Jones wakes up early from a nightmare.
“Hulk was fighting Spiderman and it made me upset and I cried.”
His heart so pure and simple, still so light.
Outside, it is just starting to snow. As I push the stroller up the street tiny snowflakes hit our faces. Impossibly intricate worlds dissolving upon contact. And Jones is happy, his tongue out, trying to catch them all. Joy now, all residue of his nightmare obliterated. The rest of us, the adults, we can travel decades, lifetimes with ours.
A woman passes smartly by. She is fresh, ready for work, for whatever might emerge into her day. This is the best version of herself that she is offering the world, everything still immaculate and hopeful at this hour. She smiles when she sees us, her lipstick perfectly red, perfectly expensive. And Jones points past her at a Santa Claus that sits on a roof, and beneath there is a large sun room attached to the house. Inside there are two nuns, both of them wearing African dresses, all golds and browns and bright white teeth. They are decorating for Christmas and they are happy, smiling and chatting with one another as they hang tinsel from a tree. It was as if somebody were saying, “Here, I give you beauty.” And to see this moment, to imagine the journeys that brought these women to this sweet, almost invisible point in time was a gift that had been laid in our path. Like light flaring unexpectedly before us, an encouragement for this, and all the days to follow.
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This inhibits his writing, and in an effort to figure out young people and how they work, he recently fostered an 11 year-old Iraqi orphan named Naseefa for three months. Franzen insisted that Naseefa keep a journal, and what follows are excerpts from that journal.
Day 15:
It is morning and I had just woken from another nightmare full of the bombs and the screaming of the torn and dead. As I open my eyes I see Master Franzen staring down intently upon me. He has been watching me in my terror, he says. “Naseefa, what were you thinking as you slept?! Tell me!!” I say to him that I do not know how to put my thoughts into english words and Master grows frustrated. He hits at things in his apartment, saying bad words, and then he runs off and begins to type.
Day 18:
Today Master took me to Fantasy Forest amusement park. “Go,” he said, “act naturally.” Master then bought a hotdog, arguing briefly with the vendor about technology, and then sat on a bench with his notebook. I went on the Merry-Go-Round and as it was just starting up Master ran to me, “Little boy,” he yelled, “why did you choose this horse? It’s missing a hoof, does it remind you of the carnage of war? Does it summon memories of a family member having an amputation? Why not the lion, does it frighten you because it summons images of your abusive uncle having sex with your mother while your father worked?!”
I did not know what to say so I began to cry. Master Franzen scribbled in his notebook and then started to argue with the hotdog vendor about technology again.
Day 19:
Master seemed depressed today, spending hours in front of the mirror rearranging his hair.
Day 24:
Today Master forced me to open a Twitter account. He wanted to observe as I interacted with the outside world through the use of technology. However he keeps interfering, insisting that every hour I Tweet something about his new book Purity. Without saying a word, he hands me a little piece of paper with the words I must Tweet.
“Franzen is a giant who looms over the American landscape.”
“Purity is a complex and beautiful meditation on what it means to be alive.”
“We are blessed that not only is Franzen the greatest living writer in America, but that his best novels promise to be before him.”
“Just saw an interview with Jonathan Franzen! Not only is he brilliant, but sexy, too!”
Day 38:
Lasagna for dinner again. Master said that his fans worship him and make food for him all the time, and then he laughed a dry, mean laugh.
I am frightened in America.
Day 43:
Master returned to the apartment in a bad mood today, as his tennis lessons did not go well. “The backhand bedevils me!” he exclaimed, before throwing his racket at his transistor radio.
He stared at the broken pieces on the floor for a long time and then suddenly he spun around and shouted at me, “What are you thinking?!”
]]>Heidi, our dog:
Our eight-year old Miniature Dachshund has a mysterious marking that looks a little bit like a scar on her nose. When we asked the breeder about this she became very nervous and evasive, worrying the Rosary Beads she had around her neck. She told us it was a “bee sting,” but then begged us not to ask any more questions, knocking $50 off the price for Heidi, “Just take her now, please!!”
Since we took her, we did some research and found out that she was rejected by a previous family. The dog, apparently excited, jumped on the family’s three-year old daughter, knocking her over onto a coffee table. The girl hit her head and was rendered unconscious. The family found her probably about ten minutes after the encounter, with Heidi licking the blood off her head so that it was all over her muzzle. The family was utterly traumatized. The girl fell into a coma, and although she survived, she now has an imaginary friend named Heidi who makes her do bad things. The family returned Heidi, our dog, to the breeder immediately after the incident. It was the fourth time Heidi had been returned to the breeder by frightened families.
Heidi has knocked me down on at least seven different occasions.
The Crying Boy:
This print, by the Italian artist, Bruno Amadio, was “given” to us by a friend who said he no longer had space for it as he had moved. The painting is huge, perhaps seven feet by five feet, and it looms massively above our living room sofa. Wherever you are, the crying boy is staring at you. We have had the painting for 1 year, and in that time I have been fired from 6 jobs, got shingles and assaulted 4 people. The painting is cursed. I tried to burn it once, but it was impervious to flames.
Heidi’s toy, Belial:
The breeder hastily shoved this toy into Heidi’s crate just as we were about to drive away, “It’s named Belial,” she shouted, “ it is of your dog!” We thought it was a pretty weird thing to say, but whatever. As it turns out, this squeak toy is indestructible. I have thrown it out at least a dozen times and even gone so far as to bury it in the backyard, but it always returns, lying at the end of our bed, staring at us with it’s dead, demon eyes.
Sometimes, when Heidi is playing with it and there’s a frenzy of squeaking in the apartment, Rachelle and I can sometimes hear recognizable phrases forming amidst the cacophony. ” Four-eyes must die,” “Drown him in blood,” “Eat all his food,” “His fear feeds you.” Once, I woke up from a nightmare*(see next entry) to see Belial in the chandelier above our bed just staring down at me. It was the most chilling thing I have ever felt.
Squirrel Pelt Blanket:
When we first got this blanket as a gift, we kept it at the foot of our bed, but both Rachelle and I were plagued by horrible dreams about being a squirrel and getting hunted down and skinned by an old, West Pennsylvania Mountain Man. The same dream, again and again and again. They were utterly terrifying and we’d both wake up screaming, the dog shrieking, too. When we moved the blanket and put it on a radiator in the living room, the nightmares stopped, although squirrels, baleful and lost, often mass on the fire escape outside the window and just stare in at it, as if in silent, foreboding judgment.
**********************************************************
Heidi always great hunter.
So confident and self-assured in skills of death-making that Heidi never feel need to show off. Heidi no show-boater! Heidi hate show-boaters!
Cats biggest show-boaters in universe! Heidi not kidding, she really, really hate cats. So arrogant!!
Heidi lost train of thought.
Heidi hungry.
Hope meat for dinner.
Meat and meat fat.
Oh! Heidi hate cats! When cats get lucky and accidentally kill mouse, make big deal of it! Like they just won Olympic gold medal! Cats parade about with mouse in stupid mouth, and like big suck they are, put dead thing at feet of everyone in pack as if to say, “Look what great cat did!” No class at all. Make Heidi want to barf.
Heidi kill mouse the other day.
No big deal.
Heidi crunch-blood kill mouse, Heidi eat mouse.
Simple.
However, Heidi now have bad dreams.
Ghost mouse come to haunt Heidi in her sleep.
Dream #1
Heidi chasing ball. In the zone. Always know where ball is going, always get ball. Ears blowing in wind, smell of grass and leaves and dead things everywhere! Practically out of body experience! Perfect day! And then ball turns into mouse, only mouse the size of Boarder Collie, and then Heidi turn into ball and giant mouse chasing Heidi! Very scary.
Dream #2
Heidi on her blanket, but somehow not quite her blanket. Strange, but Heidi decide to burrow anyway, and once Heidi under weird blanket and starting to feel safe, realize she is inside giant mouse and can’t get out!! Heidi wake up barking, feel off all day until hear kibble hit bowl. Always hits the reset button, that.
Dream #3
Heidi alone in long, green field. Feeling very contemplative, thinking of parents Heidi never knew, of all Heidi accomplished at 9, all she still hoped to accomplish, and then far away on the horizon see Mickey Mouse. Mickey Mouse waving at Heidi. And Heidi know that Mickey Mouse is death.
Uma Thurman
June 2, 2010
9:48 pm
Uma, it’s former president George W. Bush here. I hope you don’t mind, but I got your number from secret service. I’m very young for an ex-president and still very powerful, you know. I wanted to let you know that I’ve always been a big fan of your work, ever since that film with the French title. What was it called? It starred Michelle Pfeiffer and everybody was hoping she was going to take her clothes off, but instead, you peeled off your top, and Holy Smoke! I think you acted a boner out of an entire generation! But Hell, you’ve been great in every movie since, especially all those Kill Bill ones. I want you to know that even though Jesus Christ is my Lord and Saviour, I’ve become very interested in Buddhism and was wondering if you’d like to get together for a drink to discuss it sometime.
Laura Bush
June 7, 2010
10:48 am
Laura, it’s me and I’m at a stupid-ass meeting in Chicago. The guy doing all the talking has a head that reminds me of a potato. I had the dream again last night.
Owl Research Institute
June 12, 2010
2:46 pm
Yeah, it’s George W. Bush here and I had a few questions for you folks about owls. I thought I saw one in my backyard yesterday. Is it true that they can turn their heads around in a complete circle? Will they eat dogs? Is it bad luck to shoot one, and if so, what prayer works best to cast one off your property?
Harold Atkins
June 12, 2010
2:52 pm
Harry, yeah, it’s W. Look, I wanted to discuss the possibility of making a trade in our fantasy baseball league. My pitching is fucked and I could really use a starter. I could maybe give you Cruz for Grienke. Cruz is hitting a ton, a guy with hair on his ass. He’s gonna knock 50 out this year.
Dr. Jeffrey Kuhlman
June 18, 2010
9:17 am
It’s George here and I’m nearly out of my stress pills. Call me.
Laura Bush
June 21, 2010
3:48 pm
It’s me. Jesus, most boring meeting ever. All I could think about during the blabberfest was that guy who’s obsessed with becoming a mermaid. Saw him on a talk show the other day and sweet Jesus, he just gives me the creeps.
Uma Thurman
June 22, 2010
12:27 am
Uma, thanks for making time for me earlier to chat about Buddhism. I did not know that there were Four Noble Truths. Something to chew on, that. I figure I’ve been looking for The Dhamma my entire life, probably why I bombed Iraq. Would love to see you again soon. Your hair looked really pretty.
]]>Me: Kind of scared.
Me: Kind of very scared.
Me: What if there’s a rope?
Me: I can just imagine it hanging from the ceiling.
Me: Swaying ominously.
Me: They’ll force me to climb up it.
Me: There might be a rope!!
Me: I’m not overreacting.
Me: Look, I know it’s not grade 4 gym class.
Me: No, I’m not expecting dodge ball.
Me: It would be nice if you were supportive rather than sarcastic.
Me: I don’t have dodge ball nightmares.
Me: Not anymore.
Me: Fartmares.
Me: Very funny.
Me: No, I’m not going to ask them if they can do anything about my “gas problem.”
Me: Because there is no gas problem.
Me: My trainer?
Me: Her name is Laetitia.
Me: She’s French, France French.
Me: She thinks I’m really funny.
Me: No, funny ha-ha.
Me: Cute accent.
Me: She really loves the anchor tattoo on my hand. It reminds her of Marseille.
Me: I know it was a commitment tattoo I got with you, but I can’t help it if other women find it attractive.
Me: My hands don’t look old.
Me: I’d say they look like they belong on a 25 year-old man.
Me: She’s going to test my grip.
Me: No, not my grip on reality.
Me: Man alive!
Me: My right hand has like a GI Joe Super Kung Fu grip!!
Me: Laetitia is really impressed! Gave me a hug!!
Me: Oh, you know the French.
Me: They’re like that.
Me: Yes, whorish.
Me: Such beguiling giggles, too.
Me: Are you going to your girl’s night out Salsa Dance Slut thing again tonight?
Me: Your sisters are a very bad influence on you.
Me: Alejandro.
Me: No, I don’t want him coming to my birthday party.
Me: I just don’t.
Me: I don’t want to talk about it.
Me: I don’t care if the therapist said I have to communicate more.
Me: All right.
Me: I communicate that I hate Alejandro.
Me: Well, didn’t he poke somebody in the back with his boner while dancing????
Me: I can’t do this now, I have to prepare for my next test.
Me: Mentally. I have to get in the zone.
Me: I want Alejandro out of the zone!!
Me: The next test?
Me: I have to walk briskly for the next six minutes.
Me: Yes.
Me: Well, why wouldn’t I take off my shirt?
Me: The French are used to that sort of thing.
Me: And I’m going to get a good sweat on.
Me: Oh.
Me: Apparently the equipment works better if I keep my shirt on.
Me: No.
Me: I don’t see any equipment.
Me: I think Laetitia might be a drunk.
Me: She’s all worried about me texting when I do the brisk walk test thing.
Me: Thinks I might walk into a wall or something.
Me: As if.
Me: Hate Laetitia and her bad skin.
Me: Glad I’ve never been to France.
]]>One of the people who escaped the mall on that day was Toronto Blue Jay third baseman Brett Lawrie. This is what he tweeted to his more than 125, 000 followers:
“pretty sure someone just let off a round of bullets in the eaton center mall…Wow just sprinted out of the mall…Through traffic…”
“ People sprinting up the stairs right from where we just were…Wow wow wow”
These are some other eyewitness reports:
“Everybody panicked and ran as fast as they could. We sprinted up the escalator and people were falling on top of one another and I was very scared I was going to get trampled or shot in the back. It felt like America not Canada.”
“My wife jumped on our kids and protected them. She pulled my youngest out of the stroller and laid herself out beside her. She sang songs to her and pulled out her breast so as to comfort her. It was an amazing and beautiful thing to do. She’s a hero.”
“I knew something was wrong when I heard two different groups of people screaming and crying as they ran past. I was frozen, not knowing what to do. An Asian woman stopped to tell me what had happened. She had a tattoo of a man standing in front of a tank on her wrist, and when I saw it I knew it must have been inspired by Tiananmen Square, and I wondered if I was feeling the same sort of terror that they felt on that day. I was still stunned, but the woman tugged me on the shoulder and then I began to run, too
“ When I heard the shots and all the yelling I couldn’t help thinking that it was my mother’s birthday. I just kept saying, “I can’t die on my mother’s birthday, I can’t die on my mother’s birthday,” and I just ran with the mob until I hit the street.”
“Ever since I was a child and I saw the Columbine shooting on TV, I’ve had recurring nightmares about this sort of thing. I’d always been waiting for it to happen, I guess, and there it was, happening. I should have been scared, but I wasn’t, I was calm, thinking that I had a role to play and had been summoned by God to be present on this day.”
“I’d just bought a new high definition TV and I didn’t want to drop it. I worried about people running over it. But I did drop it and then I ran like hell.”
“Me and my friends come down to hangout at the food court all the time. There’s a girl who works at the Dairy Queen I’ve always wanted to talk to, but she’s so pretty I get too nervous. When the shooting started I thought of her. I didn’t want her to be scared. I wanted to save her, but everything happened so quickly that I don’t even remember running. Suddenly I was standing outside on the street and I knew right then that I wanted to marry her. I hope to tell our grandchildren that story one day.”
