and i am starting out over ice - large nameless quiet friend

�7#j _jsssss�.�� [x�� 5* _s 5 % 5 5 _ 5 5 5 5 5 5and I am starting out over the ice. The lake is frozen. The lake is wide. It is covered with snow. I look around. A goose flaps by in slow motion, swiveling his head to look at me as he passes. There is something in that eye. It stares, not smiling. It is rich, brown, mottled like forest floor at the beginning of the trail. But I am not going to the beginning of the trail. I was there this morning. Now I am starting out over the ice. I only do one thing at once. The ice is a test to see whether you are enlightened, literally, or not. If you are too heavy, you will fall through. I take one step. I fall through. And now I am slipping through blackness. The water is slick. I can not hold on. I plummet. It is fun, at first. I flail my arms and sing. Bubbles come out my mouth and wobble back up toward the top. I will never know if they make it all the way, or what they will do if they get there. They are not mine any more. Maybe a dog will find one, take it in his teeth, and fling it around as if to break its neck. Then it will pop and he will look startled as he hears my voice singing, �Whiskey you�re the devil!� And now I am grabbing a man by the shoulders. I am begging him for another drink. I am getting in a truck with someone I don�t quite know. I am singing another song, badly, not because my voice is tired and cracked, which it is, but because I am not listening to the words I am singing. I do not even care. Now I am lurching over the street, after the other man and his girlfriend. Now we are all going up the stairs. I am the last one up. They did not wait for me, though they left the door open for me. Don�t think I did not notice this. And now I am pacing around. And now I am drinking a shot. And now I am uttering a curse. An oath. A toast. And now I am singing the same song again, again badly, this time because the girl wanted me to. She joins in for part of it. It is a weak duet, going nowhere. And now I am pacing. And now I am drinking something. And now I am watching her mail an email message to her ex boyfriend. And now I am resting my arm on her leg, kneeling beside her chair, and saying �Why don�t you use Eudora?� She doesn�t know. And now I am begging her to let me send a message to myself. She says okay as soon as I�m done. And now I am sitting on the floor singing with the two men. Next to them anyway. I am not listening to either of them, nor to myself. And now I am drinking something. And now I am gulping something. And now I am hoarding something. And now I am drinking something else. New half-empty bottles keep appearing in my hands, and I hoard them for as long as I can and then I pass them on and then they come back and it starts all over again. And now I am drinking something blue. It is the last bottle. The girl says you can send your message now, and I ignore her. And now she is sitting next to us. Next to me, anyway, the others have faded from my perception. And now I am rubbing her bare foot. I have no idea what it feels like to either of us. She does not say anything. She does not move away. And now I am kissing her foot. And now I am lurching outside, down the street. I am not cold, I am not hot, I am not sad, I am not happy. I am screaming at the top of my fucking lungs. I have no idea what I am saying. It tears out past my throat, and if I could hurt it would hurt. I scream and scream and scream and scream, and I have no idea what I am saying. I scream at the houses. I scream at the streets. I scream at the air. I scream at everything except people. And if there were any people, I do not know what I would do. I am amazed no one screamed at me. I am amazed they did not call the cops on me. Maybe they did. Still screaming, I kick over a trash can. I kick over something else, too. I do not know what it is. Still screaming, I punch several hard things, and if my knuckles could hurt they would hurt. I punch a window. I do not know where this window is. It is dark, smeary, and sadly rectangular. It sits there, looming, not staring out not staring in. It is a dingy, unbroken field of sadness, and I scream at it and punch it and then walk on. I am dimly aware that I pulled my punch just barely, just enough not to break the window. I go into my house and ignore my dog. I piss, knock a basket of toiletries off the back of the toilet, although I do not realize I have done this, ignore the messages on my machine, although I do not know whether I play them or not. I go to bed and go to sleep. And now I am pounding back out of the ice. It is cold. It is morning. I am sick. I am puking. I am sleeping. I am missing my date with the drummers. I am too sick to move or drum. I am cursing my stupidity. I have been planning this date for over a month, and now I am missing it. Because I am too stupid to move, let alone drum. I am sleeping. I am sleeping. I am sleeping. And now I am walking the dog. I cannot raise my head all the way up while I do this, because it hurts too much. And now a young girl comes out on her porch and says, �Does he bite?� and I say �No,� and she says, �Can we pet him?� and I say, �Sure.� Her parents come down the street, look at me suspiciously, and go into the house. The little girl and four or five other kids circle around my dog and start petting him and talking to him and laughing. He licks a little boy�s hand. The boy smiles. The boy smells his hand, laughs, and says, �He stinks!� Then I walk on, leading the dog with me. I sleep. I go to work. At work I play pathetic and almost leave, but decide to stay after all. And now I am walking away from the beginning of the trail. The forest floor is mottled, heady. I am walking down the hill toward the river. The snow is sailing all around my face. A crow flies by, in slow motion. He stares at me, not friendly. There is something in that eye. Something black, and shiny like the water under the ice. I nod at him. I am staring back. I am leaving crunchy footprints in the snow. I am coming to the river, u will do once they get there. They are not mine any more. Maybe a dog will find one, take it in his teeth, and fling it around as if to break its neck. Then it will pop and he will look startled as he hears my voice singing, �Whiskey you�re the devil!� And now I am grabbing a man by the shoulders. I am begging him for another drink. I am getting in a truck with someone I don�t quite know. I am singinjm�� @ /�jg��j��;� ��A-head�� 00��7 hx��pH$�@� ��jj��j��w��m j��U�� 7h�#�&p&q*�.�/-/�/�3�3�3�3�3�3�3�3�3�7�9�9�9�9�9�9�9�9�9�9�9�9�9�9�::::::::�;�?�HH�@�� Rt(��HHg `�'�� R=�/�� 8�B@H-:LaserWriter 300/LS �Century Schoolbook/�Georgia��.��](�