Stalking the Average Man HTML version
knowledge, is that fear is not a consequence of warfare, it is its source. | She dredged the last
word like a bucket of toxic waste from the bottom of an industrial harbor. Most harbors, I
-So tell us young warrior, who weeps bittersweet acrimony over the threads of his
humanity, who better to explain the source of mankind‘s dire circumstances than the archetype
aberrant man seeking himself under the brilliant light of his own demise? |
-Explain to whom? I‘m supposed to write about the screwed up world in Bonnie‘s
imagination? | I scoffed.
-Your first purpose is to find yourself amid the madness. |
-Hers you mean. |
-It is a quest that will soon pass a point of change, | Saa-ra said, ignoring my comment.
-We love you. |
-Maybe we should just be friends. | I stood to go to the men's room.
When I came back, Bonnie had put a twenty-dollar tip under the vase; I gave her a ten
without comment, and pulled out the chair for her. The short drive back was quiet, but not
awkward for me because everything that could be said was out there. No secrets, no angst.
Nothing left, really.
Getting out of her car in the driveway, I declined her offer of a decaf coffee because I had a
legitimate job in the morning. -A bird guy is speaking about fences screwing up the migratory
crawl of bugs, | I said.
-Ornithologist and entomology, | Bonnie said as I straddled and started my 550cc machine.
-You can‘t help it, can you? | I thought I said under my breath.
| It seems that neither of us can, | Bonnie said, ending our confrontation scene.
The Descent of Spirit
Lying restlessly on my futon, the evening‘s conversation circled annoyingly around my
mind until a cascading mixture of ire and helplessness modeled a revelation framed in
humiliation: I so deeply resented Bonnie‘s deceptions that I had no interest in continuing a
relationship in any form. In spite of inexplicable events apparently =stalking‘ me, as Bonnie
described it, I simply didn't have an act of faith left in me. Within the freedom of again having no
expectations in life, I rolled over and fell into a deep sleep.
Around half past three, I awakened from a dream that was lost as soon as I realized I was
dreaming, but it left behind a mental itch I could not scratch. I passed time by rehearsing how I
was going to tell Bonnie I was finished, without creating a scene. Her efforts and my experiences
made it almost impossible for me to disappear.
The alarm went off while I was staring at it.
I showered then met Matt and a local producer, who did the interview with the bird guy
after which we walked around the park taking generic cover footage, because there were no bugs
of this particularly sensitive species to be found. My day was over in three hours ; I picked up a
couple bottles of wine on the way home, jogged, showered again, and called Bonnie. She said
she was parched. Twenty minutes later, I led her to commenting on her client‘s interests, to open
the door through which I intended to make my escape.
-I‘m not surprised that she didn‘t accept what you said, | I said. | My world still makes more
sense to me, the contradictions you‘ve chipped away at notwithstanding. |