ON A CELL PHONE, THE ADDED FEATURES (PLATFORMS, SHORT STORIES, YEAR AHEAD, ETC.) CAN BE ACCESSED FROM THE TOP LEFT HAND CORNER (STACKED LINES). ALSO, THE ‘TRANSLATE’ & WORLD CLOCK WILL APPEAR AT THE BOTTOM.
*** All times / dates: Please remember that all time references (e.g., “dawn”) are PDT – Pacific Daylight Time zone. You can refer to the World Clock in the sidebar for more listings or Google ‘time zone converter’.
START NOTHING: 6:33 am to 10:20 am Sun., 9:45 am to 10:30 am Tues., 6:42 am to 10:33 am Thurs., and 11:22 am to 12:19 pm Sat.
A few readers have written lately asking me to continue writing the big articles such as “The Year Ahead,” (the effect of) “Pluto in Aquarius,” etc. I don’t write these any more simply from laziness. I’m 75, and I no longer have 30-year-old energy and drive.
Every living US president, from Carter to Biden, is a direct descendant of slave owners. The one exception? Donald Trump. Maybe that’s why they’re trying to destroy him.
The Titanic has finally found its mate. The letter T indicates Pisces, and Pisces is one of four signs that feel a need for a partner, or, often, a sidekick, not necessarily a sexual or marital one: Gemini, Virgo, Sagittarius, and Pisces. (We should include Libra here, for it is the most partnership oriented of all signs. But to Libra partnership is the entire bucket, whereas these four signs seek a combination of friend and sidekick, not in many cases a magnetic centre of their universe (which is what Libra wants). Appropriately, the vessel that came to lie forever with the Titanic was called the Titan, which might have been a play on the Titanic’s name, but yay or nay, is another Pisces indicator. So in the deep, Pisces finds its mate: itself.
Jack Smith, the prosecutor trying to put Trump in jail for having the same documents every other pol had (the documents at Mar-a-Lago) has asked that the trial be delayed from August, when The sun is in Leo, favouring Trump, to December 11, when the sun is in Sagittarius and on Trump’s “loser button,” his bad karma “doorway,” the lunar south node.
Can you believe it? I doubt that Jack Smith knows enough about astrology to try and change the date to Trump’s destruction phase. Assuming all players are ignorant of astrology, this change of court date from August to December must be karma working its thing. Inescapable? If I were Trumps lawyers, I would refuse to change the date — or make it 2025.
No doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. — Desiderata.
ARIES: March 21-April 19
The accent continues on your domestic arena, Aries. Hug the kids, start renovations, and give time to gardening, Mother Nature, napping/rest, and and enhancing security. (E.g., CCTV.) Your family is communicative, kids are enthusiastic. Your income looks great for 10 months. Romance is intriguing, probably successful, to October. You could be dealing with a valid prospective life mate.
Sunday tries to be calm, mellow and wise, but early morning upsets intrude… Sunday afternoon to mid-morn Tues. (PDT) accents prestige relations, worldly standing, career and ambitions. Plunge in, all systems are “go.” A whiff of happiness lifts your heart midday Tuesday to late morning Thurs. — a buoyant popularity, optimism and social delights arrive. But caution late Wed., early Thurs., as disruption, conflict might arise. Retreat to quietude, rest, ponder and plan Thursday to noon (PDT) Sat. — an excellent time to contact gov’t or “head office” (or hospital) esp. Friday. (E.g., you could obtain a favourable tax ruling.)
TAURUS: April 20-May 20
Get busy, Taurus — a whirl of paperwork, contacts, messages, trips and errands fills your days until late July. This is your lucky year (to next May) so spend this time exploring, ideas, jobs, neighbourhoods — you’ll make the most fortunate choices when you have the most information. Your home remains lively, maybe fractious — but any wounds or conflicts now will soon be healed, and “domestic joys” will last until early October. Answers about your future will not arrive until November.
After a quiet but tense morning, perhaps a sensual one, Sunday late morning (PDT) turns you toward big ideas, international affairs, law, culture, far travel and gentle love — until mid-morn Tuesday. A good interval, with many opportunities. Be ambitious midday Tuesday to mid-morn Thursday. You’ll feel “performance pressure.” Don’t let nerves or worry “propel” you Wednesday night. Happiness comes Thursday to noon Sat. Flirting, optimism, social popularity and entertainment fill this interval. A wish could come true Friday! Saturday eve, retreat, Leo low.
GEMINI: May 21-June 20
Continue to chase $, Gemini. A casual sexual affair might start. Good time to settle awkward things with the gov’t — e.g., taxes. (This is favoured for the next 10 + months, but is esp. favourable in July.) Or to apply for a management position! Flirtatious communications continue until Oct., although perhaps with a different person after next week. If you’re a writer or other professional communicator or traveller, these are a banner 10 months – don’t waste them!
Early Sunday could bring an argument, perhaps with spouse. But by midday (to Tuesday late morning) you enter a zone of secrets, subconscious promptings and heightened intuition. As your “soul” or “inner side” is so close to the surface, you can fall prey to a burning lust. Be ethical. Same interval, success with finances, investments. A mellow, gently loving, wise mood steals over you midday Tuesday to late morning Thurs. Far travel, intellectual efforts, law, cultural venues, religion, all hit a mild snag or two. Prestige relations, worldly standing, career and other ambitions come into focus midway Thursday to noon Sat. It’s a lucky interval, so show your skills, contact a VIP. Saturday pm — party, invite, accept invitations. You might meet someone light, humorous, attractive.
CANCER: June 21-July 22
It’s your time, Cancer! You’re at the top of a yearly cycle, I energy, attractiveness, charm, effectiveness and clout. Don’t waste this time, Cancer. Be realistic, but within these boundaries (realism) charge after pet goals, display your skills, launch projects, gather allies… and if single, impress someone special. Your chances of casual intimacy, I.e., sex without deep love, are high now — and stay high until early October. Your money/income luck also lasts to October.
Sunday morning is for chores, minor health complaints. Be cautious, avoid extremes, sudden movements. About noon (PDT) Sunday to late morning Tuesday, relationships come. There is much potential good here — listen to others and their plans, grab opportunities, contemplate liaisons. Life’s secret side emerges midday Tuesday to late morning Thursday. Proceed cautiously, be slow to commit. Lust, investments, power plays — any one of these can get you into trouble. A wise, ethical mood flows in Thursday pm to noon Sat. Gentle love, international affairs, legal, religious or higher learning — these flow well. Saturday pm — be ambitious.
LEO: July 23-Aug. 22
Continue to lie low, Leo. Rest, regain energy, contemplate and plan. Seek advice, be charitable, spiritual. All until July 22. Despite your weariness, someone seems intent on “loving” you. Accept, even reward this — for this person might be around all summer/fall, in a way that either a) benefits your career, and/or b) helps bring a wish true. (The wish? Maybe for more friends, or for a new car.) Your career and similar ambitions are very favoured until May 2024.
Early Sunday’s romantic but frustrating. Say little. By mid-morning to mid-morn Tuesday (PDT) you’re shunted into work mode: tackle chores and protect your “daily” health. Success, good opportunities here. Mid-week (Tuesday noon to late morning Thursday) brings relationships — which can end on a note of fierce attraction, or at a wall of mutual stubbornness — your choice to some degree. Secrets, depths, lust, investments/debt, power plays, medical decisions fill Thursday noon to noon Sat. If you’re honest, you could gain a bunch here. Saturday pm — love, understanding, travel themes, mental harmony with someone.
VIRGO: Aug. 23-Sept. 22
Wishes can come true, Virgo. (And if you don’t have any, this week and the next 2 are a superb time to make some. Try this: write your wish on a piece of paper; fold that paper 2 X, then slide it under your mattress. Leave it there until you’ve forgotten about it. Or: single, want another person in your life? Put two chairs outside on the porch or lawn, softly facing toward each other, at about 45 degrees, and leave them there. If you have faith, it will work. Without faith, not so likely.) Enjoy present happiness!
Sunday starts with uncertainty and disruption. But by late morning (to late morn Tuesday) you enter a romantic space. Creativity, pleasure, beauty, sports, games — and love — flourish. Tackle chores Tuesday noon to late morning Thurs. Eat, dress sensibly. Careful around machinery, electricity, late Wed. Exciting relationships enter late Thursday morn, into noon Sat. Grab opportunities, form alliances, be diplomatic — a great interval!
LIBRA: Sept. 23-Oct. 22
This is a “pressure month,” Libra. Your ambitions, your education and skills, your career, prestige relations, and worldly standing are in focus. It is a good time to look for work, because you’ll get along socially very well with the people you meet now (and now to October). Despite all the demands on your time, your social life should continue to thrive, and might even bring a potential life mate to some singles. When chasing your ambitions, don’t forget the avenue of investments and finances. Your research skills are very high all this year and the first half of next.
Sunday’s disruptive early – perhaps unexpected visitors. But from mid morning Sunday to mid morning Tuesday, turn your attention to your home, family, security, and get some needed rest — a fine interval. Romance and creative urges and pleasure and fun and beauty fill Tuesday afternoon to Thursday mid-morn. The aspects are a bit tough, so proceed cautiously, esp. Wed. night. Tackle chores Thursday late morning to noon Sat. A good interval — you’ll get lots done. Buy equipment or tools Friday.
SCORPIO: Oct. 23-Nov. 21
A wise, mellow and gently loving mood surrounds you, Scorpio. Plan/buy travel tix, cultural entertainment, higher learning, and any social rituals (e.g., confirmations or mitzvahs). Bosses remain both impatient, blustering, and affectionate, understanding. (Next week to early Oct. will improve this situation to many “sunny days.”) Relationships are the door to more income, until next May — make new friends, contacts, consider relocation, extend offers and invitations.
Sunday morning’s hectic (don’t shop before 8 am PDT) but by midday you’re launched on calls, errands, short trips, paperwork — until late morning Tuesday. Alls well, so charge ahead, get things done, tie up loose ends. Your home and family grow more important Tuesday morning to Thursday mid-morn. However, the domestic seas are not calm, so step cautiously and diplomatically. Hug the kids. Romantic feelings creative surges, and the urge to chase pleasure or beauty — these come alive Thursday morning to noon Sat. — charge ahead, all is fortunate. Tackle chores Saturday pm.
SAGITTARIUS: Nov. 22-Dec. 21
The general accent remains on hidden matters, secrets and research, lust for sex or power, financial and lifestyle decisions and medical concerns. “Pure” or “gentle” love is available until October. So, do you got for the lust or the love? In family, property and security matters (esp. if connected to income, finances) it its hard to either obtain answers or make solid plans. Be patient — answers will come November onward, and your efforts would be wasted until then.
Sunday starts with “wild unknowing” and lots of energy; but soon, midday to late Tuesday morning, shopping, $, paying and collecting enter — a mellow mood helps you find bargains, Errands, trips, communications and paperwork fill Tuesday pm to late morning Thurs. Be cautious. Check figures Wednesday night. Lean toward home, family, security Thursday morn to Saturday noon — good progress. Saturday eve, chase love, arts, beauty and pleasure.
CAPRICORN: Dec. 22-Jan. 19
Relationships, exciting meetings, fresh horizons and opportunities face you until late July, Cap. Make a plan: you can benefit immensely, now to October, from investments, financial and intimate commitments. Strictly avoid extra-marital attraction, if you want to succeed. Don’t press others for answers: until November, mail, calls, messages and trips can be delayed.
Sunday starts with you tired, and events calamitous. Then, late morning, your energy and confidence return — chase what/who you want, until Tuesday mid-morn. Your clout and effectiveness are apparent. Chase money, buy/sell, midday Tuesday to late morning Thursday — but cautiously, obstacles exist, esp. Wed. night. Thursday pm to noon Saturday brings errands, friends, trips, communications. Explore, learn. Saturday pm — home rewards. Happy Canada Day!
AQUARIUS: Jan. 20-Feb. 18
Until October, relationships will tease, tempt, and reward, Aquarius. Same period is a great time to relocate, attract and seize opportunities, maybe to find a life mate (esp. if you are a home-body or prefer domesticity over adventure). Your real estate luck is superb, until May/24. An income source seems sluggish, is hard to “turn around” before November. Be cautious until then: watch spending.
Sunday starts with a bang (and big hopes) but by mid-morning you slouch into a low-energy interval, until Tuesday late morning. Seek quietude, ponder and plan, seek advice, be spiritual and generous. All’s well. Your energy and charisma return midday Tuesday to late morning Thurs. Usually this wold be a great interval to launch projects, get things done, or gather allies. But obstacles, subtle disagreements can trip you up: be alert, patient. Chase $ Thursday pm to noon Sat. — shop, buy/sell, memorize something. Intimacy might occur with someone who’s “just a friend.”
PISCES: Feb. 19-March 20
Romance, beauty, creativity, pleasure, adventure, and taking a risk – these appeal to you during this lucky July. A co-worker romance could occur (any time now to October). Many communications, trips, contacts now to next May. All good — but you have recently grown indecisive about your future, the main life path to choose. Let this indecision brew, now to October — a month in which (with Nov./Dec./23 and Jan./24) you could “rebuild” your life and social circle.
Sunday starts disruptively, but by late morning you enter a hopeful, social, fortunate, flirty and happy interval (lasting to late morning Tuesday). Give and accept invitations. But retreat to quietude Tuesday midday to late morning Thursday. Sleep, ponder, plan, seek advice and be charitable. Proceed cautiously — obstacles exist. Thursday pm to noon Saturday brings new energy, charisma and clout — set your goal, and go after it during this fortunate interval. Saturday pm? — Shop, or invite intimacy.
1969 — CHAPTER FIVE
By Tim Stephens
“It’s okay,” I said.
“You pulled me out — to give me — THIS?” Her hand, rigid, palm up, swung out. Her face looked bare and was hard to look at.
I had no answer. I put the rifle down gently on the floor, to show I wasn’t going to shoot her, or anything else. I could smell the RCMP’s wet wool uniform. I stood, waiting, unable to leave her. As if if I did leave, she would turn to jelly and be wrecked, or disappear.
Finally, though, I stepped outside. I don’t feel much. I’m kind of a surface guy. But when I stepped outside that tent after I killed the cop, I felt a sadness I have never felt before. Or maybe it was emptiness. It was huge and endless, it filled the whole cut, and seemed to soak into the trees on the ground, into the logs, into the dirt at my feet and to filled the twilight sky above. Every bit of the world was drenched in an invisible film of — emptiness. Way worse than sadness. Not regret — I didn’t regret anything, exactly.
I stepped inside. When I saw her beauty, her standing now pulled inward in the centre of the tent, shocked and lost, I immediately knew, without really knowing it, that I could never leave her. She was my antidote to what lay outside, that world poisoned with — whatever it was. Deadness. Even the plants and the little birds’ threat songs, all were “dead” —. It’s almost like it’s howling in silence.
She stared at me in shock, eyes wide. I wanted to be with her, to stay near, though I hesitated to come too near or touch her. I knew she was innocent — her her astonishment and grief at what I had done told me that. Innocent. Someone else had shot that Deiter. But why did I find this out now, after I’d killed someone?
She sat in a chair, head down, hands in her lap. Her grief, way more than you would expect, excited me. I felt so sorry for her, sorry like her arms had just been torn from her, and I could do nothing except admire her in a helpless way. In a way it broke my heart; but at the time I just felt a surge of something in my belly and my throat. I wanted to protect her, and that excited me.
I remembered her cold wet leather boot in the water, the only part of her I saw at one point. Now it seemed, in my mind’s eye, that I’d simply pulled easily on the boot heel and pulled her wholesale from the water, sloop, as easy as that. So in that moment, now, looking at her in the strange grey light that filled the tent and the lingering acrid odour of the shooting and the horrible loud noise of the guns, looking at her now she seemed small and perfect and I yearned to possess her. She was perfect and she, or maybe the situation, I wasn’t sure, was fragile, and I didn’t want anything to break. My mind hopped back and forth between realizing she was probably horrified and was blaming me, and seeing she was small and perfect and that I’d saved her life and so, in a sense, she was my creation. Her brown eyes looked sunken, soft and scared yet lustrous with mystery; she had a mousy appearance that drew me, and my heart started beating in my chest with desire and my ears burned with a kind of excited embarrassment. But I knew that was inappropriate. So I sat on the sleeping bench, watching her.
“You have nothing to do with this,” I finally (because I’d been mulling it over) said loudly. “I’ll leave. Just tell them what happened. You’re totally innocent,” I said. “Innocent.”
“Nothing to do with this? Oh no, oh no, you — Don’t leave me, please. Please stay here.”
Encouraged, I went to stand beside her chair, and put my hand on her back. My cock rose. I’m not sure what I felt about that.
”What do we do now?” I asked. It seemed almost silly to ask, and I didn’t want to get silly. 1 definitely did not want to grin, but I was in danger of it. I could feel it coming. “I don’t know!” she said. She was half accusing me, but half with me, and seeing that half that was with me, warm to me, supported and was, well, in me, I loved her, and I knew I never would or could leave her no matter what she did in future or what happened, because I saw that half, and it was there, and I had never felt anything I appreciated so much.
I didn’t even need to look at the corpse. We could never clean up the mess, the blood and bullets and bullet holes probably in the tent, and the man’s body and uniform – we’d never get it cleaned up to the point that there wouldn’t be any evidence. I knew that. It was useless to try. And others would be here. His cruiser or 4×4 must be on the other side of the cut, on the old road. So the evidence was everywhere. We could only run. Or make a stand here. I considered that for about 1 second.
It never occurred to me. I asked her that once, the first day, if she had a vehicle, a 4×4. She didn’t answer me And for days later, the whole week later I both forgot to ask her again, and forgot to even look for it. Actually, there was no way to get even a 4×4 near the tent location, so it would have had to be out on the trail I’d come in by, and I hadn’t seen anything there when I came. So maybe deep down I knew it wasn’t around, that there wasn’t one, and so that’s why I never asked again about it, nor looked for it. I remember I walked down to the Coast Highway and home, that night, to steal some food from home. But even then I didn’t ask about her vehicle, because I wanted to surprise her, to bring her a gift, and show her I could feed us.
I looked at Berry and said, “We’ve got to get out of here.”
To her credit, and I would only find out later how vastly and totally it was to her credit, and how hugely generous an action it was, she said yes.
“Where’s your car ? Do you have a 4×4,” I said, looking around as if I’d find it in the tent. “I don’t have one,” she said, staring at me as if surprised I’d ask. I didn’t want to argue at that point, and the real meaning of that escaped me at the time, or half escaped me.
Ever since that day, whenever I think about it, I get immediately tired. Well, I’m really tired all the time now. I can’t sleep at night, I wake up at like, 2 or 3 a.m., and then I wander tired all through the day. Every day is coated with a kind of fuzz, like morning breath or your tongue when you waken, except it’s the air. Even the sun’s fuzzy and its here but it’s not here, not in a cheerful way.
Because her not having a vehicle meant a whole bunch of things, but it especially meant something that pretty well ruined my entire life, I mean even beyond being a murderer. That was just action, that was just a choice I had to make in the moment, and I didn’t mean anything by it. But her not having a vehicle, never having an escape route, not having planned one – it began to dawn, really dimly, on me, that maybe she had not planned to murder this Dietmar, and maybe, because of that, actually, she hadn’t , actually hadn’t… but before I could even think more (because I didn’t want to think about it at the time, but I think, looking back, that my mouth might have dropped open in a little “O” just like Dietmar’s did when he was shot, but it was only a little slice of a second, then I had to get back to action. I didn’t want to think about anything.
(And what did it mean, too, that she didn’t have a vehicle? Who brought her to that clearing with the smashed and felled trees, and who was she waiting for there? Why had she been sitting there so helpless, like a bait goat, or a sacrifice, or a pervert’s jewel? These thoughts came to me oh much later, maybe weeks, even months later. Though some of them came to me only a day or two later, but I wouldn’t believe them, kind of.)
“Him,” I said. I glanced at him, then at Berry. “Do you know how to drive?” “Yes.”
“Ah, good. I don’t,” I said in a friendly voice. I dropped to my knees and began patting the RCMP’s pockets. I found the keys. We gathered up some hasty things: I had nothing to gather up, but she had things, things – “Just take anything that would identify you,” I said. I took the rifle and a towel and wiped it as best I could, all over. Then I left the tent and half ran to the cleft between the granite hills and a hundred or two hundred feet beyond, and it turned to forest and dropped off, down a steep slope. I whirled the rifle around my head by the barrel and let it fly. It swung out in a long, slowly turning arc over the valley’s side, then disappeared into the brush with a scratchy sound and a plonk, like it hit wood.
She was waiting on a log outside the tent. I went around quickly and pulled up every plug so the tent collapsed partway – not completely, and I couldn’t easily pull it off the roof beam, so I left it. From the road, you wouldn’t see it anyway, and if you came closer you’d think it was just left, maybe. I left the body inside – we left the body inside. What else could you do? We hurried as quickly as we could across the cut, past the pools and clambered over the scattered logs, and made our way to the main trail. The police “cruiser” was there. It was actually a pick up. I looked at Berry and raised my eyebrows. 1 wished I could drive. She put her small backpack in the bed, and matter of factly got into the drivers seat. I was impressed by her calm. I went around the other side and got in. No, I wasn’t exactly impressed by her calm. I was – absorbed by it. I mean, here she was, it seemed to me and had seemed to me for all the days I’d known her, that she was in need of some help, that in all her mystery there was something fragile, that I was afraid to break, and yet she matter of factly settled in and started the truck and began to drive down the trail, a serious, concentrating look on her face, but calm.
Halfway down, we decided to ditch the truck (I say we, but I mean I, it was all the way through here, I, I, me, she didn’t help one damn bit, which I didn’t mind, because I would have carried her on a pillow all the way to Vancouver and feared at this point to jar her in any way, even, especially physically – which had nothing to do with the dead cop, it was just where my adoration of her had gotten to) – so we drove the police cruiser off the main trail up a skid road, which if you know what skid roads are like you know we were lucky to get it even fifty feet, but maybe we got it a hundred feet. It was pretty hidden in there. If you looked you’d see white, but not if you just walked quickly by.
“Rub everything you’ve touched,” I said.
We walked out. We walked in silence.
Then something strange happened. I’ll probably never see it again: A huge wind picked up as we neared the highway, and I felt something odd, so I grabbed Berry’s arm and stood still. About half a minute later, one by one, huge fir trees begann to fall across the dirt road. As if they were silent kings, falling, slow and soft and dignified as they slowly tumbled over, one by one, with uneven intervals in between – each one fell quietly, a long, slow whoosh, it took about a whole four or five seconds, that long fall as the tip, about a hundred fifty or two hundred feet up slowly waved to the ground, and met it with a soft, muffled shuffling sound. Here and there you’d hear a snapping of the branches, and sometimes a whole tree trunk ripped in two about a man’s height from the ground with a loud crash-buckling sound, almost like a rifle shot. But mostly the whole tree fell over, roots and all. The roots were as shallow as tea saucers, and about 12-15 feet across but only a foot or two deep. For some reason I wasn’t scared. I just stood in the road there and watched them quietly and sadly thunk down around us. I figured they fell so slow you could run out of one’s way anyway, though I don’t know that’s true, for I didn’t move at all, except to turn to watch another one, and to look at Berry’s face. Actually, I felt a new calm — like a lightning and thunderstorm calms you. Or it does me, anyway. The whole thing lasted about five minutes. Maybe a hundred fell, that I could see, up and down the hill. Their trunks were about as thick as 5 or 6 men standing hugging each other. Strangely, where we stood, there was hardly even a breeze.
We made our way, crouching under some trunks, climbing around others. Behind us, up the hill, the storm must have climbed, for we heard distant cracking and tha-whomphs in the direction of the cop car, and the tent. I thought,
“That will delay them a week, getting up there,”I said to Berry.
Anyway, I was as calm as could be, and she seemed calm also, except that the frown of concentration that she’d shown driving the cop’s truck — and in fact that she’d shown since I blasted the RCMP — never left her brow. Now it seems like a dream. It must have taken hours, but it seems like a dream. We hitched two rides to the ferry terminal. There were no downed trees on the highway. Passengers walk on free, so we waited at the cement picnic tables the government provided, then the huge ferry came and we went on board, and the ferry went through the wind over the black water through the islands to Vancouver, and there she furrowed her brow some more, and concentrated, then she walked to a phone booth and called a taxi, and we rode the taxi into town – into Vancouver, into the West End, where all the apartment towers are.
That’s the whole story of our escape.
On the ferry I said, “So you didn’t shoot that Dieter. Is he your brother? Then who shot him?”
She didn’t answer, but her face was flushing.
“I know you didn’t,”
She turned her eyes full on me. They absorbed me with mystery. And I saw affection there, too!
“Maybe you should leave me,” she said.
“No, no. No, no,” she said quickly, almost humorously, putting a hand on my arm. “No,” she said seriously, “You need to be careful.”
“Why? Am I acting suspicious?”
She laughed. My eyes brightened.
“No. Nothing,” she said, but her eyes clouded. She looked more deeply into me, “Be careful.”
I hate this apartment. Everything is stark and hard. It’s on the 23rd floor. I mean it’s a nice apartment. And it’s not hard at all. The carpet’s grey and thick, so you can’t feel the floor underneath. The place must have cost money. There’s modern furniture, and wine glasses, and paintings on the wall. It’s quite a splendid, luxurious place. A palace, an apartment as big as our house. The view looks out over English Bay, a wide semi-circle of ocean, and the trees and stores and cars and people and streets beneath. I love that view, as if you could sail out over the ocean, glistening in the sun. But I don’t like it here, its all stark and hard. Nothing’s moist or soft. Except Berry. Berry’s soft and plump, and she curls up on the couch or reads on the bed and I watch her. She wears an old semi-see through pink nightie, so you can see her breasts all round and full underneath. When you slide the nightie back her nipples are pink, pink as double-bubble gum. Her vagina is a bright pink inside, too, almost scarlet. When I touch her a creamy, iridescent liquid oozes out, so I know I can come in. And the little round part of her bum is pink, too. I’ve never seen other women to any degree, but this seems all awfully pink to me. She just lets me take her. She doesn’t protest, and she doesn’t make me flirt or anything, which I couldn’t do. I’m too tired. I’m so tired, of people, of everything. The trouble is, I — I’m so angry. I’m more angry than I’ve ever been in my life. I never imagined such anger could exist. I am seething with anger, and guess who this anger burns at? At her. At this woman who I cannot leave, who is everything beautiful, her beauty hypnotizes me, who I would not harm, not let even a bug land on her white flesh, it would offend her, and anything that would offend her causes me almost a strange fear. One of the main things I think I now live for is this fear that something will offend her, a smell, the sight of someone, a rude word from someone, an insult, I keep constantly on the alert to fend off anything which could possibly offend her, hurt her feelings, or disturb her beauty.
Because she broods all the time now. At least I think she does. At least, she’s always thoughtful. Oh god how I miss the woods! There I could breathe and feel the wet and get lost in the smells and run if I had to, run and run until I could escape this anger. You’ll think I’m a pansy, but she came in the other day and found me crying, not bawling or anything, just sitting on the couch trying to watch tv and my eyes were filled with tears, and I couldn’t stop them.