theMystery.doc
Page 36
tyclicketyclicketyclickdetyclxkcueocflclic
ketyclckjclikcetyclcickleryclickerytl;ckuyapseldfi
apoefjk a;kdihf a;dklj a;sdiljfa;lkcj ;aseilf apsleifj asodp
ifj apseoifj as;dklf jas;fkljas;fkl jas;fkljas;l fj asdl ifq wwe89fha
w310=frk q03u4 ta[sdo q]wepfkqa3r4gtqa[origj q9refg ]peo
rw
]werog jszp
Carol
(caption): But you have to be on time from now on.
THE POLLUTIONIST
NEW BEGINNING
CHAPTER I
Joseph Ashe was staring at the door.
Close examination of the bust will show one of the poet’s hands is missing
At night I would wander around the city. I arranged to meet a beautiful Scottish girl at a bar in Camden Town. Her name was Katriana. She was rich and had big tits and as we’d rolled around one night drunk in my little hostel room in Prague, she’d said, I wish that girlfriend of yours could see us now…
I waited all night in that crowded bar but Kat never showed.
I rode the tube home feeling just terrible about myself! It was a real blow to my confidence!
MEANWHILE, ACROSS TOWN…
266. A 267. ngie 268. e 269. ee didn’t 270. want to be around 271. me anymore if it wasn’t 272. her I was looking for. It embarrassed 273. her being at home now and besides, she 274. still loved me with her whole heart and mind. 275. It broke them both to pieces to look at me or hear me 276. laughing with someone else the way I’d laughed with her. 277. So she found a second job working nights, stocking shelves at a 278. late-hours grocery store. I walked by once on my way home from 279. getting drunk. I saw her through the store window stacking 280. lettuce into a pyramid. She wore a smock of red and white checks, 281. cinched in the middle, cheap fabric bunched and flaring out at the 282. waist. It made her look poor and matronly. I didn’t like myself for 283. thinking such things, but once The Truth had looked me in the 284. eye there wasn’t much to do but dwell on it. We were just too unalike. 285. I was young and brilliant. Destined to be famous, rich. Hot wife and 286. concubines. She only took that job to make me feel like a dick. What a 287. bitch. Chronic liar. Attention hog. Bad speller. Her Top Ramen tomato 288. paste pasta was far from delicious. . hair, 289. teeth, hips. That scar on her . The Pollutionist was going to be 290. the world’s greatest novel. .
291. And tell me who could ever
292. love someone
293. who considered that
a pyramidal lettuce stack?
Dear Matt—
Well the fridge is still full of food. It’s just the weirdest thing. I guess I need to get Jon to come over or something
Have you had any fun yet or done anything unusual?
IT’S SO LONELY HERE
IT’S LIKE WE WERE THE ONLY TWO PEOPLE LEFT IN THE WORLD
MAYBE WHEN WE GET BACK TO SHORE EVERYBODY WILL HAVE DISAPPEARED
I’D LIKE THAT WOULDN’T YOU
WHAT’S THE MATTER YOU LOOK SICK
—What’s the matter? Angie said.
—
—Can you get up?
—
—Can you say something?
—
Man runs agency, pollutes
—believes he is supposed to do this
—believes it is all very professional
—pollutes the land, city, air, etc.
—pollutes lives, minds, emotions
individuals, families
It’s his JOB
—plagued by headache
Perception of reality, his fantasy is
far from TRUTH
DISAFFECTED
headache gets worse as the book progresses
laughing alone on a bus
“I thought it was a movie theater.”
Actors on
plastic seats.
Attempts to
reach out,
but can
only
POLLUTE.
Loses hold on
reality as
book
progresses
I called Kat from work. At first she didn’t know who I was. I asked if she was OK. She hadn’t shown up for our date. She made it seem like we hadn’t spoken in weeks. Then who the FUCK had I been speaking to?!?!
loses everything
What’s happened to us, George? We’ve grown apart, haven’t we? Do you remember the first night we kissed, George? We were walking home from the city, do you remember? It was Yankee July Fourth and you wanted to celebrate! But none of the pubs were celebrating, George! And nobody wanted to hear about your Independence! Because we were in England, George! And they’d lost that particular war! So we bought some beer at the shop and drank it as we walked home! Remember, George? You kept stepping on the back of my shoe! On purpose! And I kept pretending to fall into you! And you would catch me! This went on for a long time! And then finally you embraced me! And we looked into each other’s eyes! And you kissed me in the light! Do you remember, George? O, I’d waited for you to kiss me for so long! O, George! George? And then we stayed up all night talking in the kitchen, George! And when the rest of the house was asleep, I went into my room and got my blanket off my bed, and we went upstairs into the TV room, George, and the lights were off, and we lay down, and pulled the blanket up, and I helped you in, George, I helped you in! I helped you in! I helped you into me, George! And you can come in me whenever you want because I’m bleeding all the time! Every second every day! And when I’m bleeding I can’t get pregnant! So you don’t have to worry! So you can come in me you can come in me, OK? When I’m bleeding I can’t get pregnant! So there’s nothing to worry about! I won’t get pregnant and you won’t have to marry me! OK, George? George? George! George! What did you take?
Well—still no great excitement here at home. Dad’s been sick in bed! For two days. That’s been strange. Anne’s about the same. She and Brianne and Kyle got lost trying to find Sheri’s fashion show in Parkland and missed the whole thing. Kyle just rolled his eyes…
(you never realize just how boring your life is until you try to send news to someone and find you don’t have any…)
Wish I could walk around London with you. Of course I’d want to go to Harrod’s and antique stores. And castles. And gardens. Are they still rowing in circles in Hyde Park?
We do miss you Matt. So quiet here. No one to make me laugh!
The Nazi beat his pregnant girlfriend.
mom
She screamed.
A blue background with a red X.
He picked her up.
No! No! No!
At the TV, breathing hard. A mother in a red and white blouse knelt on the ground,
She screamed.
weeping as she kissed her dead daughter’s face.
He threw her down.
at the TV, breathing hard.
BOOM!
The ceiling rumbled, light rattled, TV:* : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : :* : : * : * : * : :* : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : :* : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : :* : : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : : * : * : * : * : * * : * : : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : : * : : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : : * : : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : :* : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : *
: * : * : : * * : * : * : * : :* : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : * : : * : :* : * : * : * : * : * : * : * :
At the snow, breathing hard.
shook, antenna fell to the floor.
One night I sat on the bed alone
and tore a strip off the title page of
an old tattered paperback copy of Albert Camus’ The Stranger
and rolled it into a tube.
I popped open the red pill and dumped the powder out onto the cover.
Snorted it. Then-looked-up— An old man with metal eyes!We are all made of parts, some parts metal, some parts human parts—Something broke- a- branch- snapped— dark figure fluttered away— HA HA HA HA HA!— My- head- collapsed- it- duckedand Icovered- its-eyes and I rolled. Back. I managed to roll- them- back [Get off the bed!] and out the door [He staggered into the kitchen. Knelt down, and rolled onto his back] then back- again- they- rolled- back- again. We are all made of parts, some parts metal, some parts human parts The marble spiraled down, down, down the spiraling chute. One day, once upon a time, a little boy ran out from the wet palm trees, which dripped with warm rain— then stopped! For standing there before him as large as a mountain with teeth as sharp as a shark’s teeth and eyes as red as lava pits was , Himself!— and the dark hole wound down down down down down— and the Killer leapt!— and the boy was stung and— ran and dove and splashed down upon his stomach he slid down the plastic tarp all the way down to the end
back to a wall, with your heels about the length of your feet away from the wall. Then, lean back until your buttocks and shoulders rest against the wall. Dorsiflex both ankles simultan-eously, while your heels remain in contact with the ground. Bring your toes as far toward your shins as you can, and then lower your feet back toward the ground, but do not allow your forefeet to contact the ground before beginning the next repeat. Simply lower them until they are close to the ground, and then begin another repetition.
This part is called
I hate them, I don’t know why they act the way they do I wish everybody could be like you you understand me like nobody does you’re gonna be a great writer someday like Bradbury like Cormier like Salinger
—Who’s knocking?
I’m not a slut. I’ve only been with one guy besides you. And I broke up with him, not the other way around. No matter what they say.
like Camus like Kafka like Beckett
I don’t care if they call me a whore. You know I’m not a whore.
like Hemingway.
No matter what they say.
Like Shakespeare Like Cervantes Like Joyce
This part is called
At least I’m not a phony.
Mate, what if you married me?
:-(
No, listen for a minute—just hear me out! What if we got married and I went to America with you? No no no no no I mean just so I could get a passport! Come on now don’t make that face! Listen: We don’t have to be really married, just friends! People do it all the time! No; listen! No I’m sober mate I swear I’m thinking clear! Just think about it just think just think—and you could see any other girls you wanted! and when you get tired of me, you just tell me and I’ll go away! I’ll disappear! I will! Just like that mate I promise! I’ll go away, I will! I will, I will, I will!
—Who’s at the door?
HI, HO- NEY, I’M HO- MER!
Travelling is the way to live your life while you’re young definitely.
One night, Ange called in sick to the grocery store. She bought a bottle of vodka and locked herself in her room, turned her tape deck up as loud as it would go, blasting the same tortured love song over and over, screaming the words at the top of her lungs for over an hour. I was in the TV room right above her. Every once in a while something would hit the ceiling below with a loud THUNK! But I just sat there, staring at the screen, drinking from my glass. THUNK! From across the room Superlonghaired Ian was staring at me with a scowl.
—What is it, Superlonghair?
—Shouldn’t you go down and see if she’s all right?
—She’s fine; she’s just being dramatic.
—She’s going to put a hole in the bloody ceiling.
THUNK!
—Who’s knocking at the door?
—Don’t worry, pal. She’ll tire out eventually.
THUNK!
THUNK!
THUNK!
THUNK!
THUNK!
KA-THUNK!
KA-THUNK!
KA-THUNK!
We rode the train from Amsterdam. We stepped off in the dark. Platform 4 of the empty Antwerp Central Station. We had no money or food. We were starving. While we waited for our next train to arrive, I walked around, jamming my fingers into the change chute in every phone booth, candy machine, condom dispenser I could find in the station and surrounding blocks outside. When I returned, as if by miracle, I held in my palm precisely the amount needed to purchase a candy bar. We hopped around then from machine to machine, excited, looking through the glass, our stomachs rumbling…but which item to share? We decided finally on a bag of peanut M&M’s. Are we sure? Yeah, we’re sure. OK. Here goes.
I put the money in. Pressed the button. She hugged me, expectantly. The wire spiral which held the bags in line began to turn. It whirred and twirled slowly, revolving, and the candy jerked and began to move forward, spurred along to the point of the drop. It moved, forward, as the spiral moved, but then, when the whirring had ceased and the wire had stopped, the candy just hung there, dangling on the other side of the glass.
“You have GOT to be FUCKING KIDDING ME!”
At last it was quiet. Coming down the stairs I found her lying facedown on the carpet outside her bedroom door, crying into her arms. One of the girls was kneeling beside her, rubbing Angie’s back and talking softly. I had to step over Angie’s legs in order to get to the kitchen. Got my bottle of cider from the fridge, walked back—stepped over—and started back upstairs. The girl said something to me.
—Pardon? I said, looking back.
—I said, the girl said, She fell.
—Is that right, Ange? I said. Did you fall? Or did you just pretend to fall?
Angie lifted her head and looked up. Her eyes and face were red. Snot dripped from her nose.
—Fuck you, she said, put her head back down,
and began to sob.
Fuck me.
—Knock-knock.
I opened my eyes. In a room somewhere. A noise. I heard it again.
Knock-knock.
I knocked on the glass with my knuckles. Knock-knock-knock. A little harder then. Slapped the side of the machine. Then I Turned My Hand Into A Fist!——I punched it hard, I pounded on the side, took a step back, slammed it with my shoulder! But the candy still just hung there! I kicked the machine, hard, but IT WOULD NOT FALL! It’s OK, Angie said, Stop. BANG! Stop it! she said. G O D F U C K I N G D A M N M O T H E R F U C K I N G C U N T I s a i d ! I kicked and hit and punched and bit and scratched and clawed and tore—Someone’s coming! she said.
A security guard moving quickly in our direction, his hand on the handle of the baton swinging from his hip.
He shouted:
Leave now!
It took our money!
Leave now!
It took our fucking money!
NOW!
YOU!
LEAVE!
PHOTO OF PAVEMENT BY MATT (OOOPPPSSS)
The train would take us to the sea. We’d ride a ferry across the Channel to England, and another train to London. Then board the bus home to Albion
Road, Newington Green. When the man came around collecting fares, Angie would tell him we had no money, and—would you believe?—he’d let us ride for free.
A YEAR OR TWO LATER, back safely in America, I told this story to a cute blonde I was seeing named Jenny, the story of me and Angie and our trip to Amsterdam where I broke up with her on a bench beside a dirty trashladen canal. I’d been wanting to break up with Angie all day. The fun we’d been having was worrying me, because I felt that the happier she got, the harder it would be to tell her that I didn’t want to sleep in her bed with her when we got back to London. We had eaten magic mushrooms, and she was looking through a kaleidoscope she had bought, at the thousands of tiny little churning, turning fragments of shape and color and light reflecting in the mirrored tube she held pressed to her eye. It was so beautiful it almost made her want to cry! She said it was like it had captured Christmas and the Fourth of July!
I took the tube and said, What say we let young McIntashe give ’er a try……
……L e t’s b r e a k u p