Off the Road - 02

a jazz novel on a typewriter

2

Before then I had dreamed of going West and seeing this great slab of land called the United States of America but it was not until I found a partner who had nothing much but time to do nothing except wade into the expense of highways and toll roads which made up the net of the world wide roadways that were now dying because there were too many people racing around before the news of whatever soundbite was made in the last 24 hours. This morning it was that Lebanon was bombed by Israel for bombing the Gaza Strip because terrorists funded by Iran blew up a strip of settlements. I think that was the idea at least because I only read this just before I packed my computer at 3 AM before leaving my pad.

“So, Dean, how is it that you get another girlfriend when your last has sent you packing when most of us try and try again but don’t get any nibbles on the various websites that we troll?” I waited because Dean was the mouthpiece for the words that would come out in my typewriter when I got the nerve to actually type rather than fidget.

He rolled a cigarette out of Raw and offered it to me, which I, of course, accepted because I had run out of anything to smoke, and then he made another and put it to his lips and lit it with a Bic lighter.

“The first thing you have to do is pick your parents so that you look good on the picture that goes into the website.” Then he licked the sacred with a sloppy lip and oily tongue. Sort of the way landlord Arabs got their money by selling old fossils for fuel.

 I shifted my butt from right to left but did not answer immediately because I knew that Dean was better looking than most, and most particularly me.

“Then you have to have a grab line that will get the girl to start thinking about you long enough so that she swipes yes before she even thinks about it. Because if she thinks she will be on to the next picture with a better idea of what a potential match would be rather than a boyfriend to pass the time with.”

“So that’s it? A line and you're fine?”

“So long as you pick your parents well.” And then he took a drag from his half-assed rolled cigarette and then puffed it out with l o n g and s l o w drags that reached down into his gut.

“So, you are saying I am screwed in other words?”

“No, you just have to set your sights downwards because the bottom half will realize very quickly that they don’t have the looks to get the highest class of boy and will have to settle for what they can get. It is the way that everything is constructed when a market with all of the players gets set up in this Internet world: the top gets its pick, the next two top gets the leavings, and the bottom hunts for anyone who is available.”

“I probably should have stayed with my wife in other words.”

“You found her before the market was set up and everyone played the game. I know that in your place I would have stayed with her.”

“Yes, but she was crazy.”

“No, you didn’t realize that you were crazy and she was saying you had to be back and not drunk with your friends. She was sane because it is always the girl who determines what is sane in a relationship.”

 At that point, I was hurt but realized that the way of the market was those who had got and those who didn’t have did not. And the horn who used out a triple note final before going back to the main theme.

The radio stopped picking up the station we were listening to and a news station came blinking in talking about the Fed Chair saying that September would be the time to cut interest rates so that people could borrow more money to get into hock for the stuff that they purchased that they did not need. Then the announcer went on to talk about whether RFK Jr. and his leaving of the race for the presidency was going to have any significant effect in the swing states. A little while later news announcer talked about how the high price of rent was the result of real estate agencies colluding with the landlords. As if this wasn’t news to the people who had to pay the enormous rent that came with a small place away from town which they then had to drive to work.

Dean finished his first and proceeded to roll out a second seeing as how I was nursing my first as I waved through traffic near the border of Massachusetts and New Hampshire and all that meant. I pulled off and topped off the gas though I realized that sooner or later I would have to sell my puzzle fuel-loving Hyundai for an EV when the cost came down to where people like myself could afford it.

I realized once I had passed into New Hampshire that the reason that Dean interested me was he seemed to live a more interesting life than anyone else I knew. He was an enigma wrapped in a riddle packaged in a mystery that I could not figure out how he kept landing on his feet while everyone else I knew, myself included, kept dropping on their face and picked up and said that everything is fine.

He stopped reading the paper with the email on it and began to pontificate on how he was at the first game of the National Basketball Association finals with the Celtics and the Mavericks.

“I knew when they were passing the ball and taking shots before the game started that the Celtics were not going to have many problems with their opponent because they all had that look of confidence that can’t be muffled by anything or anyone.”

“Why was that important to you?”

“Because I had money of course on the Celtics winning it all and I placed that bad before the season even started. There are always suckers who think that it might happen even when it is clearly not.”

“Is that how you make your living?”

“No, but it is a sideline for when I do not want to work, and the money just keeps rolling in because there are people who will bet on the losing side of anything because they think that it might happen.”

“So where do you find these people?”

“Somewhere, anywhere, everywhere. It is always the same there are more people who want money than there is money for people.”

 Then we passed into Maine with the radio station coming in and out of Mingus.