August 22, 2003
Dear Daryl,
I’m probably in trouble again. If I’m not, I will be soon. If I don’t have a 401k by the time you read this letter, get my mom back on the meds.
I hope you don’t mind if I blame everything horrible going on in my life on you. But you are my only candidate since you are the only one who cares. If you wouldn’t mind me blaming you then everything would be easier for me then. If you give in it will just validate my own pathetic insecurities. Support my incessant need to push away anyone who cares about me. WAAAAAAAAAH! WAAAAAAAAAAH! Sorry, I’ll pull myself together in a paragraph or not.
I had a dream in the four hours of sleep that I just strung together that you would definitely not be interested in at all! You were registering as a Marijuana Offender at the Veteran’s Hospital. Then we double teamed the Indian from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. The latter detailed was fabricated as I wrote, so interpret that as a fantasy not a dream.
Did I tell you that I almost told the cops that the weed was yours? In my mind, because I was going to drive up to see you and smoke all that weed with you, it seemed like it was your fault. I didn’t tell the cops anything like that of course (and my lawyer said that was a good thing because the only reason I’m not in jail is because of the DA’s sympathy, and that I made his life easy by not giving them any bullshit). But I did tell the principal at the school I was subbing at that the weed was not mine but a friend’s who has cancer (I told you that, right?)? So, if you ever apply at that school (which you should, but you won’t because any internet job is better for you than subbing, which is a lot of bullshit unless you don’t get to know the kids), don’t tell them that you know me.
Well, I had to write you this morning because I did something so fucking lamely stupid last night. I’m on a roll since even coming out here. First bad move: Moving to the middle of nowhere to be a stupid fucking gardner. Second bad move: Not really doing much Gardnening or anything since I got up here.
I need to be around people. You know that and you know by people, I mean girls.
So, I ran down to that town rest-stop again. My running is getting better; I did the four miles in about a half hour. Of course, I’m crazy paranoid the whole time because I am not supposed to leave at night since the head groundskeeper is the only one on duty. One stupid rule at this job and I break it everyday. And I wave at people as they drive down Highway One. I’m begging to be noticed, so they will fire me and I can stay on your counch. Or someone’s couch. No obligation.
It was two hours before dark and I ran out of cigarettes and Diet Dr. Pepper (and I’d have to walk back so as not to turn the Dr. Peppers into an explosive). The fucking sprinklers go on whether I am there or not (even the lawn mower is computerized). If I missed a phone call or someone on the radio, I figured that I’d think of something. I ran along the cliffs looking at the beach, the only thing that calmed me. I love the horizon; I want to move there.
When I got close to the store I almost ran into a group of guys and their girlfriends drinking at some benches across the street on the bluffs. I turned to cross over the road. One of the drunk guys yelled to me and I was so outta breath that I just grunted back. Then a girl called me. It’s so much easier to talk if there’s a girl around, so I ran over, kicking rocks and yawning as I ran like I was cool.
They were some very rich kids from the East Coast driving in a pair of rental cars up the California coast before going to The Burning Man. They were all so good looking and sharp. Every one of them must have just had their teeth professionally whitened right before they went on this trip. I would have killed them for those teeth. If I could have killed them, taken their teeth, and never been discovered I would have.
The girl who yelled was named Carrie. She was drunk off her ass, and she had a bunch of questions for me. I lied about everything. I told them that I was working and living in a lighthouse, I love how people buy that. Like people still live in lighthouses. Like they wouldn’t all be in chat rooms luring children out to the lighthouse all the time. They were as intrigued as a conference of psychologists with a real live psychotic that I was working in a lighthouse. They loved it. When I told them that my Uncle was the real lighthouse man and I was a temp, they were even more intrigued but kind of scared that I might ask them for a ride to Burning Man. They liked anything that made my life shitty and temporary.
So I started getting drunk with them on their beers and flasks and talking to their girls. It was fine because the guys just wanted to talk among themselves anyway. I wanted to know what they all wanted to do with their lives. One girl wanted to be a teacher, so I opened up and told her about subbing in LA and that shit. She was hot. If it had started to rain she would have steamed and we could have cooked pot stickers on her arm, that hot. As we talked her story became more and more crazy. First she wanted to be a teacher in New York City, then Japan and finally Ghana. Her friends couldn’t nod fast enough to encourage her, as she got loopier and loopier. I could smell pot in the air and realized that the guys were all getting stoned. The Carrie girl walked over to them and brought the joint back to the girls and me. I was afraid that the teacher girl was going to tell me that she was leaving immediately to go teach in Iraq as soon as she got stoned, but she didn’t. They all just got real cool. And I got stoned of course. Then I told them how I got arrested and they all loved me like I was a soap opera star or something. Even the teacher girl was impressed that I got arrested for driving while stoned while working as a high school teacher. Fucking idiots. It made me wish that I had never stopped to talk to them at all.
They drank more; got more stoned, lit a fire and put on some music on. One couple took some Ecstasy and we all watched them rub each other. It’s like they were doing some lame modern dance that was just an excuse to dry hump. That was very hot because the girl looked like a really WASPy version of Jennifer Garner, no joke. The girls laughed a lot and were that good kind of sarcastic. A couple of them want to move to LA. Before long I’d been there an hour or two. It was dark and I was fucking wasted. I should have been dying to get back to the grounds, but instead I decided to ask them if I could use one of their cell phones. I was stuck on calling Karly. I just needed to talk to her. I felt like I was going to cry if I didn’t hear her voice. It was some great pot.
The girls kept talking, saying the same basic thing over and over. Something like: "It would be so amazing to live in the middle of California near the beach."
If I have at all expressed what happened last night well at all, you should be shitting your pants right now at what a stupid idea it was for me to call Karly right then. I think I have written her five letters since I’ve been here and I’ve been smart and burned them. But calling her was a whole new level of desperation (yet, one I am very familiar with). In the week after we broke up, I must have called her a hundred times and not once since. I couldn’t stop myself then but when that random guy answered that last time, I guess that was the slap I needed.
So I wandered off and set my legs over the bluff and looked out on the horizon. As I dialed I thought about the time we went camping in Big Sur and did mushrooms. It was the best. It was so much better than sex or any stupid high before because we were in love, almost completely in the same mindset. We wanted to see how close we could get and that night was it. It was all downhill from there. So much lame darkness in those next few months (the fight at her parents and that fucking car accident). I wanted to go back to Big Sur but it was like a joke to her then. I wanted to tell her how I was thinking about Big Sur and how we were perfect but I knew I couldn’t because I shouldn’t and that’s the only thing I’ve learned since we broke up. The cell phone seemed to not like the idea of me calling because it refused to call.
I walked back over to the girls who (except Jennifer Garner) were alone again. I told them that the phone wouldn’t work but thanks a lot. They told me that it had worked a few hours earlier over by the liquor store and I should try it. I had given up and tried to get the Carrie girl to take her phone back. She asked me who I was trying to call. I told her no one and then started to cry. It was so stupid but before I knew it two of the girls were sitting close to me comforting me. I told them about Karly and how I fucked up that relationship with my insane jealousy and how my life since then had been such a mess that I never wanted to see anyone I knew again except my family and you Daryl (always a good word for you with the ladies, pal). The girls loved my lovesick pain and I did too. At that point I was totally in love with being in such pain. They told me that I had to call. Then they told me exactly what to say. I shrugged them off and the more I did, the more insistent and closer they sat to me. When I gave in, one of them kissed me on the cheek and told me that I was the sweetest guy. I looked to see if her boyfriend saw the kiss but those guys were in their own world.
I walked over to the liquor store knowing full well now that I was an idiot for not getting back to the grounds. There’s that fucked part of me that loves what I shouldn’t be doing more than anything else. Besides, I figured, if I did get a hold of Karly and we could figure out how to make things work maybe this would be the beginning of everything in the world getting better for me. It was the kind of stupid hope that I hadn’t felt in a year.
As I dialed again I thought about what they had told me to say. They had given me a bunch of lies that they knew she wanted to hear. They wanted me to tell her that I’ve spent the last year fixing my life, getting help and volunteering with kids (which was the only kind of true part). They said as that as soon as she started talking I should just listen and be as supportive as possible. I was not to ask about what she had been doing or if a guy answered the phone, I wasn’t to mention it.
Just like they said, the phone rang as I stood close to the liquor store. Four rings, five rings, nothing. I could feel that she was still scared of me. It was her voice on the answering machine. The same message except she said, "We can’t get to the phone" instead of the "I can’t get to the phone" I had heard for the year and half we were together. My blood pressure dropped to almost nothing. I felt as cold and sober as I had ever been. The beep came and I waited to talk just long enough to seem like a complete fucking maniac. "Hey... Karly. This is Tim... I really hope you are well. I’ve spent the last year getting a bunch of help and I hope I haven’t hurt you too bad..."
Then there was a rustling on her side of the line. Someone was picking up the phone. I was so fucking sure that it was going to be a guy or her dad or anyone I could not deal with at all. But I then heard the voice, "Tim?" It was Karly; I could feel her gathering courage.
"Tim?" she said again.
"Karly, this is Tim. Hi..." I stammered.
"Are you OK?" She seemed very concerned.
"I’m fine. Fine. Why?" And fuck it... She had heard everything.
She hesitated. "You sound kind of wound up and I heard about you... and jail and that stuff."
"Yeah, right. I hoped you wouldn’t."
"I did. I hope you are getting help. You could be such a great guy. I don’t know why the good half of you can’t beat that fucked up part because it’s so strong. You have such a strong goodness to you." She said "good" a lot. I’m not quite sure if I am recollecting everything here, but her point was that she knows I have a lot of good somewhere.
"Yeah, you’re right. I’m going to get everything worked out. I’m going back to school in a year or so."
"That’s good."
"So you are good?" I said.
"I’m really good. This is actually a great time for me. I just got a promotion and my personal life is going good."
"I know I shouldn’t ask about that," I said.
"You shouldn’t but I think you are going hear something that it would be way better if you heard from me." I wanted to die. Her voice couldn’t have been more conciliatory. "I’m engaged."
"Right. Good. That’s great for you. He better be a great guy..." My voice was breaking up. "I’m going to say goodbye Karly and you know I love you so I won’t say it. I just want you to know that he better treat you right. He better be everything I couldn’t be."
"That’s not it, Tim. Don’t beat yourself up, please. People are meant to be together. There is someone way better for you than me..."
"OK. I’m going to go. I’m on someone else’s cell phone. I gotta get back to work..."
"OK, Tim. Please take care."
"I will. You too. Just you know, remember me..."
I walked back to the group of kids and gave back the phone. The girls wanted to know how it went and I think my eyes started to tear up. I just dropped the phone and said, "Thanks." I started running right back up the coast to the grounds. They tried to call me but they didn’t remember my name.
When I got up towards the grounds, I was about to pass out. I was thirsty as fuck and needed a cigarette. But I had forgotten to buy anyting, of course. But looking ahead I forgot that all and my stomach sank. I saw a fake security cop car with its yellow siren lighting the whole area around my Uncle’s little house where I’m staying. I just walked slowly watching him examine the area with a flashlight. He seemed like a concerned guy.
I finally got close enough for him to see me. He walked down towards me and asked me who I was. I told him that I was working the light. "The sprinklers aren’t turning off," he told me.
"I know, that’s why I went for help," I said.
Even though I could barely see his face he looked like he didn’t believe me. "Why didn’t you call someone?"
"Phone’s out."
And it worked. He waited for someone to show up to fix the sprinklers for me. The security guard was a cool guy. He runs marathons. Before anyone showed up the lights just went back on.
We walked inside. He checked everything out. He lifted up the phone and told me that there was a dial tone. "Next time," he said, "if there’s a problem, use the radio."
I nodded and he left. I was totally off the hook. I kind of wish I would have been fired, of course. Then I could have really started to move on, but Uncle Howard would hate me. Can’t do anything right for myself without hurting somebody, I guess.
So what’s up with you? How are the kids? I’d love to hear from you, man.
Best,
Tim