Newspaper Page Text
Page 12
., Flagpole^Magazine
ebruary 28,
The Diamond Thief
Part VI: The City Life
“When I came to, ! was lying on a floor. Confetti, overturned
chairs and empty beer bottles surrounded me. My head was throb
bing. As I sat up and felt my head, I noticed the wooden bar and the
man and woman standing behind it. She said something but he
shook his head as if he wasn’t listening to her. I didn’t remember
either of them. I didn’t know where I was.
As I tried to stand, I reached the nearest table to balance myself.
The table tipped over. Glasses and beer bottles broke. The sound
was what was horrible. I knew it was horrible because when the
glass hit the floor the man charged into another room.
The blonde, she was immediately at my side, pulling me up from
where I’d fallen again.
‘You better get out of here,’ she said. 'Clyde’s gone to get his
baseball bat and he’s thinking about smashing your face with it.’
Nothing was making sense. I began to wonder what I had done.
‘Look,’ she said as she tugged me toward the door, 'His wife is
obsessed with you. She’s got your photos all over their kitchen
walls. It’s stupid. She keeps trying to get Clyde to dress like you.
Her name’s Vanessa. She bakes Venus cakes all the time.’
As she was opening the club’s door, we heard a bellowing from
Clyde. 'Simone! Where is he?’
‘Run,’ she said and pushed me out onto the sidewalk.
The door slammed shut I stepped back and saw the red neon
sign proclaiming SA1 URN. Saturn? Vanessa? Photos? What pho
tos? Did I know these people? I watched as the red neon blinked
off. To stop shaking I started kicking the outside wall of Saturn.
Across the street I heard another voice. 'Hey, stop kicking that wall.
It didn’t do anything to you.' I turned around to find another woman.
She was sitting in an open window, smoking and twisting her hair
with her fingers. I yelled,‘What?’ She leaned out of the window and
squinted her eyes. 'Oh, it’s you.’ Me? What was that supposed to
mean? I told her I didn’t know what was going on and she said sure
you do, your face is everywhere. When I asked her what she was
talking about, I was screaming. 'You are an asshole,’she’d said. 'It
figures.' She left the window, closed it, looked at me and locked it
with a flourish. I was frightened. I could not remember anything.
These people I didn’t recognize were telling me things about myself
and nothing was fitting together.
I fled, a furious gsn^’fuTIowing me down the streets. Sheets of
newspapers whipped by in the wind. My tie kept slapping me in the
face. Vine. East 32nd. Waddell. Street names I came across for
streets as foreign as my confusion. I gave up on finding a place I
knew. It wasn’t going to happen. God knows what time it was.
Nothing was open. Every place had closed and no one was in sight.
I was almost in hysterics when I spotted the train station. As soon
as I was inside, the waves of heat overwhelmed me. Someone had
left the heat on too long and the air was stifling. An old lady was
sitting on the front pew leafing through left — behind magazines.
She was wearing a sleeveless blue blouse and chewing gum.
'It’s so hot in here, I had to take off my coat and sweater,’ she said
as I fell into the front pew. I told her, yes, it was. I asked her for the
time. She pointed to the clock above the front doors. 5 A.M.
'If you’re taking the train to New Hope,' she’d begun, 'it’s not
going to arrive for another hour or so. Come to think of it, I’ve never
ridden a train that’s arrived on time. What the hell, I figure. As long
as you get where you’re going. I’ve never been uptight. But my
mother was. I could tell you some stories about her.’
I smiled as politely as I could, then rubbed my eyes. I took off my
coat and rolled my shirt sleeves to my elbows. The lady removed
her glasses and looked at me. I looked at her and she closed the
magazine she was holding with embarrassment. 'You like the city
life?’ she asked. I told her something like living in the city was
thrilling, it made me feel delirious. 'It’s so captivating, it can make
you forget who you are,’ I’d said. We laughed ourselves into a lull.
I found a Vanity Fair in the stack of magazines and turned the
pages siowly What flying genius. I was blocking my problem out
looking at the celebrities and gourmet recipes when I turned a page
too soon. There, in living color was a guy sitting on his front porch
in his pajamas at dawn and he looked like me. He was me. His name
was Duncan Neel. In capital letters.
The lady turned to me and said, 'What s the matter, dear? You
look as if you’ve seen a qhost.’ A , w
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CUNT SAND
JAYHAVES
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R0ULFVABD OF BROKEN DRFANS
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HOTINC TARCFTS
RINC MISSILE
MIRACLE WORKERS
ANTONT’S SLUES COMP.
TIFT MICNT RE CIAXTS
ILICCEE I07S
FIAT DOC JETS
SILOS
MEDIUM
TALL TALES AND TRUP
MIRIAM MAKESA
CLARENCE CATEHDUTH RRCVN
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JOHNNY ADAMS
JFT SLACK FACTORY
REVN KINNEY
SOULS I DP
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HYPNOTICS
WINDARfANEIS
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HENRY KAISER
FRANK TOVEY
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PHILLIP WALKER
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LOUNCC LIZARDS
VERLAINES
CRISPIN CLOVER
CHICKEN SCRATCH
VISHNIAKS
Liorr
RO POLLIS AND TIP MACHOLIAS
DEL AMIRI
LAVA LOVE
WRECK
THE FALL
RLVF AEROPLANES
SILPNCFKS
MEAT riat manifesto
WOODY CVYHRIE COMP.
FUNDAMENTALS
DAS DAMPN
JOHN MARTfOtO
MOUSE or FREAKS
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skinny ruppY
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JOHN KRVTN
PIIRL1C ENEMY
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DON DIXON
ANSON PUDKRRURCH
REMP SPED
DILLON PENCE
DOUBTS KVPN HE»P
RJ COLE
NKON JUDCPMPNT
MAEEVMO
PROOF OP UTAH
TARO LIT
ALL ABOUT EVP
MATT WILLSON PIPER
SN0C1N DANE
MACHINE CUN
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RATTLE OP THE SU CLARKE *
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LOTION
ELLIS AND CUINN
ROOSEVELT
RIC fISN ENSEMBLE
TRENCHCOAT CLUB
STATE OP TNP UNION
PACAN RITUAL
ROOT riCTRIC
BEAST PENIS
NATHAN SHEPPARD
HIND LEMON PIC
MODERNS
JCHINTT MUNDANE
TWNfr THOMPSON
EARN! AND THE RUtCOOS
SMASH FANTASTIC
OLACON LUNCHBOX
LIQUOR CABINET
JEAN’S PLAT RACE
•RYAN AND THE COOKS
SILLB1LLIKS
PIVE-EICNT
macister LUDI
CONE PONIES
ACC OP RADIO
VIC VARNFT
TIME TON
LOTUS-CATERS
VIOLETS
SET C1TT
RKNJI K.
PRETTY TINY BULLIES
CIORCK VEST
THE PICS
THE HOOT
Hootenanny n., 1. An informal
performance by folk singers,
typically with participation by
the audience
March 5
8:30 pm
First Monday of each month
at the
ROCKFISH
no cover charge
Spmtnrtd By Th Afhnu htit Mum
And [Mnrt Smttty