All The World Is Lost : Constant Readers : Cavalier : Kilpatrick
Wheelhouse Books, 2014
What I wasn't prepared for was opening that door after a year. The
smells had been preserved through all four seasons. They hadn't
burned off in the summer heat, hadn't died of exposure over the winter.
Behind that closed door, they bred and begat.
It's abated now, but I had been stunned. Had my life really been
that visceral before I left? That potent? I must've sneezed every five
minutes the first week I was back. Now I know better than to disturb
anything too much. I'm out of vacuum bags or I would clean. I would
dust if I wasn't out of that blue fluid and those pheasant tails. I think I
can hold out until Duane Reade starts offering delivery.
There is an entire other me spread out in a thin layer over every
surface of this apartment. I live in the same place I buried myself a
year ago. Every step I take, I'm walking over my own grave.
Worse, I can still smell her. The bottles of shampoo have been
thrown out, the sponges and washcloths, the makeup and everything,
but I haven't taken the trash out. There are points in the apartment
where they still have affect. I shouldn’t have concentrated them in one
place. They've combined and now work an even stronger magic than
if I'd left them where they were. I've moved the trashcans to the most
remote part of the apartment. I know where to walk.
Charles bailed early on. He'd kept it going with his girlfriend back
in New York while we were in Los Angeles. He thought we'd be back
sooner or later, that this thing wouldn't go anywhere. I broke up with
my girlfriend because I thought we'd be out there for a good damn
while. If I ever see him again, I'll have to tell him I was wrong, and he
was right. He already knows that, but I'll have to say it before he can.
He's out there somewhere. It's a fair bet she's bumping around
the city, too. I don't know which one I'd rather run into. So I'm always in
here somewhere, constantly bumping into myself.
The world's first blog dedicated to the re-reading of Stephen King's entire oeuvre in chronological order.
Pat: The cover of Christine looks like Meat Loaf wrote a musical about a gay motorcycle. Andrea:Christine: A story about a guy, a car, a chick, and this other guy. Pat: I think the first 200 pages drag a good bit. But it occurred to me at some point that the dragginess I’ve been feeling on all these rereads may be because I’ve already read them. Although Salem’s Lot, I think, felt draggy, and I’d never read that before. Andrea: Yes. I am not as prone to rereading as I was when I was younger. So it’s probably not a coincidence that I am enjoying more the ones I haven’t read yet. Pat: I reread stuff all the time. Your argument smacks of “I don’t know how to make an argument.”
The Arrest : Give Up : Sugarteeth : Country Song : Silver Lining