subrosa: the adventures of bill chase chapter_12

Chapter 12


Time kept eating away at me. Every passing day dragged me closer to death. In the last days before I was to leave for Toronto, I spent most of my time alone in the woods. I had heard there were few things that grew in a big city. I was not certain why I was going there. Maybe I had the idea that I needed a new adventure.

Suzanne was already at her university in Toronto. I could have gone with her but Dave had a couple weeks of work for me. We finished what had to be done for the winter and he gave me a money order for just less than five thousand dollars. I had no idea what five thousand dollars meant.

Although my mind was mixed up, I felt I was prepared for my journey. I awoke to the fact that it was about to start when I found myself in the truck with Betty and Dave. I had very little luggage. I thought about the food Betty had packed for me. I could not listen to them as they talked to me about important things to remember on a trip. After they had bid me good luck and farewell, I thanked them for their hospitality and guidance.

I shook Dave’s hand and gave Betty a hug.

"We’re going to miss you," Betty said.

"Like a wart you have grown used to," I answered.

"You’re crazy. Will you write us?" Betty asked.

"I will write."

It felt odd pulling apart from them to go into the train station. It seemed story book to be waiting alone in the station. Waiting to be transported into a new unknown.

I watched an old man picking up cigarette butts and putting them in his plastic pouch. When he had collected all that he could find, he sat down to go through the process of taking the butts apart so that he could roll the scorched tobacco in a rolling paper. His urgency grew a bit when the cigarette was in his mouth and he was searching for his matches. He had to ask a woman for a light. The ecstasy that enveloped and smothered him, as he inhaled deeply, made me long for his simple system of reward. It made me long for involvement in an addiction that could cloud my mind. I could almost feel the death mocking beauty of a clean cut, professionally manufactured, filter tip cigarette. Life would be much more bearable if I could just smoke.

I could almost understand the glamorous promotion of drug dependence. It was an easy way to keep the masses occupied. It was good that a few drugs were illegal. It made dependency more attractive for the part of civilisation that could not accept medical intervention.

"Hi, how are you doing?"

"Great, I took an Aspirin, knocked back a beer, had a chocolate bar, drank a coffee with two sugars and smoke a strong cigarette," I answered.

"What?"

"Kathy. Hi. Sorry, you caught me talking to myself. What brings you here?"

"My feet."

"Did I ever tell you that you are beautiful and I love you?"

"You may have mentioned it a few times."

"It is good to see you."

"Didn’t you think I’d want to say good-bye?"

"I thought you would be in school. I did not think it was necessary to see me leave."

"I wanted to see what direction you took, in case I decided to track you down."

"You did? You would? I would love to see you again. Maybe we could spend our lives together chasing mutant butterflies in the acid rain."

"Maybe," she said. "Write me if you don’t change your mind after you get there. I’ll soon be sixteen. They won’t be able to hold me anymore."

We continued talking but had a hard time communicating. It was as if there was a space already forcing itself between us. We were just slaughtering words in an abattoir of symbolic communication. I put my arms around her, trying to squeeze the space out. I wanted to crush the wall of preconceptions. But it was too late.

The distorted loud speaker announced the arrival of the train that was to take me away.

"Bye," Kathy said.

She kissed me.

"Stay beautiful, and do not give in."

I sensed my old self was dying as I stepped onto the train. I could feel the beginning of a metamorphosis.

If I could have spared the money, I would have got a room, but even a seat was more money than I thought I should spend. I looked out the window to see Kathy walking away from the station. I settled back to weave my cocoon with the hope that one day I would emerge from my shell to fly.

I wondered about my name. I knew that before the gas station my name was not Bill. Maybe I did not have a name before then. What was a name anyway but something to respond to. Names and words always seemed strangely unfamiliar to what we were taught they symbolised. Language was lacking. There was no use for words most times. They were just filler to keep us mentally busy. They clothed us. They were protection from our selves.

Words were a tool of authority. Words were invented or contrived to create meaning, thus enabling manipulation of the mind. Political and religious. Once reason was established as a concrete reality, those who assumed the position of authority could tame and direct the simple minded. It eventually came to such a strained state that powerful governments had to be established to handle all the rules and laws needed to validate the reason of meaning.

Our lust for words is our fear of no meaning. Our consciousness which makes us aware of our life makes us aware of our mortality. It confuses us. We want more. The lizard lurks within us wanting to rage while death waits with beckoning arms. So we fight.

The train lurched ahead.

I watched the people in the train. I wondered if they knew they were being watched. They appeared like they were acting and the play was phantasmagorical. My shell thickened.

Warm fear embraced me.

Knowledge without wisdom will negate survival. If I could erase all the input to my brain for a moment I might be able to have a moment for pure acceptance of my senses. But instead, I quaked. Pathological, nihilistic narcissism fought against the absurdity of a frightful meaningless existence.

I felt dead.



At the next city, my solitude was interrupted when a short woman asked if she could sit beside me. I stood up to let her sit by the window. She explained about her legs being too short as I watched her set her travel case on the floor to prop up her feet.

I did not think I wanted to make conversation with her, but as she talked and asked questions, I was grateful to be sharing her world. The more we talked, the more the wall around me opened up to let her voice in. She told me she was going back home to her husband in Texas. She had been visiting her mother who was sick in the hospital. Our conversation seemed like it was an interaction that depended on the sounds more than the independent meanings of the words.

By the time she left the train, in the early evening, I felt strengthened from her. I had some kind of connection with other people.

My shell soon closed in again. I slept for a while. When I awoke, I was disoriented. Eventually I remembered the train. With assurance of my presence, I got up to find a place to urinate. When I found a washroom, I had the pleasure of urinating in a moving target.

I decided not to go back to my seat. I set out on an adventure to see what I could see. I felt strangely euphoric. Everything was equally amazing. The sun was gone from the sky so the windows trapped the artificial light and reflected images of people. Sleeping, reading, talking or smoking.

In my wandering, I stumbled up the stairs in a domed bar car. I looked about at the alcohol consumers and the cigarette smokers. Three men were sitting at a table playing cards and discussing some problem or concern about something of great importance when one of them noticed me.

"We need a fourth man for euchre," he piped out and waved me over.

"I am not sure."

"Don’t worry about it. We’re just having fun. Be my partner and I’ll buy you a drink. What will you have?" My new acquaintance urged.

"All right, I guess. An orange juice would be good."

"We’ll make it a screwdriver."

He waved the waiter over.

"I am not the best at cards. I have played little," I warned.

"Don’t worry about it."

I was not about to worry about card playing but I was likely to worry about the players. They told me they were on MDA and acid, and planned to get drunk as shit. How drunk was shit?

They talked about work and the fun they had travelling. They urged me to talk about myself. What did I do and where was I going? I had no answers for them.

When the bar closed down hours later, they insisted I join them for a night cap and a toke. I said no thanks but in my non-conviction they convinced me I had nothing better to do. That might have been debatable but I was not in a debating mood. I was in a roll along on the planet to see where I ended up mood.

"This is the best combo of shit you’ll ever have," Dan said.

"Hash oil, Sensimilla and shrooms from Africa all in one big happy mind blowing joint. You’ve got to like it."

He went about rolling his creation of obliteration, occasionally tossing a piece of mushroom into his mouth.

"Beautiful. It’s brain food."

Dan shoved a piece of mushroom in my mouth.

I did not have time to think. I was allowing myself to be led by these over-friendly, unstable, feigning drug mongers. I ate a couple more mushrooms. The taste almost made me retch. I had to wash the taste away with the brandy I was handed.

The various types of joints were passed around. I managed to choke some back. The effect on my brain was magical. I craved more of the Neronian catalyst. I had to dive deeper. It had to be thicker. Things melted into each other so that everything seemed to be significant.
It was all connected. Words had colour. People were monsters. The train was laughing. I was racing without moving. There was a large wheel of energy spinning in my throat, making it hard to breathe. I was a screaming lizard losing my skin.

I needed to explain myself.

"It was the middle of a spring day when I felt I had died. I tried to leave my skin but I fell deep into the mouth of the earth only to be spit out of the anus shortly after. I was left barely able to function. I was equipped to be inert yet I was in pain, melting in the fire of desire."

"Go on," Jack said.

"Karmadellepimentia. I remember planting a flower in the desert at the tone of the phone that was calling out in a drone. I opened the book to have just a scanning look. Follow?"

"Ya, go on, Bill," Dan said.

"Due to the increasing decline of fuel, water, food and space, we regret that you can not leave your place under any circumstances. Today’s crustifications have been cancelled due to
staff shortage. We require your co-operation and lack of it will force us to withdraw your permit for any privileges. Thank you for shopping at your Supper Store.

"Radioactive lice infest furry mutant bat mice. Within, without, know what it is about and you must get a clout. In the phobia part of your mind, in a spot that has a hole in it which allows outside interference and thus blocking regular transmission: you lose the contours, it is too late to stop. The world is now at the end of the beginning. There is no foundation for our superstructure. It is falling but we are pushing too hard to be able to see it. If we do not get out, it will smother us. Am I reaching you?"

"Yes, yes," said Russ.

"Pointless though, is it? Your skin slides down your face. You do not know heaven from hell. You do not know sight form smell. Mad. Smashing bird’s eggs does not help. You get kicked. You yelp. It is a delicate balance. Out of balance. And still we are only fragile lost lizards fighting and killing in the name of survival. Screaming at the sky from behind a rock. Protecting our underbelly, we forget to swim. Drowning in misconceptions. We jest. Lashing out from behind our contrived smiles.

"We have made a tree without roots. We wear a snowsuit without boots. We are a flock of birds with no wings. No reason to fly. Too late to cry. Too soon to die. Everyone stuffs their painted world in at you, looking for approval and acknowledgement. Cemented feet in a sinking parliament. More justification. The strings are pulled by fools. We are just eyes shut tools. Frightened, crawling from the sea to build a fire to protect us from the cold of uncertainty and death. Lost. Mutating. Running forward, falling behind. Falling back to the sea. Back to timeless slime. You are dripping, oozing, melting, fading. You struggle to leave your mark.

"What are we taught; what do we learn? The wages of God is eternal life. The gift of sin is death."

"Let’s hear it for sin," shouted Jack before grabbing Russ by the scrotum.

I thought it strange but then wondered why I thought I knew what strange was.

"Will we cheer for our last breath? Have we learned how to think or were we taught? Have we become spectators in our own game? What a dread to fall asleep in your dream and wake up to a nightmare."

"Ride ‘em horsie," Jack shouted. "Get your ass in the air."

"You are not a door or a bubble. You have life in your hair. But it is not yours. It is not enough. Listen. You are not listening to the colours and shapes of the things I am telling you. This is me with my head in the sink, bleeding form my eyes and ears. I have only a few moments left. I find it hard to speak, my body keeps jerking. No past or future. When you find me in the morning, my brain will have exploded. You will find the pieces on the wall. Too much pressure, that is all.

"So I am here, waiting on the roof top. Hoping for a ride. Along comes a vulture that starts digging at my pride. Can I last without the illusion of meaning?"

"You need more drugs, Bill," Dan said.

"Is that the answer?"

He put a joint in my mouth with one hand and rubbed my leg with the other hand. He kept getting closer to my crotch. I did not know what to do. I did not want to have sex with him. I was sexless. I could not have sex with anyone. My body had separated from my mind. I felt him undo my pants. When I shut my eyes, I could see a strange beast with oversized teeth about to bite on my penis.

I pushed Dan away so that I could stand up.

"I have to go," I declared.

"Don’t be silly. There is nowhere to go. Stay and enjoy yourself. Don’t be afraid. A little fun won’t hurt you. You will see."

"No."

I felt vulnerable. About to crack from the pressure; I pushed past Dan to the door. Dan leaned against me and rubbed himself on my hip. Open door. Let me out. With his hand on my crotch, he pleaded with me to stay.


I got the door opened. Employing a short fit, I broke his hold to escape out the door. I ran down the corridor.

"Stay here. There’s no place to run to," Dan shouted down the hall.

Was he following me? I could hardly see. I could not think. People were looking at me as I ran through the cars. When I came to my seat, I flopped down to catch my breath. My pants were still undone. I did them up then tried to calm down by looking out the window pretending
I did not remember what had just happened. I imagined that there were not many drugs in my system. It did not work. Every sound made me jump. Was I being watched? Would Dan come looking for me? I had to get out. I had to hide.

It was quiet in the car so my moving seemed to cause irritation for the passengers trying to sleep. I wanted to scream, ‘leave me alone’, but I could not figure out how to open my mouth. I frantically passed through a couple more cars before I had the brilliant idea of hiding in a washroom.

Trying to raise as little attention as possible, I slipped into the next washroom, locked the door and sat on the toilet. Soon I had to get up to look in the mirror. Was that me? I should not have been that white. I was not that frail. I dropped my pants, sat down and urinated. How long could I stay in the washroom without being detected? My mind raced over events. I sat in a frantic state of confusion. My penis was weak and shrivelled. My urine was nearly as dark as Coke. Were the mushrooms poisonous? Would I die? I would have to force myself to live. I would not go to sleep. If I slept, I would surely die. I could not go to sleep. Why was my penis so small? Why was it cold and wrinkly? My skin looked like it could be turning yellow or green. I could not shake the last bit of urine out.

I concerned myself with my penis for what could have been days or years. The outside world closed off. Phantoms came to haunt me in mockery whenever I closed my eyes. I felt small and alone. I felt defeated. I longed for the comfort of an embrace.

"Bill."

There was a light tap on the door.

"What."

"It’s Dan. Are you okay."

"No."

"Are you freaking out a bit from the drugs?"

"I think so."

"Come back with me. I’ll make you a tea and we can chill out a bit."

"Okay."

I opened the door cautiously, expecting danger. I was aware that there could be hungry, carnivorous lizards ready to tear me to shreds and eat my flesh. There could be cone heads wanting to melt my brain.

"You aren’t used to drugs?"

"I am not used to anything."

I follow Dan back to their room. When we went in, Russ and Jack were naked. They were a little surprised to see me.

"Should we get dressed?" Russ asked me.

"Not on my account."

"We’re going to have a tea," Dan said. "Bill needs to chill out a little."

"A little frantic, were you?"

"More than a little."

"It happens sometimes if everything hits at once. Maybe you had a little too much, it’ll mellow out if you just relax."

Dan made everyone a tea and we decided to play cards and talk for a while. I told them a little about myself and felt better after the hot tea relaxed my stomach.

"We thought you were gay, Bill, it’s just subtle things gays pick up but sometimes it’s also because we hope it to be so. We didn’t mean to offend you."

"I would have been frighten by women as well."

"You’re not homophobic?"

"I would not think so, I do not know. I may be peoplephobic sometimes."

Dan took off his shirt. He noticed that I looked at him.

"You don’t mind? I’m a bit warm from the tea."

"I have never had any kind of sex with a man."

"Dan’s not a man. He’s a girl," Russ said.

"I won’t come on to you, Bill, not if you really don’t want to."

"Would you want me to?"

"Very much."

I touched his hard stomach. The card game came to an end. Jack and Russ went back to doing what they had been doing before I interrupted them. My curiosity lead me to rubbing Dan’s leg and watching the bulge grow in his pants. He was doing to me whatever I did to him. He let me take my time. I was not sure how the approach to sex with men differed from woman. When I opened his pants and held his penis, I stopped trying to reason and allowed my hunger guide my actions. I was glad to become naked with him. I was glad to give him pleasure and for him to give me pleasure. I was glad to be with a warm man rather than lying alone on a cold bathroom floor.

"Thank you for bringing me back."

Though his bed was very small, we cuddled up in it and slept.



by Joanne B. Washington

read on. chapter_13



© 2001 | the jose wombat project