Thursday, April 29, 2010

Dear Diary: Thursday the 29th

Apologies to Oisin O'Sullivan as I sort of ripped off his story format.

Hello Allison, my love, my sweet. I have some thoughts to give to you, so please lend an ear...

This city smells like rot and decay, the stench of a million things dieing and not being able to decompose properly and become part of the earth. It's hard to do when everything is made of concrete. I shouldn't think so much about it, but whenever I walk down the street all I can think about is how a city of 3 million people, with so many living breathing things everywhere, could stink so bad....
I wish that I had never moved away from the country. "Go." The doctor said. Remember that? He said that I needed to be around people. That the solitude was making me crazy. I may have done somethings that were a bit odd, but I don't think I was crazy. I never hurt anyone. Hell, I never wanted to hurt anyone. But now everyday I want to stab someone, or throw them in front of the subway train, or punch them till their faces cave in. I hate these cockroaches, this scum of the world that thinks it's important enough to warrant destroying everything to suit itself. These pushy ungrateful lazy rude festering wastes of precious air and recourses. I never gave other people much thought till I had to live and work among them. Now I despise each and every last one of them.
Every time I think about my lovely trees and my lake and my log cabin, it hurts. It hurts so bad. But I need to go back there in my mind or I'd go completely insane. Today at work my boss yelled at me in front of everybody because some lady complained to him that I wasn't polite enough. He yelled till his face was beet red and veins popped out of his forehead and neck. All I had done was explain to the lady how the gas pumps were supposed to work and she wasn't getting it, so of course after a very long time of trying to make her understand I got frustrated and angry. I didn't yell or anything but I guess my tone was condescending or something and she spent a long time in my bosses office.
So my boss was yelling at me and everyone was looking and I thought about killing him. Right then and there, just putting my hands around his pudgy neck and squeezing till he died. Or tackling him and beating his head on the floor till his skull cracked and his brains started to leak out.
Allison, you know I'm not a violent person right? My past entries in you give testament to that. That is why I love you more than anything else in the world. You know all my secrets but tell no one.
I'm hungry but all I have is leftover hot dogs and a this half bottle of Jack Daniels. I suppose it will have to do. Maybe I can get drunk enough and the hot dogs won't taste so bad.

I have a dream to relate before I go. I know you love these my darling, even more than I do. Just another reason that you are my perfect girl.

I was in some rich person's mansion. This probably came from some TV show that I had seen recently. When Mandy had her party last Friday, we all watched brainless TV so we didn't have to talk to each other so much. But you know that already.
I was standing at the top of the stairs looking down. It was very dark and I could just make out a figure standing at the bottom looking up at me. At first it was just a blurry white shape, but then it started to move up the stairs and I gradually came to the realization that it was a woman. A woman I had never me before. She was very pretty but I knew she was dead and it made me very sad. When she got up to me, she opened her arms and embraced me...
Suddenly I was in a trailer house watching a very fat man murder his wife. He was about finished when I got there, and he stabbed her a few more times before standing up and looking right at me. He handed me the knife without a word and then sat back in his easy chair and turned on The Muppet Show. His wife got up, went into the kitchen, and started to make some food. I was going to ask her if being dead hurt and if she could make me a turkey pot pie because I blew most of my paycheck on cheap books, but then I woke up.

My dear Allison, it is Thursday. One more day of work till the weekend. I've almost finished reading the last book in the original Tarzan series. I would love to read more of Burroughs work but none of the used bookstores I frequent seem to have anything of his. I could get it new but I have no money for new books. Where is the library in this stinking place? Do those even exist anymore? I may have to do some more searching to find out. Maybe this weekend?

I love you Allison. Please be a good girl till we meet again even though I like it when you're bad sometimes. I think about you a lot at work, you know that right? Of course you do. You're with me in spirit always. Adieu!


Oisin O'Sullivan said...

aaaghgghhggh I pretty much squaled in delight reading this. Its awesome to see you borrowing my style.
And he,y no need to apologise at all. Its great.
Better than mine.

I think you misunderstood who "Medoc" is though. He's an actual person who isn't in the writer's life any more (I want to leave the reason to be as ambiguous as possible) and she's writing letters to him (its also ambiguous whether she sends them to him), kinda like in the book "We Need to Talk about Kevin" by Lionel Shriver.
Unless you intentionally went for something different, in that case, ignore what I just said.

And I sent you the email too by the way, go check it out.

Kurdt said...

Yeah, I wasn't trying to rip your story off, just used your style as an inspiration sort of thing.
Glad you weren't pissed that I did it!

Oisin O'Sullivan said...

No, I was delighted.