Chapter
Three
12/1/05
Nonyomni
The Universal Cafe
You find these places now and then, even now. They look almost as they
did in 1968, only a little dustier. Painted windows, stained glass doodads
and prisms vying for light space with the ferns and wandering-jews. Tables
made of distressed planks covered with thick yellow resin embedded with
souvenirs. Cacophonous posters, advertising illegible events, some faded
(both posters and events). Framed manifestos next to the hallway to the
bathrooms. Chalkboard menu. Worn pine floors. Bus yourself and three threadbare
couches around a potbelly stove.
That's the Universal Cafe. You expect a tired old hippie behind the display
case and a menu distinguished by alfalfa sprouts and sunflower seeds.
You expect the pile of magzines in the basket to be heavy on the New Age,
and the music to be the same things your mother got tired of in 1973.
Look again. There's a bar in the back, complete with a pool table and
a tiny dias in the corner which is used as a stage for special events.
Nights, there's a rotating menu of ethnic dinners produced by the owner's
ex-wives and ex-sisters and ex-mothers in law. Days, the breakfasts are
the heavy kind, rich with sausage, even the jook, which is available everyday
but Sunday, when the menu includes menudo.
Abel -- the owner, who is there most of the time, though he has officially
passed much of the business on to his grandchildren -- is a mystery. He
has an accent, but everyone has their own theory about it. He tells obvious
lies about his early years and answers questions with more obvious lies.
Questions or attempts to call his lies achieve nothing but an enigmatic
smile or mock outrage. Upstairs there's two apartments. One is occupied
by a younger granddaughter and her baby, and the other is the residence
of the relief bartender, who is a werewolf and cute as a button, even
with the muscles he has.
You can see what is Universal about the Universal Cafe. Its framed manifesto
is clearly about justice and tolerance, but don't look at it too closely
-- it reads as if it had been run through the translation engine too many
times, through too many unlike languages, and the longer you study it
the less certain you are that you understand it.
Abel knows most of his customers by name, even the ones who have only
been there once or twice. He never asks twice -- most people can't remember
having been asked their names once. Whatever business is being done, Abel
has an ex-in-law who has the solution to it, the material, the manufacturer,
the market, the maven. Before about three o'clock in the afternoon, the
bar isn't much of a bar, and Abel can be found there, sitting at a table
with other mysterious old men, the color of old newsprint and dry as August,
drinking shot glasses of nasty obscure liquors and talking so softly that
the only thing you're sure of is that the language they're speaking isn't
your own.
Of course Abel knows Harry. He's known Harry since way back when. He has
a few of Harry's boxes from the last time Harry left town.
Bella
I am invited to get ready to have a show
Barris Mackey was at the Universal Café! And he paid for breakfast
(yummy yummy jook, but Harry and Barris had huge plates of sausage and
fried eggs and pancakes and and and). But they wouldn't talk about art.
They kept talking about factions, and I tried to be a good girl and pay
attention because who knows? someday maybe I won't be working in isolation,
I'll have a whole "school" of mixed media artists that I belong
to, and maybe this political stuff might become relevant. But it was boring.
At least something concrete came out of it. Barris said if I wanted to
have a show, to put together a new portfolio and call him -- and he gave
me his number! -- and he'd introduce me around. He said under no circumstances
was I to allow myself to be patronized before I had another public show,
and especially not to take commissions from random people who seemed to
know more than they ought to be able to. I guess Harry told him about
that woman who keeps coming to the bookstore. She hasn't been back in
a while and frankly I'd sort of forgotten about the intriguing cylinder
project. For a minute there I felt like the naughty little girl who tried
to get the liquor down from the top shelf.
So but that was good. That was not bad. That was an offer to get me a
show when I have enough new work. I asked him how many pieces it took
to make a portfolio and he said "I don't think you're going to like
this, but it all depends." And then he laughed. "No, really,
but you should have at least ten in your portfolio, and at least six of
the pieces should be really new work."
That will keep me busy for months.
Work was work. A few quaint individuals, but nothing to get excited about.
Found The Secrets of the Masters on the wrong shelf again, so I took some
time to read it for a while.
After I got home I found a message from Forager Girl. I wish she had a
real name. Forager Girl sounds like something out of a precious fantasy
story, the kind with mystical sex in it. She was at Wednesday Wanderings
last night, and she spent the whole time drawing these cool patterns.
She said they were notes about what Harry was saying about universal symmetry,
but I didn't get those from what he said. I didn't get much. I said so,
and Harry, who was slouching around nearby, said that was a good thing
and I should cultivate it. I said, "what, not getting things?"
And he said yes.
Forager Girl and I are getting together tomorrow, when I am not working.
I don't think Hugo has noticed that he has me working six days on a good
week, seven sometimes, and only two days off in a row every month and
a half. Or maybe he has and is playing dumb so he doesn't have to hire
more help. That's probably it: my paycheck was way more than I expected
again last time and when I tried to get him to fix it he said it was too
much trouble and he'd take it out of some other check. The last time he
said that he never did.
comments:
dchain
Monkey came with the name. He had this weird metal collar on with a bunch
of Chinese characters. It was tight and chafing his neck so I sawed it
off. A guy at work read the characters and said that the dog's name was
Monkey. So that's his name. Yeah, it's a dumb name for a dog. But I figured,
he'd obviously been through a lot, and I wasn't going to top it off by
changing his name just because I feel like it.
bellawheel
So then where did Monkey come from?
dchain
Hell if I know.
Chain
boredom vies with weirdness
I'm bored as fuck and Mikey's got his computer with him, so I guess I'm
stealing some time off a node or something. I've been making the weirdest
deliveries all day. Unwieldy objects to and from the Knob. And to and
from the weirdest places. When I get home I'm going to check on Monkey's
map: but I think they're all behind the reservoirs with respect to the
Knob. I hope that's just paranoia. Because if it's not, then it's one
more damned thing I have to pay attention to and I don't know what it
means. I am not insane and I do not look for these things.
12/2/05
Bella
Forager Girl, and weird mail
Forager Girl and I had a great day. We cooked lunch with the stuff she
brought and it was fine, though odd, and I of course augmented it with
noodles. I showed her what I was working on and some notes for some other
stuff I've been thinking about and she asked all the right questions and
gave me really useful critique. It was like drinking water on a really
hot day, like hanging with Barris Mackey when he's not going on and on
about factions and politics. My next day off, or sooner if I don't get
one soon enough (fooey on Hugo), I'll go to her place and look at her
stuff. When she finally had to go I walked her down to the lobby and Harry
met us there and made one of his usual remarks. He was really interested
in the Cambodian piecework on one of her shoulder bags.
I want to go back and re-read everything I've ever seen about dynamic
symmetry.
In other news, I'm getting weird mail. The kind of thing like those ads
urging you to get some kind of credit card (Chain always talks me out
of those and it's annoying because I'd really like to use plastic now
and then). But they're not: they're solicitations for art competitions,
juried shows, and stuff like that. How did I get on those mailing lists?
They're so weird, not like the kind of letter you'd expect to get from
galleries or foundations or schools or whatever – they look just
like those credit card letters. Including the sticker that says "Yes"
and the sticker that says "No."
Chain says I should throw them away but I've been stuffing them in an
envelope to show to Barris Mackey whenever I see him again.
12/3/05
Bella
The reservoirs, again
I tried the matte finish fixative and it's not great.
Then Chain made me walk all around the City with him and Monkey and he
wouldn't tell me why. It was the reservoirs, though we did a lot more
than walk from each to each. He had the map.
Monkey was very interested in each of the reservoirs.
Then when we came home, completely exhausted, Harry said we should probably
not do that walk a third time. How did he know we had done it at all,
or that Chain and Monkey had done it before? And Monkey seemed to be arguing
with him, or Harry seemed to be arguing with Monkey, but I was too tired
to take much note of what Harry was saying. Monkey wasn't saying anything,
naturally, he's a dog. What's with Harry and the dog, anyway?
Chain showed me the metal collar that Monkey came with. It's very heavy
and the edges are not that smooth. Poor dog. He said that Monkey just
showed up one day when Chain was hanging around at Moneybags Park and
that was it. Chain gave him two-thirds of a panini sandwich and Monkey
followed him around the rest of the day and came home with him, and a
day or so later Chain got the collar off and translated. Mikey did it.
12/4/05
Bella
brunch brunch on a lovely sunday morning
Brunch at the Universal with Chain and Forager Girl. Harry and Barris
showed up when we were about halfway through breakfast ( noyummy yummy
jook, but I was really hungry and I had eggs over easy instead). I told
Barris about my envelope full of invitations and he was quite concerned,
so I ran back to the apartment and got it for him. He and Harry perused
each and every one of them, turning them over and over and squinting at
them in the light. Looking for watermarks? Why would there be watermarks
on that kind of thing?
Anyway, Barris confirmed that none of them was a legitimate call for entries
and said that a lot of the independent artists – he meant me! –
were getting them. Forager Girl said she got some too. Then Barris asked
if he could look at her work so we all got into Barris's car, which is
not big enough for five people – the back seat isn't really meant
for people, or at least not for grownups – but we managed. And so
I got to see Forager Girl's work.
She lives with a couple of uptight hipsters, wannabes who can't figure
out if they wannabe yuppies or wannabe bohos. But she gets the biggest
room in the apartment and that's actually where she works. Barris said
she shouldn't do that because of toxicity but she just shrugged. What
do you expect from a person who eats the botanical equivalent of roadkill?
Well, her work. What can I say? We're sisters. I think her stuff is slightly
more edgy, and my stuff is slightly more complex, but we're on a similar
path, I think.
He gave her the same offer as me, and said we might consider a joint show,
which makes sense to me.
Dec. 5th, 2005
Nonyomni
Harry Smith received a message. It arrived in a small box wrapped in
brown paper, with a return address he recognized. He didn't open the box.
He didn't need to.
The return address was not in this world.
Chain
Lame threats
Weird thing at Moneybags Park. Suit comes up to me and says, "You
tell that girl she's listening to the wrong people."
I said "say what?" and he repeated it, bland face, no overtly
threatening expression, but his body looked like he was about to pick
me up and slam me into the cement. I know that posture.
I said "which girl?" and he only slightly scowled, then made
a nasty smiley face and loomed a little in my face and then walked away.
It would not have taken much more for me to pick him up and slam him into
the cement.
So, Bella, I figure the message is for you: some suit thinks you're listening
to the wrong people. Unless it's for your weird girlfriend. But yesterday
you were both listening to the same people, and if it's about anything,
it's about that.
Unless the suit's just crazy. That could happen too. Ask me, they're all
witless.
Stupid jerkoff Knob people.
12/6/05
Nonyomni
Barris comes to Harry
Barris came over to Harry's apartment and found Monkey already there.
"I think it's time to clue them in as much as we can," Barris
said. "In spite of the gaps in our knowledge."
Monkey curled a lip.
"We can leave you out of it for the time being," Harry said.
"I agree. I was hoping to have a fuller picture before doing this
but they're stafrting to get threats."
"You're right, Monkey," Barris said. "The Factions are
stupid. The threats are red herrings. The real seduction will come afterwards,
and soon."
"Not so soon,"Harry said, looking at the oddly decorated calendar
spread out page by page over the bare mattress. "It's almost three
weeks to the dark of the moon."
Monkey jumped on to the bed. He shook his head at the calendars and jumped
off.
"What do you expect?" Harry said. "Dogs can't read."
Bella
a palaver
I didn't have to close tonight. I didn't expect it but Forager Girl met
me at the bookstore and walked home with me. She was upset about something
but wouldn't tell me what. We had noodles but noodles didn't help. Chain
called and said he was going to be late. Forager Girl made me so nervous
I didn't have the heart to hassle him about skanks. Barris and Harry showed
up. That was weird too: I didn't get a chance to open the door for them
because Monkey somehow did it. I don't know how: the chain was on. And
that is very high on the door. Just once I'd like to catch him at it.
So anyway we all sat down – on the floor, we don't have four chairs
– and Barris and Harry told us this amazing yarn about the forces
at work in the city and I'm not supposed to repeat any of it but I am
supposed to believe it all. The thing is, I think I do, and so does Forager
Girl, or at least I think I believe that something's going on that may
or may not be exactly as they say it is, but is probably of some similar
nature. So I promised to be careful.
Now that I think about it, I realize I'm not supposed to repeat this to
anybody "not in the house." And at the moment that Harry said
that, Chain walked in. Harry changed the subject, so I guess he didn't
want to talk to Chain about it right then, but I also get the impression
that he knew Chain was in the house already.
Anyway, at least now I have a reason to pin all those weird people on.
Chain
The suits in this town have all lost their minds. Two of them approached
me today with obscure threats/offers. Apparently I can have anything I've
ever wanted if Bella does or doesn't do something they will not name.
When I figure out what they want you to do, Bella, I'll tell you not to
do it.
comments:
Bella
Well, after that palaver last night, I think I know what they want me
to do.
12/7/05
Bella
Another invitation
So almost every weirdo I've met in the last month and a half showed up
at Wednesday Wanderings and the air was just crackling. I didn't understand
a word of what anybody said to anybody and least of all what everybody
said to me and to Forager Girl. The capper came when the Button Down Guy
gave me and Forager Girl engraved invitations to some other big do at
the Feuer Mansion and Harry accepted them for us.
I asked him what the, and he said we should go, just be careful and don't
do anything we know we shouldn't, and also to be careful not to eat any
food that is not in season, no matter how it's done up. I asked what that
meant, like no bread? Because bread is never in season or out of season.
He just leered. And here I thought he had become a little less cryptic
and forthcoming last night. The date of this do is December 11, four days
from now on Sunday of all days.
comments:
dchain
I'm going to beat Harry's ass. That's the fucking full moon.
bellawheel
What difference does that make?
dchain
am It means I'm going with you. And so is Monkey.
Chain
weirdness and secrets
Came home to find the house full of weirdness and secrets. That's okay.
My day was already full of weirdness and secrets.
Out of respect for Harry, I'm not going to do that reservoir walk again.
But I'm visiting them again, each, but out of order so that it won't be
like doing the reservoir walk in slow motion. Monkey seems to approve.
In general, he gets more agitated as time goes on. He wants action. And
so do I.
I got itchy scars and itchy fingers.
comments:
bellawheel
Don't say stuff like that. It makes me nervous.
dchain
Only nervous? You're supposed to be terrified.
12/8/05
Nonyomni
The disagreement between Harry and Monkey over the advisability of completing
the reservoir circle ritual was rooted in the difference in their understanding
of the nature of two of the factions. Soon events would clear up that
ambiguity, though not others, and would allow them to come to a consensus
on the handling of the reservoirs, the entities that dwelled there, and
the factional structures they impinged upon.
Bella
what shall I wear? what shall I wear?
I made Harry give me Barris Mackey's number and I called him to ask him
about this thing at the Feuer Mansion. I really wanted to know how I was
supposed to be dressed because I didn't want to look like the freaking
Little Match Girl again if it was going to be all dressed up people with
makeup on. He seemed surprised I was going and not like he thought it
was a great idea,. But he said I should dress ultra goth if I could.
Forager Girl says she can help me out.
comments:
dchain
Screw that. Wear your mechanic's coveralls you wear when you're doing
really nasty stuff. And that pink fluffy beret.
bellawheel
You're hopeless.