The International Writers Magazine: Dreamscapes on identity
really happened - luckily I took notes...
This is a boring
ramble of a life not unusual. Its sad. Grotesque. Often incoherent.
It is forced:
Why should I bore you with details? This isnt much of a story
to you, but its mine. All mine. Good and bad. Righteous and indispensable,
if you ask me. To you, it may be insidious, awful, scary, and/or unbelievable.
Yet it really happened. Now I am here and required to explain.
Luckily, I took notes.
It all lives here - my first literary thought. If you decide to stay
long enough, the moral is complete, concise. Its only three words long.
A word; a verb; a noun (maybe more?).
Note: Jack only saw what he wanted to see; Taudry never really loved
me; Aaron is way too much like me.
Me me me.
A word; a verb; a noun.
This is no grammar lesson, its all-bad grammar, but remember, words-verbs-nouns.
Daniel Zimmerman loves coffee. Thats what our last names make
up. The four of us have been inseparable since the fifth grade. Its
almost the same as any other story youve read about kids growing
up together. Only difference here is what happens. We may be friends
here, but I dont know anymore. Jacob Zimmerman (me), Jack Love,
Aaron Coffee, and, everyones interest, Taudry Daniels (say Taudry
like Laundry without the n). DZLC was a password we used
when trying to gain entrance into our ultra-secret hiding spot. This
spot was great. Tucked deep into the forest and mountains, it takes
something like an hour to get there. If anyone ever found it, we would
all be dead or maybe just locked up. Wait. Someone did find it.
I remember having a thing for Taudry when I first met her. She was the
only one that was born and raised in these parts. Jack, Aaron, and I
had moved in. You know, parents looking for that bigger, better job.
I was the first to move in, right next door to the illustrious Taudry.
She looked just like the girl of your dreams complete with a brain.
I was taken at first sight. She has this sort of raspy voice. Almost
seductive, if you ask me. Thing is, she knows. Shes known it since
she could retain thoughts. I think her beautiful mother had something
to do with it. All mothers have something to do with how we end up.
Jack Love moved in next. A scrawny-no-guff-taking type. He loved to
fight. He loved to experiment. He was all of 5 00" forever.
Lastly, the soft intellectual genius of Aaron Coffee made his way into
our lives. Aaron was always the voice of reason. He would save us all.
He just didnt know it yet.
Before I go further, lets get some things straight. Reasons. Justification.
Stuff like that. You need to know these things so that, when reading
this American Tragedy, this Life of Me, youll understand. Maybe
not fully, but to a degree.
Kerouac said that writing, when writing, the writer should be in a trance-like
state. I cannot seem to find this state. So much is running through
my mind. I dont know where to start. I think King said the same
thing. I am having a hard time remembering things.
Unlike most writers, authors, literary giants, I have done absolutely
no research for this piece. Mostly because I hate to research and also
because I am doing this Sad State of Human Life, this Story with No
Ending, under duress.
Everything here happened. For a reason, I would hope. It did happen.
Things happen good, bad, and awful. I may have a tendency at
points to over exaggerate people, places, and things. I may even lie
to you. Who knows. Time will tell in this 'Terrifying Biopic, this Real
Life that We All Want to Never See'.
Why are you reading this again?
finding my trance-like state to get going is proving difficult
and arduous. Theyre waiting. I should get to the point.
The four of us began hanging out around the age of twelve. Oddly, we
were born in the same month of the same year. We used to always think
that we were cosmically joined or something. Even Jack thought so, but
hed never admit it. The hiding place I told you about earlier,
we found that hole sometime within the month that we became friends.
We would always go there almost everyday. Especially when we
had things that we shouldnt have.
I remember Aaron, Jack, and I always fighting for Taudrys attention.
She was always so pretty and more than anything she enjoyed the attention.
She didnt get much of that at school or from her father. So, she
settled on receiving it from her four fans, her mother and us.
Taudry embodied that smart sexy girl look. The intellect, people recoiled
from. She intimidated everybody, especially Jack. He loved her for sure,
but he didnt much like to hold conversations with her. Aaron and
I would construct diminutive debates about everything with her. She
brought out the best in all of us. She also played a large role in bringing
it all to a dramatic halt. I think of her everyday. I think I always
Aaron and I were the closest. I dont know how that happened, it
just did. The guy was a genius. Pure. Kind. Very afraid. I think fear
brings out the best in us. Aaron is proof positive to such a theory.
One day, near Christmas, Jack bought a quarter bag of weed. We met up
at The Hole instantly. Aaron and I stole a twelve to accompany loosing
our virginity to drugs. We were all excited, Jack maybe more
than the rest. Taudry kept her cool, like always, but you could see
in her eyes that she knew exactly what would happen.
"Where did you get this stuff? I asked.
"From a dude I met through my brother." Replied Jack.
"How much did you pay?" Aaron asked, always concerned with
the economic standpoint of things.
"Dont worry about it, A. Its all in good fun. What
does it even matter?"
"It matters. You dont have a job. These momentary possessions
arent cheap. We all know that. I am assuming you paid at least
$50 for this
Cutting him off, you could see the fire beginning to spread in Jacks
"What are you trying to say, little man? I said not to worry and
here you go totally disobeying a direct order
I jump in as Taudry is cleaning out the seeds and starting to role this
we arent in the fucking military. Just let him
be. If he wants to ask these things, why dont you just answer
.here we go.
"Answer the question, Jack. Where did you get the money?"
"I stole it." JACK
"What the fuck is this, an interrogation? You guys, sometimes I
just dont know." JACK
"You dont think someone will find out their money is gone?"
I am, the whole time, staring at Taudry as she is oblivious to this
idiotic banter and focused so heavily on the moment of smoking Gods
Green Earth. We had names for everything.
"I dont give a shit about that person, so it doesnt
matter. If he wants a piece, he can bring it" JACK
"Who did to steal it from? I will not stop asking until you are
in the ground, so you might as well tell me." AARON
"Moses, I thieved it from Moses. Are you happy?" JACK
"I cant stand that guy." TAUDRY
"Shes alive." JACK
"Great. Of all people, you pick Moses Gentry." AARON
"Dude. Can we get on with it? Drop it, the both of you." ME
I was their leader, but they never followed. Except Aaron.
I opened a beer and continued my study of Taudry. God, how I loved her.
The only one I would ever truly love. I despise women. I have always
hated the holidays. They just seem pointless. Indirect ways to show
you care with out actually saying it. The best holidays come in the
winter, for sure. You get stuff. Worthless, but you dont have
to pay for it. So, eating way too much is more popular than honoring
those that fought for their country. Giving and receiving insignificant
items is more important than celebrating a countrys independence.
Shall I continue? Yes.
Drinking holidays. Time off 'cause you have a job. Time off for really
important dead people. Parades for something that doesnt involve
your race or gender or preference. Never made much since to me. Neither
did Taudry. She is very much like these mortal days of partying. Then
again, she is not. Why do I let her get to me like she does? Why do
I even bother with her, when I know how this will all end? When I find
her in a coma in my room in some far off place in the middle of nowhere.
Is she dying? It is Christmas again. Everything happens around Christmas.
Think about the whole ordeal involved in telling your story. Never mind
that you are forced to do so, just imagine riffling through everything
only hoping to get your point across. Not that get the point across
is important. It is. Only for personal reasons, though.
Think about thinking here for a second. Everything that comes with thinking.
All the minutia.
Youre thinking of your very own Taudry. Jack. And Aaron. Youre
trying to identify with me, Jacob. Simultaneously, your head thickens.
Shrouds. You want to cry.
You understand what it is to be this guy. Me. To have these people in
your life. To wish they never existed, but couldnt dream about
not having them around. You ponder. You query. You try to move on. Finish
Taudry is awake and she is staring out the window smoking the remains
of last night. No doubt she is running through her mind considering,
trying to remember the evening before. She has on the flannel-like pants
that are really baggie. I think theyre mine. Her shirt is a skintight
muscle shirt. A wife-beater. Her hair is up in a rubber band on its
last leg. She is grasping, making her knuckles white with the coffee
cup she holds. I begin my own stare. Looking at her. How could you not?
I should talk less of my admiration for this woman. Girl. Thing. Someone
said that would fit nicely right here, but I forget what. Aaron and
Jack arent with us. I dont know were they are. Picture Kerouac
(again) and Hunter Thompsons Samoan lawyer set loose in the smallest
of towns on a Sunday morning looking for some bible-belt-run-convenience
that will sell them beer. Not sell. Take that back. A store that is
open is all they need. They are not the breaking and entering type.
At least Aaron says they arent.
NOTES: Date Unknown
...god, I am so high right now and I cannot believe I am doing this
all by myself cause you know if Taudry was here we would for sure be
having a good time cause thats what she likes to do, have a good
time and Jack would probably be trying to start a fight and I am I think
I am Hemingways love child it has to be I mean look at me. Where
are my parents, my family, why arent they ever here for me and
theyre never here for and I am sure I hate them for that and I
hate everybody, Aaron, Jack, and Taudry and myself. I hate myself but
this zanax really helps take that away cause every thirty minutes or
so I popping a bar and chasing it with Stoli trying so hard to die and
I cant take this anymore...There is a knock on the door where I am.
Where am I? Some hotel some where in nothing but underwear and the knocking
knock and I guess I will answer it and I
am never truly alone.
"Listen, Jacob, we have to talk."
"What I did to you. We cannot go on thinking or wishing it didnt
"I really dont want to do this right now." ME
"Jacob, I am sorry. Dont you know that?"
"Does it matter? You being all sorry doesnt change anything."
"Quit saying my fucking name. Youre truly pathetic. Sure,
you have tons do with why everything is all fucked up. You make a mistake
and assume that saying your apologies changes what you did. I am just
supposed to take your words and make myself feel better with them and
all this so you can try and feel better about the person, the woman,
no doubt, you feel shame
you should. You should, fuck,
I dont know
you should probably lay your head down at night
and find at least one reason not to blow your brains out and if you
needed help, I can pull the trigger. But, you dont, do you? Let
me be. When I am ready, I will come to you. From now on, it happens
on my terms
according to me, mother, not you."
I walk away mumbling loudly so I could be heard. My anger and disdain
must be heard.
I woke up somewhere. I hate this, not knowing whats happening,
where I am. My head is killing me and I cannot find my pills. I check
my cell phone, the message box is full with, surely, nothing but messages
from her and I am missing Taudry so much. I wish it were her that called.
Last time I saw any of them had to be about a month ago. They just disappeared
the day my mother died. They always disappear.
I shower. I smoke. Drink coffee from the one-cup maker and pack my things
for another day of walking around and for sure some sort of mayhem.
Even without Aaron and Jack, I can make some trouble. I dont know
how I do it, though. Seems to just follow me. But anyway. As soon as
I open the door to leave, I am greeted by the barrel of a gun. Someone
yelling at me to get down. You know, hands up!! Down on the ground!!
I comply. Not again.
So here I am. State Hospital. I have my own room and two pair of slippers
and two gowns to last me for 25 to Life. Thats my sentence. I
was sent here because they couldnt see sending someone like me
to jail or prison or death row. I am what they call Mentally Disturbed.
Thats how my court-appointed lawyer explained me chopping my mother
up with an ax and painting pictures with her blood on the walls of our
house. The pictures were of what she did to me, beautiful pictures if
you asked me.
She had me when she was 15. Her parents sent her out of the house well
before that. She didnt have enough to kill me (abortion, and I
wished she had), and daddy was only a thought. So, she kept me. She
"sold" me out to people, perverts, and pedophiles on an hourly
rate. I was a prostitute for my own mother. She abused me when she couldnt
find someone else to sleep with. Now, from what I am told by highly
qualified doctors, this is how Jack and Aaron and Taudry were born.
You see, theyre all me. My only friends. I never had real life
ones. Apparently, I made these people as images I wanted to be. Strong,
smart, beautiful, headstrong, opinionated. You get the point.
All the traits I do not posses. All the above that youve already
read is all that I can remember. After I killed the worst thing in my
life, I somehow blacked-out and ran across the country fleeing to what,
I dont know. Maybe my father. Maybe an answer. Maybe I just wanted
to get caught. The drugs stopped working and I couldnt drink enough
to dilute any feelings I had. Thats how I managed this concoction
of a life. I made things up and lived by them religiously. And thats
Everyone who has entered my life is dead, even Aaron, Jack, and Taudry.
Everyone is gone and I am left in this window-less hell to try and get
They all say "its not your fault", "we can help you"
and the like.
This is what our world has become. We can commit the most atrocious
crime, and, if sick enough, be relieved of our actions by a pious court
and hospital and governmental systems. And you get to foot my bill.
All this because a young woman got pregnant too early (by contemporary
standards) and used her son as a way to punish him, me, and everyone
else for me being born and her misfortune. Look around it happens everyday.
I have to live with that. What do you have to live with?
all the same
© Will Carpenter 17.05 2004
Fiction in Dreamscapes
all rights reserved