veronicaexcerpt: veronica - clear plastic film
When I was young, my mother read me a story about an evil little girl.
She read it to me and my two sisters.
We were curled up on the sofa and she read it from the book on her knees.
The light shone on us, and we had a blanket on us.
The girl in the story is beautiful and cruel.
Because her mother was poor, she sent her daughter to work for the rich. the rich spoiled her and loved her.
The rich man told her that she had to visit her mother.
But the girl felt that she was too good. she just wanted to show herself.
One day, the rich man sent her mother a loaf of bread home.
But when the little girl came to a muddy swamp, instead of breaking her shoes, she threw the bread down and stepped on it.
It sank into the swamp, and she sank into the water.
She fell into a world of demons and deformed creatures.
Because she was beautiful, the Demon Queen made her a statue as a gift to her. grandson.
The girl is covered with snakes and mucus and surrounded by the hatred of every creature trapped like her.
She was hungry but could not eat bread that was still welded to her feet.
She can hear what people say about her.
A boy passing by saw what had happened to her and told everyone that they all said she should get it.
Even her mother said she deserved it.
The girl can't move, but she will twist angrily if she can.
"It isn't fair!
My mother shouted, and her voice laughed at the evil girl.
Because when my mother told the story, I was right with her, so I couldn't hear anything.
I felt it in her.
I think a girl who wants to be too beautiful.
I think there is a mother who wants to love her.
I feel a demon who wants to torture her.
I feel like they're mixed up so you can't separate them.
The story scared me and I cried.
My mother put her arms around me.
"Wait," she said.
"It's not over yet.
She will be saved by the tears of an innocent girl. Like you.
"My mother kissed me overhead and finished the story.
I have forgotten for a long time.
I open my eyes.
I can't sleep.
When I try, I wake up after two hours and then get caught up with feelings and thoughts for the rest of the time.
I usually sleep again at dawn and wake up at 7: 30.
When I woke up, I was angry with not sleeping, which made me angry with everything.
When my body is moving around, my brain is insulting.
The image of the dream rises and crashes, huge, and then disappears, huge, and disappears.
A little girl sank down in the dark. Who is she? Gone.
I drank coffee in a big blue cup, watched the rain, and listened to the fool on the radio to promote her book.
I live on the canal of San Rafael and I can look out on the water.
There are too many boats on board, the gas and garbage are dirty, and maybe they will fall off the ship.
Or water. Once I saw a sea lion swimming around town.
My neighbor Freddy jumps off the deck every day and goes swimming in the canal.
My neighbor Bianca was disgusted.
"I asked him, 'Don't you know what's in there?
Don't you know it's like swimming in a public toilet?
Bianca is a 50-year-old girl with a sense of personality. year-
Although she has lost her looks, she is old and sexy, mainly because her lips are fat.
"He does not care;
He said he had just taken a hot bath.
Bianca smokes cigarettes with her big lips.
"There may be typhoid fever.
"She turned her head in a serious manner;
Even her long neck is a little sexy.
"God, I hate the sight of him flying in that little Speedo air!
"Sure enough, as I looked out of the window, Freddy, all red and fleshy, his stomach fell down, his silver head hidden in his stretched arm up-wap! --
Like a bull roaring in the field hitting the water.
I can see Bianca muttering downstairs "Fuck!
Slam the wall with her fist.
He's a man in his fifties.
Something, with a huge chin and muscle, will get fat like a raw meat block.
His round eyes reveal a great emotion every time: happiness. Anger. Pain. Fear.
But his body is full of all these things happening at the same time and you will see this when he is swimming.
He attacked the water with a big move and buried his face in the water, just as he tried to eat outside.
Then he stopped and stepped on the water, and before he turned and lay in the water, he snorted his head and tossed for a while, like a child, with full trust ---ah! --
Whether it rains or rains, face the sky.
Although he is very big, Freddy has a face that has been beaten too many times, just like his face is to be beaten.
He also had the face of such a person, who stood up and said "okay" after the beating and kept trying to find something good to eat, drink or roll in.
He likes to end the story with "but they might tell you I'm -"s-s-h-o-l-
Like, oh, what's on TV?
This is the most annoying thing in Bianca.
But I jumped out for the quality of swimming.
Especially jumping: It's like a personal offense to her. But I like it.
It reminded me of the sea lion, which reached out with its perfect round head and swam into the town ---
Freddy was rough despite the lion sliding.
Just like in a different container.
Sometimes, in order to defend Freddy, I want to say this to Anka.
But she wouldn't listen.
Also, I understand why he hates her.
She is an educated person, and I like to be educated.
I understand it as a point of view.
The writers on the radio are talking about her characters, as they are real people: "When you look at it from her perspective, his behavior is really strange, because for her they're just playing a sexy game and for him-
"She bloomed out of the radio like a balloon, with a smile on her face, hoping you liked her and vibrated with what to say.
Turn on the radio and there will always be people like her somewhere.
People hurriedly turn the dial in life to find comfort, and the excited smile words are beyond words.
I drink coffee.
The characters of the novelist dance and perform.
I drink coffee.
The person in the dream tripped in the dark room last night, screaming at each other and trying to do something I couldn't see.
I finished my coffee.
Water penetrates through the edge of the carpet.
I don't know what's going on here. I'm on the second floor.
It's time for me to clean John's office.
John is an old friend who pays me every week to clean his office.
I put the essentials in my platter. -
A bottle of water for aspirin-
Then I went to find my umbrella.
When I found it, I realized it was broken and I cursed before I remembered another one, the red one from New York, which I never used.
I bought it at the Museum of Modern Art gift shop while living in Manhattan.
It has four white cartoon sheep and a black sheep with the name of the museum printed on it.
The decor is precious and appropriate, and reminds me of Veronica Rose.
She was someone in my life before.
She likes anything precious and appropriate: small and complex toys, photos in small and decorated photo frames, Oscar Wilder's famous saying.
She likes MoMA and New York.
She wore shoulder pads, Belle's shoes and thin socks.
She rolled up her trousers in this crispy way. On her glass-
On her coffee table were mini ashtrays, gold plated matchboxes, and expensive coasters decorated with smiling cats.
As I walked into the hallway, Rita was wearing her pajamas and slippers with a small plate of fried chicken liver in her hand.
She said she did too much last night and she gave me some.
It smells good, so I took one to eat while I was talking to Rita.
She said that last week, "Robert, the son of a bitch," lit the barbecue on the small deck below her, emitting toxic charcoal smoke, and she explained again and again, it's terrible for her hepatitis.
"I knew he had a grill. sure enough, the sun came out and I heard him mobilize.
I heard charcoal in the bag.
I heard him slide the lid off.
I sit down and meditate.
I ask for help.
I ask, what is the most powerful force in the world?
I got the answer: water.
"Rita has hepatitis C; so do I.
We don't discuss much;
She didn't remind me that the codeine in fist's hand was like throwing a bomb on my liver.
I didn't remind her that although charcoal smoke was not a problem, her fried foodfood diet is.
"I filled every jar, every pot, every jar, glass and vase, and I put them all on the edge of the deck.
He rang a gun. -
"You don't! " "I did.
I doused the grill and I doused him when he cursed me.
He's standing there, and you know what? He laughed!
He said, "Rita, you really hate it. ' He liked it!
"We talk for one more minute;
I said yes with a smile
Goodbye, walk to the wooden stairs outside.
I opened my umbrella and remembered the last time I visited Veronica.
She brought me brownie with pink wrapping paper, fine cheese and sliced fruit that she was so sick that she couldn't eat.
I said, "I don't think you love yourself.
You need to learn to love yourself.
"Veronica has been silent for a long time.
Then she said, "I think love is overvalued.
My parents love me.
It did nothing good.
"My street is all the functional apartment blocks that come back from the sidewalk.
There are white people and black people here.
Two blocks away, semi-functional buildings and Mexicans.
Turn a corner, it's warehouse, automatic.
Body repair shop, there is a music bar at 8: 00 in the morning.
Too much trouble to dismantle the stiff, unexposed building.
Grass, weeds, and small shrubs were silently pressed between buildings, through every crack of concrete.
At the end of the street is a four.
The driveway road you can take.
Big businesses live here. -
Car dealers, computer stores, office retail--
Even though I was by their side almost every day, something I couldn't identify because it was so much that I felt silent.
Mute feels good.
It's like a grain of dirt on the ground, growing and dying everywhere.
A grain, a grass, or a stone, a little thing that knows everything but can't say anything.
It's not just the size of the business.
It's also the highway, and all the hundreds of cars are roaring in the opposite direction of my walk, and hundreds of heads travel vaguely through hundreds of windshields.
This happens sometimes when I walk here;
My attention is distracting and interesting.
I think it has to do with walking slowly in speeding traffic, and today the rain makes everything even more blurry.
It's like I get sucked out of my normal life into a place that changes the order of things;
It's still my life, I admit it, but the people and places in it slide around without distinction.
A fat white man rode a green bicycle seriously, holding a bicycle in one hand and a small half in the other --
The umbrella on his head is broken. He examines me;
He flashed a trace of life in his pale brown eyes, and then he left.
A dream last night: someone is chasing me, I have to go through my past and all of them in order to be safe.
However, the past is chaotic, not continuous, and all the people are mixed together.
An unknown old woman who once lived next door was reaching out to me, her big brown eyes filled with tenderness and tears ---
But my mother got lost in the crowd.
My father can hardly see. -
I saw him alone in the shadows of the living room, dreaming of eating salty nuts ---
When a crazy stranger pops up on my face and shouts what I have to do now to save myself.
At the same time, a Middle
An old Mexican woman knelt on the sidewalk and patiently replaced the clothes that spilled when her big red suitcase was opened.
She has no umbrella and her hair and clothes are attached to her body.
I stopped to crouch and tried to help her.
She took a look and shook her head with no human touch.
I stretched out, stopped, and stood there, holding the umbrella on both of us.
She looked up with a smile.
I called for civilization on this concrete Avenue between growling and hugeness, which she appreciated.
Her smile was like an open door and I entered for a second.
She returned to her flexible packaging.
She picked up her wet little shirt, underwear, baby clothes and socks from the sidewalk.
She took back a transparent half plastic bag.
A burning candle and a T-
Shirt for magazine 16! on it.
She shook everything out and folded it over.
Finally, Veronica's shoulder pads sometimes loosen and wander along her arms or back without her knowledge.
Once I sat with her in a nice restaurant and a guy next to me said, "Sorry, there's something moving on your back.
"His tone is relaxed and aggressive, just like the contrast between him and the fashion fools.
"Oh," said Veronica. "Excuse me.
It's just my prosthesis.
"Sometimes I like how she makes such cracks.
Other times it's just awkward.
Once, we left the cinema after watching a pretentious movie.
As we walked through a row of people waiting to watch another movie, Veronica said loudly, "they don't want to see anything challenging.
They would rather watch the dance.
I'm interested if it's weird.
"She was walking a little high, and her voice was like a giant feather in her hat.
I want to say to the ticket holder that this is not the case with her.
If you know her, you know.
But that's how she is.
She may be incredibly annoying.
In the locker room where we all went to the gym, she always yelled at someone for being too close to her or brushing her teeth.
"Let me know if you want me to move, but please don't poke my ass," she would say to Susie, who is wearing a bodice open mouth.
"The fucking fist went out a few years ago.
Don't you know?
"The Mexican woman closed her suitcase and stood with a smile.
My attention returned to normal, and the woman returned to the place where it rained.
When she turned and left, she smiled at me again and returned to my politeness with rain down her face.
In dreams, it's like strangers are passing messages for more important people, and for some reason they can't talk to me.
Or those who are important to the normal rules. -
Family, close friends-
It is accidental attachment, the obvious stranger is a real relative, hidden by the weird disguise of human life.
Of course, Veronica stores a lot of clever cracks.
She needs them.
She was naked when she didn't have them and everyone saw them.
Once she tried to speak to me seriously while we were at the coffee shop.
Her skin is seriously gray.
Her whole eye was so tight.
It's actually under white.
She said: "I just want to get off my fat ass and don't feel bad for myself.
"Her tough words don't match the look on her face.
Waitress, a middleman.
An older black lady, took a quick look at her and her eyes softened as she turned to leave.
She saw it at a glance. I want to know what it is.
Veronica died of AIDS.
She spent the last days alone.
I'm not with her.
No one was with her when she died.
I already have a fever but I don't want to take aspirin on an empty stomach.
When I took the aspirin out, put it back in place, got the water, screwed it down and squeezed the umbrella with an arm, I also didn't want to deal with the problem of holding the umbrella and killed my one. . . .
I met Veronica.
Five years ago, I was working as a casual worker for word processing at an advertising company in Manhattan. I was twenty-one.
She's in her thirties. seven-year-
Old with bleachblond hair.
She is wearing a mannish plaids custom set with a bow, bright red lipstick, fake red nails and mascara with strong beads gathered at the end of her eyelashes.
Her loud voice immediately became sexy and stiff, like a plastic gadget in the shape of Rococo.
It is very deep, but it will make a harsh sound soon.
You can hear from the other side of the room that she is calling everyone, even the person she hates, "Dear": "Sorry, dear, but I am very familiar with the use of Jimmy Joyce and the semicolon.
"She proofread with a baton like a policeman.
She brought a "office supplies" with a red plastic ruler, a pen of all colors, Liquid Paper, and a note.
It also has a logo of the frame, which is still the word anus after so many years of embroidery. She was, too.
When I told her that I had a strange tension that made my forehead feel like it was tightening and loosening over and over again, she said, "No, honey, that's your anus.
"The supervisor loves her because she is a full gay," complained another proofreader . ".
"That's why she's been here all the time.
"I was kicked by her myself . "
"She's like a combination of Marlene Dietrich and Emile Jennings.
"My God, you're right," I said loudly and suddenly, and everyone else was staring at me.
"That's what she is.
"I walked through a small bridge across the canal and through a large pharmacy that occupied the entire block.
An employee stood outside shouting at someone. "Hey you! " he yells. "I saw that!
Come back here!
Then the more uncertain thing is: "Hey!
I said come back! " Hey you.
Veronica sat in the doctor's office and sang, "Here we are.
His name is "popvir", named after a big man and doll.
The receptionist smiled. I didn't.
Come back here.
"You are like a Persian cat, my dear.
"She crossed her claws with her hands, and her eyes were ecstatic;
She peeps her tongue from her mouth.
She smiled again.
More staff walked out of the store and looked at the guy;
He just kept walking.
The reason is obvious.
The police couldn't get there fast enough that the employees wouldn't fight with him because he would win.
The reality of the animal is just beginning for the employees.
It makes them laugh, like an animal shaking his head, running away and living happily.
I passed the bus stop and people hung out there even in the rain.
I passed through closed restaurants in Mexico and France.
Although I don't know why, the traffic at this intersection always seems a little festive.
The bus depot has changed: sometimes it's sad, sometimes it's just business, and sometimes it looks like it's going to explode.
John's office is next block.
He shared it with another photographer who was mainly filming pets.
He seems to have a better life than John, who is loyal to people.
I let myself in and took a cigarette behind John's desk.
I know I should have thanked John for letting me clean his office, but I didn't.
I hate it.
It oppressed me and tore my arm apart, my arm was injured in a car accident and then destroyed by the doctor.
John shared a bathroom with the pet photographer, they had dirty habits and I had to clean them both.
I knew John before;
We used to be friends.
Even now, he sometimes talks to me about his insecurities or gives me advice on my issues ---
For example, how terrible it is to smoke.