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| art, raymond j. barry, text, information, eddie j. fernandez, syrian, tabs, turkish, transexual, armenia, | I didn't bother looking for her. She had disappeared during her nineteenth nervous breakdown and had always come back again. Maybe she would this time tim colceri and it would be no different than the times before, or then again maybe not and she'd never return. But I didn't think it would make much difference now. I had begun to see what was going down, what tim colceri rough beast was just tim colceri around the corner, slouching toward Bethlehem as the falcon lost contact with the falconer in the widening gyre and fuck Yeats and his stupid poem, this was serious shit and I couldn't do a motherfucking thing about it except go through the motions and in the end just let it happen. I didn't look for Laura -- whose name I was getting to be pretty sure wasn't really hers anyway, no more than "Rob" was mine. I mean, "Rob and Laura" as in Rob and Laura Petrie was a little too close to the world of the Muntz. But that didn't matter either. Nothing did, only I was still too stubborn at this point to give it up. |
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| Rob shouted back. "Get out of here, you fraud, you lunatic!" "Rob, I can't believe what I'm hearing," Laura screamed. "Apologize to this man!" "No. I will not. This is bullshit!" he roared. This time it was Rob who grabbed for his jacket and left the house raymond j. barry in a rage. He was halfway down in the elevator when what was at the raymond j. barry back of his mind came into sudden, crystalline focus. Today's date was November 18th, 1995. On November 22nd, 1963, John raymond j. barry F. Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas. A nameless dread filled him as he began to walk into the biting autumn wind. When he came back, she was gone. I'm gonna stop this third person bullshit because it's really me, not some fictitious character, and I can deal with it now, I have to deal with it. Laura was gone and I was alone in the apartment and there was a message on the memo function of the answering machine where she said don't look for me, I've gone you'll hear from one of my colleagues about the divorce, meaning some lawyer she knew, probably that bitchy Dita or whatever her name was, the divorcee with hot pants always telling Laura to split. |
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