Читать книгу Hidden Wheel - Michael T. Fournier - Страница 6
ОглавлениеChapter Two
There was all that Louis broke up with the girl this is before Coxswain he dragged home this huge trashbag all points I said what’s all this he said I don’t know let’s see so he went over to the stereo opened the bag and pulled out a disc cover like a rainbow with all this writing on it I couldn’t read. These were in the dumpster in back of the video store he said the place the chinks went to he always said that chinks but liked them okay. Funny word to say. Chinks. Chinkschinkschinks. Haha. He put a disc in the CD player nothing happened hey dummy I said didn’t you get those from the video store he put one in the DVD player1 these dark words came onscreen after a title page filled themselves in with light we both got it the same time laughed Louis tried to sing along even though he didn’t know the song can’t read Korean we sat there watched them all scanned at least hoping for some porn but nothing most had like twenty songs2 so after a few hours we had some favorites but not enough to save really just one or two for the next time there was a party and we wanted everyone to leave I guess Louis didn’t want to throw them out so after I went to bed he took the bag down to the basement.
I lived at Dovestail for ten years found the place when I was moving to the city after college didn’t know what else to do the landlords call it a coach house except it’s hard to understand what they’re saying their accents are so thick this little house three rooms kitchen bathroom basement which apparently is soundproof somehow even though they live in the main house like twenty feet away because man we have had some ragers Pee Valves played three or four times Louis stomping around. Stomp stomp stomp! They never said anything we even had Bitchslap play once not a word from them nice people let us pay the rent like two weeks late give us weird vegetables from the garden no sunlight through the fog but they grew three-foot long squash no problem. Bernie used to have Stonecipher practices down there before he moved into Nine Northbrook with Amy and the rest of them to save money all these I guess they’re called heads the things on the top of his drums like targets all the hits centered in clusters a broken kick pedal other drum gear from him a workbench stereo speakers TVs basically a giant pile of shit pushed into the corner so of course Louis is going to take the karaoke bag down there Dovestail’s basement where stuff goes to die I noticed the bag while I was painting or trying to the other side of the plywood with my cans should’ve gone outside but if cops drove by they’d see me be like that guy must write graf then they’d realize who I was they’d search the place even though I burned the notebooks I must’ve missed something some practice board in the pile I’d get thrown in jail. I opened all the windows it didn’t help much I still got pretty high was like whoah my foot kicked the plastic bag and there must have been a hole the disc cases came spilling out.
* * *
It was only a matter of time before people began making suggestions about the space.
In storage he had lumber, paint, and the PA he bought when Lounge Ax3 closed.
He waited.
* * *
Lewis Brinkman: O’Keefe and Schwartz were very good players. But Luna and Sven were exceptional.
Lou Schwartz: I lost right away. Luna took longer. A year?
Ralph O’Keefe: I have a hard time remembering dates. She seemed a lot bigger when she beat Luna. Her tits were getting big.
Luna Vallejo: I think it was around her twelfth birthday. I remember trying to talk to her about woman issues. She didn’t want to talk to me.
Lou Schwartz: Towards the end she’d try ‘The Grand Slam’: beat each of us, in order. Rubbing our faces in it. She was almost done with high school by the time she could get all the way up to Brinkman.
Ralph O’Keefe: She did the Grand Slam a few times, before she quit. What a bitch. Thinking she was so much better than us.
Rhonda Barrett: I didn’t beat Brinkman until I was in high school.
Luna Vallejo: By the end, she took almost as long per game as Sven.I could’ve told her how to play fast and precise.
Sven Gunsen: When I learned to play, I found that I could see the possibilities unfold for each piece. My mind conjures up a film of the game being played and presents all the options, like a slow-motion shot in a sporting event. The options move quickly, but there are many.
Lewis Brinkman: Her early games were fast, win or lose. I helped her develop strategies as she worked through O’Keefe and Schwartz. Her pacing was largely dependent on distinguishing the near future from the endgame.
Sven Gunsen: Each piece that she moved revealed more latent possibilities—what Brinkman referred to as nexus points. As a young girl, she did not have the patience to wade through all the options. Later, as he worked more closely with her, she developed separation techniques.
Stan Barrett: Lewis told me to take her to the EyeWizard cart at the mall.
Lewis Brinkman: EyeWizard posters appeared to be fields of visual noise. When looked at in a certain relaxed way, 3D images appeared from the mist.
Stan Barrett: I thought the idea seemed silly, but we tried it.
Lou Schwartz: Her game changed right away. She made sure to tell us all about it.
Lewis Brinkman: The posters invite a certain relaxation of the eyes. Trying too hard to see what’s hidden inside always yields the same negligible result.
Stan Barrett: We went to the kiosk at the mall. Rhonda stared for ten or fifteen minutes, then started crying.
Lewis Brinkman: She was staring at the posters. The trick is to stare through them.
Rhonda Barrett: My father told me to pretend the poster wasn’t there. I didn’t understand what he meant.
Stan Barrett: I told her to pretend the poster was a window.
Lou Schwartz: The night they bought the poster they came back to Le Petit Chapeau. I wasn’t there, thank God.
Lewis Brinkman: It was past eight.
Luna Vallejo: All she could talk about was Mighty Ike.
Rhonda Barrett: When I looked through the poster like it was a window I saw a smiling gorilla holding a banana floating in front of me.
Lewis Brinkman: When she looked at the board in that same way, the near future and the later part of the game separated into two components.
Lou Schwartz: I heard the game that night took forever. Her talking through the whole thing.
Lewis Brinkman: She learned a new skill, and was happy about it, so she used it too often at first.
Sven Gunsen: The games took as long as mine did.
Rhonda Barrett: Brinkman introduced a timer into our games. I used (the sight) less after that.
* * *
After the Dingo depressed walked down to the river mist mixing with fog buildings on the other side in and out of focus Louis called vibration in my pocket did I want to go out I’ll be home in a while I said maybe we can sing Korean together he laughed hung up I stood there holding my phone. Clearings windows through fog bending the light mist haloes wait a minute I thought this is the next thing this and the bag in the basement.
* * *
I squeezed behind my kit.
THWACKzzzzzzzzzzz.
THWACKzzzzzzzzzzzz.
THWACKzzzzzzzzzzzz.
It wasn’t so bad.
Yes it was.
If we ever record the flaws will be evident, the way the snare rattles with each hit, the crack in my ride humming. But we have no plans to record any time soon. We can’t afford it.
I couldn’t concentrate during reading time. I walked down to Sheik. The kit I wanted was in the window.
My hand went to my nose, where the break healed badly.
I stood and looked in.
* * *
Lewis Brinkman: She stopped playing for about six months when her mother died. Over the years I wondered what would take her away from us—learning to drive, maybe. Or sports. When she lost her mother I thought she was finished. We were all so happy to see her return.
Luna Vallejo: When she came back it seemed that she had aged ten years. I told her she could confide in me. She never did.
Sven Gunsen: She always looked tired.
Lou Schwartz: She did a lot of growing during that time, too.
Ralph O’Keefe: She filled out. Tits, ass.
Luna Vallejo: Rhonda used to turns heads when she played, but because she was little. That changed. I don’t think she handled it well. I could’ve told her how to cope with the change better.
Lou Schwartz: Her father stopped coming at just the wrong time.
Stan Barrett: I thought she could use the space.
Lewis Brinkman: She was always very determined, but when she returned there was an edge to her play that hadn’t been there before.
Ralph O’Keefe: She stopped talking so much when she played.
Rhonda Barrett: I tried to use (chess) as therapy after my mother died. But it was becoming joyless.
* * *
Stonecipher’s PalCorral page boasted two horribly recorded songs and eight thousand hits. The traffic surprised Ben until he read the biographical information: Amy Czjdeki had been the bass player for Dead Trend during their reunion tour, eschewing the Buddhist rap-metal material of their last iteration in favor of their hardcore hits.
He listened to the demos over and over again, alternately intrigued and disgusted. The recordings were consistent with his live experience: growls punctuated by random utterances, a low bass rumble, sloppy drumming around the beat.
Pee Valves, their page said, split. He followed links to new pages and understood the schizophrenia of their Dingo show: half of the act had morphed into a lurching, off-time marathon playing songs about sharks and sailors. The other played straight-ahead pop celebrating summer and youth behind a wave of feedback. But both bands were playing at Kensington. Festival of Hamburgers, the pop band, were driving to Chicago after the show to record a demo.
Ben felt a bemused inevitability upon entering the Kensington’s basement. The showgoers were largely the same people who had attended the Dingo Concert Series. He had been horribly mistaken in his move if this was all Freedom Springs had to offer. 4
He went outside.
Through the fog, he saw someone moving between lampposts. Ben became aware of a strong odor, like gasoline, which grew in intensity as the figure drew closer. The first recognizable feature to emerge from the mist was a torn jacket, pastel.
Max, Ben said. What’s that smell?
Okay, Max said, smiling, you got me. He removed a giant marker from his pocket.
I didn’t know you did graffiti.
Graffiti my ass, Max said. Mizst is an artist.
Can I ask Max something?
Max laughed. Sure.
Why don’t more people come to these shows?
No publicity, Ben said. Katie’s a great artist, and she does these flyers—have you seen them?
No.
Black-and-white ink drawings, like cartoons but fucked up. Anyway, she does those, but people aren’t looking to lampposts for shows anymore. They’re online, and no one in this town seems to care.
But you use lampposts.
Because no one else uses them, he said. Besides, they’re advertisements for my walls.
There’s PalCorral, Ben said.
Unless you’re down with one of these bands you’re never going to find out. Gotta write your name in as many places as you can so people know what to look for.
I wish there was a space dedicated to art, Ben said.
For serious. People could always go to one place instead of going from JR’s to Kensington to the Dingo.
Ben and Max descended the stairs to the basement. Amy said ‘check’ into the microphone. Bernie hit the snare, fiddled with a knob on the side, hit, fiddled, hit, fiddled. Each hit yielded buzz.
Ben thought about Max, writing his name on lampposts.
Amy and Bernie finished their check.
We’re Stonecipher, Amy said. This is Coxswain’s first show. Festival of Hamburgers, too. And we’re opening. Life’s a bitch. Fucking GO!
Amy’s bass grumbled under the no-beat thump of Bernie’s drums.
Secretaries, Amy shouted. Nurse’s aides. Arglbl. Gah. GODDAMN ROLLERBLADES. Arggh. Beh!
A realization slowly dawned on Ben: they practiced this music. He recognized their mess as one of the online songs. Stonecipher had a trajectory somehow, a clear blueprint they followed, known perhaps only to them. Bernie, behind the kit, flailed away, dressed in all grey, looked up every few moments to grin at Amy, who turned towards the kit when she wasn’t mumbling into the microphone. They must have amazing sex after shows, Ben thought, the way they communicate without speaking.
The thirty or so people at the show nodded their heads, trying to approximate where the beat might be. Could they hear something he couldn’t? Feel something? Ben realized his interest in Stonecipher was half academic—how did they decide to do what they were doing? Why?—and half voyeuristic, like paying a few dollars to see the world’s largest legged snake at a state fair. Being swindled was part of the fun. He wasn’t sure if he was the legged snake, or if the band was.
He didn’t think there was any money in them.
* * *
Every night after the Dingo I walked past the back of the video store to see if they dumped any more videos they did it was DVD cases5 big black plastic I tried them they were okay but went into the basement pile practice I wanted everything to look the same. I didn’t know if the DVD store would ever have the CD size again. Stupid. No one buys music any more or even keeps it. Downloads. I didn’t want to wait to get more though so I just used what I had kept my eye open dumped the files onto my laptop blew them up to case size on the monitor the distortion of getting something so small so big made me see things different tried it out with cans first too hard couldn’t control or get intricate got a brush from Leo Hamburgers at the art supply store. Ever use him?
Use him?
Leo’s the sweet fucking hookup man hates his boss doesn’t give a fuck just gives the shit away if you ever need anything he’ll just give it to you.
I never did that.
What was I talking about?
Painting CD cases with a brush.
Right! I tried spraying and brush mixing didn’t work wasn’t meant for that I had to get tubes not cans went back I tried not to overdo it found two colors purple and this weird yellow I thought were good Leo told me to get more didn’t whisper just said it get more I was like okay got two more he put a closed sign on his register the people in line behind me sighed grumbled said come on walked to the paint section threw like ten more tubes in my basket big tubes this is what you want he said. I was like what’s so great about this stuff? Sateen DuraLuxe is a new brand of paint they sent us boxes and boxes of it to sell no one will even notice it’s gone know what he said fuck it put all this stuff back and meet me in the alley so I did walked out through the front door people still standing in line at his register I was like haha! Suckers! I got the hookup! then around the building to the back the door opened he handed me bags and bags What are you working on he said I told him it was a secret he smiled said like your Faze tags I said shut up man you never know who’s listening in an art supply store cops.
* * *
I AM TIRED OF BOOKS. I AM TIRED OF PEOPLE WHO WORK EXCLUSIVELY WITH AND IN THEIR HEADS. I NEED TO FIND WORK WHICH IS MORE PHYSICAL. I WILL DEVELOP ALL ASPECTS OF MYSELF: MIND, BODY, SOUL. I WILL NOT BE CONSUMED BY MACHINES. I WILL FIGHT. I WILL PROVIDE AN EXAMPLE THROUGH MY BEHAVIOR. SOMEHOW.6
* * *
The servers became his most lucrative investment: everyone, no matter their vocation, needed to be online. He installed one hundred terabytes7 of space in the room adjacent to his office. But he still dealt.
* * *
Sven Gunsen: As she grew, I waited for her to start talking about the latest pop bands she liked. That never happened.
Lewis Brinkman: I asked her about music when she got to the right age—twelve or so. She had remarkably adult-sounding tastes.
Rhonda Barrett: Rachmaninoff and Shostakovich were my favorites.
Luna Vallejo: She didn’t seem to watch any sports on TV or listen to music. I follow music.
Stan Barrett: Rhonda photocopied a picture of Baryshnikov from a newspaper and hung it on her wall. On a later trip, she photocopied Susan B. Anthony from a library book.
Ralph O’Keefe: Thank God she never talked to us about music. It hasn’t been the same since the Sixties.
Lou Schwartz: She talked to us about the grandmaster matches. Those we were happy to talk to her about.
Lewis Brinkman: She was fascinated by Zaitsev vs. Zoltov.
Sven Gunsen: Had the internet existed during that time, she might have watched the games unfold in real time. How good that would have been for her!
Luna Vallejo: She asked us about the coverage of previous tournaments. We all remembered Bobby Fischer. She was aghast that we didn’t know any of the rest.
Lewis Brinkman: She rooted for Zaitsev, of course. How could she not? He was innovative, young, attractive.
Sven Gunsen: Zoltov was us.
Lou Schwartz: By then, she had beaten all of us but Brinkman. She just had him to beat, then she’d be on her merry way to beat businessmen senseless, or whatever it is she did. Or does.
Lewis Brinkman: I lost my first game to her near the conclusion of that tournament.
Ralph O’Keefe: We all knew it was coming. We just didn’t know when. Personally, I couldn’t wait. After all those years of diddling her, how would he react?
Luna Vallejo: I had never seen her so happy in her life.
Lewis Brinkman: There were several games prior which I felt lucky to have won.
Sven Gunsen: I was happy for her.
Lou Schwartz: I thought maybe she’d leave, finally.
Lewis Brinkman: Of course I was happy. How could I not be? She was so gifted.
Luna Vallejo: After she beat Brinkman, she began to talk about playing Zaitsev.
Lou Schwartz: The top of the heap at Le Petit Chapeau wasn’t enough for her. Good riddance, then.
Sven Gunsen: She began to play in regional tournaments. She did quite well.
Ralph O’Keefe: Suddenly she was gone.
Lewis Brinkman: She still visited, of course, but it wasn’t the same.
Luna Vallejo: I renewed my membership in the chess society so I could follow her in the newsletter standings.
Lewis Brinkman: Her ranking rose steadily.
Ralph O’Keefe: I missed her tits.
Stan Barrett: She hung a photocopy of Zaitsev’s face in her room and drew a target around it.
* * *
Then it was like okay how do I do this tags people see my walls CD cases? No idea. Drill in the pile worked okay used to know someone at the hardware store from some Dovestail party maybe they weren’t there no hookup I had to buy screws bolts did one hole at first in the center I started smashing the bolts at the end ruining thread they’d stay on the lamppost. People were taking them down which I hope is because they knew before everyone else that I was the man but I wanted people to see them different people every day. Then it was two holes top and bottom. Had to find spots ahead of time. Planning ahead and shit. Measured post screwholes in my notebook used to be full of tags just dots spaces. Not many river poles a few I found them took pictures blew em up did the work put it up. Those never got smashed or stolen. When I noticed I started looking for the poles first.
I thought that would be it find the best pole go from there but Ben told me—
How did you meet him?
Ben? I met him at the Dingo come on man you remember it was—
For the recorder.
Damn I talk it’s like we’re just having a conversation talking the good old days.
I know.
The Dingo there was one show there you guys sorry Stonecipher and Pee Valves before they split there was this guy there who gave me shit about my jacket so I punched a motherfucker in the face remember that during Pee Valves’ set.
How did you meet Ben?
He tried to deal to me before the show said he liked my outfit except that guy he was always using those big words that shoulda been our tipoff but no one cared because he had Hidden Wheel and good shit if you were into it he must’ve thought I was because of my Velcro or something Louis Maddie Eli Katie shit Amy still smokes tons you ever smoke any of that?
Not since college. Did you?
I don’t know he asked if I wanted to buy some weed I said no. Kids smoking weed to be like me all I need is a little coffee. Hahaha.
You were talking about Hidden Wheel before I stopped you.
Yeah Ben told me Hidden Wheel music and art I had to be the first artist plus a lady he knew. Serious street art he said represents the people but the people it represents don’t always realize it something like that big words so yeah art show. My stuff on walls except hung there legal as much or little as you want he said of your past when you do it. I said I’ll think about it in the back of my mind it’s starting to get warm messengers starting to come out I had to get all the finishing touches on my new look look fresh for the opening. Find some fly.
* * *
I punched in the new passcode. Did they have a different four-digit number for every step of the process? I wondered if all the entries and exits were being downloaded to a mainframe somewhere.
No one was at the reception window when I arrived. Beyond the sliding glass pane was what looked to be the very corner of a huge space.
There was a gizmo that looked like a cross between a phone and a torture device on the left side of the window ledge—a series of tiny prongs next to a numeric keypad, and two metal flanges jutting out below. On the right was a black plastic three-ring binder which barely contained stacks of laminate. And the “ring for service bell.” I obliged.
The overweight Asian appeared at the window. She sent me back to the waiting area.
I settled on a three month old news magazine. The plant in the corner, I decided, was probably fake.
A guy appeared, a few years younger than me, probably. An argyle sweatervest over an oxford shirt, and chinos creased severely enough to slice. Hair, heavy with product, that looked simultaneously well-groomed and messy, and the faintest hint of a flavor saver on his bottom lip (though he probably called it something different).
He introduced himself as Derek, and invited me into his office, maybe ten steps from the waiting room, directly across from the window. It was stark, aside from two—no, three—framed advertisements for the donation center: a smiling, attractive Asian couple, a black one, and a white one.
My paperwork had checked out fine, he said. I was pre-pre-qualified. The only thing left was to test my motility. He said he’d send me a date.
* * *
He had known she was a painter for some time. At first, she was hesitant, which Ben found very professional; her pool, he guessed, was small.
Later, he realized her initial reluctance stemmed from the nature of her work: she had only one completed. When she talked about it, he was reminded of a little girl trying on her mother’s clothes.
