Mergers, Acquisitions and Letting Go

(Part: 1 2 3 4 5)

A lingering limb of fog nestled into the innermost nook of that cavity known as the South San Francisco Bay, and sunrise on such a warm day made every other irreconcilable struggle in my life melt away at a powerless surrender into the waiting arms of home. A few hours after whiskey shots until sunup on the prairie, a few days into the newest of new years this side of the Gregorian Calendar, and a few too many secondhand newspaper articles about bankruptcy and foreclosures, my head spun and sung and getting from the airport to home took longer than it should have because I spent the very last of my money in Iowa and walked along the unseasonably sunny streets seeing bucolic sights through dark masked eyes, cats coming home from their nocturnal hunting rounds and little children marching sleepy legs across monitored crosswalks and off into fenced-in playgrounds of public educational sanctuary.

"These children are our future," bespeaks President-elect Soundbite Obama from the News laden homepage I open up after over a week away, the same page that informs me "Spending enough to save the economy will create an ocean of red ink. Experts estimate $800 billion a year would be required to achieve full economic recovery, and spending on that scale in a time of weakened economy will produce some really scary deficit numbers for Obama."

An IM window bleeps its incoming hail:

4thr5tring6xtus: wheretofore art thou now masked man?

DMsqdMn17: Across the arches of sky have I sailed, availed to land in this plastered sunlit deluge Known, as Home.

4thr5tring6xtus: any plans now that ur back?

DMsqdMn17: Whatever happens today, there is no shifting of moments that’s worth a man’s honor tomorrow.

4thr5tring6xtus: ?

DMsqdMn17: In short. Nuthin' much. Might go to The Place I Go tonight, get a drink.

4thr5tring6xtus: wish i could share in the luxury. as it is i can't even free up my mind enough to get out of the house. theres so much to do

DMsqdMn17: Still looking for a job?

4thr5tring6xtus: I should be, but I gave it up. If there hadn't been a lack of work and stuff, they wouldnt have laid off all there employees to begin with...

Napping hours pass during which the sun outside my window slowly sifts into the jaded ocean, and waking to the lingering rush-hour darkness, I throw my travel clothes into The Dude's washing machine and wear don the last remaining vestiges of fashion I have in my possession.

"You look like shit." Says the smoking guy outside the bar, coursing vicious smoke out with every word, "No, I take it back. Shit looks pretty good compared to you."

"Thanks, nice to see you too."

I edge around him and notice in the window a new sign as I reach to get some ID for Jeff. New Management.

"New Management?"

"Yuh," he grunts, "Gowaanin."

"When did this happen?"

"While you was gone ah guess."

"I was only gone a week!"

"Thas funny. Seems like I ain't seen you in here since last year."

"BYAA HA HA HA HA!!" laughs the smoker. "Happy New Year!"

I walk in, stung by the flashing disco lights of a new jukebox in the corner, and caught off guard by the electronic music blaring irrepressibly from all angles.

"Masky!" announces the bald guy as I step forward toward the bar, "We were just talking about you."

"Liar."

"No, it's true. I was just telling Alice here about your trip."

"What trip?"

"Your trip. To find your brother!"

A tall dark-haired woman stood up from behind the bar

"He read about it on your blog Mr. Masked Man, if that is your real name.”

The air in the place sunk, it felt empty all at once, like a vacuumed gush and then an empty stillness.

"What happened to the bartender?"

"I'm Alice," she said, reaching out a long tattooed arm to shake my hand, "I am the bartender."

I noticed she wasn't wearing a bra and felt even more un-nerved. "No, I mean what happened to the old bartender?"

"The new owners thought…"

"I thought he was the owner?"

"No, they live up in Marin. Or did anyway. I dunno."

I spun around, to collect my bearings and noticed more inconsistencies in the place that never changes. The geeks who could usually sit at tables in the back playing D&D and Magic: The Gathering, were now huddled at the starboard tip of the horseshoe bar, paired off in twos and uncomfortable threes. Their tables were noticeably absent, replaced by a patch of painfully bright dance floor where, unbelievably, two bony protuberant Japanese roller girls awkwardly danced and tittered.

The bald guy hands me a drink and I take it down in a gulp, something vicious and unbearably sweet slithers down my throat and I almost cough it back up.

Things change.

Three-to-Six empty glasses later and I am feeling a little bit better about the loss of my favorite dive because everything looks a bit too blurred to have any incensing detail, and I am listening to a grey-bearded man with a resonant baritone talk about his screenplay ambitions: "The trouble is it'll never get funded because I insist, absolutely insist on snagging Paul Reubens for the lead."

"Pee Wee Sperm-in?" a gulletted-woman asks.

"The man is the most versatile actor working today. Except maybe for John Malcovich. So there's that."

"And the baby," adds the bald man, listening in with the kind of knowing smirk that suggests he's heard the whole story a time or two already but still can't wait to re-hear the good bits.

"Oh right, the baby, yeah," says the baritone, “there's a scene at the beginning of the movie that the studio keeps insisting I axe where a live baby gets shot in the head."

I paused.

"It represents his separation from a childish self," he explained. "The emancipation of the inner man."

"Can't you just show him growing up? Or hearing a baby cry and followed by a gunshot off camera?"

"No. It has to be seen onscreen. Otherwise…" his voice trailed, “anyway they said it was a deal breaker. Something about a 'total disinterest Hotpoint for every available female demographic.' Which, in all fairness, is also a pretty accurate appraisal of my entire life so far."

I raised a solemn toast with lassitude. "Cheers."

They toasted, though I don't think the baritone understood why. The dance music stopped and some Def Leppard came on. Now that we could talk without yelling, I considered going over and sharing some choice words with the Japanese girls. First, another drink perhaps?

"So Masky," the bald guy asked, seizing on his chance to sway the subject of conversation, "who was it that called."

I checked my phone. No one had called me all night.

"No, in the story. In your blog. It just finishes with… "

Alice, the new bartender, tears a few top sheets of paper from a small stack tacked to a wooden beam behind the bar and reads: "My cell buzzed incoming and I saw that it was her, "

I felt threatened, accosted. "You Printed— Out— My— Blogs?"

"Well I wanted them to see. It's some damn fine writing. Even Joel liked it, sometimes. He said you use 'And' too much."

"Thanks, I guess."

"Yeah, good job, Masky!"

"Encomiums!" another voice cheered.

"But who was she? How did it finish? Was it the Chicago girl changing her mind that called? What did she say?"

"I don't know," I said.

"What do you mean you don't know? What happened?"

"Anything happened. Everything happened. Why's it got to be my life that I assimilate into narrative resolution? Why can't I just say I made the whole thing up?"

"You couldn't have made the whole thing up! You've been gone! Your friend, from Texas… and we saw Nigel here, we started the whole thing and you've been gone to try to find him!"

"Look me in the mask and tell me I didn't make the whole thing up."

"But, but…" the bald guy stammered.

Alice laughed. "Do you even have a brother?"

"Brother Obama." I answered.

"They thought they were voting for the Messiah, only to find out they were voting in the third Clinton Administration."

"Selling hope to the American people, that's just good capitalism."

"Let's take shots at the inauguration every time he says the word CHANGE."

"Careful. You just said ‘take shots at the inauguration. The Secret Service is gunna be here any minute."

"Or Nigel!"

"Man, some poor DC photographer has probably been taken in like a dozen times just planning for the 20^th."

"Scuse me while I whip this out."

And so it goes. The old voices take over the place and the brazen nerd banter that made me fall in love with the place hilariously digresses into the night. Some things change, and some things stay the same.

Such a beautiful day had given way to a remarkably pleasant night. There are times when the California dew drills a little too deep to ever want to return, but tonight it was clear and warm and I was glad to be back. Glad I had gone looking for Nigel, and glad for much else, besides… when they closed down and kicked us all out I walked into the city, still masked but affecting a confident stride.

The night twinkled and whispered its thoughts to me as I dreaded going back to work in the morning. I needed more money. Passing protracted souls asleep along the park benches and air-grated sidewalks, no where else to go. Passing sad graffitiied corner boxes filled with nothing but yesterday's sad news, one sad foot in front of the other I walked, putting it all behind me. Through the city and beyond into the hills and onto the first train of the new day. When the sky took to light and I was nearly home I watched the morning commuters dislodge their cars and slip softly into the highway breeze, safe in their suits and seatbelts and coffees and routines.

The sun was nearly up. Rounding the corner to home I couldn't have told you what I was thinking about except maybe fear over whether or not the Dude would be laying in wait, an ambuscade in the bushes. Maybe pride that I had not made a phone call all night. Maybe sadness that my laid-off friend across the country was unable to secure a new job. Maybe it wasn't any of those things that I was thinking about, (its best to keep some things hidden behind the mask) but I certainly wasn't thinking about the statuesque Persian girl from the basement apartment across the street, who at that very moment was singing a song to herself as she balanced her keys, purse and papers while unlocking her car. She looked up at me, wide brown eyes thicketed with long lashes, framed by a mane of shiny black hair, and smiled.

"Morning."

The world was full of bright beginnings.