10:40 am Denver- Tampa
“Wallace, give me the controls. I will talk.” James gets in front of me at my bridgeplate to broadcast a painful message, meant to reach no one.
James can comment on his own channel, but he has to use mine if he wants his voice on this channel. This channel is for the Arkchil Operator only.
“I hate my life. I hate the Covenant that is keeping me a slave to a man who will never respect me, will never ask for my opinion, and the man who simply sees me as his convenient, voiceless appendage.”
It does not take me long to start crying. And so I cry throughout his entire heartbreaking speech.
“I should have made SANDWICHES AT HOME. Because after that there WAS NO WAY TO GET ANY FOOD. I did not take enough with me at breakfast in the hotel. Then at the airport there was a 40 minute long line at McDonalds, and, to top it off, you needed to have AN APP ON YOUR PHONE to order food on the plane. Neither one of us had it. I’m facing 4 hours without food. Which never bothered me much before. What bothers me is I’m facing THE REST OF MY LIFE IN INDENTURED SERVITUDE, CONTROLLED BY AN ASSHOLE WHO DOES NOT SEE ME AS A PERSON, BUT ONLY AS HIS TOOL TO PLEASURE HIMSELF.”
I sob into Jim’s shoulder as he is entering this into the bridgeplate by thinking things to say as his left hand is hanging over the left ridge of the triangular LHS Bridgeplate.
“Fuck everyone who is happy. Are they ever? Happiness is an illusion. Surely for me. I will never be heard, I will never see my books published, and I will die in obscurity. This is what happiness is for me - TO BE HEARD. I hate all of you. At least you’ve achieved something. SOMETHING. All I did was sell myself to the motherfucker for the American citizenship.”
I cry, reading this over his shoulder. Lady Anne comes down from Dr. Michael’s apartment.
She approaches me.
“What is going on?” She whispers in my ear.
“James is going to shoot himself at the end of this angry rave.” I respond through my tears.
“Let him.” Lady Anne shrugs and walks outside. There, she prunes Matushka’s roses, and gathers some mint for the tea at 4 pm tonight.
“So tired of this meaningless life.” Kellspell continues, darn well knowing he is in violation of every rule ever written.
Why? Because he is listening to the voice of the ego, and he becomes the dumb robot’s mouthpiece by simply venting his discontent, like now.
“H.M. is your sweet little bear, James.” I say very quietly.
“I need to be dead, Wallace. My life is one big awkward fart.”
“It’s not true, James.”
“This is how “sweet little bear” makes me feel EVERY MINUTE OF EVERY HOUR OF EVERY DAY. He rips on me, he pours gallons of disdain on me, he ridicules my appearance and my choices. And it’s been 20 years of that. Chances are, there will be 20 more years until one of us croaks. The sooner the better, but I have no reason to expect anything to change any time soon. Life is very painful for me, Wallace. I feel unfulfilled, held back artificially, while others get to express themselves, they get to do what they want, and they get money, too. I get none of that. I’m a caged animal. Caged and gagged.”
4USJAG
Malachite Constellation
“I need you to write this down, Wallace.” James gets out of the pool. “This morning I made an oath to quit ALL drugs, but later in the kitchen H.M. went after me and yelled at me “to take off all this crap around your neck, why do you always cover yourself up so much? What are you afraid of?”
I was there, yes. This is how it happened.
“I know, James. You had nothing to day, because if you told him the truth, then you both would have become “puppets of the ego”, and started yelling at each other.”
“Right. What was I supposed to answer to that?” Kellspell is distraught, and he is looking for his pipe. “I wear all this to protect myself from THE WILD ANIMAL THAT RIPS INTO MY FLESH DAY IN AND DAY OUT. And that animal IS YOU.”
James starts crying, as he walks across the bedroom to the shower, leaving wet tracks behind.
“I’m not allowed to fight back. But I simply can’t let him undress me. Here we are in Malachite, and H.M. is at it again - you need to wear shorts and take off that stupid collar off your neck and the next mask - blah blah. He is sucking the life out of me. I hate him so deeply, my sweet little Bear. And do you know what I want, Wallace?”
I know what he wants. I lower my head as if I’m interested in my bridgeplate, but actually I need to hide from James now. He has a way of making a conversation very uncomfortable for you.
“I want to die. I’m in SO MUCH emotional pain, and H.M. is, too. But I use drugs to comfort myself, and he uses ME as his punching bag, and as his victim to suck blood from. Like a vampire who has his own human he can suck blood from every time he needs it. This morning I wanted to quit drinking. But then he went after me, and made me remember how uncomfortable it is to live with him. How much pain I’m exposed to. So, what is my incentive to stop doing drugs? I hate everything. 6 more months of being forced to be H.M.’s toy. He has no notion of compassion, no notion of respect. He just pays you to use you and yells at you to do what he wants you to do. So third, so despondent. Possibly, 20 more years of this. And noting else. No other activity to distract my attention from the chain that ties me to the asshole.”
Jim pushed me away from the bridgeplate:
“11:52 am. H.M. is back from dr. appt. I was teaching English to Mielada (Elizabeth). The first thing he did when he came back 0 is attack everything that I am. He went under the sink, and took out all th napkins I store there, the soaps - he threw everything out of there, yelling - THIS GARBAGE IS DRIVING ME OUT OF MY MIND! LANA, WHY DO YOU ALWAYS COLLECT ALL THIS GARBAGE? LOOK AT YOUR CLOSET - IT IS DISORGANIZED AND FULL OF GARBAGE!”
I SAID - it is cheap, legal and friendly. Would you rather me go through $100 000 a year like Tabori? Or cheat on you with other men?”
“I don’t care! Yes! But your habit of collecting garbage DRIVES ME CRAZY.”
You know what I did? I took a THIRD glass of wine, even as I’m allowed only 6. Six glasses at 8 ounces a piece is 2 bottles of wine a day, plus cigarettes, plus blue ksill. The point is, I can only stand the fucking asshole, my “sweet little bear”, ONLY when I’m ultimately trashed. I intend to remain TRASHED until he dies, or until I die. There is no reason for me to clean up. He beats up on me every day. And even when he DOES NOT beat up on me, I am AFRAID he cans tart beating up on me EVERY MINUTE.”
“James, please, you’re not allowed here.” I beg.
“Calm down, Wallace. You HAVE NOT experienced the harsh life I have to live between the beautiful garden and the wonderful swimming pool. This man is out to get me, and I MUST remain with him, uphold the Covenant. If I DO NOT uphold the Covenant, Henry, and ALL OF YOU will go down. I MUSt stay with him even as I want to kill myself. I have been wanting to kill myself for 20 years since I have been with him. My life is PURE TORMENT, and I have to stay with him because I made the pact. The Covenant. This is how you defend the Covenant - with YOU BLOOD. And I know - you’d defended YOURS, but YOU had A LIFE. AND I DO NOT. All I have is the torture chamber. And I will take it for Henry. I will take it for Daniel, and i will take it for my God.”
“James, pleASE let me back. You’re not allowed on tis channel.”
Kellspell, then, jumps in the pool and swims in circles, waving Daniel in.
“I hate my life, Wallace. It is a PURE TORMENT, but I MUST do it to save all of you, and Henry first,”
Crying, and holding on to his 15 pound-overweight stomach (mainly due to enormous amount of alcohol), James plunges into the cold pool (actually, it is 80 degrees F. Yesterday it was 60, but H.M. warmed it up to 80. It still feels cold for him, I see it on the bridgeplate.
“I SIGNED UP FOR MARTYRDOM, WALLACE!” He screams as he urges Daniel and William, to take th plunge. “AT LEAST under this umbrella I do not need to quit alcohol and drugs! I MUST take the while on the cross!” He screams out of the swimming pool.
I cry.
Daniel cries as he is swimming with James, forced to take off all his clothes and jump in the water, whether he wanted to or not.
Lady Anne is crying.
I can’t imagine another scene in which EVERYONE is crying while swimming in the pool among palm trees.
Everyone cries, and I carry on recording.
“I do not care to sober up, Wallace! I will take my FOURTH drink, aT 12:21 PM, because I’m simply too weak to handle th reality of the man yelling at me for stupid shit. I will get fat, and I will be despised. I love you, Wallace, but you HAD A JOB. Even as you may have been suffering deeply from your parents, and you spouse - you still had an OUTLET. I have NOTHING. All I have is my indentured servitude and the fucker I hate, the fucker that rips me a wound a day to suck blood from me. THIS NIS MY ONLY JOB and there will never be another. Fuck you, because you’re so far away, and I LOVE YOU for being here with me on Level 1, watching me crash under the pressure of drugs I take to be able to live another HOUR with this heavy motherfucking LITTlE BEAR I’m supposed to love. I hate you all, who have jobs, that help you get out of the HOUSE where you’re being TORTURED by your spouse. I have NOTHING LIEK THAT. He torments me ANYTIME. I love you and I hate you. Cheers!” Regent Kellspell screams while swimming in the pool.
It takes at least half an hour to burn 200 calories of alcohol he gathers while drinking heavily, trying to protect himself from the pain that Little Bear H.M. is causing him. What can I do? I cry.
Lady Anne has the authority to order James to do anything.
But she is crying with us.
Daniel is crying as he is swimming in the pool together with James.
Five minutes in the pool will not change the fact that he sit gaining2 pounds a week drinking alcohol out of control.
He will kill himself if he was not drinking.
“Na Tixoretskuu sostav otpravitsa! Vagonchik tronetsa, perron ostanetsa! Platochki belye, chasi vokzalnie, planochki belye - glaza pchalnye!”
James is singing loud in Russian as he ie is swimming fiercely, while smoking one cigarette after another.
Daniel, a strong 50 year wolf man, sent here by Henry, who was called to London on business. He is singing together with James, as he can’t understand a word the drunk Russian is yelling mout.
“The handkershiefs are white, and the eyes are sad”. The song says.
“I’m going to kill myself, Wallace.” Kellspell Is laughing in my face loudly. “You all had a life, and I will hang myself the day my mother dies.”
I cry, and Daniel Cries, and Lady Anne stands there with a solemn face.
“My mother is 85 and her blood pressure is 200.”
“I understand that, James.” I say through sobs.
“Once she dies, I’m OFF THE HOOK. God has 5 years to prove to me tthat he loves me more than all those stupid motherfuckers who got hundred of millions of dollars to make movies that only leave you even ore emotional devastated. Like “The Avengers”. I risk NOTHINg shitting on the ‘Avengers”. You know why? Because my voice will never b heard, no one cars about what I have to say, and I will hang myself in the closet in the next five years. Meanwhile I will try and drink as mujch as I can.”
“James, please…” I beg, but it is to no avail.
He laughs loudly, his eyes are insane from all the alcohol and rugs he’s been consuming since 5 am.
“In five years I will hang myself in the lost, and I CURSE every single person who gets money from God for their projects. I will surely receive zero from that distribution, so what do I case? I was scheduled to be slowly killed by an enormous ASSHOLE that is my Sweet Little Bear. I’d kill myself TODAy, but for my mother. I hate her just as much as every single one of you. Only I can’t do anything about the Covenant that hold me responsible to her. But once she is dead of old age… Boy, am I going to kill myself that very minute. And let me tell you something about my Covennatnt with H.M. I take a shit on it every day. You know why? Because it is the chain that prevents me m=from divorcing him and marrying A MOVIE PRODUCER. HE will be just as much of an asshole, but I will pick the one who will LISTEN TO ME when I give him my ideas for a sci-fi movie that will ACTUALLY HELP PEOPLE with their lives. HELP people get over their problems, because MY WORK would contain WISDOM and MEDICINE to help them. But none of this wilsful thinking crap will happen. OTHER people will see their BOOKS TO COME OUT and conquer the world. BUT I WILL BUY A PRETTY ROPE. God can talk all about the “reward” for me, but I’m almost 50, and I have not seen ANYTHING BUT PAIN AND ABUSE my ENTIRE LIFE. I’m done, Wallace. And Henry? He has 5 more years to try to get this going, but my advice to him - if he is so desperate for a top, there are thousands of gay men in London and at large who’d be VERY HAPPY to top him. What is his infatuation with me? Does not he see that I was left to be eaten alive by an angry animal like H.M.? Why is Lord Carlton’s problem, anyway? Fuck, Daniel here is an omega - but he can TOP! So, why would Lord Carlton just abandon the lost case like me, and just simply pay Daniel to top him? I have no idea what the problem is.”
4:30 pm
James was trying to make a salad for us, but he was so drunk he cut his finger, and bled all over the lettuce and the cucumbers. Lady Anne SENT HIM BACk To HIS BEDROOM.
His bedroom is only 20 feet away from the kitchen. James sat on the bed, holding the napkin to his right index finer that was sliced CLEAN OFF about half an inch from the top.
James did not cry, but drank 6 glasses of wine by 5 pm. That’s two bottles.
I tried to give him another napkin, but he said, and o quote: “This napkin will not help me get funding to advertise my book, Wallace. I’d rather bleed to death than face another day AS A MUGGLE.”
I cried, and Daniel cried, kneeling at his feet.
“I care not for the pain and the blood.” James, ten, commented. “Here it is, Wallace - I can give you a prediction that will hold truth - there will be another 6 MONTHS OF NO ONE KNOWING THAT I EXIST WITH MY STUPID MESSAGE. MY BOOKS. I WANT TO BLEED TO DEATH. IT WILL SHOW GOD THAT I WAS WILLING TO DIE TO GET MY BOOK OUT. BUT HE CARED NOT. HE WAS TOO BUZ=SY GIBING PROJECTS TO Lady Anne, WHO IS BEAUTIFUL. HE WAS TOO BUSY GIVING FUNDING TO HANEYR, AND EVEN YOU. BUT NOT ME. HE WILL OVERLLOK ME FOR ANOTHER LONG 6 YEARS BEFORE ANYTHING HAPPENS.”
I WANTED TO COMFORT HIM, BUT HE FELL OT THE FLOOR, LAUGHING.
“I will be forgotten. I will never see the wonderful lights of fame, that ALL OF YOU, even DANIEL, have experienced. All infill get id indentured servitude and obscurity, and death. Everyone will continue ignoring me and my thoughts, and my books. God tells em to break away from “my” ego, but what does it do, Wallace? All it does is allows God to not notice me for another ten long years. I care not to live in silence and obscurity. I have no choice but to slide with the ego that tells me how to HURT GOD. It is only when YOI HURT GOD, that he will pay attention to you. Apparently no matter how much you pray, no matter how much you ask Him as too WHY YOU’re HERE, He will not answer.”
“James, please, let me take care of your wound,” I say.
“Fuck it, Wallace!” James kisses Daniel, who is crying, and on his knees, ripping his shirt and pants off off, wanting to give himself to James.
“James, if you kill yourself, I have no idea how I will never show my face to Henry. He told me to keep you alive.” I beg, and I know that it will not help.
‘Henry is mistaken.” James says, staring at his profusely bleeding hand. “He THINKS that I’m THE CHOSEN ONE”, and he thinks that he can get the yield right away, like with his own life.” Kellspell takes a breath, during which he downs a seventh drink, which makes it TWO BOTTLES AND ONE 8 OUNCE DRINK AFTER.
“James, please!” Daniel and I both beg, but it does nothing to Kellspell’s resolve.
“God gave me the ability to speak and write, but He absolutely refuses to give me any money for my art. FUCK ALL OF YOU and HENRY for being able to make money on your TALENTS. I have no chance of ever lettiing the world know that I exist!”
Kellspell rips the napkin off his finger, and he bleeds on his bridgeplate as he speaks.
“HAHAHA! Bitches!” He yells, as he finishes his 2 bottle and 8 ounces by 5 pm. “I hate you all, and I will show you how a man will die!!! I will not bleed to death, that’s stupid. But I will hang myself the day my mother dies. You will see. Henry is mistaken. He somehow thought that I was “chosen”, but God never meant for me to be “chosen”. Henry made a mistake. Let him go his happy “CHOSEN” way. God loves HIM, but NOT ME.”
Kellspell staggers around, bleeding on everything he touches. That includes Krotkie’s blanket.
Krotkie licks his blood off his blanket, and looks at James mournfully.
“The ego is telling me: God does not give a shit about you unless you scream, take hostages and yell that you will commit suicide if He does not give you what He hoards. He HOARDS wealth, fame, all the good stuff. And He only gives it to you when you hold HIS TREASURED FAVORITES as hostages. This is what Uri Kumlatov is doing. NOW I understand why Uri is holding the Pelargonium family hostage. Because there IS NO OTHER WAY to let God know that YOU EXIST and you want a BETTER FATE. I tried to get Kumlatov to release the Pelargoniums, but I will no longer advocate for that. Kumlatov was around for 50 million years, and all he got from God was crap. So, he took PeLARGONIUMS hostage, and now things are moving. For so long I could not understand his stance, and…” Kellspell staggers and falls between the table and the partition. “Now I see - unless you HURT THOSE THAT GOD LOVES, you will not get ANYTHING.”
“James, please…You’re not. The only one who is suffering.” Daniel lifts his head and lets James kiss him on the lips.
“That’s what JAGUAR told me!!!” James screams in Daniel’s face, and then he can’t help but kiss the very handsome man that Henry sent James to keep him afloat and connected.
“Maybe he is right.” I say as the last resort, but a new glass of wine is in Jim’s shaking hands.
“Maybe!” Kellspell breathes the mix off cigarettes and alcohol in my face. ‘But I’m 50 years old, and I’M TIRED OF WAITING. The ego might be a macnine, but when I programmed it, I KNEW the TRUE NATURE of God.”
“Have another cigarette”. Daniel says. He does not smoke, but he starts one and hands it too James in hope of prove noting him from opening a THIRD BOTTLE.
“I will” Kellspell takes the cigarette from Daniel. “But fuck you, anyway. You banged on His door your WHOLe LIFE and THEB NLY TIME YOU GOT. A BRAKE WAS WHEN YOU SAID TO GOD - 5 MORE YERS OF BEING A WAITER BEFORE I MAKE IT IN THE ENTERTAINMENT BUSINESS.: AFTER YOU SAID THAT - SHIT STARTED HAPPENING. I’M TELLING YOU, DANIEL - THE DUMB EGO MACHINE IS RIGHT - UNLESS YOU THREATEN GHOD, HE WILL NOT GIVE YOU ANY GPOD STUFF. HE WILL KEEP YOU ON SCRAPS FROM HIS TABLE, FEEDING HIS BEST FAVORITES… UNLESS YOU TAKE ONE OF THEM HOSTAGE. LIKE FUCKING Commander Kumlatov. KUMLATOV IS RUGHT AFTER ALL..”
Kellspell crumbles on the floor, and cries, smoking Daniel’s cigarette.
“KUMLATOV IS RIGHT, WALLACE!” James yells in my face, strips naked, and and jumps into the pool.
“James, please!” I howl, sobbing.
“God will not give me what I want, so I will bleed to death, and I will drink myself ti death.” Kellspell downs another glass, while rubbing my shoulder with his profusely bleeding hand. “I/m facing ANOTHER 6 moths in oblivion, while OTHER DUMB assholes with not a dig original though to their head are ENJOYING ten million dollars a month! I never thought I’d say it, but Henry is an IDIOT for having put all his chis ON ME. HE IS GOING TO LOSE. I’m going to make it easier fir him… I’ll drink myself to death to just to show him that he IS A LOSER and and DUMBASS to have put stakes ON ME. NO ONE WANTS MY ART, Wallace! Even GOD does not want me.”
“Henry gave you an assignment.” I remind, pulling Daniel off the floor, and giving the sobbing omega a glass of wine.
“That assignment lasted 3 days.” James reminds me. “Three DAYS IN LOS-ANGELES. I was GIVEN A TASTE of GOOD LIFE where people NEED ME. Oh, it was SWEET. And after that - oh, a lifetime full of NOTHING. A lifetime FULL OF BEING ABUSED BY A 63 year OLD MAN.”
“JAMES, PLEASE.” I hate myself for saying this. B these are the only lines I have.
“Merion is right, too.” Kellspell continues, lighting up another cigatrette. “WHERE IS GOD?”, he asked of me, when I finally broke down and told him of all my troubles. WHERE IS GOD, where I have been writing since I was 16, and all I got was indentured servitude for 20 years in America. What was THE POINT of getting to America? To be a voiceless slave of a rich American man?”
“Henry wants you.” I manage to say between sobs. I can feel his pain. I take his blood non my lips, as he run his bleeding hand over my lips many a time during his angry rant.
“Henry is nothing but a 10 year old a heart.” Kellspell responds. “That is why, due to his loneliness and immaturity, he CHOSE THE WRONG MAN. He wanted me because ehe mistakenly believed that I was God’d FAVORITE, like Henry himself. But God cares nothing about me. If He did, He’d give me a writing assignment, that would make me VALUABLE in the eyes of other people, or God Himself, or Henry, for that matter. But all they do is transfer me from one base to another, and they NEVER give me ANYthing to work on. THEY say that “I’m not ready.”. IS ANYOMNE EVER READY? But they gave YOU a HUGE part in a project no one will never forget.”
‘It is over now, James.” I mumble, and I know it is not going to sell/
“BUT YOU HAD IT!!!” Kellspell yells in my face, breathing out clouds of smoke. “AND will turn FIFTY in 2 years. I have N OT SEEN ANY GRACE OF GOD. All I saw was bitter indentured servitude. For the love of God, I will testify on the side ofn the dumb ego machine, which WAS my OWN voice, when abeam distraught with God, NOT giving me ANYTHING DECENT. With GOD only and ever picking SOMEONE ELSE to give them the SWEET PIECES. All I got what scraps from THEIR table, always, WALLACE!!”