More from students reading 26lies.

One:

I didn’t have a favorite entry from sections A-M (this is partially because I’m not actually enjoying this book. does everyone else actually like it? i kind of just feel like it has no point, I’m just reading a bunch of words. When we discussed it in class about all the entries that connected, I saw some connections that i hadn’t realized when I read it. I hope that there are more and that he actually goes somewhere with his entries because i’m really not enjoying it as it is…)
But I did have a favorite section, like a good number of others i picked C.
I mean, if i’m reading a book of some guys opinions… and random facts about things i don’t care about, I want it to at least be humorous… Cunt…. maybe as a female i wasn’t supposed to enjoy this section as much as i did. Well, he did defend women saying that if he was a woman he wouldn’t appreciate people saying a cunt is the “most disgusting word.” But I think he just has a male state of mind.  Us females found it amusing. It was weird at first, 10 entries on the same topic when all the other sections were floating around on random topics.  It was pretty ridiculous, but I guess the funniest entries were the creative writing and the elementary school  classes. When I think of “the c word” I think of “crap”. Isn’t that what it was when we were kids? Now they just have cunt, a womans private parts? When we were kids I remember “dickhead” was a pretty bad insult you used when you were mad at someone. Guys didn’t find that too offensive… so the fact that “cunt is the most dirty word” doesn’t actually offend women…  well, most of us. i don’t know, these are just all the things I thought about as Ben went on and on about  cunts.

Two:

My favorite Ben Peek entry of course, was in chapter c. The reason I chose this entry is because it makes a good point in a clever funny way. The entry that I chose is the one where Ben Peek points out that it should be offending to women since the foulest word in English refers to female genitals.
Number one I agree with the point that it is offending or at least should be to women that Cunt is the worst word in the English dictionary. I loved the example when Peek imagines how he would feel if Cock was the worst word in the English dictionary. Using that example helps the male reader get a grasp on Peeks reasoning.
The second thing that I liked about this entry is that it is about the word Cunt. I have always thought that it is really offending, but never new why it should be so offending. Peek cleverly pointed out the real reason why cunt should be offending. Also I thought that this entry expressed Ben Peeks voice well. Overall I really liked chapter C. I am not sure if it is because I think the word Cunt is funny or if it is because of Ben Peeks thoughts on the word. Which ever it is section C is defiantly my favorite section.

Three:

Yes. I do like the portmanteau of “cunt” and “entries.”

Ben Peek likes the infamous “c word,” and so it is in this spirit that I will only be slightly squeamish about using the word cunt in this entry. Test the waters with it. Write a loveletter about it. Whatever.

Okay, so here is what I wrote on that scrapule of paper in class:

My favorite entry in Twenty-Six Lies/One Truth was the entire Cunt chapter. All of the entries had the same title, so I cannot easily distinguish one from another, but here is a summarizing rundown of the damned thing: Man likes word, “cunt;” man has students use word; man uses as insult; man uses as term of endearment; man has homosexual acquaintance who pretended to have a cunt for online sex channel; man goes into in-depth etymological discussion of cunt; man admits he is fascinated with word cunt; man doesn’t like word slurry (nasty); man talks about puissance of cunt in other countries; cuntcuntcunt”

Then when I went back and looked, I was pretty much right, give or take some details. Those were irrelevant. Well, not really irrelevant, but less stand-outish. I really wrote as much. But is isn’t droll. So I won’t share it. How much more cuntries do you really want to hear about, anyway?

Four:

Ben Peek’s “twenty-six lies/one truth” is a fictional autobiography. When asked what entry I liked best, I honestly could only remember one in any detail. That was the entire chapter on letter c. The beauty of the chapter was the continual use of the word cunt.

It’s funny because I would have to say I picked the chapter for two reasons. First, this entry was 10 entries on cunt. Now everyone knows that cunt is seen as a taboo. Using the word in any formal setting would be completely inappropriate, albeit funny. So the use of this word was refreshing. Secondly, it was the only series of entries that I clearly remembered.

The etymology of cunt was probably the best entry of the chapter. It’s always interesting to learn about how curse words became the awful, make-Jesus-cry words they are. I honestly disagree however with Peek’s assumption that cunt is the worst word in the English language. I contend words like motherfucker or such are much worse. Also, anything that tears apart a person based on racial/physical differences.

So take back the word cunt. Using it to greet your best of friends.

Five:

One of my favorite entries in Twenty-Six Lies/One Truth was the entry entitled “Sanctity”.

Sanctity is defined as something that is holy or sacred. According to the Church, sex should be saved until after marriage, and pre-marital sex isn’t looking kindly upon. Since Peek doesn’t hide his dislike of the church, this entry is somewhat of a contrast.

The subject of the entry is sex, more bluntly, the word fuck. He uses the word as a noun, adjective, verb, adverb and probably other parts of speech, and as far as I can tell, it’s all used correctly. He goes on the the entry about different things you should not do (according to him) in regards to fucking. For example:

“Don’t fuck dead bodies.”

“Don’t fuck animals.”

“Don’t fuck with food.”

And the list goes on….

“Don’t fucking make porn.”

“Don’t fucking cheat.”

My favorite lines from this entry are the at the end: “Don’t fuck for revenge. Don’t fuck to pass the time. Don’t fuck to fuck. Fuck that. Fuck sanctity. Fucking ruins everything.”

Through these lines, you can hear Peek’s voice and his opinions on the subject. I give him a lot of credit for not taking any crap from anyone about what he thinks and believes. But I have a question to pose to everyone which is up to interpretation. Read the entry. Then look at the last sentence. Does the word fucking refer to the the previous sentence, with the implied meaning “It fucking ruins everything.” - OR - Does the word fucking stand on its own as the subject of the sentence?

From what I understand, the blogs have multiple posters, two or three on each. I’m not sure if there are other blogs out there from people taking the course, but if there are, be sure to leave me the link, as I am, absolutely, fascinated by what’s going on here.

Apparently the rest of the book was read this week, so with any luck, there’ll be more on that.

There was a knock on my door, five minutes ago. It had a tune, this knock, that quick series of first knocks, followed by a final third.

When I opened the door, a kid with a shaved head was standing there. When I say kid, I mean he was, I don’t know, fifteen, sixteen, and when I mean a shaved head, I mean he was bald, that kind of bald you get from luekemia. “Hey bro, how you going,” he said to me, this kid with leukemia.

“I’m alright, man.”

“I see you in the shops, yeah, bro?”

Diseases aside, there was something about this kid that was just annoying. I was fairly sure it had everything to do with his repeated us of the word bro in the five seconds we had been face to face.

“I don’t think so.”

“Sure, bro–”

See?

“Yeah,” I interrupted. “What you want?”

He was leaning against my door, arms wide, giving off the sense of being friendly with everyone, and when he spoke, I could see that his teeth had lots of gaps, and he had one lazy eye. He was skinny, a lanky kid, and I thought, maybe all luekemia kids are ugly like this.

“Bro, I’m wondering if you’ll let me wash and vacuum your car.”

To be fair, I didn’t start thinking that until he said his next lines.

“See, I got no job, no place to live, no family because they live far away, and I need the money, so would you let me do this?”

The thing the ruined it for him, was that he was well dressed. In fact, for a luekemia kid begging at my doorstep, he was better dressed than I was. I though it kind’ve ruined the down and out image that he was trying to put forward, and that, coupled with his repeated use of the word bro, and just a general annoyance in him personally, say me say no, I didn’t want him to do that. Like all people at your doorstep, however, be they Mormons, Jehovahs Witnesses, or people who want to sell you electricity plans from electrical companies you’ve never seen, kids with luekemia also don’t take no for an answer, and he started up again.

“No, man,” I said, cutting him off. “You have a nice day.”

He hung his head at that. Literally, too, and he let out a loud sigh that clearly implied I was an asshole, and maybe I was, but I guess I’ll live with it.

Found another:

Last night I decided to have a seat and start reading our assigned homework in twenty-six lies/one truth. I had planned on starting it, maybe reading the first half of the assignment, and then finishing it up the next morning (which, by the way, is this morning that I am currently living in) but, after I started I didn’t really want to put it down. I took one break from reading the first half of this book and that was to get food because the dining hall was set to close soon. In short, I really enjoyed the first half of twenty-six lies/one truth. Ben Peek really gets to the cynical, realist core of things in a way that I respect, because he isn’t, as many “cynics” are, overly pessimistic. There is a subtle, yet salient, difference between being a pessimist and a cynic. Fortunately, you can easily be a realist and cynic, and apparently a funny bastard in the process, and that is what Peek has done in this book.

To give you a little insight into how much I enjoyed reading these first 13 chapters I’ll tell you about how I read them. I sat at my desk, in my dull wooden and metal chair, with my book on my desk before me, and my computer behind that. Eventually, I let my computer go into sleep mode because I had been ignoring it in favor of the book. I sat in my not particularly comfortable chair for about an hour without really moving at all and just ripped through pages and chapters. Many times I read a whole page, or a little entry, over and over a few times because I thought it was funny or provocative and I wanted to remember how he phrased his thought. At some point a couple chapters in, I grabbed the highlighter out of my marking implement and other such thing cup  on my desk and began making different types of markings around different pieces that either confused me, made me laugh, or that I just thought were very well-made points.

If you decided that you didn’t want to read this book, I recommend that you reconsider. It was worth the short amount of time that you have to dedicate to reading it.

Woke this morning and it seemed to me
That every night turns out to be
A little bit more like Bukowski
And yeah, I know he’s a pretty good read
But God, who’d want to be
God, who’d want to be such an asshole?
-Isaac Brock, Modest Mouse

How fucking cool is this, hey?

I love educationally forced text. I used to be down on it, but now I’ve totally converted.

A while back, I saw a post about an academic in the states using 26lies in a course about writing on the internet, and 26lies was, from what I understood, required reading, and students would have to create their own blogs. Outside that, I really have no idea what the thing is about, but my google alerts thing sent me links to a couple of posts that, it would seem, were made from people in the course.

Did they hate it, did they love it, did they resent having to read for learning?

One:

I absolutely loved Twenty-Six Lies/One Truth. I started reading it early because I didn’t think I was going to have time this weekend to finish the reading, so I did it last week instead. I got really into the book and ended up finishing it because I liked it so much. And that is saying a lot seeing as though I haven’t finished a required reading book for an English class in a very long time.

Having said that, I thought that it was really cool that Ben Peek turned his blog into a book, almost like a dictionary of his blog. So if you wanted to know what Peek thought about Identity, Sex, or University, you could look it up and see an entry about the topics, or a story that had to do with one of the topics. I loved how you could really hear Ben’s voice through the entries and exactly what he thought about each subject. The interspersed dialogue was effective because you got a feel of the interactions that happened between Ben and his friends/family members.

I think that the different format of the book is what kept me interested, because you still got an idea of a story without resorting to a typical story format. Peek kept it interesting by not telling you everything all the time. He left some things up to interpretation. What also kept me interested was how the semi-randomness of all of the posts/subjects all fit together, and they made sense together.

Two:

So after reading A through M in the book Twenty Six Lies/ One Truth By Ben Peek, I am still sort confused. Does this book have point to it other than random rants? And why is it written to look like a dictionary ( which i like, it seems to make it a faster read). I mean it wasn’t a hard read, but it really didn’t have a plot or meaning to the story.

It was incredibly entertaining though. All the points that were brought up, seem like they could have been taken from our Campus’ paper, The Water Tower.

I love that it’s written and from the view point of an Australian. I’ve always sort of wished I was Australian (partially because I am highly jealous of my friend from Queensland that I’ve been “pen-pal”ing with since I was 8). I mean think about it, they have the Australian outback as their back yard, ayers rock, opal mines, aborigines, the great barrier reef (where scuba diving must be amazing), kangaroos, wallabies, echidnas, emus and they are closer to the orient and asia than we are. Not to mention the warm weather all year round, fantastic surfing oppportunities and super cool accents! They can also hop to New Zealand conviently where there are four different seasons all year round ( not all in the same location, that would be highly impossible). You could be surfing in the northern half of NZ and then travel to the southern moutains and go snowboarding….IN THE SAME DAY!

Anyways, aside from my personal tangent…..I really liked the sarcasm of the novel.

Perhaps a few of my favorite phrases were:

“I don’t like organised religion. I don’t like the goals of organised religion. I don’t like organisations, actually, but a room full of people who believe the same thing and who’re trying to save their souls just gives me the shits. Inevitably they’re going to think my soul needs saving, and my soul is just fine.”

I find this to be extremely true, in that when ever I wander into a church or by some one who is publicly broadcasting religion trying to attract potential followers, it freaks me out. I always feel like they feel the need to “save my soul” in the process of “saving their own.” As far as I am concerned, thus far I haven’t been involved with any one definite religion and I seem to be doing just fine thankyou. Note* Now I’m not trying to dis anyone if they are incredibly religious or religious at all, I’m just saying I’m not, So please don’t bombard me with packets on my way to class.

“You can bring about world peace?
We’ll cancel the cable channels.
What?
The problem is clearly that we watch the news.
I mean if we didn’t watch the news we’d never know about this shit. So we’ll cancel the cable. We’ve kill the net. We’ll even toss the TV out the window. We’ll throw it at a cripple. One of them with the metal crutches. We’ll take him out and then steal his crutches and have sword fights.
Come on you know you want it.
You’re such an idiot”

This just made me crack up for some sadistic reason. I don believe that alot of what we watch on tv does affect us ( and at times I do feel like throwing my tv out of the window). The last part is just so random and I can just picture some cruel individual stealing a crippple’s cructhes and running off to sword fight with them.

I also found a quote that I live my life to and aspire to continue to in the future.

“I don’t want to waste my life doing something that means absolutely nothing to me.”

Seriously. Think about it. Whenever I see something like this all I can think of is OfficeSpace. Makes me really NOT want to work in a cubicle or any corporate job, EVER. period.

The same poster here later goes on to write this:

When I finished reading A-M in our assigned book, I was confused to as where this story was going. From what I gathered, I felt like Ben Peeks was extremely sexual in a creepy old man kind of way. He drew genitals on the demons in hell and the cherubs in heaven and his whole chapter L was pretty much about sex. The entries where he mentioned tutoring a bisexual 13 year old were just over the top. I mean, they weren’t graphic in any way, I just felt like it was an odd detail to mention. First of all, why would a 13 year old tell her teacher that she was bisexual? And furthermore, how could a 13 year old know that she was bisexual at that age? That’s way too young in my opinion. I know she needed someone to talk to, but that is not something you say to your teacher. By saying to your teacher that you are bisexual, it means that you have already had experience and, not to be stereotypical, must be wild. No offense, but some males would die to have a girlfriend who was into male and females. And because Ben Peeks is very sex craved, in my opinion, I think that mention of bisexuality would jump-start his hormones. Maybe I’m blowing everything out of proportion, who knows?

Another thing about this subject is that I don’t particularly think a teacher and a student should have this close of a relationship. I know teachers CAN have this close of a relationship and have nothing happen, but most of the times, that doesn’t happen. Whenever I think of a student getting close to a teacher, I think that something bad is going to happen. I don’t know how many times I have heard on the news that a teacher was charged for having sex with his/her student. It’s no wonder Ben’s colleagues were worried when they found out he was tutoring a young girl!

Because of these factors, I’m guessing that Ben had sex with this 13 year old girl. In chapter L, he mentioned several instances where a man was attracted to a younger girl, i.e. Lewis Carroll, himself, and even mentioned the name for a girl who was sexually active at a young age. He also mentioned that there was porn out there that depicted young girls having sex with older men and even gave us the name of a 15 year old pornstar. If this is his autobiography than these entries MUST have a meaning. I don’t think they’re random stuff he decided to put it his blog, but actually an inside to what really happened with this 13 year old girl. Of course, I could be wrong. Maybe he’s telling this from an observant perspective. Maybe she had a relationship with an older man before and Ben was just merely describing her experience. Maybe Ben caught another teacher having sex with her. I don’t know the answer.

When we were talking about the Leave entry in class today, I thought that that was the word Ben said in his head while he was having sex with the 13 year old. Maybe he said Leave to himself because he really didn’t want to have sex with her and knew he shouldn’t be doing this. Another thing that made me think that this was the case was the entry on the next page called Molestation. He mentioned that the girl who was “molested” was very young. I hate to think of this but maybe he molested her, and while he was doing this, said to himself Leave but didn’t. I hope this isn’t the case!

Third:

I don’t really have a favorite entry, but a favorite chapter…and it may seem strange that this is my favorite chapter considering i am in fact female, but i though it was one of the most hilarious things i’ve read in a while.

I don’t know what Peek’s reasoning was to make all ten entries about the same thing, but it definitely caught your attention. Each entry got more absurd and you continued reading. One that was extremely entertaining was the one with the 3rd graders. It reminds me of a time when i was also in third grade, and one of the kids dared another to scream sex as loud as he could in the middle of class. I, being the innocent third grader that i was, had no idea what it meant, but some student found this hilarious. I guess they were more mature than I.

Some girls may find this C word extremely offensive, and like Peek stated, “the baddest and worst word ever”. I don’t really think of it that way. I mean, im not one to use it, but i wouldnt consider it the worst word in the english language. There are definitely much worse. I would consider racist slurs the worst words one could use. But the C word? Come on. I mean, if someone called me one i would not be that happy but for the most part im alright with it.

Awesome, hey?

Obviously, if you’ve never bought the book, you should.

I need the money.

My contributor copy of the Year’s Best Australian Science Fiction and Fantasy arrived today, and it looks pretty sweet. For twenty bucks, you’re going to be hard pressed to find a better way to get a chunk of short fiction, and the fourth in the series’ table of contents is:

‘Glory’ - Greg Egan
‘An Account of an Experiment’ - Adam Browne
‘Toother’ - Terry Dowling
‘Cracks’ - Trent Jamieson
‘Mist and Murder’ - Lucy Sussex
‘Special Perceptions’ - Richard Harland
‘A Lady of Adestan’ - Cat Sparks
‘John Wayne’ - Ben Peek
‘The Dark and What It Said’ - Rick Kennett
‘The Jeweller of Second Hand-Roe’ - Anna Tambour
‘Domine’ - Rjurik Davidson
‘Sir Hereward and Mister Fritz Go to War Again’ - Garth Nix

Also, over at Last Short Story, my piece ‘David Bowie’, from 2012 was talked a bit about:

Ben Peek, “David Bowie,” 2012 - I really like Peek’s conversation-style fiction and meta-fiction (the Nowhere Near Savannah webcomic being a prime example, as well as elements from 26 Lies/1 Truth, one of the books I am most likely to lend you if you visit my house) and this story is a great example of that - simple, elegant and sharp like a knife in a vein. Not actually set in 2012 like the other stories in the collection, this piece looks instead at the five years in between now and then, positing the question, what if life (or life as you knew it, or life with someone else, or just the world) was going to end in five years time? What would you do? Apart from listen to David Bowie, obviously.

Mostly, I just think it’s awesome that Tansy goes around pressing <i>26lies</i> upon people. Also, it’s quite clear that I have a thing about naming my stories after famous people. Perhaps next I’ll start naming them after ordinary people that I meet.

Actually, you know, that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

Turned 32 today.

It’s not so bad, and in fact, has a nice sound to it. Maybe it’ll be good. The day itself was fine, with people from round the world wishing me happiness, saying hi, and sending my pictures of their dogs. Djae even came over and cooked me dinner, and Cas was round for it too, and we swapped shit, laughed, and talked about how the red cup cake didn’t taste red at all.

Over the last week, I tossed back and forth the knowledge that I’m in my early thirties now, and I’m broke, single, with a business I keep only to get me by, and career that’s not worth a whole lot to anyone but me. As Djae said tonight, it was something I worked hard for, that statement, and that made me laugh. Truth is, I dig it, mostly, though I may say different next week, or six months from now. It’s a life and it suits me fine and if it has got some hassle, well, it has got some.

So if you’re reading this, have a good one.

It took me a few months, but I started writing something new last night.

That’s probably misleading, since, after all, I have been writing since I finished the book. I’ve been writing comic scripts, but I haven’t begun anything new, because Nowhere Near Savannah is pretty much mapped out to the end now, and it doesn’t require me to spend time finding the voice or tone of it; if anything, when I look back at the comic, I can see moments where I began something, but didn’t follow through, or comics which I thought worked well at the time, but in the whole of the piece, don’t fit so well. That’s mainly the first two or three comics, I think, and that’s really a matter of just altering things so I could pick the themes up a little earlier, begin the conversations that I found myself interested in. Not that this is any different to any work I’ve written: as soon as I see it, all I see are the flaws, the cracks I could have made neater, the things I could have done. But anyhow, no matter that I was writing the comics, I hadn’t written anything new that was prose since finishing the book, not that this was any kind of surprise, since every time I’ve finished a book, I’ve crashed out for a few months.

I don’t make a living out of writing, but I could if I wanted. Oh, I don’t mean I could sell a book quick, pump out some tie ins or bullshit like that, no. I mean if I wanted to make my living writing I could go and get a lot of work for hire work, doing technical writing, going freelance for articles, that kind of stuff. It wouldn’t be easy to start with, but I can work to a deadline, work for different needs, and the writing itself doesn’t require a lot in technical skill. Maybe it’s a conceit for me to believe that I could do that, but I’ve done enough of it in my life to believe I could pick it up and make a living if I wanted to do so. If it would be a good living, that’s a different question. Regardless, however, I don’t do this. About five years ago I had a moment where I actually sat down and worked out how I was going to do this writing thing, and I decided then not to do that. Instead, I teach to make cash. I do it because I’m good at it. Undeservingly so, I often think, because teaching doesn’t mean a whole lot to me, and I never put in the work I do to it that I do with my writing (of which people also say nice things). Also, I’m perfectly happy to teach any old thing so long as the cash is there. I don’t worry about age or audience. I do the gig, I take the moment, and I go home. I enjoy it, too, because when teaching is working, there’s a nice atmosphere and relationship going on, but there’s no illusion about me being there for love.

My writing, though, I’ve never viewed that way. I didn’t get into writing to make it feel like a job I didn’t care about. It was–and still is–something I’m passionate about, something that is way for me to engage with the world, to work through the conversations in my head, and so forth. I’ve gone along far enough now that I’d like to make at least half my living from it–all if it even–but it has to be on the terms I have, on the things I want to write, and so on. Since you can well note my complete lack of credibility as a author with a large demanding audience who drive around in dark vans and capture people and brain wash them, you’ll be unsurprised to learn that there’s not a whole line of publishers offering me trucks full of csh to do this. It’s an imperfect way of living, but I can get buy on teaching, so I don’t need to sell, to be popular, to be read. All that stuff is nice, don’t get me wrong, and I’d like it, but the way I organise what I write, and how I do it, has more to do with impulses and urges and whatever I have churning inside my head, and I like that more. Sometimes, there’s just nothing there, or there’s half an idea, and I don’t know how to use it, and when it’s like that, I don’t push the thing. Maybe that’s precious of me. It most certainly is the action of someone who doesn’t need to make a cheque out of the next thing he sells, but that’s the entire point. I guess what I’m trying to say is I didn’t worry that I didn’t write something new for a few months after I finished the book. Maybe one day everything I want to write about will dry up, and I’ll put it aside, but I know I have things to interact with, and it’s just waiting for everything inside my head to click round, to lay out what I want, and go from there. It may not seem like it, but I’m a patient guy, and I’m not going to rag on my subconscious as it works whatever it has to do to get me to where I’ll be writing something. I just keep going, consuming information, reading books, listening to people, and something will appear.

Maybe that doesn’t make any sense. Maybe it does.

Either way, I began working on a piece called ‘Convicts’ last night, and it’s about being trapped in the roles society defines for you. Likely that’ll change by the end, but the first line goes, “He knew that she was too young for him, but that was part of the attraction.”

It has a nice vibe, that.

Strange Horizons have posted a second review of Paper Cities, but this one isn’t nearly as amusing as the last. About ‘The Funeral, Ruined’, Maureen Kincaid Speller wrote:

Some stories come closer, sometimes much closer, in the way they examine the interconnectedness of the city and its people… In contrast, Ben Peek’s “The Funeral, Ruined,” a rare science-fictional story in the collection, queries the relationship between people and city rather than merely accepting it, as does Jay Lake’s “Promises; A Tale of the City Imperishable.” Peek’s Issuer is a city of transients, close to the huge cremation Ovens, and created by a speculator who services the temporary needs of those bringing their dead to be disposed of. It is, as Peek says, a city of purpose. Linette, living among the dead, dying and transients, can no longer fulfil her role as a soldier, but neither can she yet join the dead. She does not belong, but given she sees herself as being as good as dead, why would she leave?

Not nearly as fun as the previous review, is it?

Speaking of which, there was some confusion among people as to which was the bad line and which was the good line in the L. Timmel Duchamp review, so I’m going to throw it open to voting. Just like any democratic election, you will have only two choices to make:

1) With hard yanks, she tightly wound the frayed black laces of her boots up. On the right boot she missed a hole, and on the left, two.

2) Her skin, however, sagged around her jaw, wrinkled over her face, and continued to do so down her neck until it was covered by the brown gown she wore.

Remember, it’s only with voting that your opinion can be heard, and mostly discounted.

And, lastly, I’m trying to help a friend find an album or link to a UK band called Livingston. Anyone heard of it? I have vaguely, but any search I do comes up with a thousand other things, and I figure there’s an easier way to solve this. Most appreciated if you got something for me.

Okay.

Okay?

I have a new plan, Cas.

Lets here it.

We pull the car over.

Where?

Here.

In the middle of the fucking freeway?

In the middle of this goddamn giant fucking freeway, we pull over. It’s only four lines of full traffic to the side of the road, shouldn’t take us less than ten minutes. Maybe less if we’re lucky. I’ll just bully my way through.

Once we reach the edge, we get out of this fucking car.

Leaving the car doesn’t solve our problem.

I’m not finished.

See, once we get out of the car, we use our automobile expertise to take it apart.

Our expertise?

Then, from the parts, we use our brilliant minds, and build a time machine.

I see.

Thus, once we have assembled our time machine from the parts of this fucking car, we can finally go back in time to yesterday, we can be like that dude from Quantum Leap, except we won’t drop into our own bodies, no; instead, what we’ll do is appear before ourselves just before we walk into the car rental place, mere minutes before we tell the guy at the desk that no, we don’t really need a GPS device.

Your plan is to go back in time and beat ourselves up?

Whilst screaming, THERE ARE NO MAPS FOR PURCHASE IN LA!

This is a plan without flaw.

Thank you.

Also, where’d these fucking cars come from?

I don’t know, but you’d think one of them would have a map-

Shit, there’s sign says to the airport!

Fuck!

We had to go up that ramp.

That ramp disappearing into the rain behind us?

That ramp.

Shit.

No.

No, it’s not a prob. I’ll just take the next exit and back track.

I feel like such a fucking hick on this freeway.

It’s only the traffic that makes me feel like I’m from a small, backwards country here.

I’m just going to hang a left off this exit, okay?

I don’t see why not.

If we come across a chemist, pull over, alright?

Why you want chemist? They don’t sell maps.

It might sell laxatives.

…

…

I’m pretty sure this isn’t the time for laxatives.

What with us being hopelessly lost and all.

It has stopped being painful.

I’m sure this is a bad sign.

I’m not doctor-

Yes, you are.

Oh.

Right.

Well, in medical expertise then, I’m sure your fine. I’m sure the absence of pain is part of the normal way these things go.

There’s that word expertise again.

It’s a good word.

You don’t know fucking shit about shit, man.

Don’t get fucking pissed at me, man, I’m fucking driving.

You’re the fucking reason we’re lost!

Hey!

Don’t make me drive this fucking car into the walls of Dodger Stadium!

We aint’ anywhere-

Hey, that is Dodger Stadium.

I was hoping I misread that.

I don’t think Dodger Stadium is near the airport.

Or, like, the freeway.

If I find a cliff I’m going to drive this car off it.

Just find the signs again, and we’ll go back to finding the airport.

I think we should ask someone.

Again?

When we pass someone, I’m going to stop and ask them.

That didn’t work at all the last two times.

If you spoke Spanish, it would.

You’re blaming me?

It’s convenient.

Besides, you had that yelling thing a moment okay.

Yeah, man, I’m sorry about that-

Car parking lot!

Huh?

Car parking lot.

People who work in them ought to know where shit is, right?

Like people who work in service stations?

That would’ve so worked if you spoke Spanish.

That’s true.

Okay, ask this dude.

Okay, lemme drive closer.

…

…

…

Hey, mate, I’m not from around here and I’m bit lost.

Think you could maybe help me out?

…

Ah, sorry, mate, I only speak English.

Bit of French, if it helps.

…

Dude on the other side? He speaks English?

Right, sweet, thanks, mate.

…

…

Really, Spanish.

I should’ve learnt it.

So many things I need a time machine for.

Do you realise you use mate a lot when you’re being Australian?

I don’t try to be Australian.

…

…

…

Hey, mate, hi.

I’m just wondering if you could help me out-I’m not from around here and I’m fucking lost as, you think you could help me?

…

Just the airport, mate.

…

So, down this road, hang a left, follow-did you say Hope Street?

…

Shit, you did say Hope Street.

Okay, then I just got to get on this express lane that’ll take me pretty much through there?

…

Alright, thanks, mate. I’d offer to have your children if this works out, but, y’know, men-all that birthing bullshit isn’t something we really do.

…

…

You did that just for me, didn’t you?

I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Mate.

Haha.

That dude has probably sent us back to fucking Dodger Stadium just because of that.

Nah, nah, look, Hope Street.

It’ll be all sweet.

And if not?

Spanish phrasebook?

…

…

Hey, he wasn’t lying: the freeway.

Fucking awesome.

Now we just need to find that express lane and we’re fucking gold.

You know, the sad thing is, we’re not even driving for the hostel we’re staying at.

All this effort just to return a hire car.

Yeah, it’s a retarded, but-

No fucking maps.

Anyway, what were you saying earlier, man?

I just didn’t meant to get pissed. Just had a fight with Charlie last night, so…

Yeah, I heard.

I figure she’s kind’ve pissed because I didn’t go back when her old man went into hospital.

She said it wasn’t serious.

He had a heart attack.

Heart attacks are kind of serious.

You offered, though.

She said it was fine.

She said there was no need to come back. I mean, if he had died, I would’ve gone.

I probably would’ve gone back, myself.

I mean-

Just-

Snake Boy, y’know?

Yeah.

I got this feeling, right, I got this vibe-it’s like this bubble sitting right inside me, that the dude has fucking appeared while we’re here.

But more than that, I reckon he has said the right the words for the moment. He’s told her how he is here for her, how he’d always be here for her, and-

Hey, the express lane.

You even listening?

Yeah, man, I’m with you.

Look, what can you say? You got to have faith, man. You can’t think the moment you’re not there, she goes off and sleeps with Snake.

I can’t?

No, and you can’t definitely think that they filmed it, and you’ll accidentally find it when you return?

That thought hadn’t crossed my mind.

And you cannot think that when she does some new and freaky thing that you really dig that she learnt it from him.

…

And you can’t-

Shut the fuck up.

Haha.

Yeah, you laugh.

She doesn’t like you.

Obviously.

Well, the reason she doesn’t like you is cause you took a shot at Snake the first time we met.

You can’t see my tears because they’re on the inside.

See, Snake is her best friend.

You can’t talk to her about him loving her, because she just shuts it off, and won’t hear you say a word against him. It’s jealousy if you do. I mean, she used to talk about it, but she just sits there silent until you press it so hard, that she gets angry at you.

Doesn’t it upset you that she hates me?

No, not in the least.

Though I did think she made a mistake trying to set you up with her friend who has the facial scars and takes baths with her dog.

Thanks.

But you’re ignoring the fact here that he will try and be that guy she she leans on right now.

Or sleeps with.

I dunno why I tell you this shit.

Neither do I, but cheer the fuck up, man, cause the airport is in front of us.

Heeeey..

Fin-fucking-ly.

All we got to do is part this car at the rental place, drop this car off, and find a fucking cab to take us to the hostel.

Finally, we can pay someone to take us where we need to go.

Now, where can we ditch this car?