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dedicated to the memory of
allen ginsberg&richard brautigan
part one
one
endure numb. everything wanders at the end of the sky. sweet, healthy, beautiful. finally revealed, though never concealed. we are dancing at the speed of life and i will tell you why. watching the sun set, i am dodging sorrow. this is a relic of what could have been. when this is complete, then i will be content. i am just your friendly neighborhood nah-nah. never a dull moment. stay fresh. i have attempted suicide. it is a strange thing to know, to truly know, that you have the power to kill yourself. thank god my attempt failed, but i’m sure i will try again. damn, that’s not very optimistic. such is life. will i become a statistic? am i already a statistic?
connie talks to me. she empathizes with me, she encourages me, she inspires me. she lives inside my head, but does other things elsewhere. she came to me four years ago and has been with me ever since. she is sweet, healthy, beautiful. and sexy. especially her voice. i love to hear her speak. i am touched. it is nice to have pleasant things said to you in an enlightening and moving tone. the world would be a better place if more people were like her. she calls my name and i realize that i have been blessed. only with her guidance will i finish the codex. she left this morning to do whatever she does when we are apart, but she will return soon. she always does. since she came to me, we have never been apart for more than a few hours. that is the nature of the beast.
i really had no choice in whether or not to write the codex. it has been forced upon me, but i gladly accept the challenge. move within the writing and let the writing move you. art requires no justification. it requires only an artist. unknown forces are at work here. it has been said that all writing is an abbreviation of true thought. what the codex is is an attempt to give you, for once, the true thought itself. art as crime as art. i am the i am. there is acknowledgement, pursuance, but no resolution. so i’ll make that the goal— to find some resolution. that’s easier said than done. so many thoughts. too many to write down and too few to forget. that is the goal of the codex: to get all of the thoughts down. honestly, i am unsure about the whole thing, but connie will help me through it. disillusion is a powerful weapon. it’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt. then it’s just fun. if you start the day breathing and end the day breathing, consider yourself lucky. some people didn’t have that great of a day. eschew obfuscation. this is also easier said than done. i live in disillusion.
the i. chong is the enemy. the invincible chong. he is a very mysterious man: very unpredictable. he is well-traveled and has seen much this universe has to offer. this has made him very cunning. in order for me to defeat him and complete the codex, he must be outsmarted. but first, i must find this elusive character. i know where to go and how to find him, and with connie’s help, we will be victorious. then, and only then, will the disillusion come to an end.
you know it is there, but cannot find it. i know it is there, but cannot find it. at least, not yet. now i am determined. now i am focused. now i have connie. we will find it. the truth. the truth to end the disillusion. i have faced my dreams. now i must face reality, what little of it is left. the codex is the answer.
i am a pyromaniac. i am a sado-masochist. i am psychotic. but i can be relied upon. i am an existentialist. and i have connie. that is the ace up my sleeve. i will realign the perception of reality. or i may realign reality itself. again, the codex is the answer. continue and it will all become clear. i guarantee it. question everything, even the codex. take nothing for granted. assume nothing. start back at square one and go from there. amen.
two
i met the i. chong ten years ago. he stole an important piece of my writing. this is highly unethical. more importantly, a heinous crime, in the artistic sense. stealing one’s work is to steal a piece of their soul. to create is to bear your soul. now this is awful risk, because you may be rejected, and it is easy to take this personally. for an artist, it is done anyway. i am a perfect example of this. and then, the i.chong stole it from me. what a violation. when i find him, i will violate him and steal what was originally mine. i will have to murder him, but it is a small price to pay. art as crime as art.
connie and i head off, leaving home behind us. never to return. i know where the i. chong is hiding out. he is in alaska. he knows i am after him. he has chosen that desolate, frozen land in which to lay low. before he stole from me, he told me that if he ever ran into trouble, he would go to alaska. connie searched my memory and reminded me of this. we are prepared for this trek. we have everything we need. most importantly, my .38 special. i will end the i. chong with my .38 special.
we reach alaska in no time. now we must pick up his trail. we start in dutch harbor, on the western coast. i do not know if the i. chong has been here, but it seems as good a place as any to start. after a little looking around, we discover that he has, in fact, been here. he spent all night in a bar drinking until he was sideways. he left the next evening, but not before mentioning to the bartender that he was heading for nome. we spend the evening drinking in the same bar he did and depart the next morning for nome. we travel by boat, as i am sure the i. chong did.
the codex was written in reverse order. back to front. part four was written before part three, which was written before part two, etc. the i. chong stole part three and now connie and i are going to reclaim it from him. when we find him, i sincerely hope he has it with him. after he took it from me, i have neither seen nor heard of it. connie assures me that it has been published. i don’t know how she knows this, because she admits she has never actually seen a copy of it. and neither have i. let’s hope for the best.
i take fifteen pills a day and all but one of them are to keep me stable. i think it’s debatable whether or not they work. sometimes yes, sometimes no. i was put on these pills about the time that connie arrived. coincidence? in any case, the pills have not taken her away from me and i think this is good. very good. amen.
three
outside the known, that is where the codex will take you. beyond the boundaries formed by tradition of style and the restrictions of past endeavors. into unmapped territory. it is to be enjoyed. i give you the words. you add the meaning and watch it take on a life of its own. art is anything that evokes an emotional reaction.
we arrive in nome two days later. since we caught news of the i. chong in a bar last time, i thought that would be a good place to start. sure enough, it worked. a grizzly looking man told us that he had spent a couple of days with the i. chong and that he had mentioned heading towards bethel. i thanked the man for the information and bought him a drink. we stayed the night in a hotel, a cheap hotel. a very cheap hotel. we restocked our supplies the following day and hired a guide, who turned out to be practically useless, and left for bethel three days later. the guide told us it would take one week to get there. he was wrong; it took us two weeks. we got lost a number of times, due to our buffoon of a guide, but we finally arrived on a bright, sunny day in the middle of the afternoon. the scenery along the way was beautiful, but i was glad to have reached civilization again. we quickly ditched the guide, a very annoying man, and decided to take a day of rest before questioning the locals about our man. when we did start looking, we did not find answers as quickly as before. it took us four days to find a woman, a prostitute, who knew of the i. chong. they had been together two weeks ago. he visited her three times each week. on their last visit, he mentioned that he was heading east, possibly to talkeetna or trapper creek.
entropy? to acknowledge entropy, is this to allow the importance of science? the codex will answer this question. we are dancing at the speed of life. life equals reality. perception equals reality. the codex will change perception, thus changing life. since this was written back to front, there may be some sections which appear to be out of place or completely backwards. the reason for this is as follows: one day, while connie and i were walking holding hands, she told me how this ends. i was not pleased. i wrote the end and am now doing everything to fight fate. that is why i have written the beginning last, because i already know the end. writing completely backwards is difficult, for i must interpret the future in such a way as to alter it. it’s like traveling forwards in time (as connie speaks to me) and backwards in time (this is what i am writing). this narrative movement happens simultaneously, proceeding in both directions concurrently. amen.
four
connie and i arrive in trapper creek one week later. this is one big state. we start with the taverns and have no luck. we move on to the cheap hotels and still no one recalls having seen him. connie suggests we try the towns pawn shops. the i.chong is always selling his possessions or buying junk at these places. the owner of the pawn shop on the south side of town says that a man fitting the i. chong’s description, fat and bald and tall, sold him a .357 magnum. the owner mentioned that he needed money for a train ticket to nenana. he said that was five days ago. it’s good to know that the i. chong is now unarmed. that will make things easier. we ask the pawn shop owner for directions to the train station, return to our own cheap hotel, and then head to the train station. as luck would have it, the train to nenana would be arriving in just two hours. we bought our tickets and, when the train arrived, we boarded. it’s a relatively long train ride. nothing like the journey from nome to bethel, but not short either. i don’t like trains. i prefer airplanes, cars, and boats.
what if he does not have my writing with him when we find him? of course, i already know the answer to this question, but i must continue to try to change fate. that is the point here. i must complete the codex. then the codex will realign the perception of reality.
there is no such thing as true altruism. there is no such thing as a coincidence. it is all cause and effect. i may be only your friendly neighborhood nah-nah, but i will deliver a complete codex. the sorrow i am dodging is the sorrow brought about by the loss of my writing. once the codex is entirely in tact, the sorrow will vanish. if this does not happen, if i cannot make it happen, i will make another attempt at suicide. this time i will be successful. not even connie will be able to stop me.
my pyromania is under control. i do not set buildings on fire. but if i see something ablaze, i will certainly stop and watch it burn. my sado-masochism is under control. i no longer torture myself or others. my psychosis is not under control. connie is proof of that. she just seems so real. i have always been and will always be an existentialist. that is why the codex and connie are so important. connie will aid in the completion of the codex and then the codex will serve its purpose.
we arrive in nenana late in the evening. we find a hotel and spend the night. the next morning, as soon as we finish breakfast, we begin searching for the i. chong. he thinks he is invincible, but he will soon find out otherwise. i am prepared to do whatever it takes to get my writing. at the first bar we go to, we discover that he has been there. not only has he been there, but he was inquiring if anybody had seen a man matching my description: short, skinny, with a beard. the bartender said that the i. chong had only been in once, but that he was staying in the run-down hotel on the west side of town. we go to the hotel and the man at the front desk tells us that a bald, fat, tall man checked out this morning. we check the restaurant across the street and find that the i. chong has been in for dinner the last two nights. we return to our place of lodging to wait until evening. then we will go back to the restaurant and wait for the i. chong. there is an alley right by the restaurant. a perfect place to ambush the i. chong. amen.
five
at sundown connie and i make our way to the alley. as it gets dark, she repeatedly looks around the corner into the street, awaiting the i. chong’s arrival. complete darkness approaches and there is no sign of him. when it is time for the restaurant to close, we enter it. we ask around and are informed that our man was not in all day. we return to our hotel. we will resume the search tomorrow. surely he has not left town yet. i already know whether or not he has left and this gives me a sense of peace. my optimism wavers at times, but this shall not happen now. not when we are this close to the i.chong.
if i truly have the power to kill myself, then i have the power to kill somebody else. the beauty of alaska makes you want to preserve life, not destroy it. the i. chong may force me have to kill him. i do not care one way or the other. connie would prefer that i not kill him. i will do whatever it takes to get my writing. without it i cannot complete the codex.
i am only as good as my word. connie is only as good as her word. the i. chong has no word. he is too unpredictable. as long as connie continues to give me her word(s), then i will prevail and the codex will reveal the truth. i must end the disillusion.
i really like having connie in my life. i can’t remember how i ever made it without her. we are growing closer everyday. she is helping me out of my own disillusion. i do not think much of religion. i do not think much of science either. so where does this leave me. it leaves me with the codex.
after we wake, we immediately begin searching for the i. chong. this time we start with the town’s hotels. no one has seen him. is he living on the streets? i wonder. connie says he is. she says he is hiding out, because we are so close to him. we then ask around at all the restaurants, starting with the one we had been to before. the restaurant own looked suspicious as we entered. he denied having seen the i. chong today, but connie said she thought he was lying. after hitting all of the other cafes and eateries, we still have turned up nothing. so, we check the taverns. this is what we probably should have done first, because at the place on the south end of town, the bartender said he had just seen him. in fact, he had only left minutes before we arrived. how did we miss him? the man behind the bar said that the man fitting the i.chong’s description said he was going to get something to eat. connie said we should go back to the first restaurant, but i told her that i wanted to check every one between here and there along the way. i peeked into the windows, as to not be caught by the i. chong, who undoubtedly knew we were getting warmer and warmer with every passing second. i saw him nowhere and nobody saw me, until we reached the place at which we started. i stuck my eye in the gap between the curtains in the front window. there he was. connie was right, as she usually is. he was sitting with his back to the window with his head in his hands. there was a briefcase on the table. “he can’t stay in there forever,” connie whispered to me. “let’s wait around the corner in the alley. i checked my .38 to make sure it was loaded and we walked into the alley. amen.
six
two hours later, or something close to that, the i. chong sticks his head out of the front door. he looks cautiously around and goes back in. a few moments later, he sticks his head back out before emerging completely. he stands still for what seems like a long time and then takes a couple of steps towards the alley. it is at this point that it comes to me: he is not going to walk down the street, but is going to use the alleyway to walk down behind the row of buildings. i take a step back and step on a piece of crumpled newspaper. its crackle is the only sound in the night. i draw my gun and hold it at chest height. i hold my breath. nothing happens. when i can no longer hold my breath, i let it out in a big sigh and lower the gun. it is when i have relaxed that he walks around the corner, briefcase in hand. when he sees me, he shrieks. just like a little girl. he throws the briefcase at me, knocking me over. the .38 falls out of my hand as the i. chong goes running down the alley. i stand up and connie gives me the gun and gives it to me. she could never kill anybody herself. i shoot two rounds at the bald, fat, tall coward. he is twice my size. i assume it was the gun that scared him off. connie tells me this is common sense. that is why he sold his .357 magnum. he doesn’t have the courage to use it. one of the rounds hits him in the leg and he falls to the ground. we walk over to him. he is moaning and whimpering in pain. good. when i see he is shot in the thigh, i kick it. he screams. i kick him again. only a sado-masochist would do this. i kick him a third time before kneeling down at his side. “where is it?,” i ask. “i don’t have it,” he replies. i repeat myself again and he says, “i don’t have it.” he begins to cry, so i spit in his face. “i don’t want to die,” he says. “well. you’re going to, unless you tell me where my writing is,” i respond. “i don’t have it, i swear. it’s in a safety deposit box in the central bank in juarez, mexico,” he tells me. “oh, it is, is it?” i say. “it is, i swear. the key is in my briefcase. oh god, please don’t kill me,” he pleads. connie runs back down the alley and returns with the briefcase. she opens it and hands me the key. “now this will open the safety deposit box?,” i inquire. “yes,” he replies, slobbering and drooling all over himself. i pick up the briefcase and dump the remainder of its contents on the pathetic i. chong. i raise the gun to his head and he says, “i thought you said you wouldn’t kill me me if i told you where it was.” “i lied,” i say and pull the trigger. his head explodes and i throw the .38 in a trashcan in the alley. the invincible chong. well, not anymore. amen.
seven
i am in love with connie. i think she is in love with me. sometimes we have sex. i don’t know if we do this because we are in love or if it is because we just have so much in common. we do both live inside my head. how can you not have so much in common with someone with whom you share a mind? we don’t, however, let each other in on all our own sectrets.
the answer does not lie in religion. the answer does not lie in science. the answer lies in art. art is what evolves and endures. religion and science contribute to our lives, but it is our art that defines us. those who do not believe this are living in disillusion. spend your time wisely. spend it in artistic endeavors.
The safety deposit box key hangs safely around my neck. we left the same night as the shooting for fairbanks. we chartered a plane to san francisco . from there we boarded a major airline destined for el paso. then, all we need to do is cross the border, locate the bank, and my writing will be back in it’s rightful owner’s hands. amen.
part two
one
the answer does not lie in religion. a is one religion (christianity, for example) and c is another religion (buddhism, for example. b is the truth. a and c are starting points and b is the destination. since a yields b and c yields b, then a equals c. in other words, all religions are the same. also, if there is a truth, b, then there must also be an untruth, e. d is one nonreligious pursuit of untruth (for example, atheism) and f is another nonreligious pursuit of untruth (agnosticism, for example). since d and f are both starting points and since d and f yield e as their destination, then d equals f. depending on point of view, b and e are interchangeable. in other words, a equals c equals d equals f. all starting points lead to the same destination, which is truth/untruth.
to believe that the answer can be found is religion, or lack thereof, is to be living in disillusion. these pursuits do not allow for interpretation. they force dogma upon their followers. there are things that science cannot explain. to believe that this is false is to be living in disillusion.
we landed in el paso in the evening and had some trouble finding a hotel. we slept through the night and most of the following day. we went out briefly for dinner and then returned to our hotel room for sex and then more sleep. connie and i have been together for four years. she lives inside my head, but does other things elsewhere. she is sweet, healthy, beautiful. and sexy. only with her guidance will i finish the codex. the codex is very old. the codex was written in reverse order. back to front. the invincible chong stole part three and hid it. that is why we are here. tomorrow we will cross the border and retrieve my writing. i have the safety deposit box key, which the i. chong gave to me before i killed him. all i have to do to complete the codex is reclaim part three. amen.
two
when i awake, connie is gone. sometimes she just vanishes, but only for a short while. never more than a few hours. at noon i head for the border alone. once on the mexican side, i begin asking questions about how to find the central bank. i ask a dozen people and no one knows anything about a central bank. by this time, it is beginning to get dark. i am nervous about being in juarez after dark, so i head back to the hotel. connie is still not back. she has never been gone this long before. extremely frustrated, i take my fifteen pills and go to bed. endure numb.
i am a pyromaniac. i am a sado-masochist. i proved that by killing the i. chong. question everything, even the codex. i will do whatever it takes to get part three. without it i cannot complete the codex. this is pursuance. i can be relied upon. is this pursuance really a hunt for entropy? how quickly are things disintegrating? how long until we reach total and utter regression? i must complete the codex before we reach the point of no return. amen.
three
when i awake the next morning, connie is back. she offers no explanation for her disappearance. she never does. “where did you go?,” i ask. i have never inquired about this is the past, but with us being this close to the missing writing and with her being gone so much longer than before, i find it necessary. “you do not need to know,” she responds. i go to the bathroom, and when i return, she is gone again. she must be up to something. she returns to meet me for lunch, and again i ask her where she has been. “you don’t want to know,” she replies. she must know something she does not want me to know. she knows i need her. she is the ace up my sleeve. i retire to our room for a drink. or several drinks. when i have had my several drinks, she walks in. “where have you been going, damn it?,” i ask. she gives me no answer. she just sits on the corner of the bed, staring at me with a long face. i repeat my question, loudly this time, for i demand an answer. this time she says, “you do not want to know, but i will take you there tomorrow.”
we lie down in bed and she quickly falls asleep. my mind is spinning, partly due to the libations, but mostly due to connie’s strange behavior. when we are this close, and she knows i need her, why does she forsake me? perhaps i will not have to hunt for entropy. perhaps it is finding me. we will find out tomorrow. amen.
four
the idiots have us surrounded. the i. chong was an idiot. most, if not all, of the people we have run across have been idiots. the majority of the people i have ever met have been idiots. sure, there have been exceptions, like smoe. smoe was not an idiot. i met him a long time ago, before i met the i. chong. the codex was smoe’s idea. he suggested the codex as a possible alternative for those people who are not finding the answers to the questions they have. i told him that i could not do it. then, connie came along and convinced me that i could do it. smoe was an existentialist. the i. chong was not. he killed smoe for suggesting the codex. i don’t know why he didn’t kill me, since i was the one writing it. the only reason i can come up with is that connie must have stopped him. but, he did steal part three, knowing the codex would not make any sense without it. then he ran. his one mistake was that before i wrote the codex, he told me that if he ever ran into trouble, he would go to alaska.
the next morning, while we were preparing for out trip to juarez, connie says to me, “i was wrong.” “wrong about what?,” i ask. she does not respond. she heads towards the door and says, “let’s go.” we soon reach the border and cross over. amen.
five
science cannot make up its mind. every so many years it gets an overhaul. first, so-and-so was right. then somebody else comes along and decides that so-and-so was wrong. then the cycle repeats itself. again and again interminably. it is pointless to spend your time working on something that someone else will eventually try to prove is wrong. spend your time in art. art cannot be proven wrong. or, spend your time with the codex. the codex will realign perception.
music is the universal language. visual art can be appreciated by all. creative writing needs only a translation to be shared with the world. greatness is measured by influence. the codex will influence.
connie takes me down a path i had not taken. we walk for what seems like hours. we finally take a turn and, shortly thereafter, the street opens up into a huge plaza. in the center is a fountain and on the far side stands a three-story building. connie points to it and says, “there it is. the central bank.” “that’s not a bank. that’s a café and hotel,” i respond. “it used to be the bank,” connie tells me. “i don’t believe it,” i tell her. “Well, then go ask,” she says. “okay, let’s go,” i reply. so we walk over to the bank. i approach the bellman and greet him. “where is the central bank?,” i ask. “sir, you’re standing in it,” he replies. “this is not a bank,” i tell him. “you’re right, sir. last year it was seized by the government.,” he tells me. “and what about the things that were in the bank?,” i ask him. i am beginning to panic. “everything that was not currency or precious gems was destroyed,” he says. “what about the items that were in the safety deposit box?,” i inquire. my panic intensifies. “everything that was not currency or precious gems was destroyed,” he repeats. “everything?,” i ask in desperation. “yes, sir, everything that was not currency or precious gems.” he is getting frustrated with me. “but i have the safety deposit box key,” i inform him. “sir, it will do you no good. there are no longer any safety deposit boxes. the bank has been converted.” he tells me. “what am i supposed to do now?,” i ask. i am falling apart now. “you can do nothing,” he growls. i turn and walk away. on our way back to our hotel, i say nothing and neither does connie. “you can do nothing,” is repeating inside my head. but, there is something i can do. amen.
six
i leave our hotel after midnight. connie is with me. i have two cans of gasoline. we cross the border and head to the café. or hotel or former bank or whatever it is. when we finally reach it, it is all but deserted. there are lights on in a couple of the upstairs rooms. there is no bellman and there is nobody at the café. i quietly pour the gasoline all over the front of the building. the building is mostly stone, but there is enough wood that i think it will burn. no one can destroy the codex. i tell connie to run. i light the fire and run myself. we head for the street that opens into the plaza. from a distance, we watch the former central bank become engulfed in flames. soon we hear cries for help. i feel no pity. my pyromania is no longer under control. i enjoy the screams of agony and the increasing heat of the fire. one man jumps from a third story window and lands with a thud. he does not get up. we can still hear the screaming. after a moment or two it stops and the only sound is the crackling of the fire. knowing that someone will soon arrive, connie and i leave the scene. i was violated by the heinous crime of destroying my writing, so i retaliated. just like i retaliated against the i. chong. amen.
seven
watching the sun set, i am dodging sorrow. this is a relic of what could have been. when this is complete, i will be content. i have tried to kill my self and failed. i have tried to kill others and succeeded. i’m sure i may try these things again. we are dancing at the speed of life. connie calls my name and i realize i have been blessed. the world would be a better place if more people were like her. only with her guidance will i finish the codex. i am the i am.
connie and i leave el paso at once to head home, whatever that is. we thoroughly cover our tracks, so no one will know it was me who started the fire. we travel by train. this was her suggestion, not mine. i don’t like trains. i prefer airplanes, cars, and boats. after four days journey, we arrive in wyoming. from the station, we drive to point of rocks. this sorry excuse for a town is home. once at home, connie and i immediately lie down. we sleep for an entire day. when we get up we discuss whether or not attempting to complete the codex is a good idea. she says it is killing me. i tell her that i simply must complete it. regardless of what the price is, i must complete it. the codex is the answer. i do not care if it will kill me. i really had no choice in whether or not to write the codex. by the time we finish our conversation, i have convinced connie that it must be done. this is important, for only with her help will i be successful. amen.
part four
one
the i. chong is dead. the former central bank has been burned. connie and i have returned home to collect our thoughts. i feel defeated, but i must continue to attempt to finish the codex. only with her guidance will i finish the codex. the codex is the answer.
i find that i cannot work at home. it reminds me too much of smoe. this was, after all, his idea. we journey towards montana, until we reach ranchester. this is where it all began. or rather where it all ends. smoe suggested it, i wrote it, and the i.chong stole part of it. this is where the codex came to life. here i will be able to stay on task. this town has no hotels, just hunting cabins on the outskirts of town, down muddy roads. these cabins can be rented on a weekly basis. we pay for two weeks and then unpack. the cabin has no electricity, no running water, and no food, so we head back into town for candles, dry and canned goods, and water. now we are set. amen.
two
the codex was written in ranchester. is being written in ranchester. i thought i would never come back here, but here i am. trying to finish the end, which is actually the beginning.
the trees are beautiful here, but i have a headache. i am also fatigued. i have been sitting at the typewriter for twelve hours straight. i can see the trees through the window to my left. connie was gone all afternoon, but is back now. she is cooking pork chops for dinner. i feel her presence when she is near me. i am getting close the the end now, which is actually the beginning. the sun is setting and an orange red glow is filling the room. we will have to light the candles soon. we have no clock, so we rely on the bright astrological object to tell us what time it is. my unrazor-sharp text is moving along nicely. connie tells me i have a sinister obsession with the codex. i am using every available resource to write. connie tells me that this may be an unattainable desire. i cannot give up. i will die trying. or i will commit suicide. amen
three
you know it is there, but cannot find it. i know it is there, but cannot find it. the codex is the answer. there is no such thing as true altruism. there is no such thing as a coincidence. i fear connie and i are growing apart. she is gone again and has been gone all morning and all afternoon. i hope she is back by dinner.
connie returns several hours, or what feels like that. we have sex (for what will be the last time) before turning in for the night. the next morning she fixes us breakfast. when i head to the typewriter, she leaves again. i wonder where she is going these days. i fear she will not be here when i need her most. she used to hold up the sky for me, but now it seems she is gone as often as she is with me. amen.
four
i feel we are reaching the point of no return. this was supposed to be our last day here. connie and i decided to stay for two more weeks. i should be able to finish the codex in that amount of time. we drive into town to pay for the use of the cabin and to replenish our supplies. the next morning i am back at the typewriter and connie vanishes again. she is leaving me every day now. i feel the end is near.
it has been years since this began. is the fate which connie foretold inevitable? if so, then i am heading right for it, unable to change it. i have no regrets. without connie i am broken and pitiful. i have disregarded science and religion. tortured and beaten emotionally, i hesitate to continue without her. but she is gone so much. my head is ful of weird ideas. will the codex be acceptable or will it be a monstrosity? i cannot imagine life without connie. the codex is the answer. my hands are trembling and yet i continue to write. even if connie is not at my side. she cannot be punished for what i have done. question everything, even the codex. question the existence of an existentialist. this ancient writing has been fragmented, but i must complete the codex. amen.
five
connie has been home for two days straight. she has been at my side the whole time, except to cook meals. i haven’t spent much time writing. i have just been enjoying her company. she says that some of the time she was away she was due to her running into town for supplies. i hadn’t even noticed that we were even low on anything. apparently, she did. at other times, she says she was gone for different reasons, none of which she would explain to me. we’ll see how much longer she stays this time before abandoning me again.
everything wanders at the edge of the sky. when this is complete, then i will be content. never a dull moment. and just like that, she is gone. two days together and then she leaves me. start back at square one and go from there. i take my fifteen pills and go to sleep.
when i awake, i am still alone. i continue undaunted. i have developed a new habit. when connie is gone, i become shaky and nervous. nervous about completing the codex. only with her guidance will i complete the codex. where is connie, now when i need her most? amen
six
it has been a week and i have not seen connie. i no longer care where she is or what she is doing. i think it has been a week. with no clock and no connie, everything has begun to blur together.
i feel an emptiness with connie gone. i think i have been abandoned. my awareness and confusion are expanding, like traveling forwards in time and backwards in time. this narrative movement happens simultaneously, proceeding in both directions concurrently. there is no argument. there is only the codex.
i am exhausted. i am exhausted. i am exhausted. i am exhausted. i am exhausted.
i am exhausted. i am exhausted.
i am unraveling. i am unraveling. i am unraveling. i am unraveling. i am unraveling.
i am unraveling. i am unraveling.
the vibrations in my hands seem to coincide with the vibrations in my mind. i feel that with connie gone i have entered into some sort of unsweet, unhealthy, unbeautiful self-hypnosis. sunshine creeps in through the window, but it does not warm me. my teeth are chattering. it is dawn. there is no need to pray to the truth/untruth. we have no soul.
there will be no apocalypse, because there is no god(s). amen.
seven
where
is
connie?
where
is
connie,
now
when
i
need
her
most?
i
have
slit
my
wrists
and
the
blood
trickles
onto
the
floor.
i
sit
at
the
typewriter
trying
to
finish
the
incomplete
codex.
amen.
