Otherwise there were occasions and events. Happenstances. Balls flying overhead, out of reach.
I’m not sure specificity is necessary.
This one did this, that one did that, this happened then that happened and where the hell are you?
Another thing is I’m not someone who looks for reasons or excuses or the causal relationships between experience and behavior.
Does the fact that no one’s watching change what is not being watched?
I’ve come to learn that Sister was unexpected but I was planned on. What that means exactly is unknown.
As a child I was rarely seen and seldom heard.
And I’m sure the memories of childhood would be pleasant ones if I had them.
The blind man and the deaf mute didn’t have to be dragged into this, after all.
What I think I remember is that my bedroom was situated between Mother’s and Sister’s and I smelled smoke and heard the television going.
I’ve come to realize that what goes on when I’m not around is none of my business.
Mostly.
DISAPPEARING RAILROAD BLUES
I’M CALLING HER FROM THE CAR. It is her phone and her car and I’m calling to tell her that when she goes to the driveway there will be nothing there for her to drive. I imagine she will be confused. I have never called in the middle of the night and have never called from her car. I don’t think I’ve called more than four times this year.
Whenever the phone rings she knows it’s probably not me on the other end is what I think I’m saying.
There is something wrong with the language. She said this out loud in front of other people. I can’t remember who the other people were. They were men and women, no doubt, children maybe, strangers, kinfolk, acquaintances. It didn’t matter. I looked good in my suit. A gathering replete with servants and uncooked meats and women in dresses and shoes and without the free drunk and new suit I would’ve stayed home. She bought the suit I looked good in. I don’t even go with her to buy the suits. She comes home and hangs them in the closet. That was my job we’d decided. I declared twelve kinds of bankruptcy last year so it was good I had this to fall back on. There were others who looked good in their suits. None of us acknowledged each other.
I am in the car and not sure where it is I should go. The windows are open and the radio is on and I’m trying to remember what it is I have to do with myself. I need to vacuum, which is an odd thing to recall or note. I always forget to do things like vacuuming. People say this. They say, When was the last time you vacuumed?
Only certain people are scrutinized this way.
There is almost nothing to say about these kinds of people.
I maneuvered between groups of suits and shoes and found an unoccupied place at the bar. Everyone was glassy-eyed and cordial, drinking unnaturally-colored drinks. I leaned against a wall. I shifted weight. I changed expressions. I fashioned a Chinese star out of a beverage napkin. I compiled a list of partygoers I’d have sex with and under what circumstances. Finally, I snubbed the waiters. Chopin or Handl or Listz or Mozart was coming in from speakers I couldn’t locate. This is when I discovered the balcony on the other side of twin French doors. One of the waiters I’d snubbed opened and closed a door behind him while toting a tray of cold duck meat. I followed him out. The balcony had an ornate copper railing, although I’m just guessing it was copper. The color resembled that of a penny, which I think is made from copper. I don’t know anything about metals—heavy metals, alkaline metals, any of them. I don’t know anything about anything. People scoff when they hear me say this, they call it modesty or hyperbole or whatever it is they say.
I don’t even know what people say about what I say.
There’s a light bulb somewhere that needs changing, too. I don’t remember which light bulb, or which lamp, let alone the wattage.
I made friends with two European drinkers out there, Gerald and Patrick. They were guilty of poor diction and gesticulating like they were on stage. I ridiculed them to their faces. They didn’t take umbrage. They knew better or they didn’t understand me. Still, the way I carry myself is see me coming better step aside a lot of men didn’t a lot of men died. I’ve always been this way. Meanwhile the cold night went all the way up to the sky and was dark everywhere else. It was all over everyone at the party and between everything. Good weather for a consultation. We were the only ones who stayed on the balcony for more than a few minutes. Others came and went, some to smoke cigarettes, others for I don’t know what. It was too cold for all of them. They said so. They asked,
Cold enough for you?
Not nearly enough, no, I answered.
They didn’t say anything after that. I knew it wasn’t an honest question.
The balcony overlooked a public park, the way balconies do in this city. This balcony wasn’t one you could plummet off of; there were other balconies and an awning over the entranceway. One would have to dive, one would have to take a flying leap. No one at the party looked capable of any athletic maneuver. In the park were joggers, homeless chess players, riff-raff. Gerald and Patrick asked which park it was. I said it was the Ish Kabbible Memorial Park. They laughed like idiots. We took turns throwing ice cubes at what we thought were squirrels, but what were probably rats. I would’ve proposed a wager but the Europeans were especially good at this. Regardless, she was right. Sometimes it takes me all day to read the newspaper.
When put to it I try to answer questions is the problem.
Almost anyone would know better.
Her phone is always ringing but I don’t know who it is that calls. She won’t say. Still, the phone never rings in the middle of the night. She was sleeping when I left. It is late and she has been asleep for hours.
She is beautiful when she sleeps.
The exterminator came over last week and dropped heavy on the kitchen counter. Susan was in the upstairs bathroom. She pretended to be sick but I heard her puffing on cigarettes and talking on the telephone. Best guess she was talking to Gerald or Patrick. She thought Gerald was charming and Patrick had savoir-faire.
On the ride home—
What did you think of Lane?
Who?
Lane from the balcony.
I didn’t talk to any Lane.
I saw you talking and drinking with him and Gustave. Lane was the tall one, with the hair and eyebrows and Gustave was wearing the alpaca sweater.
Sorry.
On the balcony.
Oh, Gerald Fitzpatrick and Patrick Fitzgerald.
You’re beneath contempt.
I didn’t know any of them. Gerald or Lane or Ish Kabbible. I heard someone say the name once and laughed like an idiot. I didn’t think it was a real name, a real person. There is no accounting for what went on before I was born, I’ve decided.
I don’t think the exterminator was at the party. He looked unfamiliar. I like unfamiliar people best. If I had my way I would only associate with people I didn’t know. The exterminator plugged himself in and worked the crevices. Grim, he said. Dim, he said. I was eating a sandwich. The Brothers Sum, I said. In my head it was a joke. The exterminator had his name embroidered on the left breast of his jumpsuit. I wanted to ask if he picked the jumpsuit out himself or found it hanging in his locker. The overhead lights were on and the cabinets were open. The exterminator squirted a foul liquid behind the counter. There were two more bites left. I considered offering him the rest but left it there on the plate. You can’t offer an exterminator half a sandwich.
They don’t want me to drink anymore. No one ever says so out loud. It’s the way they look at you, the gestures, expressions. The exterminator looked at me like I was part of the infestation, like I was responsible. Susan says it’s the way I carry myself. When I’m not see me coming better step aside I carry myself in a knapsack, or else in a leather briefcase. Mostly it’s Susan upstairs in the bathroom that doesn’t want me to drink anymore. She said when I drink I lose boundaries. I don’t know what this means, though sometimes I pretend otherwise. Sometimes I tell her I’m not a cartographer.