Chapter 20
I haven't stopped giggling since I laid down.
Who needs real thought when you're in an alternate universe like this?
I wipe the laughter-induced tears out of my eyes and chance another look-- Nope. The image is still there-- the reflection of me on the ceiling, surrounded by the the 70's bedspread from hell, and my god, I never knew they existed-- shag pillows. My plaid pyjamas are rumpled and clash wonderfully with my surroundings, and my muddy boots hang off the end of the bed.
Should I ever survive this little endeavor, I need to document this-- this pure, element-like stupidity. I'm sure the sheer idiocy of this moment only comes along at the rate of a lunar eclipse.....
I peel myself off the bed, still laughing with the knowledge that a ceiling mirror is still staring down at me from above. Do people actually get off on that? I mean, how erotic can it be, when I can't even look at myself fully clothed without chuckling? I can't do anything here without chuckling-- I mean, god-- this is an actual life for some people--
I can't seem to see this like anything other than a tripped-out ride at Disneyland.
I guess I need to put on the goofy costume and pretend I'm part of it...... Try to make this my life. I can do that-- I can take a shower, eat something, go buy some clothes....
I tilt my head back up, and for a second I see him in the glass-- his smooth back sheened with sweat, his buttocks pumping in fluid motion-- up.... down...up....... down -- the tendrils of hair at the back of his neck dark with dampness as he lowers to kiss me once more......
I need to take that shower now...... A cold one.
I rise from the bed, stiff legged and dizzy. I guess it's fitting I feel just as awful as I look. I move in the general direction of the bathroom, but I have no real concept of navigation. Images are still flashing in my head, making it hard for me to see straight.
Why did I see that? He's dead Emily. Dead. You know what that means.
Besides, he wasn't yours to begin with-- he was Elizabeth's.
And with that thought my slightly euphoric state sours. Elizabeth. My 'best friend'. My only girlfriend. That's fitting-- really. I finally get a girlfriend and all I can think of is screwing the brains out of her true love.
No-- No I decide-- that's the real bullshit of it all. True love my ass. If there really is such a thing as true love Lucky and Elizabeth didn't have it-- otherwise he wouldn't have been at my bedside nursing me in a way no one else could.
You'll have to forgive me if I don't sound indulgent in such "ecstacies" as love. It's not exactly like I had the greatest of examples-- Mom and Dad? Ha. Don't even know what he looked like-- Alan and Monica-- god. They're more of a case study than a romance story. According to my watch they're about ready for the annual affair showdown. I mean if they question their solid love as often as they have a new lover in bed..........
Ooooh yeah Em...... Keep 'em rolling.
Ned and Lois. Storybook right there-- I wonder which one of Grimm's ends with her on the other end of the Brooklyn Bridge.
Luke and Laura-- man. Up until last year I was still hearing stories about them-- their beautiful wedding-- their endless love-- they could have been on the cover of Time as the greatest love story.....
Tony and Bobbie, Kevin and Lucy, Carly and AJ-- Ha! I won't even go there.........
Brenda and Sonny and Jax-- What in the hell was that exactly anyway?!
Forgive me Aphrodite and Eros if I insult you, but love.......
Let's face it-- if love exists in this world today it is only to sell Hallmark cards.
Yeah-- there's a good card right there too-- 'Dearest Elizabeth, my deepest sympathies on my mentally screwing your boyfriend'.....
I step out of the mildewed shower and begin towelling myself off. They must have the search dogs out by now. I like the feeling of being here though-- I mean really-- nothing like hiding in the last possible place any normal person would want to be...
Then again I'm not normal-- I'm a mental defect.
And I like it.
I glance over at the mirror bolted to the back of the bathroom door and pause. This motel room is starting to feel like more of a circus attraction-- what's with all these mirrors? The pimp that commisioned this building must have had a real 'me' complex.....
My nude body looks hallowed and strung out-- my ribs are protruding, my arms look like sticks dangling at my sides. When was the last time I had a meal that wasn't fed to me through a tube?
I need to rebuild my carrion, fill in the voids-- make it alive again. And maybe if I can do that with my body--
-- maybe I can do it with my mind.
I haven't stopped giggling since I laid down.
Who needs real thought when you're in an alternate universe like this?
I wipe the laughter-induced tears out of my eyes and chance another look-- Nope. The image is still there-- the reflection of me on the ceiling, surrounded by the the 70's bedspread from hell, and my god, I never knew they existed-- shag pillows. My plaid pyjamas are rumpled and clash wonderfully with my surroundings, and my muddy boots hang off the end of the bed.
Should I ever survive this little endeavor, I need to document this-- this pure, element-like stupidity. I'm sure the sheer idiocy of this moment only comes along at the rate of a lunar eclipse.....
I peel myself off the bed, still laughing with the knowledge that a ceiling mirror is still staring down at me from above. Do people actually get off on that? I mean, how erotic can it be, when I can't even look at myself fully clothed without chuckling? I can't do anything here without chuckling-- I mean, god-- this is an actual life for some people--
I can't seem to see this like anything other than a tripped-out ride at Disneyland.
I guess I need to put on the goofy costume and pretend I'm part of it...... Try to make this my life. I can do that-- I can take a shower, eat something, go buy some clothes....
I tilt my head back up, and for a second I see him in the glass-- his smooth back sheened with sweat, his buttocks pumping in fluid motion-- up.... down...up....... down -- the tendrils of hair at the back of his neck dark with dampness as he lowers to kiss me once more......
I need to take that shower now...... A cold one.
I rise from the bed, stiff legged and dizzy. I guess it's fitting I feel just as awful as I look. I move in the general direction of the bathroom, but I have no real concept of navigation. Images are still flashing in my head, making it hard for me to see straight.
Why did I see that? He's dead Emily. Dead. You know what that means.
Besides, he wasn't yours to begin with-- he was Elizabeth's.
And with that thought my slightly euphoric state sours. Elizabeth. My 'best friend'. My only girlfriend. That's fitting-- really. I finally get a girlfriend and all I can think of is screwing the brains out of her true love.
No-- No I decide-- that's the real bullshit of it all. True love my ass. If there really is such a thing as true love Lucky and Elizabeth didn't have it-- otherwise he wouldn't have been at my bedside nursing me in a way no one else could.
You'll have to forgive me if I don't sound indulgent in such "ecstacies" as love. It's not exactly like I had the greatest of examples-- Mom and Dad? Ha. Don't even know what he looked like-- Alan and Monica-- god. They're more of a case study than a romance story. According to my watch they're about ready for the annual affair showdown. I mean if they question their solid love as often as they have a new lover in bed..........
Ooooh yeah Em...... Keep 'em rolling.
Ned and Lois. Storybook right there-- I wonder which one of Grimm's ends with her on the other end of the Brooklyn Bridge.
Luke and Laura-- man. Up until last year I was still hearing stories about them-- their beautiful wedding-- their endless love-- they could have been on the cover of Time as the greatest love story.....
Tony and Bobbie, Kevin and Lucy, Carly and AJ-- Ha! I won't even go there.........
Brenda and Sonny and Jax-- What in the hell was that exactly anyway?!
Forgive me Aphrodite and Eros if I insult you, but love.......
Let's face it-- if love exists in this world today it is only to sell Hallmark cards.
Yeah-- there's a good card right there too-- 'Dearest Elizabeth, my deepest sympathies on my mentally screwing your boyfriend'.....
I step out of the mildewed shower and begin towelling myself off. They must have the search dogs out by now. I like the feeling of being here though-- I mean really-- nothing like hiding in the last possible place any normal person would want to be...
Then again I'm not normal-- I'm a mental defect.
And I like it.
I glance over at the mirror bolted to the back of the bathroom door and pause. This motel room is starting to feel like more of a circus attraction-- what's with all these mirrors? The pimp that commisioned this building must have had a real 'me' complex.....
My nude body looks hallowed and strung out-- my ribs are protruding, my arms look like sticks dangling at my sides. When was the last time I had a meal that wasn't fed to me through a tube?
I need to rebuild my carrion, fill in the voids-- make it alive again. And maybe if I can do that with my body--
-- maybe I can do it with my mind.