Date: Sat, 20 Dec 2008 14:25:09 -0800 (PST)
From: Tim Stillman <novemberhourglass@yahoo.com>
Subject: g/m relationships no sex "Champ"

Champ
By
Tim Stillman

That'll fix him, Gregg thought.  Just to go away like that. Just to always
be so distant. I never told him to be distant. He's just such a rule
follower--and I tried to get him to break those rules. To be his own
man. Has he not learned anything? It's not I need him, it's just I'm tired
of people running away when they can't take some criticisms, ok, ok, I got
mad at him, and he deserved it. Good God, and he just leaves me sitting by
the phone each night, when I could go out, go to bars, clubs, where I'm
respected, where people kept telling me--isn't that partner of yours kind
of a rube?

And I say nah..he's just getting the world arranged; I'm teaching him
things; and he called and called and wrote and wrote, and I said would you
kindly knock it the hell off; you are not the center of my world, and he
just kept doing it and showing up late at night when I had the phones off,
and he pleaded with me--you would think I'd be used to that by now, but
still I put up with it, cause I felt sorry for him, and I'm a right kind of
guy when it comes to feeling sorry for someone.

And he just ditches me? One night, no calls from him and I'm relieved. Then
a second night and a third, and yeah I get it, he's pouting like a little
baby, well I'm not exactly alone without him after all. I mean come on,
I've got scores of guys and they treat me well and we go to fine places and
things are good as good can be, but his absence is like a little tapeworm
that started to grow and I hadn't called him or dropped by, haven't had the
time or the need, and I don't spend my nights, usually, sitting by the
phone like an Old Maid, I mean come on.

So three months of this, he's gotta be eating his heart out over me, I mean
look at me; but he's doing this to be cruel; he's doing this so he will
show me to me, and that's just not so; he is a cartoon; I am a man who's
made it and wanted a little respect from him, as I give to others and would
to him if he had stayed with the game plan long enough. So I have finally
had it. All those days and nights---And I thought, yep, call him and ream
him out with my words, yep, and just tell him what a nothing he is, like he
asked and asked "I'm not a nothing, am I, really?"  And that was the whole
point; he was not a nothing, but enough of this silent treatment, while
he's waiting probably laughing by his phone, for me to give in, so he can
make a fool of me, well, he's not going to; so I call him, now, and I'll
get his machine.

So I will make the call sarcastic and mean and hell with him and I did it
and I hang up laughing, imagining his face excited to hear my voice then
melting like an egg on a July sidewalk as he heard me continue, then his
body lax, then the tears start and like I concluded with..oh god I have
bloody well killed him..I am crying too, but I am crying from laughter. A
huge world of weight off my shoulders. A knife in the heart for all those
nights I lay awake waiting for him to phone me in the middle of the night
and irritate me so I will let him have it; the only reason I woke in a
panic and checked the answering machine or went right to it when I got
home--to prove my point, in other words.

I run the words I spoke into the machine over and over again and I think
how indeed I wish I could be a...and I stop..and I stop...



I played the voice message machine once, and he broke my heart, just ducky,
here for Christmas in three days or four or something, and I sat on the
side of the bed and wept.  I never told him how I felt. I could have
said--something. I was a coward and I can't call him back or drop by or
un-send that Christmas card with just the basework of greetings. And I am
selfish and was crowding him so I lay off for so long. Hardest loneliest
saddest time of my life.  I did it for him. Bravely.

I thought of him copiously. I had my hand on that phone or my cell at work,
all the time. I tried to back off, tried to not be needy this time. I did
what he wanted. I tried to be strong within myself, seek comfort from
inside, which was from an old song, but I tried. He cursed at me and he was
so mean on that message. He invited me to commit suicide, and who knows?
Maybe I will accept the invitation. I mean, I thought, ok, let it ride, who
needs someone like that?  I couldn't listen to the rest of it.

But its miscommunication that causes so much pain in the world. Everything
comes down to that most always. I got myself a can of Coke Zero and thought
man you can't do anything--I tried my whole freakin' life I tried and every
way I play it is the wrong way. God, you get to a place in life and it's
here's searching again, but why should I bother? What's really the need of
another human being? I'm 44 and I have slept with only two people my entire
life. I need to finish the message, I need to stop being--yeah, dammit, I
need to call him, and tell him---

Then why am I sitting here in tears and banging my fist on my knee. I have
a responsible job. I keep a nice apartment. I don't like horror movies. I
pay my bills on time. I try to be normal, not needy, normal, and I get
rucked for it. Ok, the black pit of not hearing or seeing or talking or
emailing or IMing him--well, it's always been like that--I mean why do I
always have to have rules to follow? Why do I always get the task of giving
what I'm told to give and don't crowd me--ok-ok--now what? I do what they
say. They walk away. I don't do what they say. They never heard of me. I'm
like one of those idiots on Dr.. Phil--"Say I am my own man!!!" Nerd: iam
myown ah man.  Dr. Phil:"No, no, say you have no right to tell me what to
say!!!!." Nerd: iah have a ah no..." Dr. Phil, madder and matter, the champ
bully: "NO NO. Don't tell me what to do!!!!" Nerd: dontahtellme ah what.."
Oh will somebody shoot those morons in
 the head? Or cut their throats?


I finish my Coke Zero, do not gulp, do not burp, am polite even when by
myself. Thank you Dr. Phil. You and Gregg have given me my answer.  You
told me to cut my throat, for all you cared. So. Yes. Determined.

It's better than living alone and being scared and having to sell out for a
friend who is no friend but you fake believing it long enough you come to
believe it. Gregg, I say to no one, I loved you, I tried my best with you,
but I screwed up again and I'm going to do what you say, and what Dr. Phil
says, and I walk to the bathroom, get a Gillette razor blade from the gray
pack in my bathroom chest, and I hope Gregg has lots of love, and I say it
to Gregg as if he was really here, you are really a wonderful person and it
was so truly lovely knowing you and I want you to have a full good life, I
truly mean that, it all was worth it to get to know you for even a little
while.

 I pause a second. Force of habit. Can't stand them. I slap my right palm
onto a fly on the wall next to my mirror. Kill it instantly. I have always
been a champ at killing flies.

Then I continue. And I cut from left to right and open a little line of
blood in my throat, artery to artery, and then my hands wet with blood as I
look in my mirror the last time, I open my neck deeper and deeper..my blood
gushing down to gravity..I feel weak..it tickles..and I can't see very
well..I wish you had known, Gregg how deeply I adored you, when I had the
time, if I had been as courageous and filled with integrity like you are
and I always held you in my heart...


It was three days before the aroma from the apartment alerted enough
neighbors on the floor to call the super. The cops arrived bored to another
suicide, and one played idly the message on the message machine from
someone named Gregg, mean nasty message, told the poor dead guy in there to
go slice his throat, who after all wanted him? And ended up his tirade with
"Man, I wish I was a fly on the wall to see you do it." Shit, the cop
thought, people.

No one noticed the smushed fly on the wall by the mirror. The fly had
gotten covered in blood. But was too insensate to know it. Insects--don't
know how good they got it--totally oblivious to the human world round
them. Even when there is horror right next to them. They are oblivious.
Till they get zapped. Then they don't even feel pain or unconsciousness,
God, yep, they got it made.

This fly too. Maybe or maybe not.