One more night without a sleep, obviously something is clocking in again. I don't think it is the winter or weather.
It's my mind's desire clawing the walls inside, trying to connect and override the security firewalls and all the brave attempts to compute and resonate with the destiny and reason.
And no matter how much a mind tries to cure itself, a feeling of the void, it keeps on clocking in.
All those mindless little insects in the back of my head feed upon it, no panic or tears, it doesn't even bleed anymore. It doesn't ache as it used to.
By the law of attraction, one trouble calls another so Dillinger called at 4 am.
D: It's Money-Day, better be ready to go downtown.
TT: Can't we just go on Tuesday...
Instead of 7 am sharp he came at 9 am, which means we were about to be stuck forever in a line.
I could never understand why I can't just email them. Why I have to come in person to sign a blatant piece of the paper.
Of course, we were stuck for two hours before Dillinger finally took a stroll to the agent's office. I watched his gaydar murdering Freddie Mercury right there in front of a horde of obedient ruminants...
I was faster out than in, there was nothing to explain as I called an agent before I came so she knew what to put in the papers. No additional unplanned questions about my decaying social status, no financial Misery profiling, rest in peace god bless her soul...
Afterwards, I took a walk through the old part of the traffic infected housing blocks while Dillinger pretended not to see me walking a foot away from him.
TT: Where is the building?
I stopped taking a firm grip on a fence and looked down to a hole in the ground where one old building used to stand. It looked like somebody squeezed a huge pimple from the ground. There was nothing left of it, but an open grave.
D: Aw, they took it down. You didn't notice?
TT: What do you mean took it down? The whole building is just gone over the night...
D: Well, yes, it was in a pretty bad condition.
TT: But it was beautiful...
D: It was an insult to the skyline.
TT: If I had money, I was thinking, to buy a condo here. The Hell, if I were with money, I would buy the whole damn place.
D: It was about to fall down. Nobody could live in it anymore.
TT: They could renovate it you know. Why is the hole so deep?
I leaned further over the fence looking into the almost two-story-deep hole that was left behind.
D: It had the basements pretty deep, uh-huh. They found something on the bottom.
TT: So what they will build there. Something new?
D: A skeleton, some deformed abomination. I don't know. The worst thing they can do is a parking lot.
TT: What skeleton? In there?
D: It's not that we don't lack the parking lots in here, look at the traffic, but it would leave a pretty big opening.
TT: So what they did with the remains? They know who that is? How old is it?
D: Buildings are like the people. When you empty one big space the worst thing you can do is make it a parking or a drive-through, do you understand?
TT: Yeah, something about being a drive-through, but it sounds sketchy.
D: It is a good lot.
TT: It was still a good-looking building, there are only a few left in town.
D: Pretty old, give it a month, it will be displayed in the Institute.
I left the site of the horrendous scar made of dirt and rubble and called Dillinger to have a lunch with me, I had nothing better to do.
An hour after I was lying on my bed watching a ceiling while a neighbor upstairs was ferociously scrapping his walls off with the drilling machine. Dillinger was doing exactly the same but from the opposite side of a bed staring at my temple.
D: Do you think he is drilling a hole to spy you?
TT: Don't be ridiculous, it's family up there, he is repairing his condo.
D: This sounds awful. It has been a month. When is he going to finish it? Oh! Look your ceiling started to dust down.
He was right. My ceiling had some sort of the cracks, but now they looked a bit... bigger. The dust was falling down to us, but I didn't care.
I was just lying there with my cold feet and pale lips.
D: You didn't tell me what happened to your friend.
TT: Nothing, I stopped contacting her, there was nothing else I could do about her.
D: Lost to an argument again?
TT: No, it is not that.
D: Did she see your new story?
TT: Yeah...
D: Any good of it?
TT: I don't know...
D: Did Bob see it? I wonder what he thinks of that rubbishhhhhhh...
TT: He probably just lying on the sofa chopping his knee right now, and laughing like a zebra to it. If he didn't get it till now, he never will.
D: OK, hold that. So, what she said... Did she laugh?
TT: Probably. And no. She wanted me to 'invent' stuff.
D: Is not that what the stories suppose to be?
TT: No, it is not. It doesn't develop in that way.
D: But... Is that not a fabrication?
TT: Yes. And not. It's just not the way she imagines it in her head.
D: And it would be like... ??
TT: She watches soap operas. What else do you need to know?
D: Aw, that figures. No, I get you. You don't need to explain any further. But that was it? Is it terminal?
TT: Yeah, I guess.
D: Over a story?
TT: It's not just a story. Can I disregard everything about a person but insist on fair conduct? What kind of fake thing is that?
D: Negligence?
TT: There is more to it.
D: That's enough.
I made a short pause fixating my eyes on the ceiling and Dillinger mimicked my moves still following my face with the corner of his eye.
TT: Why did you say to Helga that you hate Sammie?
D: Maybe I do.
TT: What is with you and that guy?
D: Nothing.
TT: It's nothing but you are not telling me all.
D: Paranoid.
TT: I just feel it.
D: Who is inventing now?
TT: It's the guy.
I turned my head to the Dillinger's temple.
TT: It's the toad prince. The guy who is in your house. He is in your house, man.
D: Drop it.
TT: Yeah, but he is in your house, like, right now. And you just left? Just like that.
D: Aha.
TT: Why?
D: In there I am just a 'delivery boi'. With you, I can be whoever I want.
TT: It's like a character assassination, you didn't need to do that, you can go back...
I reached my hand around his head and touch a few of his locks but...
D: Don't touch me!
TT: OK. You have a nice hair that's all.
D: You would have it if you stop bleaching it!
TT: Fine, whatever, but it's just... Like losing a soul to it.
D: It's none of your business.
TT: Fine.
D: You should worry what will happen when you break out of that dollhouse...
TT: I never had a dollhouse.
D: Yes, you did. You broke it, lost all parts, never found it again. Now you live in one.
TT: This is not a dollhouse, noting of this is made from parts...
D: Parts and plastic. Like a doll. What else will break apart when a reality hits and you wake up.
TT. Christopher, you are so full of bull.
D: I don't like that name.
TT: Fine. I 'll just call you Jay.
D: That's more like it...
TT: How about that?
A key in a lock and a sound of a front door closing interrupted our argument.
D: Aw, I think that your happily ever after has finally come home. I think I better leave now.
TT: Yeah; I think you should...
I sat up on a bed in an artificial motion like a rag-doll swinging on a wire that just snapped.
TT: I have a headache.
D: Don't forget two other dysfunctionalities to make it more believable.
The reality just hit the marble formation with the full force in the moment when it broke a sound wall... But, nothing moved, an aftershock was like a sound of a subdued thunder somewhere far in the distance.
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