Later I’m with Avery; he’s so present when I’m doing really bad, but then when I’m just normal he’s all over the place. Avery, I say, I need you to listen to me. But she’s still not listening.
I wanted to tell her about crying with Ned, about David Wojnarowicz and all he means to me, about rage, about powerlessness, about childhood, about all this emotion I’m starting to feel, even with the coke, maybe more earlier on in the day when I haven’t done so much, like at dinner with Ned or now, after dinner, right now I still feel so emotional. I want to tell Avery that she’s a part of this emotion, this feeling, this opening up. But instead I just tell her about the guy from Paradise; and she looks really scared. You went home with someone? She says it twice. Almost three times, two-and-a-half, because the third time she just says you went home?
Yeah, with some guy I met, we went back to his place and did some K but then I felt weird and walked home.
You went home with someone?
Yeah, I mean I know we’re not monogamous, but I realized when I went home with him that you and I haven’t really talked about what that means.
What do you mean we’re not monogamous?
Well, I mean obviously I’m a hooker, right? I mean I’m not turning tricks right now, but I do live with one.
Okay, I guess that’s different, but why? I mean maybe that’s one of the reasons I felt weird and didn’t make out with this guy, Bryan, even though he was really hot.
I can’t believe you went home with someone.
Avery, I’m trying to talk to you. Why are you freaking out?
Back at the dinner table with Ned, I’m wondering again how much input David had in the design of Memories That Smell Like Gasoline. Because it just seems so perfect. How the moments when the text gets bigger or changes color fit so well into the narrative, like when it goes from a small “What are you” at the end of one page to a much bigger “talking about?” on the next page, and how the bigger text builds the panic and then when it gets smaller again it’s even more suffocating, this rape scene, this rape scene in a truck that I’m still thinking about although now we’re on the next chapter.
The way the guys in the porn theaters start to blend together, not just because their faces are rubbed out but are they stereotypes even in their own imaginations? Or just David’s archetypes? And when does a stereotype become an archetype, or is it the other way around?