Sorry I Missed Yours

We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. I can cross it now, I really want to see you. I’ll come by and see you late tonight, across old hunks of metal floating miles above us, through cables and across bodies of water and through telephone lines and all of those old school methods. You know how to dial don’t you? I only have this cell phone keeping me in touch. Landlines, they can find out. Let’s keep this going for as long as it gets old. How can I feel the same way every day about this? Oh, it’s because of the excitement. When you see the word NO in big letters, hanging from the rafters of the arena of morality it just feels awesome and intense and all of that. Nobody will ever know. Riding off into the distance and over flat and dry land. Riding off into a world of persuasion and the worst parts of every espionage story you haver ever heard about. I wonder how hard he could trick me into thinking this way? Think about it for an hour or so and realize where I live there are monitors unplugged for years now. Microphones that never worked in the first place. Binoculars that only see two feet.

That sun burns my face honey, what should I do? Hmm, I have no idea really. (sigh). I feel like I haven’t laughed in three days. Oh did you see last night’s South Park? Hilarious. No I don’t watch that show. Oh you really should. Well, I don’t think it’s that funny, anyway, this sun is killing me now. Well, let me see if I have something with me...I think I brought something. No I can’t use that. Oh okay. Jeez I tried. I know you did honey I know you did.



I walked into the field behind the library with my brand new metal detector. Boy was I ready to use this thing. My girlfriend bought it for me for my birthday. My birthday is in the winter, so this beautiful April day was a great day for it’s maiden trip out to the field, or “the frontline” as my other metal detector friends call any area you are going to “sweep”. I’ve been using a metal detector now for about five years. There is something calming about the metal detector. There is something that takes me back to the good old days when I have the metal detector out. My uncle had one when we were little. He would come back from the beach with pockets of nickels, and the occasional Timex watch. Now, I was the detector. Now, I was on the front lines. I was on the end of the metal detector I only dreamed of when I was a little boy.

About twenty years previous, a woman was murdered behind the library. They never solved it, as a matter of fact, they never even tried to. She was not a well liked woman around town, she had no family, nobody really knew her, and so they just sort of let the case go unnoticed. My friend in the police department told me about this. She was apparently stabbed multiple times, and was left for dead next to her a bag of heroin, and some beer cans. I had wanted to get behind that library for years now, but just never did. Perhaps I would find the weapon, or some other clues. What I did find was astonishing…a watch. A watch with the initials T.C in the back of the face. My fathers initials actually. While digging the watch up though, I found something more peculiar, but I can’t talk about it anymore. No more am I to talk about this. No, I can’t talk about this. I can’t let myself get involved with this yet again. Over and over it gets to me. Over and over I start telling this story, and then have to shut it out of my head.



“When the opponent attempts to attack, use both swords to strike him down” - how intense is this?



Kenny Loggins, naked, on ecstasy in a hotel room in Burlington Vermont, trying to coax a 23 year old girl to let him fuck her in the ass. That black lady from channel 7 news in Boston, ummmm Liz Walker or some shit like that. She looked like this girl I fucked. Or her brother rather. They were white. Wait, I never fucked that girl. This girl I knew once. Her brother looked like Liz Walker, the black lady from the news. I did want to fuck Liz Walker once. She busts into the room, and then I arrive. I arrive with a group of friends, and a well beaten James Garner on crutches.



So I’m on my way out of Walmart with a pocketful of new watches, and a head full of mescaline, when I hear a voice behind me. It’s the dog, he’s with me, and went invisible once we got into the store. He tells me that tonight, I need to kill someone for him. The notion of a dog actually talking probably sounds really funny to anyone reading this journal. The notion of a dog telling me to kill people is probably even stranger, but if you read, or have some brain…well then, yeah a dog tells me what to do. So I have to kill someone for the dog, and I haven’t even taken a shower yet.



I got that thing again the other night. We went for Mexican food. A table of a couple and what I assume were their two sons. The waiter brought some big dessert thing over for all of them to share. The father said something like “wow look at that!” with some big smile. I imagined just walking over to the table with a gun and shooting the father in the temple so blood goes all over his stupid wife and all over the delicious dessert. As the horrified people of the restaurant look on I tell them it’s all just some dream I am having and everything goes back to normal. They are all in this dream with me somehow. I wonder if there is a way to experience this.