Dec. 15 -
Bad day, bad start.
These days I spend every moment of existence
regretting my past and dreading my future. I can
future, but only in 5 minute increments. My brief
is clear and inevitable, but I am physically unable
prevent or alter it. I can only crawl on my stomach
sick wretched snake. I am a snake, and in 5 minutes
die on my belly. I can see that for certain. To
terrible visions of the 5 minute future, all I can
crawl. I've crawled through the sour soggy patch of
sewage in my front yard. I've crawled over the
blanket of blacktop outside my house in the
summer. And I have crawled here today to beg
forgiveness and to be killed by a crazy man who I
Here he holds me against the cold, wet earth -
me with a gun to the back of my head, and he's
that I must remember ... I must remember. I'm so
in fear I cannot respond. Only gasp and ponder my
these last moments. Before I feel the shift in the
the tension drawing his finger back against the
trigger. And I can smell the spark that charges the
that feeds bullets to my mind, that feeds my life
nothingness. I am replete with nothingness.
Dec. 18 -
Had a wicked bad night. Climbing the walls over
dream about being a kid again, and being with this
he beats the holy hell out of this guy, just this
guy, with the butt of a revolver. And then he
kicking the guy, and me being just a kid, I start
to cry. And
this guy, this man I don't know, points the gun at
head and starts screaming, "I'll blow my [expletive
out if you don't quit crying!" Writing those words
seems amusing to me now, but when you're actually
and those words are actually said, it's like your
spilled out into the floor, and your heart is just
like a piece of fruit, inside your chest that is
about to snap.
I feel it so strongly, I could only have been
Dec. 21 -
The fighter at the Cooter farm tonight was him. He
not well-liked. He's the guy picking fights and
everybody. He popped a skate punk in the jaw
with a half-foot of PVC pipe. I heard the kid's
and his jaw bone buckle. It was like lusty
loved the cracking.
But they tossed him out. His hair is wild hair, and
gives this toothless yell - it's like a primal
wail of the hellbound. Their party completely
and I've never seen an Ego Shovel party silenced by
anything - not wild open sex, not a guy wigging out
his skull after a bad trip. But this guy stalled
that bash ...
with a howl.
A viscous foil to the shallowness of misbegotten
I defecated a poem to him:
Navy clouds and bitter moons.
Kids cry hollow and run for drinks,
Thirsty, never - never clever;
Like moths to lights and lights to malls -
I too can flutter and flounder by moonlight.
Can't tell the stars from airplanes anymore,
I sit beneath the moon, I rot and watch it;
For all my walking and struggling,
Can't wait for permanent escape.
Dec. 22 -
I have to start keeping my dreams recorded because
they've gotten so trippy, and I'll need them to
whole play about my dreams to explain the things
happening. I'm frightened of myself when I sleep.
like a demon shutting off the lights and having its
with me in the motionless dark. Settled all around
waiting for me to sleep and I can hear it in my
heart pounds like footsteps and I hear breathing in
corner. And I'm lying on my stomach, I've torn my
covers and heart beating like steel and all the
spilling out of my head.
I don't know who made them.
So the dream I had last night, it awoke me to
was a kid in the passenger seat of a musty car,
through the darkness on a late-night interstate.
through the midnight mist, motorists were stopped
the right shoulder. One was a state trooper, his
beacon lights revolving and warning us. The trooper
walking toward a stopped car, and perhaps he felt
of the headlights on his back. He whipped around as
beams flooded him, and before I realized what was
happening, the car grill and hood swallowed him in
swift gulp. The car bumped and burped as it mangled
trooper's body. The car swerved back onto the
and sped ahead, leaving the carnage behind.
"How's that for swift justice?" said the driver. I
and looked. It was him, younger and less frazzled.
equally compelling and insane.
Dec. 30 -
Why is he here, causing me these dreams? Dreams so
vivid they conflict with my reality, enough so that
I call it
to question. I have never seen you in my life. I
actually experienced these things. Yet you are so
and these experiences, these nightmare flashes are
in my consciousness. These dreams are calling them
Your appearance is so alarming. It's like I'm
a mad man.
Jan. 3 -
Lee's roommate moved in today. Her name is Purity.
An auburn wonder. She's a tender dream.
Her eyes, they just - pierce me....
Jan. 4 -
This girl is Purity is a wicked spy. I've seen her
dreams. She's there lurking in the background. Or
one I become sexually obsessed with. That nude
in my dream. I've seen her there, and now she is
Jan. 5 -
His name is Rory. I knew that - somehow I knew. I
overheard some people in Proud Larry's talking
him. Supposedly he'd gotten quite drunk the night
before. Moved way past oogling. Boozed up and
on sophisticated women, rubbing his primal stench
filth on them. They say he danced around the room
being tossed about by some giant invisible hand. It
two bouncers to throw him out. He actually
one of them. A perfect drop-kick, which I've never
live in person. A drop-kick to the head would kill
any weakling. I can see this Rory floating off,
kick. Floating off to sulk in the night, and to
danger in the hearts of young women and men all
through town. In my dreams, he has been lurking
Jan. 8 -
I've been hanging out with Purity, watching fake
gameshows and other prize deals. We really connect.
sitting there together in understanding. There's a
softness to her that I can't stop thinking about.
something That quiet is something I've needed and
often in my life. To watch me and to be in my
you'd think it was soft and quiet, but in fact it's
and harsh and degrading. To think like me is to be
delivered to madness. Either the same is lurking in
she has a silent wisdom I need. I need a god on
to explain my surroundings and how I perceive them.
Jan. 13 - 2:20 a.m.
Had another nightmare. My mind is back to doing
things. Lee told me that when I woke up this
came and watched her bathe. Just sat there on the
and stared with this blank, detached look on my
said it made her feel weird. She asked me what was
on. I told her I had no recollection of watching
When I woke up it was because I dreamed about Geena
Jan. 14 -
Rory is stalking my perimeters. I feel him
down my neck.
Jan. 15 -
Drunk out of my mind tonight. Knowing it. Crying.
Before I expressed myself too much I had to come
and lie down. Was chatting and lusting over Purity.
Wanted to tell her about the night ride that made
sick fickle bastard, the tongue-tied lunatic with a
his soul, his secrets steaming and gushing out. The
purple-eyed beast [vulgar reference deleted].
Crashing his head
through a car window and painting the concrete with
Rolling around in the grass and sand and cigarette
crying for his lady to come back. It's my fault...
It was the
old drunk man standing in the road. It was Rory
in my way. I tried to swerve and miss him but I
close to the embankment and we flipped and tumbled
out into the blazing median, crashing into the
disaster. Flipping and absorbing the shocks.
about, bruised and broken. Smashed through the
and lied dying out there in the pitch black night,
around to see how destruction rang death. She took
the neck. It was twisted at a funny angle - her
all lifeless and serene. I poked her and shook her
knew there was no life left. There could be nothing
bones and muscle, rendered lifeless by shock and
knows what else. What caused her to leave and not
Not I... Not I... Not I... It was not I, officer.
officer. I'm alone in the grass and dead. I have
life out of her. I have touched her, splayed out in
grass. We used to have picnics, carried on until
Messed around in the bushes. There's so much love
her dead body. I had to feel it and caress it one
It was love without life. Passion and thrills and
all that kept me alive.
Jan. 17 -
Hey, you slurring dog with your entrails streaming!
How about some sympathy for the mad and
Jan. 21 -
I've really found something in this girl Purity -
found someone. She's more of a sensual person, like
Not always running off at the mouth, spewing
irrelevancies and pointless lies. We can sit in the
room for hours and say nothing, but also be saying
everything. Body language is the key. Brain waves
air. You can channel those if you're thinking
your mind's on the right frequency and you're aware
the world and lives around you. If you wake up and
watch yourself on the planet, with so many others.
never loved watching the world through a TV with
anyone as much as I love watching and listening
Jan. 23 -
Haven't seen Rory around town, but I hear he's
looking for me. People tell me he's asking
questions, so I
run away. Back here to Lee's house. She's never
but I just want to lie down next to Purity any way.
Jan. 24 -
Maybe he was my uncle.
I dreamed of eating dog shish kabob. I woke up
I know this all goes back to Uncle Glenn's. Going
a kid, it just pinched my mind, bruised it. How
Aunt Helen stand that? Him pushing his crotch up
against her all the time. Rubbing her down there in
of everyone, like it wasn't a big deal. Like he was
out a cigarette. She wasn't happy about that. She
always on the verge of tears. Someone should have
a shovel across his head, that horrible man. That
demented [expletive deleted].
Sending me to Locke Station for two weeks while you
and Dad were in Washington. How could you? Leaving
me with that freak of nature. Is that where we came
He kept that yellow lab tied to a tree on the hill
their house. It was their hunting dog, Uncle Glenn
me. It wasn't hunting much on that hill. Hunting
death maybe. The dog's fur was caked with mud and
It had pea-sized ticks swollen all over its neck
and ears. It
whimpered and cowered, wallowed in the dust and
It smelled of dung. Piles around, running wounds
brown, bug-infested water. What a mad place to
How could any living creature survive in such filth
I took a shish kabob skewer from the kitchen and
out to tease that sad scared dog. I punctured its
belly a few
times to see if it'd eaten anything lately. I'd
just seen Jaws
and thought it was cool how they pulled a license
out of the shark's belly. There was not much inside
dog. Pretty soon it started going into spasms and
howling so loud I had to jam the skewer in its ear
it. I thought I could make it look like a bear
killed it, so I
used the skewer to tear out its intestines. It was
ripping the soul out of this animal. The most
rush, like seahorses sawing on the brain with
from torn abdomens. Tearing life from the bone, the
earth. Sopping with blood and meat I got on my
What I'll never forget is how Uncle took me out to
it the next day. He wanted to impress me. He took
the hill and it was that old yellow dog. His tongue
eyeballs were hanging out. They were still and
unquestionably absent of life. It was strung up on
by its intestines. I'll never forget what uncle
"I bet them cow [expletive deleted] perverts in the
had a hand in this."
This disturbed me beyond description, the sight of
poor neglected animal, unfolded against the tree
him bound. And the man who had bound him, gloating
over the horror of it. I had nightmares about it
after, and now they have returned. One more thing
Feb. 1 -
He's done it this time.
My friend Silva was raped by him. She phoned it in
insistence. Told the cops about this horribly
stringy mess of a
man with long wild hair and estranged eyes. She was
into the face of a demon as it jammed itself inside
of her and
told her wicked secrets. That was the worst of it,
she said --
the things he told me. She wouldn't elaborate, but
said that she
didn't think humans were capable of such lascivious
The purest evil. Evilclear. Rotting minds wherever
She asked if there was therapy. My body will mend
said. But my mind...
Feb. 3 -
The hunt is on, and they still haven't caught him.
He has been
sighted around, but not many people know about what
Silva preferred to keep it all quiet and I
understand her worry.
She doesn't sleep at night. I don't either, I told
Feb. 9 -
Here's another dream. I'm in one of those paddle
boats on a lake, and who should pop out of the
Ben Ellis, my third grade pal. He pops his head out
water and says, "Heaven is not the nicest place to
struck me as so odd because my whole life I'd
heaven being so great. And then I have this boy
me, a boy who has obviously been there, and tells
no it isn't the best place to go. What if we've
to the heaven we're counting on? We've been there
back, and that time and place was the reward for
what? For what? Creation? For living happy and
lives? For pretending there's something out there?
him die! I know the reason he died! From heavenly
intervention? Hell no! That little boy died from
He died from believing in them and knowing them. He
died from himself and from all of us.
Walking in the mall, third graders. We were having
big time. The first time we'd been allowed to roam
from adults. Me and Ben - and he was there, I'm
it. Talking and skipping, being loud and obnoxious.
Ben standing on the ledge of the fountain, bending
watching the spray turn colors. Watching the
turn orange and pink and green, imagining sherbert
sticking out my tongue to taste the water. Watching
boy, it was like watching a mirror. Someone so
our age. I thought it was a stepbrother who could
with murder at home. Was there someone else, barely
existing outside of Mother's love? So vindictive. I
still see him running over - shoved Ben, who went
flying into the waterfall river of changing lights
streams. I saw him landing on red. The lights went
but his body lit up with electricity. He flailed
and the lights in the mall flickered. He sizzled in
water, boiling in the pretty streamers. He sizzled
and the store lights went dead. Sunlight from the
shined in as he sunk to the bottom. He sunk down to
sleep with the pennies. And I stood on the ledge,
out. "He fell in! He fell in!"
I only now remember it to be true.