'
The sermon for Tuesday, Jul. 02, 2002 is: optimism 10:07 p.m. dear diary, Hello. Did I tell you that Young had bought a gun last week? Well, if I hadn't, listen up: Young had bought a gun last week. Actually he had paid for it a couple weeks ago, but he had to wait for the security check, what with the Department of Justice affadavit dealiebob and his having been in mental hospitals for attempted suicide and all. So a week or so ago, I get this email from him. Subject: Impending suicide. I have to wait for 10 days. Security check, don't you know. Are we really going to kill ourselves 4th of July weekend? How are we going to do this? Will you shoot me and then shoot yourself? Or do you want me to shoot you and then.... I guess we can figure this out. I suppose we'll ahve to. Ummm... I getting tired and impatient. I wish I went to Wannsee. Umm... I sort of went over the line yesterday. I had to use duct tape on my arm. Subject: Re: Impending suicide. Why do you have duct tape on your arm? Is it falling off? (Editorial note: I was being coy.) Subject: Re: re: Impending suicide. Yeah. You can say that. That was... um, eight days ago. Young also was calling me every night, trying to figure out more details about our suicide pact, our Leibestod. I suggested that we buy a lot of drugs, find a shithostel in Tijuana and off ourselves there. He was touched by my sense of high romance and agreed to that. I would provide the drugs, he would provide the guns, and Tijuana would provide the local colour. Subject: Where are you? (Was: Re:re: Impending suicide) Young, did you get the gun? Did you get two? I think we should do a kind of John Woo "Bullet In The Head" homage, what do you think? Or perhaps something out of "The Deer Hunter." Did you get my voicemails? Will you call me back? Can you send me your work phone number again, I wrote it down but stupid me I took a shower recently and lost all my notes. Voicemail transcript: Anyway. This was last week. Yesterday I realised it was a full week, or at least what seems like a week (my sense of time is elastic) since I've heard from Young. Now this isn't new, since Young only calls me when he's suicidal; whenever he's actually happy, he doesn't call me, sometimes for months at a time (last time was two years). So, I ask you Diary: is Young happy, or is Young dead? Given the absence of data to decide either way, I should like to imagine him happy. Because if he's dead I have no idea what to think. Because if he's dead, then he's abandoned me to die by myself this weekend, and this depresses the holy liquid shit out of me. I should like to imagine my friend Young happy and dead. Because that seems to be the best compromise I can fashion from the materials this world has furnished me, a happy death.
 
|
