JOURNAL ARCHIVE: Date: Mon, 6 Mar 2006 14:16:08 -0800 (PST)
From: "Kerry Burgess"
Subject: Re: Sleep journal 3/6/06
To: "Kerry Burgess"
Kerry Burgess wrote:
Damn I just realized this is comparable to when I couldn't get my future ex-wife to leave my house. This is a lot like that, only about a trillion times worse. When was that? 91 or 92? It wasn't long after I got out of the navy. I remember how much I wanted to get a place of my own and have some privacy. And she just would not leave when I wanted her to leave. I even got to the point of trying to call the police but she kept unplugging the phone. One time later she sat on my car so I couldn't drive off. One time I tried carrying her outside but she was a lot stronger than she looked and it would have been impossible to carry her out without hurting her so I gave up trying. I remember tricking her into going outside, I threw a picture of her out into the woods and she went out after it. God I don't miss any of that. But this is a trillion times worse. Why can't I just get some peace and quiet for a while where I can relax and not have to worry about stuff like starving and what ever else I have to worry about? It's not that starving really worries me, it is just not being able to live a normal life that bothers me. It doesn't matter where I go, you all are there, trying to provoke me I guess. I don't know what the hell you people want from me.
[JOURNAL ARCHIVE 6 March 2006 excerpt ends]
[ Bill Gates-Microsoft-Corbis-Nazi the cowardly International Terrorist Organization violently against the United States of America actively instigate insurrection and subversive activity against the United States of America with all Bill Gates-Microsoft-Corbis-Nazi staff partners contributors employees contractors lawyers managers of any capacity as severely treasonous criminal accomplices and that are active unlawful obstructions, combinations, or assemblages, or rebellion against the authority of the United States that actively make it impracticable to enforce the laws of the United States in the United States and in the Severely Treasonous and Criminally Rebellious State of Washington by the ordinary course of judicial proceedings ]
1994 television miniseries "The Stand" Disc 2 DVD video: [ RACKETEER INFLUENCED AND CORRUPT ORGANIZATIONS US Title 18 ]
00:40:06
Larry Underwood: You come here and you look right through my wife.
Nadine Cross: [ laughing ] Your wife?
Larry Underwood: Yeah, that's right. My wife. Don't you understand? It's too late. Do you understand that?
Nadine Cross: Yes. I suppose I do.
Larry Underwood: You work it out, Nadine.
Nadine Cross: [ laughing ]
http://www.e-reading.org.ua/bookreader.php/80261/King_-_The_Stand.html
Stephen King
The Stand - The Complete & Uncut Edition [ RACKETEER INFLUENCED AND CORRUPT ORGANIZATIONS US Title 18 ]
“Nadine,” Lucy was saying shakily, with one hand pressed to her chest. “You gave me the fright of my life. I thought… well, I don’t know what I thought.”
She took no notice of Lucy. “Can I talk to you?” she asked Larry.
“What? Now?” He looked sideways at Lucy, or thought he did… later he was never able to remember what Lucy had looked like in that moment. It was as if she had been eclipsed, but by a dark star rather than by a bright one.
“Now. It has to be now.”
“In the morning would—”
“It has to be now, Larry. Or never.”
He looked at Lucy again and this time he did see her, saw the resignation on her face as she looked from Larry to Nadine and back again. He saw the hurt.
“I’ll be right in, Lucy.”
“No you won’t,” she said dully. Tears had begun to sparkle in her eyes. “Oh no, I doubt it.”
“Ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes, ten years,” Lucy said. “She’s come to get you. Did you bring your dog collar and your muzzle, Nadine?”
For Nadine, Lucy Swann did not exist. Her eyes were fixed only on Larry, those dark, wide eyes. For Larry, they would always be the strangest, most beautiful eyes he had ever seen, the eyes that come back to you, calm and deep, when you’re hurt or in bad trouble or maybe just about out of your mind with grief.
“I’ll be in, Lucy,” he said automatically.
“She—”
“Go on.”
“Yes, I guess I will. She’s come. I’m dismissed.”
She ran up the steps, stumbling on the top one, regaining her balance, pulling the door open, closing it behind her with a slam, cutting off the sound of her sobs even as they started.
Nadine and Larry looked at each other for a long time as if entranced. This is how it happens, he thought. When you catch someone’s eyes across a room and never forget them, or see someone at the far end of a crowded subway platform that could have been your double, or hear a laugh on the street that could have been the laugh of the first girl you ever made love to—
But something in his mouth tasted so bitter.
“Let’s walk down to the corner and back,” Nadine said in a low voice. “Would you do that much?”
“I better go in to her. You picked one hell of a bad time to come here.”
“Please? Just down to the corner and back? If you want, I’ll get down on my knees and beg. If that’s what you want. Here. See?”
And to his horror she did get down on her knees, pulling her skirt up a little so she could do it, showing him her bare legs, making him curiously certain that everything else was bare as well. Why should he think that? He didn’t know. Her eyes were on him, making his head spin, and there was a sickening feeling of power involved here someplace, involved with having her on her knees before him, her mouth on a level with—
“Get up!” he said roughly. He took her hands and yanked her to her feet, trying not to see the way the skirt rode up even more before falling back into place; her thighs were the color of cream, that shade of white that is not pale and dead but vigorous and healthy and enticing.
“Come on,” he said, almost totally unnerved.
They walked west, in the direction of the mountains, which were a negative presence far ahead, triangular patches of darkness blotting out the stars that had come out after the rain. Walking toward those mountains at night always made him feel queerly uneasy but somehow adventurous, and now, with Nadine by his side, her hand resting lightly in the crook of his elbow, those feelings seemed heightened. He had always had vivid dreams, and three or four nights ago about those mountains; he had dreamed there were trolls in them, hideous creatures with bright green eyes, the oversized heads of hydrocephalic cretins, and short-fingered, powerful hands. Strangler’s hands. Idiot trolls, guarding the passes through the mountains. Waiting until his time came around—the time of the dark man.
A soft breeze meandered down the street, blowing papers before it. They passed King Sooper’s, a few shopping carts standing in the big parking lot like dead sentinels, making him think of the Lincoln Tunnel. There had been trolls in the Lincoln Tunnel. They had been dead, but that didn’t mean all the trolls in their new world were dead.
“It’s hard,” Nadine said, her voice still low. “She made it hard because she’s right. I want you now. And I’m afraid I’m too late. I want to stay here.”
“Nadine—”
“No! ” she said fiercely. “Let me finish. I want to stay here, can’t you understand that? And if we’re with each other, I’ll be able to. You’re my last chance,” she said, her voice breaking. “Joe’s gone now.”
“No, he hasn’t,” Larry said, feeling slow and stupid and bewildered. “We dropped him off at your place on the way home. Isn’t he there?”
“No. There’s a boy named Leo Rockway asleep in his bed.”
“What are you—”
“Listen,” she said. “Listen to me, can’t you listen? As long as I had Joe, I was all right. I could… be as strong as I had to be. But he doesn’t need me anymore. And I need to be needed.”
“He does need you!”
“Of course he does,” Nadine said, and Larry felt afraid again. She wasn’t talking about Leo anymore; he didn’t know who she was talking about. “He needs me. That’s what I’m afraid of. That’s why I came to you.” She stepped in front of him and looked up, her chin tilted. He could smell her secret clean scent, and he wanted her. But part of him turned back toward Lucy. That was the part of him he needed if he was going to make it here in Boulder. If he let it go and went with Nadine, they might as well slink out of Boulder tonight. It would be finished with him. The old Larry triumphant.
“I have to go home,” he said. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to work it out on your own, Nadine.” Work it out on your own —weren’t they the words he had been using to people in one form or another all his life? Why did they have to rise up this way when he knew he was right and still catch him, and twist in him, and make him doubt himself?
“Make love to me,” she said, and put her arms around his neck. She pressed her body against his and he knew by its looseness, its warmth and springiness, that he had been right, she was wearing the dress and that was all. Buck naked underneath, he thought, and thinking it excited him blackly.
“That’s all right, I can feel you,” she said, and began to wriggle against him—sideways, up and down, creating a delicious friction. “Make love to me and that will be the end of it. I’ll be safe. Safe. I’ll be safe.”
He reached up, and later he never knew how he was able to do that when he could have been inside her warmth in only three quick movements and one thrust, the way she wanted it, but somehow he reached up and unlocked her hands and pushed her away with such force that she stumbled and almost fell. A low moan came from her.
“Larry, if you knew—”
“Well, I don’t. Why don’t you try telling me instead of… of raping me?”
“Rape!” she repeated, laughing shrilly. “Oh, that’s funny! Oh, what you said! Me! Rape you! Oh, Larry!”
“Whatever you want from me, you could have had. You could have had it last week, or the week before. The week before that I asked you to take it. I wanted you to have it.”
“That was too soon,” she whispered.
“And now it’s too late,” he said, hating the brutal sound of his voice but unable to control it. He was still shaking all over from wanting her, how was he supposed to sound? “What are you gonna do; huh?”
“All right. Goodbye, Larry.”
She was turning away. In that instant she was more than Nadine, turning her back on him forever. She was the oral hygienist. She was Yvonne, with whom he had shared an apartment in L.A.—she had pissed him off and so he had just slipped into his boogie shoes, leaving her holding the lease. She was Rita Blakemoor.
Worst of all, she was his mother.
“Nadine?”
She didn’t turn around. She was a black shape distinguishable from other black shapes only when she crossed the street. Then she disappeared altogether against the black background of the mountains. He called her name once again and she didn’t answer. There was something terrifying in the way she had left him, the way she had just melted into that black backdrop.
