG¶YHWKRXJKWDERXWSURWHFWLRQEXW\RX

GRQ¶WWKLQNRIWKHVHWKLQJVZKHQ\RX¶UHZLWKher,ZDVDWHHQDJHER\DJDLQ,I0RP¶V up there²or anywhere, really²I hope she loRNVDZD\6KHGRHVQ¶WQHHGWRVHHWKLV

6KH¶VJRWPRUHLPSRUWDQWWKLQJVWRGRQRZ%XWDVIRUPH"*UHDWHVW1LJKW(YHU

143

CHAPTER 12

It WDNHVPHDPRQWKEXW,ILQLVK-XOHV¶PL[WDSH$OLWWOHODWHDQGLW¶VQRWP\EHVWZRUN, changed songs around, omitted songs that should, in fact, be there (I had the Gin

%ORVVRPV¶³$OOLVRQ5RDG´EXWWKRXJKWLWZDVWRRGHSUHVVLQJ DQGSXWVRQJVLQWKat

VKRXOGQ¶WEHWKHUH 7RP:DLWs¶ ³&KULVWPDV&DUGIrom a Hooker in Minneapolis´? What

ZDV,WKLQNLQJ",¶PEHWWer than that). Thankfully, Jules has a decent stereo system and a

KDOIZD\DFFHSWDEOHUHFRUGFROOHFWLRQRU,FRXOG¶YHQHYHUILQLVKHG,WZDVKDUGHUWKDQLV

XVHGWREHLQP\V,ZRXOG¶YHKDGWKHWDSHdone in a seven hours.

,¶YHVSHQW a lot of time messing around and days off spent walking the neighborhood and the beach²ZKLFKE\WKHZD\JURZVROGTXLFNO\,¶GWDNHWRRPDQ\

VPRNHEUHDNV:DWFKWRRPXFK79%XWIRUWKHILUVWWLPHLQ\HDUVEHVLGHV-XOHV¶OHWWHU

I have finished something. It ma\QRWEHZKDW,ZDQWEXWWKHUH¶VDOZD\VURRPfor more tapes.

7KHZULWLQJ":HOOWKDW¶VDGLIIHUHQWVWRU\7KHPL[WDSHNHSWPH

RFFXSLHG«PRVWO\,GRQ¶WHYHQNQRZZKHUH,¶YHVWDVKHGWKHW\SHU$IWHUWU\LQJWRZULWH once²once, as in, I exhausted the paper supply and went out for a beer²I put the typer away and focused on the tape. How do they do it? Musicians, I mean. How do they keep it up? Is it wrong to envy Bob Dylan for writing close to 800 songs? That may not

EHDFFXUDWHEXWLW¶VFORVH+H¶V out writing and performing²going on a half century now²DQG,FDQ¶WGHFLGHEHWZHHQD6WRQHVRU%HDWOHVVRQJPXFKOHVVWHOODZRUWK-while

144

VWRU\,XVHWKHWDSHDVDVFDSHJRDWWRKLGHP\ZULWHU¶VEORFN,GRQ¶WZDQW-XOHVWRNQRZ

,KDYHQ¶WZULWWHQDXVHIXl word.

6KH¶VDOUHDG\DQQR\HGZLWKPH,¶YHEHHQWKDWURRPPDWHHYHU\RQHGUHDGV leaving the refrigerator empty (aside from a non-fat yogurt) and clogging the toilet (I warned her about the burritos). I lie²more like fib²about writing, though. I say I have

RXWOLQHVDQGLGHDV6KHVD\V³

VD\LQJ³0D\EHWKLV¶OOKHOS´$FKLOG¶VVLPSOLFLW\LVIRUDPRPHQWLQVSLULQJ,\HDUQIRU it. And dread it.

7KHUREEHU\GLGVRPHWKLQJWRPH'LGQ¶W,SUomise to make myself happy? I

PXVW¶YHVSHQWLWDOORQWKHVH[ZLWK-XOHV1RZ,KDYHWRILQGVRPHWKLQJHOVHWRPDNHPH happy. Good luck.

So maybe what I wanted before, about wanting Jules and needing to be

KDSS\«PD\EH,ZDVZURQJ,IHOOIRUOXVWDJain. Now, Jules comes home asking for money for bills (grocery and cable, so far). The post-sex honeymoon is over.

After coming home from work, she fixes Jacob and me dinner.

³-DNH,¶PVRUU\EXW,FDQ¶WWDNHFDUHRItwo FKLOGUHQ´

³,WKRXJKW,ZDV more of a Hausfrau´

³'RQ¶WJHWFXWH´

³

145

Who asked you, kid?

³,¶PVHULRXV,I\RX¶UHQRWJRLQJWRZULWHVRPHWKLQJ\RXQHHGWRJHWDMRE´

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That was close. Jacob shifts his seat away from me.

³7KDW¶V\RXUSUREOHP,KDYHWRJHWWKHVHFORWKHVRIIDQGVKRZHU3OHDVHGRWKH

GLVKHVZKHQ\RX¶UHGRQH´

:KR¶VVKHWROHFWXUHPH",W¶VKHUIDXOW,¶PKHUH,IVKHKDGQ¶WKDYHFRPHWKDW

QLJKW,¶GVWLOOKDYHWKH&RRSHUDQd be on my way home. I go over to make some tea

(coffee is gone, too). It takes a little bit for the water to boil. While waiting, I try to write. Jacob finishes his hot dogs and puts his plate in the sink. I write down:

,«KDWH«ZULWLQJ,ULSRXWWKH page and throw it. Unfortunate aim, however, as it lands on the stove and catches fire. I grab a dish towel and swat the flame, but the kettle tips over, spilling boiling water everywhere.

³:KDWWKHKHOO¶VJRLQJRQLQKHUH"´DVNV-XOHVIURPWKHWRSRf the stairs.

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She comes downstairs and Jacob runs into the basement.

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147

. . .

I wander a few good miles up Ocean Park and search for something stimulating. The last

WLPH,ZDVWKLVGHVSHUDWH,KDGDKRRNHUVQRUWLQJEORZRIIP\GDVK7KHUH¶VQRWKLQJWRR enticing around here, though (a coffee shop, Blockbuster, Enterprise Rent-a-Car, and a middle school). However, a bookstore catches my eye: Writer on the Storm. A store whose name is clearly inspired by the Doors warrants investigating.

7KHUH¶VQRWPXFKWRWKHRXWVLGHDIHZWDEOHVDQGFKDLUVZLWKZLQG-battered umbrellas. The windows have book suggestions from the staff. Emily apparently loves

+HQU\0LOOHUDQG+HPLQJZD\6KH¶VFKRVHQOld Man and the Sea. A fine choice, but I

ZRXOG¶YHJRQHZLWKThe Sun Also Rises or Torrents of Spring. His short stories are also acceptable. %XWXQOLNHPXVLF,GRQ¶WMXGJHUHDGHUV,IVRPHRQHUHDGVWKH\KDYHP\ goodwill.

Now Miller is not a favorite writer of mine. Nor is he one of -XOHV¶:HQHYHU liked his liberal use of cunt. While reading Tropic of Cancer, Jules threw it across the rRRPVD\LQJ³+H¶VVXSSRVHGWREHDgood DXWKRU´,W¶VDZRUGZKRVHXVHUPXVWWUHDG

OLJKWO\,W¶VQRWRND\DV0LOOHUWKRXJKWDVDGHVFULSWLRQRIZRPHQ1RWHYHQRXWRI anger, unless she cuts you off in traffic.

A lovely girl behind the counter welcomes me. Striking green eyes and some

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KRZWRHDW0D\EHDNLGRUWZRDOWKRXJKPD\EHVKH¶VWRR\RXQJ$VL]HSDQWLI,KDG to guess²worked at a Gap during my undergrad.

148

It has all the characteristics of a used bookstore: worn bindings and scribbled

QRWHVRQSDJHV7KDWYDQLOODVPHOO,ZRQGHULIDQ\RIP\VWXIILVKHUH,ILQGWKH)¶VDQG sure enough, they have three copies of each novel. In pristine condition. The binding cracks as I open it and flip through the pages (not even one mark). Like any used bookstore, though, they buy new books to sell at lower prices. That has to be the explanation. What really digs into me is all the Palahniuk books that look DVLIWKH\¶G gone to war. Someone loved them and sold them for someone else to love. I feel sick and may pass out.

I snatch a copy of Sgt. Pepper and Bastard and bring them to Emily²,¶YH decided to call her that regardless. While she scans my purchase, I notice a book sitting

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I shrug. The store does look worn²and maybe this is my preference²but I like it. Emily looks down at my books and gives a confused frown.

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I tU\JRLQJRYHUWKHVWRULHVZKLOHVKHEDJVXSP\ERRNV,FDQ¶WILQGDFRKHUHQW plot line. What was my motivation for the rape? Was it a GLVWXUEHGUHIHUHQFHWR³7KH

End´? ³0RWKHU,ZDQWWRIXFN\RX´0RUULVRQKDGVDLG7KDW¶V SRHWU\7KDW¶VD statement. For me, I stole that imagery by making Mary the mother figure. While Jim

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150

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Before leaving, I look at the phantom novel. It has the ocean as Ollie said it would. It has blank pages. And a $30 price tag. Ollie has no shame. Who charges a

XVHGERRNVWRUHIXOOSULFH",IHHO(PLO\¶VJD]HDQGNQRZVKH¶VGLVDSSRLQWHG,SXWWKH book down and leave.

1RRQH¶VKRPH,W¶VDELWXQVHWWOLQJDQGIDPLOLDU%XWWKHIXUQLWXUH¶VVWLOOKHUHVRWKHUH¶V that. I notice a note on my typer²-XOHVPXVW¶YHIRXQGLW²which sits next to a fresh package of multi-colored paper. I assume it was on sale or that Jacob likes using it

EHFDXVH,¶YHQHYHUZULWWHQDZRUGRQDQ\WKLQJH[FHSWZKLWHSODLQPXOWL-purpose paper.

The note reads:

Jake,

³

151

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Took Jacob to the beach. Be back later.

With Love,

Jules

1RZWKDW¶VKRZ\RXZULWHDOHWWHU6KRUWDQGLQVSLULQJ-ules always has used the Stones song as a pick-me-XS,FDQ¶WEHDUWRWHOOKHULW¶VP\VRQJIRUSURFUDVWLQDWLRQRUSXVKLQJ

KDUGVKLSVDVLGH2UPD\EHWKDW¶VZKDWLWKDVFRPHWRV\PEROL]H,WRQFHZDVP\ dissertation song. But that, like so many other things, was long gone.

JuOHVFOHDQHGWKHNLWFKHQ,GRQ¶WNQRZZK\,IHHOJXLOWDJDLQ6KHORYHG cleaning our old place on Brooks (sweeping, dusting, and organizing everything). She

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Emil\³,IVRWKDWLVRQHORQHO\PDQ´VKHKDGVDLG$QGULJKWVKHLV+RZSDWKHWLFLVLW

WKDW,¶PKHUH²LQP\H[¶VGDUNKRXVH²DQGGRQ¶WNQRZZKDWNLQGRIZULWHU,DP",I someone would ask me what record fit their particular mood, I could, like Dad, search my bar-like jukebox selection and press play. Or if they wanted a good book, I had that

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Something comes over me²,GRQ¶WZDQWWREHWKHEURRGLQJP\VWHULRXVDUWLVW

ZKRGRHVQ¶WFUHDWHDUW²and I pick up my notebook and a pen. I write in ten minute

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Instead of asking: what should I write? I ask: what do I want to read,W¶VD6LGDQG

152

Nancy tale. For Dad. The sex, the drugs, and the egos have ruined the band and the music died. They wanted to be rockers instead of musi ci ans. Then they grew up and started families. It¶VIRU'DGEXWLW¶VDOVRDUHGHPSWLRQVWRU\IRUPH$QGUHGHPSWLRQ for music in general. Music needs to get back to making Abbey Road instead of looking like fashion-store mannequins.

As I take notes, I remember one of my graduate school professors sD\LQJ³7KH best stories are not merely inspired ones. They are ones over which you task and task.

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:KDWHOVHKDYH,IRUJRWWHQ",FDQ¶WUHFDOOHYHUIHHOLQJWKDWP\VWRU\ZULWLQJ itself. I skated through graduate school²who wants to fail a published author?²because

I felt destined to succeed. And Sgt. Pepper did succeed and I found my devout followers.

Bastard, though, tanked hard. It deserved its criticisms, too. It was lazy and misguided.

The suits gave me the idea. Hence my mistrust.

I begin writing²real writing this time²and my thumb hurts, but I push through it. I dive into the colored stuff and it (surprisingly) works with the typer. I separate scenes by color: violence on red, drugs and alcohol on blue, and the music goes on green.

The system is different²I used to write from Chapter One to The End²but efficient. It helps me visualize and the story pours out. As I write, I find the story getting greener and

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153 plannHGDQGLWZDVQ¶WZKDW,ZDQWHGEXWLWILWVLQWKHFRQWH[W²the lead guitarist is polishing his guitar. Why not love it?

I work through the night until the sun rises. No one speaks to me. They go about fixing their bowls of cereal (I never realized that Jules chews so loudly). I finish my

WKRXJKWDQGGHFLGHLW¶VWLPHWRVOHHS,UHVWP\KHDGRQWKHWDEOHDQGIHHOP\H\HVJHW heavy while drool makes its way to my lips.

$IWHUILYHGD\VRIW\SLQJ,¶YHDJDLQUXQRXWRISDSHU-XOHVLVDWZRUNDQG,¶m not within walking distance for office supplies (unless Enterprise Rent-a-Car will part with some paper). I walk down to Writer on the Storm to see if they have any. Emily greets me

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154

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The phantom books are still featured. Not a one is missing. Yeah, definitely was

DJUHDWLGHD%XW,¶PGHVSHUDWH,WDNHWZR²RIFRXUVHRQHGRHVQ¶WKDYHHQRXJKIRUD single novel. Ollie, you swine.

³3OHDVHGRQ¶WMXGJH´,VD\³LWLVQ¶WZKDWLWORRNVOLNH´,GRQ¶WNQRZZK\,FDUH about what Emily thinks.

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155

FUHGLWFDUG2OOLHDQG,RSHQHGZKHQZHILUVWJRWWRJHWKHU2OOLHFRXOGQ¶WEHVWXSLG enough to leave it open, could he? AnGQRWMXVWRSHQEXWWRVWLOOEHXVLQJLW",GRQ¶W

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,¶OOPRYHWRDQRWKHURSWLRQ,WKLQNDERXWWKHSRVVLEOHIHORQ\EXW,¶PRXWRIRSWLRQV, cross my fingers and hand her the card. Success!

³:HOO\RXHQMR\ZKDWHYHULWLV\RX¶UHGRLQJDQGSOHDVHVWRSLQDJDLQ´(PLO\ says.

We say our goodbyes and I head toward home.

The rest of the story flows freely. When I finally feel as if I have redeemed music (and myself), I end it. I number the pages²350, give or take formatting and such²and stack

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I search through the phone book²KDYHQ¶WXVHGRQHRIWKHVHVLQFHJHWWLQJDFHOO phone. How convenient²DQGILQG7RE\¶VQXPEHU KH¶VJRWWKHVPDOOHVWDGHYHU , phone him to set up a meeting²still need to jump through the hoops²for tomorrow morning. He squeals. I half-expect him to piss himself and run out to kiss his secretary.

Money must be tight. Sticking it to Ollie by having him pay Writer on the Storm for my noveOLVDQDGGHGSHUN7UXWKLV,ZRXOGQ¶WKDYHZULWWHQWKLVZKLOHVWLOOKLVFOLHQW, should thank him. ,JHW)UHG¶VQXPEHUDWWKHHQGRIRXUFRQYHUVDWLRQ ³

156

I call Fred immediately after getting off the phone with Toby+HVD\VKH¶OOKDYH a bunch transcribed, printed, and shipped once an editor¶s through with my novel. I tell

KLPWKDW-XOHVHGLWVDOOP\ZRUN6KH¶VDOUHDG\DJUHHG²,GLGQ¶WUHDOO\DVNKHUVRPXFK as beg her, and she likes that.

When I finally put the phone down, I look at the book. The colors shoved into the

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157

CHAPTER 13

,¶PDKDOIKRXUlate ZKHQ,DUULYHDW7RE\¶VRIILFH,PLVVHGEUHDNIDVWDQGP\VWRPDFK

UXPEOHVDV,ULGHWKHHOHYDWRUWRWKHIRXUWHHQWKIORRU,¶OOKLWXS,Q 2XW%XUger on the

ZD\KRPH-XOHVWRRNWKHGD\RIIDQGJDYHPHWKHWUXFN,¶PDSRORJHWLFZKHQ,enter

Toby¶VRIILFH+HGRHVQ¶WVD\DQ\WKLQJDERXWP\WDUGLQHVVKHKXJVPH²a bone- cracking man-hug²with smiles and a kiss on the forehead (a little strange,¶OODGPLW 

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PDNLQJDQH[FHSWLRQ$V,VPHOO7RE\¶VStetson cologne, I remember the enthusiasm of a finished novel.

7KHQRYHO¶VJRRG*UHDWHYHQ,W¶VQRWDJake Fish novel, but a book written by

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Stones, The Beatles, and The Who (iW¶OOUHVRQDWHKRSHIXOO\ZLWKDQROGHUFURZGSHRSOH who lived it and not simply read about it). But now I have to sell it.

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³$IWHULQWLPDF\OLNHWKDWKRZDERXWDFLJDUHWWHILUVW"´ I ask.

He pulls out two cigars.

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158

Mick Jagger, and letting loose. It GRHVQ¶WKDYHDQ\UHOHYDQFHEXWIRUVRPHUHDVRQ,

GRQ¶WIHHOPXVLFneeds to tell me what to feel anymore. It just makes me happy. Like the story does.

³*RG,ZDVORVLQJKRSHIRU\RX´7RE\VD\VOHVVIRUFHIXOWKDQODVWWLPH The sigh after his statement says it all.

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159

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He frowns.

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160

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We do the back-and-forth thing for a few more minutes before Toby agrees. I

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Toby drops his cigar onto the hardwood. His mouth hangs open. His eyes pop out so far I fear he may detach a retina.

He finally gathers himself and picks up the cigar.

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³,¶YHJRWWRPRYHRQ:ULWLQJGRHVQ¶WEULQJme the same joy it once did. Maybe

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Side. They may not be the Greatest Hits, but their importance is unquestionable. Like

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Jules looks up as I enter. Seeing her smile²as if I was coming home from work²tingles

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³, like it. Short and concise. Oh, and I took the liberty of setting up a reading at

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³:KR¶GSDVVRQIUHHZKLVNH\"´(PLO\DVNVZDONLQJXSEHKLQGXV6KHVQDWFKHV it and takes a back-row seat. Perhaps if I was still stuck in my rut as Emily is stuck in

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164

7KHFURZGILOHVLQDQGWDNHVWKHLUVHDWV7KHUH¶VDERut 15 faces²ages range from those too young to remember grunge music to those old enough to have had a crushes on

Sinatra or Marilyn Monroe²with their eyes on me. I pull out the first chapter and start

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165

I thank Pat again, and just to keep my options open, I ask if I may send my

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We all hop in the SUV and drive off. As we head toward Santa Monica Pier for some Mexican food, I hear a faint whisper from the back. Jacob is humming a song I

FDQ¶WLPPHGLDWHO\SODFH+HEREVKLVKHDGIURPVLGHWRVLGHDQGILQDOO\VLQJV³2E-La-

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Home home, I mean. I graE-XOHV¶KDQG,WKLQN,¶OOILQLVKWKHPL[WDSHRUPDNHDQHZ one for her. Something that represents her. And I know the opener, the attention

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166

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