Tuesday, April 25, 2017

First flu

My mother declared this to be my first flu, though it seems impossible at my age, me being too old for firsts by now and there having been so very many assorted ailments along the way since that day, long ago, when the doctor rent me from her. Screaming, probably.

I mean to say that I am likely to have been the party doing the screaming, not the doctor. I cannot say for certain.

Almost from the get-go there has been hacking. Fountainous discharges. Infections and wounds of all variety. Over a lifetime, this body has played host to viruses and bacteria big and small, both foreign and domestic, some of which, I imagine, stuck around and remain to this moment, here and now, biding their time.

Wednesday, April 19, 2017

Part 7: The side effects of time travel

This is the part of my story I had intended to be the conclusion. Not just an ending – no, that would never satisfy a mind like mine – but a real first-rate, proper conclusion, with lessons learned, themes brought together. The whole nine yards, as they say.

But now that I have arrived here, I find that it is merely the end. There were no lessons learned. No grander themes. Some people died, others broke up, and most kept on doing things exactly as they’d been doing them before.

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

Part 6: The time I thought Jamie was dead

“[Stonie’s] diary, found days later, included a list of people he threatened to kill.” – chron.com


3 days later:

“Hello, ossifers! I almost said ‘officers.’ Ossifers. I mean I’m the one who called about the window watch your step there. Thanks sorry. Harry Hamid yes absolutely but the apartment and the window are up h-here, here, second floor, offsif… everything is on the second floor except my girlfriend why I called she’s missing watch your step. The cats are still there though they sent four of you – three, four, yes – because the murderer lived’s’s in that one you know about the kill list right? Was I on the kill list, no, right? Harry Hamid? You’d have to tell me, right? – rules, I’m right, right? Sorry really if I’m babbling, f-fight or the flight – you know! – and aluminum and I do not make apologies for natural body responses. Bodily. I’m shaking! Look!

“Look, the window is here like this and he could be anywhere, like a perimeter maybe? There’s four of you. Someone strong broke in like that, right, and she’s missing and she was involved with him. No, no, not with the murders I mean like romantically you know. Yes, my girlfriend. Yes, I mean, yes. Like that. Of course.

“This bottle, here, he touched this bottle. I saw him. You can get fingerprints off this bottle if you need – what? Off what? My g- how could you get his fingerprints off my girlfr – ooh. Oh, I get it haha yes I get it. Because they…

“No, it’s not ransacked, it always looked like this. I know. No. You want me to stay out here? The blood on the kitchen wall was already there! If you find her body in there – her, Jamie – ((sniffle)) don’t tell me, I can’t – or tell me, you have done this or you’re trained, what’s the best way like preparation in case yes or no? She loved animals and I love her and I don’t know if I can find another girlfriend.

“I can give you a list of places and her job and the bottle and her diary to help find-”

The officer put his hand on my shoulder. He said, “Sir, can I get you to be quiet for just a moment?”

He leaned over the railing and said, “Yes ma’am?”

It was a little girl’s voice, not a ma’am. “Are you looking for that lady that lives there?”

All four of the officers stepped up. “Have you seen her?”

The little girl went on. “I saw her drunk and she fell out of her car. She locked her keys in her car and got mad. Then she went up the stairs and broke her window. But she fell down again and again and she couldn’t climb in.”

The officer said, “Did you see where she went after that?”

The little girl pointed. “She’s asleep in the big laundry room we all use.”


They found Stonie’s body down by the coast the next day. They said he’d been dead for some time.


“Part 1: A true crime story” is HERE.
“Part 2: A boy who killed some people” is HERE.
“Part 3: The other voice” is HERE.
“Part 4: Stonie’s bottle” is HERE.
“Part 5: Murder in Montrose” is HERE.

- This is a news article about Stonie and the murders. 

Thursday, April 6, 2017

Part 5: Murder in Montrose

The cops and the papers and even Stonie’s mom, they told a story, later on, of what happened that day after Stonie left Jamie’s balcony. And if it is not a true story, well, I had no means of disproving it and still do not.

But if it was not a true story then the world is a better place after all.

Sunday, April 2, 2017

Part 4: Stonie's bottle

I was unfamiliar with the term “head” as used in the diary, that is, to mean “oral sex performed upon a woman.” Whether this was owing to my own lack of worldliness or to it being a neologism of Jamie’s generation or to Jamie having misused the term entirely, I don’t know.

I have never seen it used in this sense outside the diary entry, written fourteen years ago now.

Yes, I read her diary, a blue hardbacked book with off-white pages.

And yes, I know that was wrong, probably.

The diary entry in question said this (or else something very much like this): “I got head from Stonie and I screamed so loud I can’t believe the neighbors didn’t call the cops.”

This was read by me – and understood, too, despite the unfamiliar use of the crucial term – without the gut punch, that familiar blow to the groin and the belly I usually felt upon learning of a betrayal**. Maybe I’m admitting too much here…

I wasn’t upset.

Then, two days later, I arrived at Jamie’s apartment and there she was, sitting with Stonie out on the balcony. The two of them, drinking beers, and they were talking of the films of Andrei Tarkovsky.

I wasn’t upset then, either. I joined them and their beers.

And Stonie? O, he was young and mostly tattoos and piercings and he had those gauge things in his ears. You know, where it looked as though tiny people could use his earlobes for swings? Despite the screaming in the diary, I did not feel threatened.

The boy was fine. Polite, yes. Asked about my job and my musical tastes. All of that. When he left for home, Jamie and I stayed sitting there, drinking beers and watching children who played by the pool, but not speaking.

I picked up a beer and sucked at it.

Jamie broke the silence and said, “Oh!” She said, “That was the beer Stonie was drinking.”

Still I watched the children.

I said, “What? Are you worried I’m going to catch something nasty off of Stonie’s bottle?”


**“Betrayal” is too strong a word and not the right word but I am leaving it in anyway. For color.  

Part 1 is HERE.
Part 2 is HERE.
Part 3 is HERE.