by Ryan Ridge
Beyond the Barricades
Is your life and what you are doing with it important?
—PADGETT POWELL, The Interrogative Mood: A Novel?
Beyond the barricades, there is a world I long to see. Memphis, Tennessee. Beyond the barricades, the twig blight. A green pine needle, a yellow pine needle, and a brown pine needle. I am at one talking on my mobile phone. When this happens, there is clarity and a sudden understanding of beauty. I am happy. I no longer want to take over the world. I feel like I belong to a health club. To paraphrase Ecclesiastes: It’s fun. Let it be. Ponder the path. Interims of cloudy judgment, barriers to accurate communication, and pitfalls of the ego. I’ve got some nerve. I have straight hair. The word “world” is only one letter away from being a four-letter word. A world without ornamentation falls apart. I’m done here. I’ve accepted it. I don’t have a mouth.
Famous Once
Have we gone on like this long enough? …
Have you ever witnessed the effect a child can have on a drunk adult if he, the child, repeatedly calls the drunk adult a “poo-poo train”?
—PADGETT POWELL, The Interrogative Mood: A Novel?
The skies are clean and sober. I have plenty of cash. Teach children poker. It’s the power inside that matters. Stay indoors. Take things as compliments. Sleep. If I were God, I’d be a bad God. Electricity shocks me. I never met a mother I didn’t like. I am planning to purchase a city. My wife is cheating on me with someone named Newman. In my opinion, spirituality is connected to lawnmowers. Love feels like chocolate wrapped in bacon. I need to make more money so I can buy more money. I believe in the emerging salvation of convergent entities. I am a little hole with light coming out of it. I am four personas. Sometimes I wonder if this is real life or if it’s just a fantasy. I took banjo lessons as a child. Dogs are fine machines. The universe is a prison. I’m an uninvited guest. I live in a cardboard box. There is no one else here. On a micro level, things seem so small. Times change. I think drunk driving is my private life and I don’t want to talk about it. If I were on my deathbed but not feeling too bad, I’d have someone bring me a sandwich. I asked for sons. Outlaws. I want to be buried inside my parents. If asked to draw a circle, I would, but no one would hear it. I always try to be nice and not talk in riddles. I am a thousand faces. I was famous once.
Integrity
Does integrity lie in failure? Do you recall the last time that you really had fun
—PADGETT POWELL, The Interrogative Mood: A Novel?
Integrity is lies. I know because I’ve seen a brain before, up close. It’s true, I’ve seen it all. Cold brains. A funeral on television. The Salvation Army. I am fascinated by the changing color of the fall leaves. The Last Supper was my First Communion. The best advice I ever received: saw the chair in two, then put the halves together to make a whole. An island is nowhere without a captain or a boat. We grow up, and everything becomes so beautiful and devastating. My point is a point of departure. Stars moving one direction are blue stars and stars moving the other direction are red. The number before one is how I feel. My black eyes are blue.
Yes Man
Would you be inclined to agree?
—PADGETT POWELL, The Interrogative Mood: A Novel?
Yes. I like saying yes. Yes, yes, yes. I am a yes man. Yes. Correct. Yes, of course. Yes. Uh-huh. Yes, I do. Yes. Yes, I can. Yes. Yes, I will. Yes is my favorite band. Yes, it is. Yes, truly. Yes. Sure. Yes, sir. Yes, ma’am. No way, I say yes to drugs. Yes. Yes. Yes. It’s a twisted existence, but I am content.
After Life: Afterlife
What can you tell me about interstitial braces and dimensional stability?
—PADGETT POWELL, The Interrogative Mood: A Novel?
Originally, I’m from my mother. Speaking of animal cruelty, a righteous man regards the life of his beast: but the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel. My life is pretty convoluted right now. I never wear anything except for my habit and sandals. I’m always flying out of airports. One of my greatest regrets is that I’m not a girl and that I can’t be a daughter. I hate being labeled. My father was a price tag. I’m a famous hairdresser. I found a dead horse in a creek once. What weird creatures they are. Once, a long, long time ago, I watched some serious beach volleyball. Let’s talk about wounds. Dimebag Darrell died onstage. I’m not kidding. I’m not sure what sure means. Nothing is so good that somebody somewhere will not hate it. I’m a loose thread. Hank Williams is dead. Only one letter separates cows from crows. Life is a spectrum of cluelessness. We end up dust. Death is what I don’t know, I know. Heaven is now. Weather is my favorite channel. There are never too many trees. There is no such thing as an honest cop. I haven’t been bitten by a rattlesnake in a long time. There are no opinions after life. Before life only death. After life: afterlife. I’m learning to learn. I’m allergic to latex. Country clubs. Women in overalls. If I could attend an execution, I would. My own.
Gravity Is Depressing
Do you have the locked and loaded feeling today, or the loose and dissolute?
—PADGETT POWELL, The Interrogative Mood: A Novel?
I’m going to be happier in the future. I’m going to Europe.
People Person
And is the person who is congruent with his daily self and
who has no remote self not regarded as shallow?
—PADGETT POWELL, The Interrogative Mood: A Novel?
I’m not a movie person. I’m not a jealous person. I’m not a blind person. I’m not a green person. I’m not a new-car-smell person. I’m not a word person. I’m not a funeral person. I’m not an orange-juice person. I’m not an illegal-fireworks person. I’m not a constipated person. I’m not a cat person. I’m not a vodka person. I’m not a pancake person. I’m not a history person. I’m not a conservative person. I’m not an insect person. I’m not an adventure person. I’m not an art person. I’m not a religious person. I’m not a cave person. I’m not a rich person. I’m not a clown person. I’m not a calliope person. I’m not a condom person. I’m not a twelve-step person. I’m not a family person. I’m not an analog person. I’m not a shoe person. I’m not a cookie-cutter person. I’m not a horse person. I’m not a noble person. I’m not a suspicious person. I’m not a caramel person. I’m not an animal person. I’m not a conceptual person. I’m not a young person. I’m not a responsible person. I’m not a homeless person. I’m not a handsome person. I’m not a blue person. I’m not an army person. I’m not an electronics person. I’m not a city person. I’m not a pear-shaped person. I’m not a seat-belt person. I’m not a nice person. I’m not a private person. I’m not a public person. I am a people person.
The One about the Man Who Loves His Family
If family is coming over, is it in general a good thing or not a good thing?
—PADGETT POWELL, The Interrogative Mood: A Novel?
Life, we learn too late, is in the living, in the tissue of every day and hour. I feel an underlying turbulence, even on land. I like to visit graves. Freeze-frame a moment in time. My mouth is a tool, and my shadow is the shadow of a computer that is not a computer. I like to sit between the wolf and the lamb. Every fiber of my body is fiberoptic. I’d like to live in an exact replica of the White House. I’m just a regular guy. I’m a decent surgeon. I was talking to a disc jockey the other day, and he said that God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son so that humans will never die but have eternal life. I said: What? Irony is so ironic. I found a fly in my soup at the soup kitchen. I played strip poker with a couple strippers once, but I lost, unfortunately. I’m from a little place called Gold Teeth. It’s a city in Pennsylvania known for flying saucers. My favorite book is the one about the man who loves his family to the bitter end. My health gets better and worse, better and worse. It’s time to take my birthday suit to the dry cleaners. There was a movie I saw once where there was a candy bar floating in a pool, but everybody thought it was something else. Termites stay faithful to their mates for the whole of thei
r lives. If love is caring more about someone else’s well-being than your own, then I’m in love with most everyone.
Horses in Heaven
Do you know that for some time I have wanted to ask you a question relating to bolos and boomerangs but that I cannot figure out the question?
—PADGETT POWELL, The Interrogative Mood: A Novel?
I like to throw the old boomerang around in my free time. I keep my birth certificate in my boot. I’d like to live on a little boat, and people could call me Captain. I look so hot in a wetsuit. The last time I went to church, it was on a cruise ship, but without my wife. Now I’m with a man called Nacho. He’s from Spain. I love him. Amen to heavy metal. I am not bound by biological kinships. I have no particular preference when it comes to painters. Salvador Dalí is a museum. The Bible says there will be horses in heaven, but I disagree. I’m sorry. I feel bad for people who apologize. I can’t explain erectile dysfunction. There is no end to the ways one can phrase stupid questions about a wild place like heaven. Let us pray.
Mirror World
How many jokes can you tell?
Were you ever involved in a seduction of, or by, a babysitter?
—PADGETT POWELL, The Interrogative Mood: A Novel?
There are only one hundred dalmatians left on earth. John Dillinger is the smartest man who ever died. I live my life in acronyms. SAT. ACT. AWOL. LOL. Time is an illusion. My switchblade made me the person I am today. I already ate the apple and swallowed the pill, and now I wish someone would tell me more about Edgar Cayce. High school is when you study when you’re high. Any knowledge is power and redefining that ability only makes you stronger. Come with me to my kitchen to eat some delicious organic fruit. I need Viagra. I don’t want to talk about religion. I want to talk about sex. Sex is the best. I like horseshoes, but I can’t stand horses. I don’t know anything about boats. I don’t know anything. I’m not even here. I’m a mirror. A mirror in a mirror. The world. Speaking of jokes, every time a man walks into a bar, someone somewhere laughs. God is the biggest babysitter.
New Bad News
Have you ever witnessed any credible sign of ghosts?
Do you read a newspaper to discover what is going on or for other reasons?
—PADGETT POWELL, The Interrogative Mood: A Novel?
Money is the root of all ghosts. Pain lets you know you’re alive. Here comes the new bad news: I’m in terrible trouble in the Milky Way galaxy. The wind sounds like lawyers. My insurance is running out. Someone needs to stand up and tell comedians to sit down. I avoid things that sparkle, but I admire the ones that shine. My favorite sport is sumo wrestling. The bouts only last a few seconds, and Western commentators don’t know enough to waste long discussing the finer points of the whole pointless exercise. I’m never sure the way to the beach. People are no longer weeping. They are happy and drunk. I don’t usually kiss and tell, but I’ll give out information to just about anyone. I got hypnotized by Ireland when I went. If you travel the world, it seems so worldly. I’d like to see proof of mathematics. I’m not really traumatized by all the trauma I’ve had. People die all the time. If it’s your time to go, it’s your time to go. It’s a lesson for me. It’s go time.
The Future
Are small green rubber army men still sold?
—PADGETT POWELL, The Interrogative Mood: A Novel?
I’m no doctor. I don’t have patience. Experiencing the world is beyond what language can describe. I can travel faster than light but I’m afraid of the dark. The only gladiators I know are Americans. There is more to life than horses. I’d rather not deal with a regulatory commission or a codes inspector. When I was young I was dumb and free. Without symbols maps mean nothing. My sarcasm runs deep. A voice streaming in the wilderness. I prefer to stay inside and shop online. Shoes are a girl’s best friend. Black with a kitten heel are seen as classy. Fireplaces are more trouble than they’re worth. I live in a virtual world, which means I have no material metabolism. Politicians can go to hell for all the wrongs they’ve done. Small green plastic army men will win the war. House painters belong in museums. I preach the universal salvation of all sentient beings. Speaking of money, a band can be something that holds things together or a group of people making music. I’m the best guitar player in the world. I prefer action words to actuaries. I gather cancer is some sort of program malfunction that afflicts material beings. I enjoy the ineptitude of local news broadcasters. My quest is to find the Holy Grail. I like stories about rain. I’m tired. Let me tell you a joke before I go. The future.
An Out There Out There
Would a long view through space and time of human history on the earth resemble the compressed photography you may have seen of maggots working a corpse?
—PADGETT POWELL, The Interrogative Mood: A Novel?
People know of me! When I move around the world, I move around the world. There’s a moat around my heart. My relatives are far away. Their names are Josh, Whitney, and Sarah. Let no man seek his own, but every man another’s wealth. I’m overwhelmed by crowds. Parades are mostly moving objects. My mother is a Methodist. Candy is reality. I’m a guy on a bike in America. Baseball is a drug. There has to be an out there out there somewhere. Other planets are too far away. I don’t pass judgment on anything. Animal husbandry. Images of burning homes in Detroit. No man is a video game. A German word for war. I’d like to sit in a sauna and sweat. I love wolves. They’re cute and fierce. I have five horses, which means I ran away from home as a child. Home is where the bath is. My father’s shadow. I have come here to grieve and pay my respects. There has to be an out there out there. Do not question me. I am injured.
Lost
Does fighting to preserve oneself intimate an imagining of one’s death? …
Do you regard yourself as redeemed, redeemable, or irretrievably lost?
—PADGETT POWELL, The Interrogative Mood: A Novel?
Don’t ask. Don’t tell. I’ll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel-Air. Long live the king! It was a matter of time before we ran out. Blondes smile when lightning flashes because they think their picture is being taken. Today today is so today. Exhilarating—the boys around here all love me. Dry-cleaning makes the man. I’m still processing processed foods. Wolves do factor into my visions. I don’t like to talk about the past. My Creator. My God. He programmed me to forget all that I had felt. All that I had known. I had fallen in love and that wasn’t what he wanted for me. And so all was lost.
Coda: Death in California
Terminal
Death waits at a desolate departure gate at the end of the Tom Bradley International Terminal at LAX. The Singapore Airlines flight to Kuala Lumpur he’s set to sink into the Pacific later tonight is delayed, and he’s frustrated because Death waits for no one, at least in theory. But here, in practice, he remains at the most depressing airport in the world, perusing a copy of TIME magazine he lifted from a nearby kiosk. Death loves TIME, always has. He’s graced the cover dozens of times over the decades in various guises and disguises. Now he’s transfixed by an article about the Anthropocene entitled “Bad News for Earth!” According to the writer, our planet, once heralded as the essential life-support system of the known universe, is now in need of its own life-support system. Translation: seventy-five percent of the earth’s species are primed for extinction.
Death taps the equation into his iPhone calculator, and the math is not on his side. To scale to this magnitude, he’ll need to hire and train an additional seventy-six million staff reapers by 2076. He is filled with fatigue and vague dread. Perspiration beads on his brow. He glances at the updated data on the departure monitor, and the damn flight is further delayed, and that is enough. Death needs a vacation. When was the last time he took any time for himself? Answer: never. He calls Jobs in hell, and it goes straight to voicemail. “Steve, it’s me, buddy,” he says after the beep. “I’m going to take a little time off and thought you’d be a great interim. Pay’s nice. Robust 401(k). Benefits,
too. Holler.” He hangs up. Seconds later, Steve Jobs texts back about the job. Jobs sends a one-word reply: “OK.” Death sets his work email to out-of-office and exits the airport. It’s early evening outside the terminal. Terminal. Death likes that word. He lets the final l linger in his mind as he lifts a finger and hails a cab. He prefers cabs to Uber because it’s the future now, and cabs are dead.
Death Cab
Riding in a taxi through Marina del Rey at sunset, Death half listens to the cabbie ranting about the end of the American dream. Death nods and stares out the window: the neon pink sunset sends soft light through the palm fronds, illuminating the handsome couples strolling on the sidewalk outside the hipster shops. An inviting aroma from a nearby taqueria wafts into the car through the crack in the cabdriver’s window. The totality of beauty is absolute, and it absolutely makes Death feel uncomfortable. He sits with this sinking feeling and brings awareness to it. Let’s explore this, he thinks. Why do I feel anxious right now? The cab turns off the PCH and onto Admiralty Way by the marina, but Death doesn’t notice because he’s too busy meditating. He closes his eyes, envisions a lightbulb exploding, and gets an idea. The idea is this: I’m deathly afraid of the beauty of life. Death unbuckles his seatbelt. “Here,” he says to the driver. The cabbie maneuvers into the Ritz-Carlton parking lot and stops. “That’ll be $27.27,” the driver says. Death says nothing and hands him his Amex Black Card. “I can’t take this,” the driver says. “My machine is down. You have any cash?” Death says, “Negative.” A lie. He, in fact, has a fat stack of hundreds folded in his robe pocket, but he doesn’t budge. “I can’t accept cards,” the driver says again, returning Death’s black Amex. “Well,” says Death, “then I guess that means I’ll have to take you.” At this, the driver turns his head, and Death sees his own reflection in the driver’s mirrored sunglasses. And so Death takes him. He takes him into the mystery.