I’m a lousy liar.
Over the past couple of days, I’ve made time to churn out a fairly long piece, about Ghostbusters being the catalyst for my love of New York, films and New York films. That kind of thing would look good on this blog. I’m aware of that. What gets in the way is the belief that it’s still a better fit for Drunk Monkeys. Or at least that it has a better shot at a bigger audience.
Drunk Monkeys is a wonderful home for most of the non-fiction that I write (although I’m now kicking in for reviews for Screenspy and Red Fez, so that brings my contributor count to four websites/literary magazines), but the ambition to bring my ideas to as many tables as possible rages on. It’s not enough, and it’d be nice to make a few more bucks along the way.
At least I’ve sent the book out to a couple other small-press publishing companies. I’ll keep you posted on how that goes for me. Unsolicited manuscripts are kind of a bitch. They seem to be that much harder to push through the door. I’m not trying large publishing houses. That’s a decision more steeped in being realistic than pessimistic. I’ve tried at getting an agent, but that hasn’t turned anything up. I suppose I should try harder.
The coward’s way out will be to self-publish. That might even involve starting up a Kickstarter campaign. I don’t mean to disparage anyone who goes for either or both of those, but I’ve always dreamed of putting something out there, getting that acceptance and feeding off the rush of it for a thousand more ideas. That’s how it often works with me. Success of any kind has always begat inspiration. Frustration and self-loathing only carry me so far.
I haven’t been to college, so getting an acceptance letter for a book, I suspect would be kind of along those lines. The only difference is that I wouldn’t have to worry about a phone book (remember those) of debt later on.
Well, I wouldn’t have to worry about monetary debt, anyway.
We’re going with another unloved, unpublished short story tonight. I’m balking at some kind of essay, or just something you generally don’t see around these parts. It’s still not a lack of ideas. It remains mostly just a matter of not having the energy. Articles and reviews move painfully slow for me. Much more than fiction or poetry. It’s tedious, difficult work, and it’s rarely as much fun as fiction or poetry. I keep at it though. Sometimes it is as much fun as fiction or poetry.
Why this short story never sold, I have no idea. Blame it on just not finding the right place for it, or blame it on the fact that I absolutely suck at editing. The last one is always a distinct possibility. I’m fine with taking notes and criticism, but I’m a wretched bastard when it comes to second, third or fourth drafts. There are even times when I don’t bother at all.
It’s probably a by-product of laziness. A nicer way to put it would be to say that I’m eager to move on to something else.
That’s another problem. I’m always in a big damn hurry to get something else going. It’s a constant battle with restlessness. How I’ve even written two novels is beyond me. It’s difficult for me to put everything into a long-term project. One that generally doesn’t even carry any kind of guarantee that it’s going to go anywhere. I keep putting my time and energy into short-term projects with a small amount of instant gratification.
That’s definitely a particular kind of a coward’s way out.
I could use a little creative bravery.
Where the hell does one find such a thing?
I’ve noticed that I have few unpublished, fairly old book reviews lying around. We might just go with one next time.
Or I’ll just starting doing those comics I see on Reddit. They certainly get more love than anything I come up with does.
**********
People Calling People
By Gabriel Ricard
“Is a man with a small penis at a disadvantage?”
“Leonard.”
“And Mr. Jarasen Lieberg.” He said this and grinned as though someone had fallen to his feet, ripped their chest open and begged him to put them out of their misery. His hands were in his pockets, and that stupid smile wasn’t going anywhere.
Jarasen had been telling himself for the last hour that he was never going to listen to that awful fucking joke ever again. He was going to catch Leonard at the door and make some kind of introduction before that wretched little underworld bureaucrat could even open his lying mouth. “You tell me,” he replied and opened the door the rest of the way to let him. They went through this every single time. He turned away and walked back towards the living room. Amazingly his nerves were fully intact. All this waiting he had gone through, the self-imposed insomnia, some of that should have added up. But he felt fine. He was ready to do this.
He couldn’t remember if it was his responsibility to invite Leonard in. If that was the way it had to go. Maybe that was vampires. He made a note to look it up later. His theology was shaky and prone to fits of complete blindness and ignorance. On a good day. That’s what made this whole thing so goddamn funny.
“How you been?” Leonard asked, closing the door behind him.
It was a big damn steel door. The whole building had been something else once upon a time. Jarasen didn’t know much about that either. “Busy,” he said. “I’m trying to get in as many auditions as possible before I head back to Virginia. I’m not sure how long I’m gonna be down there, and I’d like to have at least have my name kicking around while I’m stuck there.” He wasn’t kidding either. In the past month he had gone to seven commercials, three independent films, one feature film, some weird theatrical company looking for talent and some animated series that was slated to be on one of MTV’s bastard children stations early next year. It had been exhausting and come at the expense of his restaurant job. Going after so much wasn’t like him, and it could all wind up being pointless, but he had still felt compelled to try. He wanted to be ready for anything and to be able to say he at least tried his best.
“Right,” Leonard said, snapping his fingers. He walked around the apartment as though he was the landlord. “How’s your dad doing anyway?”
In the movie theater of his mind this entire scenario played out over drinks. The childish part of him thought he’d look a little cooler. “Not great.” The realistic part of him needed something to ensure he continued to feel relaxed. That didn’t feel important now, but he didn’t want some kind of low-key arrogance to ruin everything he had been working on. He went over to the kitchen counter and its occasional illusion act of doubling as the bar whenever people were over, or he just felt like getting drunk while Adult Swim prattled on and on. “You want anything?”
Now he was sitting comfortably on the couch. His feet were on the crappy coffee table, and his arms were stretched out as though they were on some kind of date. He was always good at making himself at home. “Sure,” he said. “The usual deal?”
He fixed two Jack and Ginger’s. The cupboard just above the fridge never had to want for booze. Lately it was starting to occur to him that there might be a problem to deal with later on. For now though he was just young enough for a steady diet of self-delusion. He made his drink a good deal stronger. Again he wasn’t sure if Leonard even enjoyed the actual alcohol portion. He probably did.
“So has anything changed with him then?”
His concern was about as sincere as a student loan officer. That’s kind of what this whole deal felt like to begin with. “No,” Jarasen said. “It’s just getting worse is all.” He brought the drinks over to the couch, handing the weaker one to Leonard and keeping the stronger version for himself as he sat down in the crappy recliner that was next to the couch. His body language was probably giving everything away, but it just wouldn’t be comfortable to sit any other way. He was at the edge of the chair, leaning forward and looking into his drink. “I can’t imagine he’s going to be able to hold on a hell of a lot longer.”
Leonard sipped his drink. “Anything’s possible.”
Some of his attention was focused on Leonard’s words, his own body language. From all indications he seemed to have the same attitude as always. It wasn’t like they had known each other for a particularly long time. They had met in a bar a month ago and since then had gotten together once or twice a week to hammer out the details. It shouldn’t have been a long negotiation process. But Leonard had his own way of going about his business. Jarasen went along with it. He didn’t think it was his place to assume how this should go. “Are you telling me to consider hope?”
That got a laugh out of him. A long laugh. “Yeah,” he said. “Why not?” He sipped his drink again and seemed to enjoy it as he always did. Could have just been an act. “What have you got to lose?”
He didn’t need to hear things like that. It rattled him a little. “You tell me,” he said, grateful he had what he considered a pretty solid talent for improvisation. More times than not it had saved him during a gig.
“I guess you are kinda eager,” Leonard consented.
“I’m certainly curious.”
“It’s understandable,” he said. “Believe me, you’re a cooler customer than most.”
There was of course no way of knowing if that was true or not. Then again flattery wasn’t going to get him anything he didn’t already have. It’s not like he had anything to gain by lying. He was still frustrated though. Leonard was revealing nothing of what he could be potentially about to say. It didn’t make any actual sense, but he wanted to know for sure before Leonard actually told him. “Thanks.” Waiting was never going to be something people complimented him for. Just getting through the month had been hell on wheels. “I guess that’s a good thing.”
His drink was about half-gone already. “Doesn’t hurt,” he said. “Desperation is fine for my line of work, but I tend to think it’s kinda tacky, too.” He brought the drink to his thin cartoon-lawyer lips but didn’t drink. “The calm back-and-forth is a lot more fun for me.”
Get to the point. Get to the fucking point. “Sure.”
He finally took his feet off the coffee table. Every single fucking time he had to do that. “Why come crawling? If we’re here then we’re doing business.” He downed the rest of his drink and gave the empty glass an admiring glance.
“Yeah.” Get to the fucking point.
“I’m here to try to work something out, so let’s do this thing like a couple of grown-ups.” He put the glass down on the table. Once again he bypassed any interest in using a coaster.
“Makes sense.”
“You know?”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re not like that at all.”
“Thanks.”
“Like I said you’re a cool customer, and it’s rarer to run into that than you might think.”
It wasn’t all mystery with Leonard. During these meetings of the last month he had proven himself to be a master of ballet when it came to dancing around what he was about to say or meant to say. Jarasen wondered if that was part of the training or something. “I’d imagine.”
His attention was all over the apartment. It was as if he had never been in it before. “I just hate it when that doesn’t mean anything to the guys on the top floor.”
That ended the lull right on the spot. His heart lunged after those words and brought the rest of him along by his throat. He was glad to be sitting down. It would have been hard to stay on his feet and take the force of everything they had talked about throwing a combined haymaker that equaled out to just one sound. “What do you mean?”
He opened the briefcase and took out a manila folder with a dozen or so sheets of paper inside. “I just got the word on your potential contract,” he said. “And we’re gonna have to take a pass.”
How was that even possible? Their entire line of work was seemingly dedicated to quantity and not quality. He remembered then Leonard’s comments just a moment ago about being such a supposed cool customer. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He didn’t shout the words, but he came awfully fucking close on sheer want alone.
If Leonard was disappointed or even surprised by his reaction he didn’t register a note on that stone-cold, eerily clean face of his. “I know,” he said with about as emotion as a UPS delivery man. “Quite frankly I was really surprised when HR came back with their notes and final decision. He was over at the TV, staring yet again at the two long racks of DVDs and Blu ray discs. “I’ve been in the business for a long time,” he said. “If I’ve got anything going for me it’s good instincts. So you can believe me when I tell you that I was even more surprised.”
He stammered a half-dozen responses into the dust before he could even get a word of any of them out. There was almost a full drink left in his glass, and that changed in about five seconds. “How does that even happen?” he said. The drink had cleared his throat of the verbal traffic. He was ready for another.
“It happens,” he said. His shrug was helpless and distracted at the same time. “It happens more than you’d think these days.
Also he felt quite ready to throw the drink at Leonard, shove him out the window, disregard the consequences since there wouldn’t be any and just start smashing everything else in sight. The future was too fucking clear now. He could see his father dying, his career remaining up in the air and probably not amounting to much more than a couple of fucking sixth billings in a couple of fucking Lifetime movies. The rest of his hopes and dreams were important, too, but they couldn’t help but sound like a whimper when they were crushed by those two larger things. He got up to get that next drink. The silence had become thicker than the paint on the walls. “I just don’t get it,” he said. “You told me this was a sure thing.” He walked over to the kitchen on legs that were committed to motion several thousand times slower than everything else around him. “You promised.”
Of course his father was the most important of all. Of course.
“I assured you that we had a really good chance of striking a deal,” Leonard said. “I’m not trying to sound like a smartass, but there is a difference between that and a promise.”
That was probably true. He probably had said exactly those words. He almost didn’t bother with the ginger ale. When he relented to not get completely trashed just yet he added about a shot’s worth of it to the glass. “So what happened? Since when is my fucking eternal soul not good enough for a fucking demon? Isn’t this supposed to be your big, long-standing hobby?”
He was a sneaky son-of-a-bitch. He turned sharply with a face that played his cards even closer to the chest than usual. The cool customer bullshit had just gone right out the door. “Well I assess a case based on my own personal insight into a person’s nature.” He slowly walked away from the DVDs and TV and more towards the table. “I’m not omnipotent,” and he actually chuckled, “Like some people I’ve read about, but those insights are pretty solid.”
This was supposed to be more of that back-and-forth, but he just couldn’t feel the spirit anymore. He had a hand on the kitchen counter to keep steady. Half of his second drink was already down for an even faster count than usual. It made him breathe a little heavier than his comfort zone normally allowed. He took another sip. Leonard’s calm was really starting to piss him off. “So what?” He tried to keep his voice at a normal octave. “What is it then?”
Then the son-of-a-bitch actually raised his glasses to rattle the ice cubes around. He wanted another drink. “Well the way it works in my department is that we go out into the world and see what we can do in the way of negotiating potential applicants.” He quickly grew tired of rattling the glass around and simply walked towards where Jarasen was standing in the kitchen. “Of course we get more than our fair share just from the everyday, but something we’ve always believed in with our organization is that we can always get a little more.” With all the consideration in the world he picked up the whiskey and poured some into his glass. “Greed is good right?” He didn’t bother with the ginger ale.
Nothing else to do but keep drinking and listen. “Right,” Jarasen said, rather weakly. “I guess.”
“To that end I’m one of the guys who goes out to find people we don’t stand to acquire through the normal chain of human events.” He sipped his drink. “Some people will do just fine making it to Heaven unless they get a little motivation from us to think otherwise.”
The whiskey was just a little under half-empty. Of course there was plenty more in the cupboard just above the fridge. He could see that bottle being empty by the time Leonard left. Before long several of the others would be sure to follow. “I guess that makes sense,” he said quietly. Responding, interacting at this point seemed like a waste of time. But he didn’t think he could last very long at keeping his mouth shut. These battered, empty replies were the only thing keeping him from screaming.
“Nobody has better instincts than us,” he said. “Nobody up there,” and he pointed towards the ceiling hiding the sky which apparently hid the heavens. “Nobody around here,” and he gestured around the room that was blocking off the rest of the world. “We are indisputably the best at knowing human nature.” Casually he continued to sip at the drink he helped himself to. “That should go without saying.”
Jarasen felt dizzy. It was a similar feeling to when Leonard had convinced him earlier in the month once and for all that he was definitely on the level. Finding out there was indeed a Heaven and Hell could be a little jarring, but he felt he had taken the whole thing rather well. His agnostic upbringing helped a little. “Okay.”
“We’re pretty much left alone when it comes to our work. We have a quota, and we’re supposed to meet it.” He was looking out the window now. The view from the floor they were on was a good one. Anyone who looked out there could never be at a loss for something to see. “And I’m one of the best. You probably figured that out on your own. I meet my monthly quota and then some.”
Whatever. “I’m sure I knew that at some point,” he replied.
From where he stood the view could only be but so impressive. Still something out there seemed to be interesting to him. “I can’t even remember the last time HR sent something back to me with a rejection on it. For anybody who’s worth a damn at their job, the whole thing is really just a formality. They see if the resources are there, and they generally are, and they see that if by granting a human being’s desires, we stand to gain something we wouldn’t have been able to gain otherwise.”
Honestly he did want to listen to this. He did want a reason and a good one. It was just hard to balance that with his current level of despair which was substantial. He thought about his father, his career. Going deeper but certainly not wanting to, he thought about Jean from downstairs and what it would have been like to have someone like her fall madly in love with someone like him. That was another big one. And it was starting to hurt as much as the rest. He imagined the better apartment in the better neighborhood he had wanted to get. He imagined being able to take care of everyone he loved for the rest of their lives. The list went on a little more, but all in all it had been pretty moderate in the universal scheme of things. “I know,” he finally said as he finally finished his drink. Without being able to speak for the rest of the universe he thought his wish list couldn’t be anywhere near the self-absorbed hall of fame.
“That’s where we ran into a problem with your application, and that’s where I have to admit I really didn’t call it right this time.” He chuckled again and sipped his drink again. The second one was going slowly. “I still can’t believe it to be honest.”
Once again the verbal traffic needed to be cleared away. He finished off his drink and ignored the little acrobat move his stomach responded with. “What happened?” he asked through a momentary rasp.
Leonard shook his head a bit. “Well I’m not sure how you’re going to take this, but the fact of the matter is that we have pretty good odds of getting you anyway.”
In the middle of pouring himself another drink he almost dropped the bottle. He finished pouring with such deliberate effort that it made his hand hurt. When he set the bottle down there was a loud thud. “What?” His hand was on the glass, but he didn’t pick it up.
He shrugged. “I’m really not sure how else I can put it to you.” He was looking right at him. The view may as well have been blocked off by bricks. “And don’t worry about me. I won’t get into trouble for telling you all this.”
It was hard to get around that right away. He needed a moment. After the moment came and went, he tried to figure out if Leonard had actually been serious right there. When he took another moment to think about it he decided that he didn’t really care either way. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Right away Leonard put up his hands and smiled a little. “Okay,” he said, waving his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. Bad joke.” Like irregular clockwork, he kept at that drink. “I’m sorry okay?” I’m actually sorry.”
He didn’t want him to apologize. He wanted Leonard to keep giving reasons to be angry. The longer he could go on being angry, the longer he could avoid asking Leonard to elaborate on those odds. The skin on his exposed arms just then became acutely aware of how powerful his air-conditioner could be. What the hell was that thing on like that for anyway? It was barely eighty out there. The controls for it were right at the end of the counter, so he moved a few feet along to turn it down.
“I know it’s a lot to take in.”
Everything about the air around him was still thick, intrusive. It felt like a violent fog. He watched the room temperature drop one point. He couldn’t put it off any longer. “So I’m going to hell,” he said, suddenly aware that he had carried his drink over all of those six feet. Smartest thing he had done all month apparently. He took a drink and had it finished off by then.
“Not necessarily,” Leonard replied.
“Then what’s this about odds?”
“Exactly what I said,” he answered. “The odds of us getting you in the end are really, really good. There’s very rarely a guarantee with something like this, but apparently HR and whoever else looked over your file liked the odds enough to feel we don’t have to bother tempting you.”
Right off the bat there was several obvious problems with all of this. One or quick questions became dozens of inquiries in just a few moments. There was no way he would be to keep Leonard here long enough to answer all of them. In fact he was getting close to the point where he usually started to wrap everything up. He moved quickly but made it seem as though he had been there for hours. As though his hands could physically touch the growing list of questions he wanted to ask, he frantically began sorting through them. Dozens were thrown into the air at a time. Even more were thrown up against the wall. Nothing stuck. Not one wanted to give up its frantic ambition to be the most important one. He had to struggle to get back over to the other side of the counter for another refill. He poured, ignored the ginger ale and took a small drink. It felt good. “So I’m going to hell?”
“Again not neccesarily.” He looked at his watch.
“Is there anything I can do to prevent it?”
“Probably,” he said. “But it’s not like I’m gonna tell you.”
That seemed fair. Straight ahead he could look past Leonard and see a little bit of the city from that great view. The sun was looking to drag out the mid-afternoon for as long as it possibly could. Light bounced off every single tall building and touched the rest of the world for at least another thousand miles. “I guess not.” This naturally changed what he had always assumed qualified as hell-worthy trespasses. In all his life upwards to the last two seconds he couldn’t think of a single episode from his life that would have put those odds so sadistically against him. It was another question he desperately wanted to ask but didn’t. At this point he just wanted Leonard to go.
“Anything else?”
Why not? “Doesn’t knowing this give me the ability to make sure it doesn’t happen.”
“Nah. It’ll happen or not happen either way.” Something outside the apartment, years and miles away perhaps was now distracting him. “In the end I guess it depends on you, but we still got the odds going for us.”
The worst thing about Leonard was that his attitude remained essentially the same. He had been exactly like this the first time they had met and every other time after that. “The odds.”
“Better than Vegas,” he said and grinned. “Take my word for it.”
Although Leonard had never mentioned being psychic, it could always be a possibility with him. He was a demon for crissakes. Anything was possible. Or it could just be that fantastic ability with human nature that he liked to mention every five minutes. In any case he was aware of the time and where he wanted to go next. He finished the drink and eyed the glass appreciatively. “One of the incentives for doing good work,” he said, “Is that if you get up to my point, then you get little rewards like being able to appreciate liquor again.”
Jarasen just stared at him. He put the glass down because he didn’t want his grip to shatter it.
“Sadly I can’t get drunk, but I get to enjoy the taste.” He put his glass down, too and looked at his watch again. “The rewards are few and far between, but they can be there if you’re as good at this as I am.”
Once he had started staring and saying nothing, he found that he couldn’t stop. It was just waiting for him to go now.
“I better get going,” he said, tapping the glass as though it was an alarm clock. “Places to go, blah, blah, blah.” He turned swiftly and didn’t stop until he had opened the door and was turning towards Jarasen in the hallway. “Look,” he said, “With people like you, everything is always up in the air.” He smiled that smile he had been putting to work since the first time they had met. “Just don’t get your hopes up.” He backed away and waved. “See you in the funny papers.”
He closed the door without bothering to see him walk off. Silence didn’t fit the room anymore, so he walked over to the living room and turned on the TV. It didn’t change much. He went over to the kitchen counter and finished his drink in three sips. At least the whiskey still worked. He was definitely starting to feel it. Another couple of drinks, and he would be exactly where he wanted to be.
Control was very, very important. He stood there in the kitchen for a few minutes and watched whatever was on the TV screen fade in and out of reality. The whiskey he had already drunk needed a little more time to work its way through. Until he was ready to accept being hammered with open arms he didn’t want to go too far too soon. God only knew what was on TV. He stared at it for as long as he could before fixing another drink. With this one he added just a dollop of ginger ale. There was also Coke in the fridge, and he made a mental note to use that next. He was never someone who could drink the exact same thing forever and ever.
He shuddered at the first sip. Partially because this was still strong drink to contend with and partially because he didn’t like his last choice of words for that last thought. Near his arm his cell phone was being charged. He picked it up and wondered when he might call home to Richmond. Since his dad had gotten sick, it had become a daily operation. Each and every conversation took years off his life without mercy. Each one was increasingly difficult to get away from en-route to the rest of the day.
The mail. He stopped drinking after a few more long minutes and set the glass down on the table in the living room. He had gone all day without getting the mail, because he had so committed to waiting for Leonard. He started to walk towards the door but then paused. After a moment of hesitation he went back to the kitchen counter and got his drink. He planned to walk slowly and maybe go out onto the roof afterwards. To that end he dumped what he had into a larger glass, added almost the remainder of the whiskey and just a little bit more of the ginger ale. He was living on inspiration now. The idea had just occurred to him a moment ago.
He was also tempted to bring his cell phone but decided against it. Anything coming from that could wait.
Outside his apartment he saw Jean getting off the elevator. They knew each other just enough for her to smile as she passed him and went on to her apartment at the end of the hall. He smiled back and got on the elevator to head first downstairs and then up to the roof. The weather had been good all day, and it only stood to get better heading into the evening.
