“I thought Lacey was bisexual. Or…something. …I’m almost entirely gay. …We were friends on Facebook for a while and then we met. And it was weird. She was a lot prettier in person. And there was something…strange…I couldn’t quite place. Honestly…she reminds me Zelda Fitzgerald. A lot. …Zelda didn’t photograph well either. …And if you look at the footage of her she’s remarkably better looking than her photographs. And they look a lot alike! …Not necessarily as distant cousins. But more…like a type. Like a type of woman. …Lacey’s not schizophrenic. …But Zelda wasn’t always just hallucinating either. And they’re both so animated and passionate.
And that’s all nice. But then things get dark.
Why? Because…I decided not to like her. Yes. I decided.
It was as if I was given a choice. The choice was between loving her…and completely rejecting her. And I felt…odd about loving her. It felt…wrong. So I rejected her.
The Concertgebouw Orchestra Amsterdam plays Shostakovich’s Jazz Suite No. 2: VI. Waltz II.
She’s not bisexual. …And we’d been talking for quite some time. …And I didn’t have a boyfriend. So…a part of me wanted to get drunk with her…and try making-out. Just to see what would happen. …But…I could tell she wasn’t interested. …Or at least, that’s what I thought. …But it got weird for me. And…I left not liking her as much.
Thing is…she’s SO SERIOUS. …I don’t think I’ve ever met a more serious person in my whole life. At least not in America. …But she’s also sweet and quiet and cheerful like…Amelie, from Amélie. She has these big, brilliant brown eyes. And there’s a sort of intensely feminine, seductive, scary beauty that you catch every time you look into them. And you do. You feel the need to either hate her…or…worship her.
Yes. Worship her.
Those are her eyes. Almost exactly. …And…those eyes…when you see them in person…are and they’re examining you…are…terrifying. You know she knows. She knows something. And some people feel judged. Some people feel like…nothing. I felt…attracted. Which is rare for me. …But others have felt…she was attracted to them? And…she probably never is…almost ever. That’s just her look. She’s not aroused in this photo by you. …Maybe she’s thinking of Lem. But she’s not in love with you.
When Lem looked into her eyes he saw…something to try to conquer.
Are they reincarnated? Not necessarily. But it is fascinating how much she looks like Scotia. And how much he looks like Constantine. And how Lem…wants to conquer her. And how…he tries it…and yet…he does it with the idea of making love to her. And he finds…her…end. …He sees her need for him. He sees where she ends. …I wonder if most men struggle to understand that she has limits. …She’s strong…but she’s also…extremely feminine.
The song ends.
Lyric Waltz plays.
She’s…lost without him. And actually…it’s very beautiful.
But…see…that’s just it. She’s just being herself. And…I was wrong. We don’t have to choose. We don’t have to choose between loving her and hating her. That’s a lie.” says a man Lacey once knew.
“Why can’t you just like me?” says Lacey.
He laughs. “You aren’t an easy person to like. …I kept feeling this pull and push from you. Like you wanted a reaction from me. …What did you want? BE HONEST!” he says.
Lacey takes a deep breath. Exhales. Worries. “It’s going to sound like reincarnation.” she says.
“OH WELL!” he says.
“I just wanted to crawl in Tom Banks’s lap at three. Take a nap. …And die. …I just wanted to be dead. …I just wanted to go die.” says Lacey.
The song ends.
Finale plays.
“Die?” he says.
“Yes.” she says.
“That day!?” he says.
“EVERY DAY.” says Lacey.
He laughs. Smiles. Laughs.
“Yup.” he says.
“I actually had no idea people were reading me that way!” says Lacey.
He thinks. Rests his head on his fist.
The song ends.
He exhales himself.
“So…you…wanted what from me?” he says.
“For you to be happy.” says Lacey.
“Yeah. Okay. …But…you aren’t a happy person.” he says.
“So what?” says Lacey.
“So…I didn’t feel comfortable with being that happy. Because you weren’t happy.” he says.
“Why does my happiness have to matter?” says Lacey.
He thinks.
“It’s just friendship.” she says.
“Crap.” he says.
“Look. …People can apparently tell I’m unhappy. …And when I try to fake it they accuse me of being entirely fake. Like in the perfume community. …Why do you all care so damn much? …Why can’t you just enjoy being around me?” says Lacey. “It’s my fucking pain. Not yours. Just try to let me enjoy being around you. For God’s sake!!!”
“I agree! Are we all too emotionally exclusive to be able to allow a depressed person or a VERY SAD PERSON to be around us!?” says a man.
He thinks. “I also didn’t understand your background. …But mostly…you were just too serious.”
“What did you expect?” asks Princess Margaret.
He thinks.
“I don’t find her too serious at all. I find I can relax around her. And be myself.” says Princess Margaret.
Dreamer’s Path by James Quinn plays.
“What the fuck…are middle class people so happy about?” says Lacey.
“I agree!!!” says Princess Margaret.
“Andrew…whether I’m hearing from you or not…life is often very sad…for lots of people. It amazes me that anyone is ever happy. …Something always goes horribly wrong. …And people like me…know that. Life is…fragile. Life is…DARK. …The happiness you experience came from thousands of young happy men who had families dying. In the Revolutionary War. In the Civil War. In World War I. In World War II. Greed made your clothes! …Native American children were tortured so you could sit with me…and have meaningless conversation. And drink Starbucks. …And I never completely forget that. …How do you!??” says Lacey.
“No. I never forgot that either!” says Nils Nesheim, laughing sadly.
“I just…do.” says Andrew.
“I can’t.” says Lacey.
Andrew thinks.
“I can’t either!” says Princess Margaret. “It’s always in the back of my mind too! My whole family is like that.”
“You truly can’t let that go?!?” says Andrew to Lacey.
“No! …It haunts me. Constantly. …Always! EVERYWHERE!” says Lacey.
“And then your personal sadness is beyond repair?” says Andrew.
“Yes! …But I’m alive. Okay? And God is God! Death is death. …I don’t control it. God does.” says Lacey. “So I do my best to manage.”
The song fades.
Ombelico by Hania Rani plays.
“Can you be happy?” he says.
She thinks. “Not anymore.
Not without divine intervention. After death.
Life will never be happy for me. I’m FURIOUS.” says Lacey.
“So even if you were the queen of the world. Married to a king. Happily?” says Andrew.
“WHO!??” says Lem. “I’m DEAD!!!”
“And there’s been too much evil. Too much vile evil! Too much sadness. …I will not be CONTROLLED!!” yells Lacey. “YOU WILL NOT OWN ME!!! YOU DIRT!!
A men haunting the Fitzgerald Theater cracks up laughing.
“Why can’t you just let her be sad!??” he says to Andrew.
The song ends.
The song replays.
Andrew thinks.
“She’s not wrong. It is as if you’re all trying to own her. And that does make you dirt.” says the man haunting the Fitzgerald Theater.
“Honestly. She’s…-“ says Andrew.
“Try loving her!” yells the man from the Fitzgerald Theater.
Lacey rejects it. Politely. She always does.
She smiles.
“Okay! Now what?” says the man haunting the Fitzgerald Theater.
“Why can’t we be friends!?” yells Andrew at Lacey.
Lacey thinks.
“What do you want to do?” says Princess Margaret. “How about sipping gin? On a sofa. Wearing gloves. Waiting for something. …And then try to make intelligent conversation!”
“What if…we listen to old records! …From the late 1800’s? …While we wait.” says Lacey.
“Mmm. …Yes. Edisons.” says Princess Margaret
“Is your lemon as bright as mine?” says Lacey.
Princess Margaret sips her g & t.
“Yes. That is a bright tasting lemon!” says Princess Margaret.
“Isn’t it!?? …Why?” says Lacey.
“It’s as accurate as any possible communication can be. Meaning that…I was straight. Jack was sadistic and abusive. Lacey is Tom Banks’s daughter. I acted gay. …I was molested. I was confused by the molestation. Ahh…I am Kirk LeMoyne Billings. …Lacey’s my ‘wife’ in Heaven, but it’s better than marriage. And it’s for eternity.” says Lem.
She thinks. “It’s our citrus delivery from Italy!” she says.
“Oh! …Did that come today!?” says Lacey.
“Yes!!” says Princess Margaret.
“Really!?” says Lacey.
Princess Margaret smiles.
“See! She can chit chat! …Very naturally.” says the princess. “About nothing!”
“Andrew…what do you want from me?” says Lacey.
“What Margaret just had.” says Andrew. “Your heart. Just a little.”
“But we don’t know each other!” says Lacey.
He furrows his brow. “Yes we did!”
“Not really. … Somehow I don’t know you.” says Lacey.
Andrew thinks. “Okay! So…you’re sad.” he says.
“Yes!” says Lacey, brightly.
“Why?” he says.
“Oh goodness!” she says. She thinks. “I should have been born in 1920. Or 1918. Or 1917. Or 1922. 21. …Really!!!” she says.
“Well! You’re alive today!” he says.
“Yeah. …I wish I could-
Do you ever go to the Minnesota Institute of Arts and stand in the far back area…near the silver…and the Connecticut Room…and feel…just a little bit dead?” says Lacey.
“No!” he says, scoffing.
“I’m DDT.” says Lacey. “Just forget being my friend. Okay!?”
“You’re not a toxic person!” he says.
“No! I’m not.” says Lacey.
“Ahh…I can’t relate to you at all.” he says.
“Why are you so self-righteous about that!?” says Lacey.
He thinks. “I’m sorry.”
She stands in silence.
“Well! …I can’t have fun with you.” he admits.
She sighs. “How do you have fun?” she asks curiously.
“Not the art museum the way you want to enjoy it.” he says.
“Okay.
Then what?” she says.
“Walks around the lakes?” he says.
“You’d do that with me. And get bored. And depressed.” says Lacey to Andrew.
“She’s right.” says Princess Margaret.
“Plays!” he says.
“You’d get bored and depressed doing that with me too!” says Lacey.
“Could you fit in at one of my parties?” says Queen Elizabeth II.
“No. Those were stiff.” says Andrew.
“Good! Sounds like an actually relaxing dinner!” says Lacey, exasperated.
And at that Lacey sits down for a “formal” dinner with JFK and Jackie, safely.
There’s candlelight. It’s too dark. But she ignores it. The food isn’t right for such a dark place either. The silver is…nice. Bourgeois but lovely. …The dinnerware is…fine.
She looks around. Lem is there. He’s himself. Straight. Trying to be gentlemanly. Acting gay. Possibly more uncomfortable than we are led to believe. He’s a very big man. And…these aren’t big chairs. And…he’s sitting too close to his dinner companions.
The food is fine. Nice! Fish, potatoes and beans. The water tastes great! Very good! …It’s flavorful! More mineral content than what Lacey is used to. …Fresh! Clean! Yum!
She gives up on the main course. Asks for dessert.
She’s served coffee and chocolate pie.
It’s…good. …The coffee is wonderful.
She gets up and takes her coffee and begins examining things.
Like the top of Jack’s head. The top of Jackie’s head. What’s under the table. The thread count of the tablecloth. The dust on the books.
“I NEED GIN!” she yells.
And as she’s a sort of ghost she gets it. Quickly.
“Why can’t you enjoy these people!?” says Joe Kennedy Junior, also a ghost, to her. Whether there’s reincarnation or not.
She tries to sit down. Drink her coffee at the table.
They are awkward. Uncomfortable. But desperately trying to be elegant. Jackie pretends to be at ease. And in a way is. But not really. And it all shows. It does. It just shows.
They forgo dessert. For the moment. Go have drinks. Jackie fawns over Jack. Smiling. By the fireplace. Making a beautiful scene. For everyone to watch.
Lem rises and helps clean off the table some. Walks into the kitchen. You hear him talking loudly with some people. Laughing. Wheezing.
He walks out with a cigarette. Smiling. Prances in a gay fashion towards the room with the fireplace. But walks past it. And goes upstairs to read instead. Jack notices and smiles devilishly to himself when Lem is gone.
Lacey rips the tablecloth off the table.
They all mysteriously hear her. Things fall to the ground.
Break.
Then she flings a candle on the floor. Rolls it to a curtain. The curtain starts on fire. Jack notices. Rushes to extinguish it.
Jackie looks baffled.
So does Jack.
“It’s almost as if we have ghosts!” says Jackie.
“I can’t stand it here!!!” yells Lacey at God.
“What was wrong with it?” asks Queen Elizabeth II.
“These two hams!” says Lacey. “Fart and Flip.”
Queen Elizabeth II laughs.
“He’s the big fart. And she does flips.” says Lacey. “The sex life…of a trained seal.” she says looking at Jackie.
“What else?” asks Queen Elizabeth.
“They have no idea how to really enjoy anything!” says Lacey, enraged.
“True.” says Queen Elizabeth II.
“If Lem wasn’t here…and America…wasn’t controlled by these people…I’d rather wait until Heaven to see anything of them. Provided nobody got hurt. …They’re VILE.” says Lacey.
Back to Andrew.
“We just can’t easily be friends.” says Andrew to Lacey.
“Everyone alive is like that with me!” says Lacey.
“Fart and Flip!?” he says. “That isn’t working!”
“No! He’s a fart. …He’s as gross and meaningless as a fart. It’s very intricate. …And she’s…always doing flips.” says Lacey.
“But that’s not a thing!” says Andrew.
“Who cares? Why does that matter?” says Lacey.
“Because it has to already exist! You can’t make up something new!” says Andrew.
“How do you all not just kill each other? To end your UNFATHOMABLE boredom?” says Lacey.
“We’re not bored.” says Andrew.
“What the fuck are you doing!??” says Lacey.
“Being…happy. Or trying.” he says.
“Doing what!? Staring at your fingernails!??” says Lacey.
“No. …Just…being.” he says.
“She can do that!!!! Just as well as you! …With me!” says Princess Margaret.
“Why can’t you-“ he says.
“Because she’s not middle class!! It’s so OBVIOUS!” says Princess Margaret.
“I asked you what you do! You refused to answer me! …You’re not without any resources!” says Lacey. “I’m not necessarily the evil one in this specific situation!”
Later.
“So…I just can’t…be that…present. Like…I’m here. Right? …But…you’re so different! …And it’s just…difficult being your friend.” says Andrew.
“I thought she was just flirting.” says Casi.
“WHAT!?” says Andrew.
“That’s not sexual tension?” says Casi.
“What!? Her constant…seriousness? No! …It has almost nothing to do with you. You’re misunderstanding or imagining that. …She’s just like that.” says Andrew.
Lem sits down at a table with Lacey and Queen Elizabeth. It’s very proper. Big chairs. Enough room. Fascinating silver and china. Good lighting.
For dinner is a first course of a broth.
Bread. Butter.
Then wild mushroom risotto, Walleye, and cooked peas. And a tomato aspic.
Followed by a light but filling balsamic salad.
Followed by an assortment of sea foods.
Followed by a dessert of lemon pie.
It’s very formal. Very quiet. Very careful. But extremely luxurious. And slow.
By ten o’clock mint drinks are officially served. And everyone moves into the room with the fireplace. And a group of people play a game. Surrounded by other people who choose to quietly chat or just sit.
Lem stays for all of it.
By 11:30 a few people leave. For bed. One or two have dozed off. And three people start dancing outside and inside through the opened French doors. They’re mostly drunk. They play music. Laugh.
Lem decides to watch. Drinking.
A man flirts with him from across the room.
Lem smirks. Smiles. Nods. Gets up to join him. In 1960.
Lem tries to make polite conversation. The man is flattered.
They sit and talk for a while. Lem stares into his eyes. Smiling.
They talk some more.
More noise is made. By others.
At 1 AM Lem gets up to finally go to sleep. Another gay man approaches the gay man. They begin seriously flirting. They giggle. Poke each other. And by 1:30 have run off together.
Meanwhile Lem is being undressed, saying goodnight, and drinking a spot of whiskey before dozing off. In a warm, big, soft bed. Alone. Book on chest. At 3 AM he wakes up to the sound of someone screaming in ecstasy next door. He turns out his light. Goes to sleep. It’s almost pitch black.
Within an hour he realizes he’s straight. And miserable. But he goes back to sleep.
“We confuse you.” says a perfume collector from Europe to Lacey.
“You seem evil.” says Lem. “It took one night in upper class Great Britain at a wild party…for me to realize I was straight. One night!”
“What did it!?” asks a model.
“The gay man. He was bored. I bored him to tears. …The ecstatic moaning of the woman. …I never heard a woman really orgasm happily…ever. Other than in pornography. Late in life. …Watching the British men be giddy and silly with the women. And not be considered gay, at all, because they weren’t. Watching the way British women ate. Their relaxed yet refined manners. The food itself. …The loneliness of my bed. …The actual loneliness of my bed. No, a man doesn’t fill it.
Why? …Men are other men. …And I wasn’t attracted to men. But…the thought of holding a soft woman…like Lacey…is Heavenly.” says Lem.
“I’m sorry she wasn’t there!” says a man.
Lem weeps.
Later.
“So you…just never…found the right person? I’m so confused!” says a living gay man to Lem.
“I didn’t want to harm anyone.” says Lem.
“What if Lacey had been there?” asks the gay man.
“We’d have gone to bed at 9:30. Latest.” says Lem.
“Lem…how did you suck cock all those years!??” says the living gay man.
Lem laughs. Thinks. “It was…unpleasant. …I didn’t do it that often. …I had very few boyfriends, really. No! Really. And I hated sexual contact with them. And they knew that. …Jack…was…bisexual and closeted…so…I could avoid…most gay sexual and romantic situations. Because I primarily was with him. …Like I’ve said, if it wasn’t for him…I’d have realized I was straight by my late 20’s.”
“How!??” asks a gay cinematographer.
Lem considers. “You know…I don’t think I completely answered the last question. …I avoided it. But the other man always instigated it. I rarely ever thought it even made sense. And I’d begrudgingly try it. Hoping it would be better. It never was.
Jack demanded it. I didn’t think I had an excuse. It was bad. …And I’d just close my eyes and try to think of women. Or something else entirely. And it…was eventually over. It was very gross. I vomited once afterwards. …I often pretended to swallow. …It was…awful. …So I mostly just avoided it. …I hired people to service Jack. Both men and women. Just to avoid him. And he was none the wiser.
I was…tentative about it. And reserved. And mostly just focused on getting it over with. …And with a man that’s easier to do. Women are more complex to deal with. And I am straight…but…I think it might be uglier to be a woman in my situation than a man. It’s actually fairly easy to get a man off with enough thoughtless movement. And I just did the same thing over and over. Every time. And…it was…quick and thoughtless and without any passion. …But he didn’t mind. Because it was…supposed to be for my pleasure…because as a supposed faggot he assumed I would love giving him head. And he was terrible at sex. Often boring Jackie. He…was…dull. Bland as a rice cake. But…because of that…he didn’t notice my lack of interest and the fact that it was the same thing every time. No emotion. And…as a narcissist he assumed I was thoroughly enjoying myself…and doing it entirely for him. He was just…being serviced. You know? And that’s why it was all the same. …He felt it was…’just a little off the top.’ You know? ‘Just a trim.’ Because it was…only for my pleasure.
Ahh…and yes. She’s listening. And I’m dead. And yesterday I told you he burned me. Because I lacked emotion. …You know…(she’s listening)…I think…I’m being unclear. I did the same thing every time. So it was boring and all that. And I was mindless about it. But that time in the shower I was resisting. …I was new to it. And I didn’t know how to avoid thinking about it yet. I hadn’t thought about it. So…I wasn’t enthusiastic enough in the sense that I was…repulsed and showing it. But trying not to. But…I was straight. And so…I stopped. He was standing up. In the shower. And I was on my knees. Facing him. And I just couldn’t…do it. It was too gross. I just…couldn’t. It was too gross. And so I had to stop at one point…and just breath…and he got very angry. And he kept it in. And I tried to go back at it. But I got totally grossed out again and stopped. And that time he cried a little and pouted…and then hopped out of the shower and turned the hottest hot water on me. And I wasn’t expecting that from him. So I got bad burns. It wasn’t a malfunction. That’s a cover story. He burned me. And they had the hot water turned up too hot. But he intentionally did that to me. Because I got too grossed out to sexually perform. Because I was straight!” says Lem.
“That actually does make sense of it. Their cover story was always weird.” says a historian. “Sorry! Just being honest.”
“No. I just…distracted myself. Or thought of women.
And his idea was always that I found the women…for him…so…in a way…he was sleeping with me.” says Lem.
A straight man laughs.
“He honestly believed that?” asks a straight man
“He- *Lem laughs* He did.” says Lem. “He…thought he was the stud. And I was his horny gay buddy. …So…mysteriously I would pick out women. I somehow wanted to be with too. But was too chicken. Or too gay or something. …That was his impression.
I did tell him my real reasoning. Early on. Right away! …But he was livid. Very narcissistically insulted. And I…didn’t think I should reexplain. Not too often. …See…it made him feel guilty. And gay. And that just made him angry and cruel. So…he knew. I told him. …But he preferred to be…the straight one. And he gave me…a talk.
‘Look. I support you. I support your choice!’ he said, with a hint of ironic lust and careless passion. But of course it was lost on me. Because I was straight. So I only responded by saying nothing and just blankly staring at him. And then a few minutes later I said,
*Esja by Hania Rani plays*
‘Sure, Jack! Sure!’ with a huge smile.
And he looked up at me. Hurt. But I didn’t notice.
‘Look! You and I have different ways of doing things! …But gosh, you’re a good friend!’ I said. ‘We don’t have to talk about it anymore!’
And he smirked. And said, ‘Look…I’d be a faggot too. It’s just easier! But my dad, he’d never allow it!’ with a sort of apologetic tone.
‘Sure Jack!’ I said.
‘YEAH!’ he said.
And then we got to smoking cigarettes.
And I had no idea what that was to him. Until I died.
To him that was an admission of absolute homosexual behavior and tendencies on his part. It was a request that I love him. It was an attempt to devastate me and break my heart. Make me suicidal. Give me the impression of love or the possibility of it. But it went…completely over my head.
Part of what you have to understand is that he was from a sexually liberal family. Not a sexually sophisticated family.
Suite For Jazz Orchestra plays again.
So…they had a lot of bad sex. Quickies with hundreds of prostitutes. Quickies with wives. I gave Jack bad oral sex. And there were lots of antics. Lots of rapes. Lots of perversion. Lots of affairs. Lots a cheap tricks.
Very rarely did anyone truly get off. Or fall in love. It was just lots of cheap shit. Quantity and impact over quality and meaning. Orgasms? Men had them occasionally. Women never did almost ever. And hundreds of people got very hurt. A dozen or so died. And to the Kennedys that was success! Death! Suicide. Not orgasms and lasting love. Fidelity? Why!? Orgasms and intimacy weren’t important. Suicide! That’s the winning ticket! Hanging!
And it wasn’t about Jack being bisexual! Ha! Lots of gay men have probably assumed that for decades. No. …It was sadism. Evil. And…a sort of secret inability to actually enjoy sex.
Even in women Jack couldn’t impregnate he was more about getting himself off than anything else. Just a quick thing. No love making. No real foreplay. He got aroused. Had sex. And that’s it! …He’d have kissed me. But I didn’t like it. And even with Jackie he barely kissed at all. He may have made love with Red Fay as much as he could. But it was simple stuff. Very simple! They just kissed, rolled around a little, and then had so-called anal sex. That’s it. It probably took ten to fifteen minutes at most. And that was his big shining moment. His whole life. Maybe they touched each other a little too. …No! He was terrible in bed. And the prostitutes I hired masked that by acting. They were acting. …But he didn’t entirely know that.” says Lem.
“That 17 year old?” says a woman.
“She was…his victim. And she was younger. I knew about her. But he molested other people. And…it was…Hell watching him. Absolute Hell.” says Lem.
“Was Eyes Wide Shut about him?” asks Tom Cruise.
“YES!!!” yells Stanley Kubrick. “CAPE COD! The NAVY OFFICER? YES!!!”
“So our sex life was better. But still…middle class.” says Tom Cruise.
“Yes!” says Stanley Kubrick.
“Jack. How many times did you make Marilyn orgasm?” says a reader.
“Never.” he admits from the past.
“Not once!?” says the reader.
“No! I only made Jackie orgasm a few times our whole marriage. And I never made Lem orgasm. I may have never even made him ejaculate.” he says under force.
“Did you like sex?” asks a Gen. Z woman.
“Yeah! Of course!” says JFK. “Of course I did!”
Later.
“Did you share a bed with Jack?” says a dead man.
“Not often. …Sometimes. But…I preferred my own bed. Honestly. I liked space. On occasion I did sleep in the same bed with him out of necessity. Or…exhaustion. …But I preferred my own bed. And I was actually straight.
…We were supposed best friends. And he suggested we become roommates. And I didn’t feel like I had a choice but I also figured it didn’t matter. …It never occurred to me that I wasn’t attracted to other men. And so…I just…didn’t care. …And I thought we were actually friends. People nowadays misunderstand that. I didn’t think we were just lovers. I thought we were actually friends. First and foremost.” says Lem.
“People have said that you preferred to wake up alone.” says an actor.
“I don’t. I was just straight.” says Lem.
Later.
“So you were actually straight??” says a woman. “That is not what I’ve read!”
“True.” says Lem.
She thinks. “You look gay!”
“That’s acting.” says Lem.
“I can see it.” she admits.
“Lem…give us a scene. Of you resisting sex with Jack!” says a living gay man.
September by Wallerstedt plays.
We’re at the White House. I in my room. I get a knock at the door. I answer it. It’s Jack.
He gives me a flirtatious assuming smile.
I’m annoyed.
“Hey! Let’s go to bed!” I say, laughing anxiously.
He’s annoyed by that. Grits his teeth.
“Let me in!!” he barks.
“Alright. For a moment!” I say.
He comes in and comes on to me. Wrapping his arms around my waist and brushing up against me playfully. It’s obnoxious. He acts like he’s joking. I’m cold and don’t move. He steps backwards. Sits on a bed. Acts cool, indifferent and yet incredibly entitled.
“Hey! Jack it’s late! …Where’s Jackie?” I say, in irritation.
“I’m tired!” he says, yawning. He ignores what I just said.
I grow more anxious. I know I’m about to likely get raped.
“Come on!
GET OUT!!” I yell, finally.
He gets tough. Like he’s demon possessed. Cold. Fuming. Ankle bent on his knee. As he sits on the edge of the bed.
I wait.
“You’re such a rat!!” he yells finally, standing-up and facing me. “YOU KNOW THAT!?”
I scoff.
“You fucking nigger!!!” he yells at me walking up to me and kicking me. He grabs my penis and pulls on it hard. It hurts. A lot. I bend over in pain. He laughs at me.
“I am the President!! I AM THE PRESIDENT!!” he says, as if he’s high and agitated.
“Right!” I say, still in pain. I fall to the floor, resting against the bed.
“You DO NOT…TELL ME…WHAT TO DO!!!” he yells at me while pointing.
I shake my head in disgust.
“Yeah. Your mother taught you that. Didn’t she? That defiance! …I’ll tell you something, we aren’t here just for fun! I’m RUNNING THE COUNTRY, LEM!
The way you came in tonight and talked to Jackie? You had no right!!!” he yells. “She has no idea what I do in there! And that’s AS I SEE FIT! YOU CANNOT TELL HER WHAT GOES ON IN THERE! She can’t handle it.
You and I can because we’re men.
We’re men. Right Lem?” he says to me with a menacing, violent look like a rapist readying himself for an attack.
“We’re men. Yeah. Sure.” I say. I’m still in pain. “Jack…go back to your own room. I’ve got a lot of work to do tomorrow! PLEASE!”
He hugs me. “Come on! We’re friends right? You understand me!” he says stroking my very hurt penis. I’m obviously not aroused. He laughs. “Come on!” he says.
I look at him. Laugh.
“Jack I just put my shirt on. Let’s just go to bed.” I say once more.
“WHY ARE YOU BEING SO DIFFICULT!?” he yells.
I stand back. My hands in the air. “It’s just late!”
“You know what!? I DON’T CARE!” he yells.
I cry. Shake my head no.
“Give me what I came for!!!” he yells.
I fall to the ground pull down his pants and give his already aroused penis a sloppy, quick, unaffectionate, dull oral sex and a hand-job. Mostly a hand-job, while I stare at a wall. He stands, hands on hips, gleefully looking ahead. Feeling triumphant.
My Trigger by Miike Snow plays.
When he’s finished he leans forward in very mild sexual ecstasy he believes is…amazing. He flinches. Eyes-closed. He’s in awe. And it’s embarrassing for him. But he’s done. He pulls up his pants. And like he just won the World Series he saunters off. Cocky. Proud.
He doesn’t say a word. Just leaves.
I cry. Dry heave. Collapse in anguish on my bed. I consider icing my penis. But feel that’s beneath me.
Instead I take a sleeping pill. And a painkiller.
I wake up the next morning. Feeling like vomiting. I’m exhausted! I don’t see Jack until 2 PM. In the Oval Office. He’s totally beyond the night before. Couldn’t care less. Very casual.
And that…sort of thing…happened…dozens of times. Sometimes he literally threatened the life of my family.
“Did your sister know?” asks a living gay man.
“NO!!” Lucretia yells, annoyed. “Can one of you tools admit he looks straight!?”
Just like the song…you have it backwards. Putin isn’t in the White House. He’s in Russia.
“Lem did you ever consent!?” asks a gay man, laughing.
“Yes. Kinda. …Did I really consent? No. I couldn’t. …I’m straight. And I wasn’t genuinely experimenting. I was confused because of molestation. I was not able to truly consent. My experimentation was a trauma response. I didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with it all. Nobody could. …Lacey would have just killed Jack. And that’s not her operating at her best.” says Lem. “At her best she’d have left him alive and paralyzed. Or without a limb. He was a violent criminal. And his father was one of the richest men alive. He was a danger to humanity. Killing him wasn’t dumb. It lets his family off the hook.”
Later.
“Lacey. Are you sleeping with Lem?” asks the US military.
“YES!!!” bellows Lem.
“I may be.” says Lacey, thoughtfully.
“Oh dear GOD!!” yells a living gay man.
“Lem. How accurate is this blog?” asks the US military.
“Very accurate!” says Lem.
“Lem. …Did the CIA assassinate JFK?” asks the CIA.
“I can’t get through. Some answers are harder to give her than others. And this is one of them.” says Lem.
“Yes!!” yells George Bush Sr.. “YES WE DID!!”
“Thank dad!” says Jeb Bush.
“I couldn’t talk about when I was alive. …It was one of the shittiest moments in US history!” says George Bush Senior.
“Wow!” says Jena Fischer.
They think.
“I told them to.” says Fidel Castro.
“Oh okay.” says a Black female psychic in the Illuminati.
Silence.
“So…would Putin use a nuclear bomb?” asks John Krasinsky.
“Yes!!” says Tsar Nicholas II. “Why do you keep threatening him?”
“They gaslit. They’re gaslighting!” says Josef Stalin. “They’re calling him the devil. And claiming they’re clean as a whistle.”
“Yup!” says Donald Trump. “This is not my administration.”
“Huh.
So…what are we doing!?” a living gay man asks Kamala Harris.
“We are escalating!” says Joe Biden, laughing. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Oh! Really!?” says a reader of this blog.
“No. It’s about Ukraine.” he says shrugging. “They want it. We want it. …They’re not as debt ridden as we are. The war is a problem for them but…we have deep systemic problems. …They’re on the upswing.”
“So…what are…these deep systemic issues?” asks John Krasinsky.
“We’re in a climate crisis.
Student loans are a disaster.
Housing is…a mess.
The world is running out of oil.
And our infrastructure is falling apart. Everywhere. Absolutely everywhere. It’s a huge mess.” says Joe Biden.
“What did you do to fix that!?” says John Krasinsky.
“Not enough.
And we’re heavily in debt.” says Biden.
He thinks.
“And our national standard of living is low.” says Joe Biden.
Awkward.
“So why are we harassing Putin?” says John Krasinsky.
Later.
“We have to. NATO.” says the US.
“Okay. But…that’s dumb. …Because if we’re selling children…we’re the sick ones. …WE ARE.” says John Krasinsky.
“So you all are bringing us to edge of REAL nuclear war. WHY!?” yells Jenna Fischer.
“OH SHIT!” says JD Vance.
A Beautiful Mine by RJD2 plays.
“Yup. She’s MINE.” says Lem.
“Oh wow.” says JD laughing. “Wow.”
“There’s not much I can do.” says Trump, laughing sadly.
“We don’t see it that way. I see it like we’re trying to keep Putin contained.” says an Obama foreign policy adviser.
“But you aren’t!!” yells Melania.
“You’re really just pushing him to the edge. And I can’t say I blame him for threatening us! It’s illogical bullshit to claim we aren’t a threat the him! Who says!!? …That’s not what he thinks! And I’m not dumb enough to think that what he thinks doesn’t matter.” says Donald Trump.
All for U by Aceyalone plays.
The song ends.
Transatlantic by Quantic plays.
“I’m no JFK.” Lacey says to Tsar Putin. “If you’re going to blow us up-“
“Hold on!” says Tsar Putin. “Let’s say we all went extinct in 1962. …Think of all the fun stuff that wouldn’t have happened!”
Lacey thinks.
“I’m just supporting God’s side in the matter. And if I understand correctly, that’s you. For now.” says Lacey.
“Yeah. We have to completely dismantle the trade system.” says Putin in reference to the kids.
“I can’t believe they were dumb enough to try that!” says Lacey.
Putin nods and yawns. “That started in the 1980’s.”
The song ends.
Spygame by Parov Stelar plays.
“When did it escalate?” asks Lacey.
Louis Hill Junior laughs with Lacey. At the music.
“Ahh…” starts Putin.
“You guys…is it really a stretch to think JFK was nuts?” says Jenna Fischer, pleading.
“The late 1990’s.” says Putin.
“Is that the gossip about China’s abortion policy!?” says Lacey.
“Yes.” says China.
“That was a swipe? Or you did that self-protectively?” says Lacey.
“Both.” says China.
“Oh my GOD!” says a Chinese woman.
“Yeah. We didn’t want our kids to be so vulnerable.” says China.
“To being kidnapped?” says an American woman reading the blog.
China nods.
The song ends.
Bird’s Lament by Moondog plays.
“Part of the reason we drag our feet on issues of climate is out of defiance. …We refuse to be controlled by the pedophilic West. Truly! They have yet to understand our rage. To turn it’s a taboo non-issue. But to us…it’s like the Holocaust. We see it as just cause for a holy war. …We feel…it’s just cause to nuke the US if necessary.
Look…I’m Chinese. I do actually believe reincarnation is a thing. *he laughs*
I think it’s obvious she’s Scotia. They can’t look more alike. It’s obvious! …And he’s very likely Constantine. …I’ll take her moral outage as a good sign. I’ll take her moral fiery…as a sign God EXISTS.” says China.
This Is Not A Tango by The JuJu Orchestra plays.
“It’s obvious music was used in warfare. If she’s Scotia.” explains China. “In ancient Egypt.”
The song plays.
“JFK couldn’t carry him.
The US has forced the whole world to suck its cock.
Watch as it shakes its ass.
And while Europe is…trying. Okay? They care. …We are…repulsed.” explains China.
The song plays.
“You can criticize her all you want. She welcomes it! …But be careful. …Your currency…has her name on it. …And your religion…was started BY LEM.” explains China. “You think they don’t matter!? Think again.”
You’ve Been Spiked by Chris Joss plays.
“Actually by her husband too.” says Mark Zuckerberg.
“And…so…let’s think.
How likely is it…he was gay?” says China.
“Not likely!” says a woman in America.
“Yup.” says China.
“Look.
Your narrative is off. It’s NONSENSE!
According to you…Jack Kennedy was in a happy monogamous relationship with Lem?” says China.
“Ahh…yeah.” says a living gay man. “I don’t think he cheated with men. Ever!”
“Oh. Huh.
I’m not surprised to hear that.” says China.
Africa laughs at the US with China.
“But couldn’t he have just cheated with women?” says a woman in America.
“Just with women!??” says China.
The song plays.
2:24
2:34
2:44
3:04
“Look…there is no such thing.” explains China.
“Women are real people!” says North Korea.
Lacey laughs.
The song ends.
“You all are supposed to know that!” says Russia to the U.S.
Sunray by Kinobe plays.
“But we don’t know…that Lem would have been bothered by them.” says Doris Kearns Goodwin.
“Oh really!?” says Putin.
0:55
“So…women aren’t real!?” says North Korea.
“No. …They’re real.” says Doris Kearns Goodwin.
“But you all don’t think so! David Pitts based his book on that.” says North Korea.
“Yeah. See…your claim is that a man can ignore women. Successfully. Because they have no energy. They have no psychological impact. They don’t…exist.” says Russia. “And we aren’t psychologically backward enough…to think that too.”
“All over Russia or just in the palace?” says Doris Kearns Goodwin.
“No. You’re right. …But you’re talking to the palace. Nobody that backwards is running the country here. Even the most backward people here wouldn’t allow it!” says Tsar Putin.
Doris Kearns Goodwin laughs. “Are you implying…your majesty…that you’re more of a democracy than we are?”
“I am.” says Putin.
“And they aren’t reliant on the sale of children!” says Taiwan. “Isn’t that neat!”
“So…to you…what’s this war about?” asks a random man reading this blog in America.
“What’s the war about?
Wow!
Ahh…
*Putin thinks*
I see my country being in danger. Okay?” says Tsar Putin.
Tu moi Aussi by Urbs plays.
“The West is heavily in debt. …To my next door neighbors. …And Iran is totally destabilized. The US has destabilized the entire Middle East. …And they’ve been antagonistic North Korea for years. …Not just standing ground with South Korea. Antagonizing North Korea.
I see the U.S. as bullies. Why? Because they’re morally bankrupt. …If they stood for Christ…I’d have more mercy. But they don’t anymore. I do. Africa does. South America does on occasion too. America is no longer synonymous with Christ. Not anymore! …Not after Queen Elizabeth II died. Not after Pat Robertson died. Not after Billy Graham died. …You have no more Christian leaders who aren’t corrupt. I know them!
…So…your moral loss of integrity…combined with asinine foreign policy decisions…and your flagrant debt…was sending me over the edge. Years ago. Israel knows this!
And…it was just time. I set up certain boundaries, we’ll say. And they were all crossed. And I’m not going to go into detail. Too time consuming. But…basically I just got sick of shit.
So…I resigned from trying to force myself to be the new friend of the U.S. That’s bad wording. But…I gave up! Okay? …I’ve wanted to annex Ukraine for years. …And…it was just time.
They are heavily involved in selling humans. It’s a hub. For the whole world. And that was…certainly a reason. …I just got sick of tolerating it! …And I’m not getting any younger. And I couldn’t let my protege deal with it. It’s unfair. Not when I can. And they can watch and learn. …It was time!” says Putin.
Clubbed to Death by Rob Dougan plays.
“So you see us…as pure evil?” an American asks Tsar Putin.
“He sees you…as the bearers of a burning plastic dildo…shoved up…Bobby Kennedy Junior’s asshole. Because the cross you lit on fire burnt out.” explains his protege.
“He sees you as the killers of Elisa Lam.” says Canada. “And the sodomizers psychically suffocating Lacey.”
“If that’s pure evil…then so be it.” says his protege.
“You killed Elisa? Didn’t you?” says Edward Snowdon to the US.
“Why would we do that?” asks the US.
“Why wouldn’t you realize that the story about Lem is bogus? …You all pride yourselves on being so sophisticated. So American. The best of Europe. But free. Safe! …And I LOVED that country! …But that’s not who you are. …No. You’ve never thought about it. Why?” says Edward Snowdon. “I’ll tell you why. …You’re falling…apart.”
“That’s true!” says Donald Trump.
“See…we can’t care about the Earth dying…until it’s safe to live her. We KNOW there’s an afterlife. And so we refuse to stop burning fossil fuels…until you all are dead…silenced forever…or a hell of a lot smarter.” says Edward Snowdon. “Smarter? Yes! …You can’t sell kids!!”
“So we’re seen as a bunch of evil…stupid…white hicks.” says a Black American woman.
“YUP!” says Edward Snowdon.
“So!
Are you tracking?” says North Korea to the U.S. like the U.S. is a little slow and deaf.
“So! Let me help!
Russia is the Christian. Okay? Sorry. He’s right. They’re more Christian than us!
China actually has lots of Christians too.
We…are…bizarre.
Why are we not answering him!?” says Dr. Moritz.
“Yah!” says China.
“Because! It’s a stupid thing!” says a living man who believes and knows Lem was gay.
“Mmm. …No. It’s not.
Ok I’m not a great person. But…I do know…narcissism ruins everything. …I’m sorry if you’re a narcissist and you can’t hear that. But it’s a simple fact. …You’ve all calculated that Lem was…a fictional character.” says Dr. Moritz. “Or you’ve made JFK one. And it’s in a day and age when we have no wiggle room left for such things. …We tear down precious monuments. Of great leaders. And change the name of things. You’ve obliterated many countries. Standing on some moral high ground. Right? …Why would you be allowed to overlook this!? …Because he’s supposedly gay. …Their supposed gayness is a carte blanche.
Jack has countless affairs. Does that ruin their bond? It did with Jackie. You’ve allowed Jackie numerous escapes with other men. But no! It’s not a problem for Lem! Why!? Because he’s gay! …That’s all! They’re just gay! No worries! No more analysis! They were GAY! …And so suddenly somehow…all Jack’s philandering ceases to exist completely. He’s a great, sweet, healthy…LOVING man. The LOVE of Lem’s life! They were SOULMATES! FOR SURE!
…Lem seems…genuinely happy at Jack’s wedding. Why do you ignore that? And blindly and automatically assume he’s deeply wounded or doesn’t care for the most…baffling but tender of reasons? BECAUSE THEY ARE GAY. …Well, again I add supposedly. …You don’t analyze those photos honestly. You never have. And I have a strong suspicion there’s other evidence less available to the public that you ignored too. Why!? Because he’s gay.
Also! He does die…on Jack’s birthday. That’s odd! That’s a dark message.
Ahh…I’ll tell you why America ignored it! Because they’re gay. …America has a weird tendency to cater to certain groups. Not classes. Groups. And right now…we’re in love with homosexuality. And the rainbow community in general. We let them walk all over us. And I’m sorry…but they do! …And keeping in step…just like middle class white people 50 years ago…the gay community is not immune. They’re not holding themselves accountable. They’ve not kept score. David Pitts is not at all unlike the white middle class Americans who rewrote history 70 years ago. 100 years ago. Who had us thinking Christopher Columbus was St. Christopher Columbus, the great Christian explorer. A real gentleman. A loving, gentle man! …This is par for the course in America!” says Dr. Moritz. “Americans make up mythology. And believe it to be fact!”
“True!” says Lem. “Goodnight!”
Keen to Cross the Pond 
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