"where is the ceiling?"

So…I’m alive sort of.

Just a brief update.

The letter was from the NYPD organized crime division and I was brought in for questioning. It’s funny because this is actually one thing I’m NOT guilty of…however living in NY the inevitability of meeting/making friends with people that are affiliated with such organizations is almost impossible to help.

They needed leads and were at wits end. I was pulled in from something the FBI (not interpol) tipped them off on. At the time the FBI was monitoring a close friend and I had diplomatic immunity. Henceforth they did not move in then. Now I am mortal.

I must admit…I was all ladida driving to the place and you couldn’t miss it. A massive compound and fuzz everywhere you looked. These were the heavy hitters. ESU, Hercules teams and the lot.

That was the good news.

The better news I suppose…or indifferent. I am still sick. I think I’m on week 3 or 4. I had a fever of 107 and even the parental figures visited. (They called…I tried to talk but only coughed and coughed…a few hours later they came by) Now the fever went away but I have a temp of 96.5.

Dieing I don’t mind..the coughing though really interferes with my day to day responsibilities.

Before I forget…J is really taking off! Not my brother but a good friend. He was long over due for all that is coming to him. He just got a new studio work out of in the Burg and is seeking nicer personal accommodations. His magazine is doing really well and he just invited me to a fashion show of his next week in which his work is being showcased.

This is something that I feel more than an obligation. I will be sorely out of place however I really want to go. To show my support and be there for an overall great guy I really want to see succeed.

It’s funny. He called me while I was in CT returning an email I was at a social function at the time so I said I would call back..then got sick. I was about to underwrite and fund his entire operation till he got up and going. I’m glad to see he made it on his own two feet.

Till I come up with/finish something proper…

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¶ 3/31/2005 11:34:00 PM //

A new hipster-esqe band you ask? Nay…

I received a rather ominous looking letter in the mail and someone saw it. They are about as subtle as an inebriated Redneck driving Bigfoot in Paris and kept asking me what words meant (IE: the name of the department the letter was from) I wanted to smack them upside the head and warn them… but I’m sick so I don’t exactly want to expend the effort set aside for coughing fits.

All the letter said was that I was being recalled and I had to head in to an office I had never heard of before , to a part of town which I had to actually track down.

They gave a street address but that was it…the phone numbers on the letter head didn’t match the address on the letter head, the name had no relation to the department on the letterhead, and was in fact based out of a 3rd location.

On top of all this the signature looked like a 4 year old jotted it down…well ..an advanced 4 year old. More like someone who just learned script.

The department doesn’t in fact even exist on paper…All I can establish is that the person does in fact exist and I have a direct line to her office at a 3rd remote location which…is a fortress of sorts.

I also know that they use sequential internal numbers (IE her # is 0543 her secretary is 0541 so thus one would assume her superiors can be located at 0545 is in fact they have a personal staff of 1 and are based out of the same vicinity.)

Part of me thinks this may be it…regardless of my seemingly “model citizen” behavior…I may be going away for a while.

I head in around the end of the tomorrow...If I don’t post for 2 weeks…it means I’m either in jail…overseas in the thick of it…or dead.

I don’t know what to make however my bet is on the 3rd option…better this than the slow one I’m facing now.

UPDATE:

So I placed a few calls and I got someone on the phone…and they said it’s near such and such (town which is out of jurisdiction) however It is not in that place. They also said they couldn’t tell me where it was exactly located and they were not at liberty to disclose a zip code.

I later asked how am I suppose to show up then?

The person on the phone told me they knew who I was and that my reputation proceeds me. She went on to say that I should have no problem finding it.

The hunt for Elizabeth (I’ll pick a better name eventually for the world wide hop scotch game I played trying to find her) has unfortunately made me semi-famous to the wrong sorts.

If I don’t post by say….April 15th assume the worst…

Actually if at any period beyond this, if I may go two months without notice…assume the worst. (and then your free to stop visiting).

¶ 3/29/2005 02:38:00 AM //

It’s all almost as though I’m mentally deranged in a fashion even I (once upon a time) thought wasn’t possible. I have these photos, these mementos of a person I will never meet again, and sometimes it’s almost as though I made her up. That she was my imaginary friend, and in keeping with that fashion she was…as most imaginary friends…flawless.

If I didn’t have so much evidence…I would swear that such a identity could not exist. That no single person could be so caring, so warm, so compassionate, so fatal, so perfect. It is to the point where everything I recall is like a dream I dreamt when I used to be happy. Even happiness is now a dream I have all but forgotten. The memories are fading… and so am I.

It’s been a about 3 weeks and I’m not getting any better, my health is just rapidly degrading. I have to cancel social engagements left and right…I’m no longer able to carry on the masquerade.

I have a certain tolerance for pain/hiding pain ever since once upon a time. When I was in 6th (I believe) grade I was hit by a UC police cruiser while I rode my bike. I recall seeing my bike thrown out from under me a few hundred feet. I was on the hood (So I’m assuming) and then I hit the ground and rolled around a few times…I looked up and saw an older person step out of the car. He was wearing a police cap that read “Chief of police” town of (where I was living at the time). At that time I just sort of blacked out till the ambulance showed up. Though I will say the people were outstanding…someone wrapped me in a blanket...a girl from school may have been there (to follow).

I had never been in such agony till then, however the next day I went to school with a really bad back and a makeshift cast for the broken ribs. I recall a girl went “Oh my god @$%#(insert name) are you ok?” and I feel a bit bad now for being a bit mean to her…perhaps the tone I used “Yeah…why do you ask?”. She was very sweet, I wasn’t.

I was once hit in the forehead by a monkey wrench. When I lived at home rarely would 2 days consecutively pass in which I didn’t gravely disappoint my parents. My father used to beat me to and kick me with steel toe boots he only wore when he wanted to punish me...for what ever reason he had. (IE: once my brother fell down and I got blamed…or if I got anything less than a 100 on a test….or I came in anything other than 1st place.) At one point…perhaps when I was 14...I stopped crying when he hit me. He would just keep going till he got tired and then make me sleep outside.
Or other creative punishments. Throwing all my school books in the woods and then telling me to do my homework. Destroying everything in my room (I was lucky in the sense we had so many bedrooms.)

At 16 or so...I recall him launching a fist at me and I caught it. I just screamed and screamed and then I let fury fly. A wounded animal will only take so much. I just beat him over and over till he dropped to his knees.

For me this was the beginning of the end. This was a huge insult to my father and I we all knew it. There is a lot I’m neglecting to mention here (IE: all the times he had me arrested prior etc etc)

I was being kept away from the house. The rules were overly strict. I found a lot more weapons in the house. I was now constantly walking around with either a knife or a handgun (glock). I drove to NY and bought my first bulletproof vest. I was on the endangered species list. Things were escalating rapidly.

One day at church…(I went every week , it was the unified front to the rest of the local factions). Well…there were 2 situations that happen here…once I had a dead battery and they purposely wouldn’t give me a jump…this was the 2nd in the series.

I was about to take off when a suburban blocked my me in…I went to slam reverse and before I could another suburban. Along side another one.

Shit! I was blocked in…I didn’t know what to really expect however...I had foreseen this once upon time. I had rigged a trigger switch in my car. A small detonator on the side of the gas tank. I knew I was going to go however…I was going to take at least someone with me.

I had one hand on the switch the other on my sidearm. My parents car drove up escorted by 2 more security units…that back window rolled down and my father told me I was out.

They drove off and the cars blocking me left about 20 minutes later though 2 units followed me till I lost them.

Oh the wrench to the head…well yes the next day I went to school with a fractured skull and stitches in my forehead. Missing school was never allowed.

Anyways…that’s how I was kicked out of the house and made homeless. (they later had me kicked out of school, sent collection agencies to recuperate what I owed them for raising me…room and board for 16 years, etc etc)

Nonetheless through the years I’ve had hardships and endured lots of physical as well as emotional pain yet still put on the good face, carried on the masquerade and conducted myself in a semi-social fashion. Adhering to my role as a proper representation of the house hold name (even though I am a black sheep…baaaa)

I show up when asked and do what I’m told. I however find myself now having to cancel appearances. My friends don’t quite understand why I no longer answer the door, or the phone. The truth is...I can’t hear the door or phone at times. I black out a lot now. I sometimes will be sitting…enjoying the silence and the fact I’m doing nothing…and everything will fade. A series of memories will flash and I’ll wake up a few hours later. As when I wake up there will be the blood to clean up. However now there is a chronic cough which means coughing up blood. This I cannot hide.

My handkerchiefs used to all be white (well not all) however they all slowly yet surly started turning red over the course of a few hours.…now I have replaced them all and gotten black ones.

I’ve mentioned this before…but at what point does one run out of blood? I just bleed so fucking much that I should have been out a while ago. I’m guesstimateing a liter a day I must lose between all things.

I used to hide it so well…and now people are starting to ask…and I find myself in a situation. My volunteering has left me obligations to fulfill…while I may have to usurp upon someone else. I am very tempted to just end it myself…so as to not cause any further humiliation to my family.

Failing to show to certain events is a humiliation unto itself. However…if I was dead, no one could blame me. Though I will admit…I secretly thank god during my fits.

I thank god that the end is so close.

I no longer care why…I just want when

¶ 3/28/2005 07:57:00 PM //

It’s been about a week or two.

I’ve been really sick. It’s been worse than I can recall…then again this is the mantra of youth. (IE: this is the worse winter ever…or this is the worse gridlock ever..etc etc). I can’t really breath and my face is a few shades yellow (which is hard for my skin to do) Also my eyes seem almost yellow.

There is a white discharge from my nose, I blow and blow, and yet it is never clean. The coughs are chronic and seem to never stop. I am gasping to breath between the coughs and it’s almost like I’m going to pass out. I can’t even have phone conversations because I can’t seem to get a sentence out.

All this in addition to the blood which is nothing new. However thankfully my hearing in my left ear has returned after some self performed surgery (it was driving me nuts).

I have lost all appetite and it’s been a few days since I’ve eaten a proper meal… bit office cream to cool down my throat but even that has trouble making it down.

This has been a long time in the works…and me getting sick more often is only a sign I suppose of things to come. I knew my immune system would break down but failed to factor in getting sick every other week.

I try to carry on however I no longer go out. Even the mundane tasks are dispersed amongst multiple parties in hopes they don’t talk to one another. I may employ a full time assistant outside of the overseas staff.

I now make every move in preparation it may be my last. I even enter the shower with the thoughts that what if I may fall and not wake up. I take the precautions for when I may be found so as to cause the least discomfort. I sleep in the suicide room I prepared a while ago. Lined with air filters and plastic sheets so as not to seep outside and spoil the home for the next inevitable wave of owners/ resale value for those whom take the home. I no longer hold any hopes of Elizabeth actually stepping up and taking what I have designated for her.

Though I will admit…I have been eyeing the Mexico City real estate market. I once dreamed of having a place in Mexico…sort of a retreat. Be it ever so humble…perhaps even a share. An escape that would be shared by Elizabeth and myself. For her to use when she could no longer deal with the stresses of the world and for myself for when I visited her. We would be Ozzy and Harriet. We would play Gran Turismo 3(That was then, now I’m on on 4)

We would sit in silence amongst each other…wrapped around each other. Her reading medical journals and me the Economist or Harpers possibly the Times on Sundays. We would be worlds apart yet helplessly inseparable. We would accommodate each other without speaking a word. I would make coffee and prepare hers as she chose.

It would be some place humble yet that is not to say in the ghetto. It would be safe…yet lack the extravagance we both knew we could do without as long as we had each other.

We would both have a key and it would be our secret getaway. Like a clubhouse of sorts.

We would have no need to venture out however some mornings we would have a cup at the local café. I would have orange juice and she would have strawberry milk. She would wear her femme fatale shades with sandals. I would wear whatever she liked.

We would get the simple escape our even increasingly complicated lives seemingly so desperately needed. We would be happy in each others arms without a care for society or families or politics. We would whisper in to each others ears and laugh as opposed in to phones and cry. We would touch each other instead of photos. We would hold each other instead of mementos of each other. Her uciplius, and my teddy bear (Yes she got me a teddy bear whom I talk to now…I apologize to him for keeping locking him in a closet…I apologize for his wasted life and promise him that should Elizabeth ever return He will be saved. He will hold a predominate place in our lives…however now the site of him is far too painful and I can not bear (bad joke) any more pain. ) These mementos would make their homes in out respective corners of the bedroom. If the place even had a bedroom…even a studio would suffice…however I envisioned some thing along the lines of a small contemporary 1-2 bedroom apartment.

She would cook masterpieces. I would cook disasters, yet still try. Eventually we would compromise after a few near misses with food poisoning and I would cut and prep for her and she would be the chief. We would share responsibilities for doing dishes. They would be tasked to me, but she would always help me dry and stack.

I would eventually learn Spanish and at home we would try to speak in French…though I would have helped her with her German homework (gutentoug? )

We would be happy in our modest lifestyle. We would always dread our return to our complicated lives and confine in each other however…we would realize it is what made this secret life so sweet. We would have matching toothbrushes but separate toothpastes.

We would go grocery shopping together! I would beg for treats yet she would buy only vegetables. I would later thank her…yet sneak in a yoo-hoo (toxic chocolate milk…with surprisingly little milk)She would catch it at check out yet let it slide…letting me think I had won…my little victory.


This fantasy goes on and on…however I fear it’s moment has passed. I have no hopes for Elizabeth ever returning….yet secretly I wish she would…if for nothing else than for me to have a friend to confine in. She was after all my best friend. She knew more than any one person. She knew me.


I also saw a beach house for sale. I can’t say where for sure however it was listed in the Mexico city market …thus I can’t imagine it’s too far. It was a nice modest home…3 car garage. VERY affordable. I considered buying it today…to retire to. I realize this would encompass having to hire a security detail and that this totally offsets the notion of "affordable"..but it’s a nice notion. Beach front itself doesn’t necessarily entice me. I don’t swim or sunbathe…however the idea of seclusion does. The photo picture the house alone in a small alcove.

If I’m around next January and able to drive…I intend to purchase a 2006 Guard Edition S350 (Mercedes Benz)and possibly make a road trip down to Mexico. Spend a month or two if not longer. As of now I have the spot checks by Interpol and have to report to the State Department because of the whole fiasco at the Pasteur Institute…When Mario told me that where Elizabeth was…and me trying to get in etc etc.

It seems so far off (the notion). That I could perhaps die so far away from everything…That I would be so far away for so long that no one would notice my disappearance.

I would have my simple apartment…with a few possessions (hence the drive down) etc etc. Even if Mercedes doesn’t release the car state side I’m sure I could get one in South America via DSS (Diplomatic Security Service(s)) Or I’m willing to go back as far as 95 and purchase a used one. (Who doesn’t want to save a 180,000 usd?)

These are the ideas currently floating around in my head. So much has gone on in the past few weeks…I’ll try to make some attempt in the upcoming week to catch up on the past few months, however my constant coughing even makes typing a bit hard/awkward….Though I will admit…I’ve been out of bed having disproportionately insane amount of fun playing Republic Commando. My aim is not always true as the combination of not being able to breath and coughing , and violent body shakes cause me to move my arm and miss my mark… I love this game!
This has very possibly usurped Gran Turismo 4's short lived top spot…(only played a hand full of time due to massive work load and illness). This game however is all about precision, and in my condition I could never play. (and win…then again…I never win when it counts)

¶ 3/19/2005 04:40:00 AM //

Part 2 B+W

¶ 3/18/2005 03:34:00 PM //

Part 1 Color

¶ 3/17/2005 04:06:00 PM //

The shit has hit the fan at one of the places I’m volunteering …while I was there…more details later.

I’ve caught my 3rd cold in just as many months..and they only get worse/last longer.

I smell rotting flesh every where I go…however people assure me it is just me…I’m not sure how to take that.

One of my laptops (the main thinkpad) went down for the count as I tripped over the wire (which I’ve done in the past) and launched it flying from shelf to night stand…to floor and ended up busting the screen.

The camera is somewhere in California so no pics…
Thus I’ll bring you all the leftovers from last year

And…I’m at a loss for words…the sensation of drowning on the mundaneness of life is just simply overwhelming.

Etc etc…

¶ 3/17/2005 03:47:00 PM //