P. seems to be a bit jealous of Tom lately. He asked why Tom’s girlfriend doesn’t mind us going to the movies, which we are going to do tomorrow night. Then he said, "You’re going to the movies tomorrow night with Tom, right? How big is he?" I said, "He’s six foot two, about 200 pounds. Do you think you can take him?" P. said he absolutely could.
Yesterday he called and said, "This is Tom." Then he asked, "When are you and Tom going to the movies? When are you and Tom coming home from the movies?"
He asked what I was doing, and I said I was cooking. He asked, "For you and Tom?"
He had to go eat, so I asked him to call me back afterwards so we could decide what time to go out today, and this he dutifully did, though he couldn’t remember why he was calling.
This morning I got a call from P. at 7:55. He asked, "Are you in the sack with Tom?"
"No!"
"Why not?"
"We broke up years ago. Are you in the sack with Tom?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I was never involved with him."
The next call from P. was at 10, now impersonating Tom’s python.
He also said, "I don’t know what to do with myself besides sleep. If I were on a cruise, I could go for a swim in the heated pool. No heated pool, no cruise."
He asked what I was doing. I said I was eating breakfast and he asked, "With Tom?"
Recently, P. mentioned that his sister said if he can find someone to live with, she will pay his half of the rent. Someone "like you or Paul Trupin."
"Paul Trupin is dead," I said.
"Where is he?"
"Dead."
And not long ago, P. said, "I’m an old idea about to become a new idea." He lamented that he had not been present at the 1906
1 comment:
Linda: I enjoy your snippets about P. They made me smile and appreciate the artist that he was. He may have been losing his mind, but he was also having humor about it and he was living poetry. He always liked creating awkward and embarasing situations, even before his illness/he was always ill and in the process of healing at the same time. He was honest and absurdly so human. And, yes, he always confronted strangers in his loud voice. "Hey Mr. Can you tell me where I can find some real BLACK BarbiQ?"He always made mocking unintelligible sounds.
He was an astute observer and he ingeniously am/used his failing facilities as permission to smell more like urine, to puke and make fun of himself like he had made fun of all those he had despised and loved before this. He always made every one feel they were the most special. Oh, Polly, He mentioned you with great regard, but said very little. Thanks for giving me the opportunity. c. v. mansoor
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