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1
I couldn’t decide whether to title my epic “Business-State Relations in
Malaysia: A Sociological Analysis of Interlocking Directorships” or “The
Effects of Chemical Inhibitors on the Resistance of Tomato to Fusarium Crown
and Root Rot.”
2
Opted instead to sit out in the garage with a
new conversation partner: myself. I ran my fingers through my hair as I sat
in a rocking chair just across the way, commenting often on how much I
admired myself and why, but never having the courage to simply stand up and
kiss me.
3
We, then, arranged shreds of silk and chenille on lumber core, compressed
wood fiber core, and rigid foam board laminated to plywood or metal facing.
The tools hung silently nearby; tools were unnecessary for these
arrangements, which yielded several large, naturally beautiful images of
self and interaction.
4
You, then, began a décolletage using two photographs of my face—one bearded,
one clean-shaven—an index of beginnings and endings, a pagan pictograph of
the circle of life. First you removed my eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. Then,
my penis, fingers, and toes. Rather: we removed our penis, etc.
5
By the time you finished, we had written our epic, and the name was obvious
to both of us. Then came darkness with only two candles. Then came total
darkness.
6
I should have known something was fishy (i.e., you weren’t really me) when
the brake light came on in my Camry. Whether this was a social or political
engagement suddenly seemed like the wrong thing to worry about. I didn’t
want to score my discs by braking without pads!
7
We said goodbye and were taken aback when I got back into my own car with me
for a hug. And a pause. I am definitely not me.
8
The world appears alien in daylight. Two sentences hang in the air: “A
new tag team is premiered with a valet that Aaron Belz is instantly
attracted to.” And: “She starts to feel the same for him, but there is one
big problem: she is an undercover FBI agent that cannot disclose her true
identity till she solves the case of the missing WWE Divas.”
9
Looking at the now hangover-bright outbuilding, which is not really a
garage, I, who am not really myself, feel subsumed into its non-shadow, its
vinyl siding, its lack of apology for being there. What does the building
want from me? I mumble to myself.
10
Look, I got a deal on my Camry. I bought it from a Korean guy who calls
himself Han Kim. And now I learn this isn’t even his real name? And I am
wondering, what is my real name? When did I quit waiting tables at
Friendly’s?
11
“Friendly Ice Cream Corporation opened the first Friendly's Ice Cream Shoppe
in Springfield, Massachusetts in 1935. Friends, family and neighbors have
been gathering at Friendly's for 70 years to create magical moments, enjoy
delicious, made-to-order food, and delight in premium ice cream using milk
from area dairies.”
12
A squirrel digs in the gutter of the outbuilding. Deep bass thumps and rolls
in passing cars. Jesus Christ sits on the right hand of God the Father in
Heaven. The case of the missing divas continues.
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