LA, Day 3

Thursday January 20.

Uncoordinated.

...
Plan:
900AM-10 - Breakfast w/ 31025
-1100AM - Aiyah on Bruin Walk
0100PM-0200 - Lunch w/ Brie
0200~ - Cathy!
evening - leave for Irvine w/ Aiyah
night - Dave & Buster's in Irvine w/ James (& Lynn)

Possibles:
Career center between 10-1.
...

I woke up with a start. Even with an hour ahead, it didn't seem like much time to prepare. I had to shower, had to run to Santa Monica Blvd, which is technically four blocks up from Dzuy's apartment, had to get on a Blue Bus to get to campus. I had forgotten the logistics of public transportation because lo and behold, I had been one of the luxuriously converted: able to move at a heart's whim because I hold magic keys to industrialized ingenuity.

I busted and got to the stop 10 till 9, slowing along the way to wish hello to a fine lady and her young pup's morning routine. Oh how I had forgotten how it was to work the schedule to a T.

Does anyone ever make a note as to how creepily silent it is on the bus these days? As if uttering a meep gets your privies on a vasectomy table. Sorry, none of you matter to me right now because I've got plans to take care of. But I bet you're just as weirded out as I am.

I have a feeling I won't be able to hang with Cathy this afternoon and it pains me. I know I can depend on Aiyah so I'd rather hitch a ride to Irvine with her than wing it, especially on a rather busy Thursday night in a university town.

"Hey! Just wondering what you're up to," Cathy says with her usual upbeat enthusiasm. Without being very tactful, I reply.
"I'm meeting with a friend for breakfast on campus. I have a lunch meeting with another friend. And now I just found out that my ride to Irvine is leaving in the afternoon, not evening as I thought. So..."
"oh..."
I think she understood where I was going, and when I hear the disappointment in her voice as I tell her I might not be able to get together with her, my heart aches. I don't think I've ever heard that tone from her. Cathy!! Though I don't feel too sorry because this is how it had to be; I didn't see how I could get to Pasadena otherwise. But still, I feel like a total flaky asshole. Yes on top of dried up buttcrackers.

I get to Luvalle (Lu-Vi-yay, as 31025 refers) and upon passing a vendor booth, I feel as if I recognize the long haired brunette browsing the glasses. "Nicoleen?" I wonder to myself. And for an instant I slow my roll and stop to look, remembering the Spring 2000 Woodside High Robotics Team and a girl a foot taller than me telling me she had feelings for me on the front stoop of my house. And all I thought to say back then was "Nicoleen, I think of you as a friend."

She made it to UCLA, and while she made the first step of hitting me up my second year, we never met up. From time to time I had wondered about her; "Nicoleen" was an interesting name.

You know how they say when you break things off with a lover, you tend to scroll through your past? I couldn't stop from rolling through my "what ifs" and "Hey, maybe's" and "Not really before, but now that I'm emotionally deprived, you're just right's." So yeah, Nicoleen passed through my screening. I went back four years for that one, go figure.

But I was on my way to re-establish something new with a young lady of fine predisposition. An original. A 21st Century Punky Brewster Beat Poet. A mystery if there ever was one. I don't know, something about women who write, who pass their emotions through a medium so frail and madly interpretive and yet display the same happy and innocent mask from day to day. Dare I go on? Hmm.

"I didn't use to be a morning person; I never felt like getting up before 11. But now I feel so good to be up at 7. I feel like things get done," she volunteers.
"Yeah, you feel like you have so much potential," I add. I feel the same way when I take a stand amidst dawn's waking rays. The day and its glorious eye are powerful. Too bad that most of the time I start my days when its half closed.
"Yeah! Coffee?"

Man, LA is warm! Just last week, I was bitterly bundled with wool scarf, blanket, hoodie and long undies. Here I am checkin out bare flesh passing under sunglasses and smiles. Frozen vanilla drink for me please.

I have to tell someone what happened last night, and 31025 just happens to be the first among many. Luckily she hasn't heard much of anything and love and its shards of litanied waste always seemed to be an interesting issue to her.

I showed her what I wrote about the time I found out about my ex-lover's new sexual activity before I was actually ready to hear it.

"wow.."

Wow? I guess... I do recall it being intense. Physically I felt something happen. I should have shown her more of my notes and scribbles, as she was one of the only people to express that she wanted me to stay online and in writing while I was in the Bay. Its sad that I didn't do well to acknowledge my written voice at the time, for I had been forgotten.

"Has it been a year? Damn Waylan, it seems like you've been gone for like ever," she said just the day before.

The truth is, not only was I forgotten, I was totally outdated, obsolete...inconsequential. Mostly I mean in writing, but really it applies in dancing, photography, and social scenes. So many things have happened in each community I can't even keep up.

I realize I was supposed to be finding out about her, and we turn the issue. She's moving to New York with Suzette, another of the talented ladies from Samahang Modern 2003. Though.. I don't get much because she now has to get to class. We only had a half an hour and spent a lot of it talking about my issues; in retrospect, it's admittedly a little crass and melodramatic.

Kicking it on the walk is interesting. For about an hour, I'm trying to tell a story of my previous day to Aiyah, and keep getting distracted by the people walking by. As you've read this far, very much like this story here.

"There's a lot of good energy here. I can feel it." Or is it just me, I wonder. I feel great just being able to converse with old friends in carefree honesty. But to be honest, everywhere I went, the atmosphere on campus was lively. Shit happens here, no doubt, even when I was here. I had just forgotten what it looked like. "The people are slightly different. It's the weather too. And I get a sense of... I don't want to stress superiority-inferiority, but there seems to be a class difference."
"You know, you should start a memoirs; like of all the different campuses you've been in. You're like me, you've been at every level of institution: jc, state, uc. I would put pictures on my wall of different people from different places."
"Yeah. And the girls..."

Aiyah has good ideas. This is like the third good idea she's mentioned to me in the past couple days I've hung with her. I have to remember to talk to her brother Alain, who has recently just gotten (yet another) music, art, and culture magazine off the ground. Though his is backed by Rolling Stone. She thinks I would be good to write for electronic dance music, but there's a point where I'm not as deep into it as some people I know. I mean, I just dance. She likens me to him in our diversity of interests though he is the kind of person that makes shit happen. More than anything, Aiyah compares a lot of life and people's personalities to her family and her brothers' experiences. It makes for a very loving and appraising depiction of both her siblings and herself.
...

The seniors apparently score free In n Out today. Lucky bastards! Meanwhile I scope [codename] Lips13's curvature, i mean skirt fervor.. . . yeah... nice one; but really, she had a brown-heavy-mix tweed skirt with unique asymetrical stitching, soft-coarse feel and stretchy, ending in a shag (shouldn't all things?). actually fringe might be a better word. but yeah, I get a good look. a very good look. [haha] She had nice and big.. dark amber lensed glasses. coupled with luscious lips? mmhmm. snapped a picture.

By the time I walked Aiyah and her friend to the Lot 4 Elevators, I had run into 1101's ex girlfriend, and that was more awkward than I had expected. I hadn't changed my way of talking, but once noticing her discomfort, I started stuttering too and saying stupid shit. She looked good though, as 1101 attested to when they met for the last time. Though unfortunately I couldn't say the same for mine.

And I don't mean that as an insult to my ex. Just that she didn't look her best when I last saw her. See, as much as it pains [and hardens] us to see our former love looking so fine without us, I'd rather have the last picture of a girl in my mind be the quintessential beauty that they are, rather than some unworthy memory perceived and tainted because of self-righteous and insecure loathe, jealousy, and heartbreak. Man, screw that; a woman deserves to look good, with or without me. As I do without her. Or with someone new, whatever.

I swerve on from the elevator through Ackerman cuz maybe I might scope someone I know in this years graduating class. Perhaps someone who can score me a burger. No such luck. And as I pass the corner of the Ackerman steps, a feeling of "where the hell am i going?" passes through my mind. "where AM I going?" So not to look like an idiot pacing back and forth, I sharply veer left up the stairs to overlook the crowds amassed in shade left by Ackerman's three story glory, at the sidewalk sale by the Bruin store, in the clamor that is free In & Out fever, and the whole of Bruin Plaza in its mindnumbingly excited jitter. There are more people here at this moment than I see in a whole day at SF State.
...

1200PM
Coincidental Hypnotism.

I'm about to step away when I spy from the corner of my eye
a sparkly eyed minx matching stares with a powder blue sky.
she sits perched in watchful comfort, drowned in layers of purest black,
purring meekly in deliberation, the sun's warmth at her back.
her lashes blinking wildly at the sight of her prey,
she lusts for the hunt for seduction is her way.
Baring skin beneath stealth, amidst wrinkles of delicious wrath,
may she have mercy on my soul, for I have crossed her path.
...
[Sidebar::] Ok, truth be told? I've been thinking about this one girl off and on since I met her in the Fall two years ago. It was one of those "I wonder if I'll ever see her again" type of things. I wrote her a neat little poem thing last June, not expecting to see her at all [for who knows how long]. Then she popped up somewhere that I happened to be at, and... well it was a surprise.

"Heyyyy... Thank you for the letter. [Kiss]" and I don't remember if she said "call me" or something that implied she wanted me to call me, but she gave me her number. And everytime I managed to call after that, no answer! And I saw her once more at a special event up here in the Bay, but she was hella preoccupied so bugga again! [::End]
...

Somehow... as I stood at the top of those steps and turned CLOCKWISE mind you [if I turned the other way, we could be talkin about something different], I caught a glimpse of her sitting against the wall (true no sun on the back but it had a nice ring to it). It was a happy moment. fuckin smiles time. Found out about her trip to Vegas for her birthday. very nice. Found out she'll be travelling to Europe after graduation to take classes in classical music, which she has 14 years of training in; atta girl, seriously. I also found its a downer to be talking about your exgirlfriend to another girl, no matter how inherently sympathetic she is. So blast her for infiltrating my psyche for this one, and kick-me for not knowing when to shut the hell up. But yeah, it was brief and incredibly welcomed as another awesome coincidence [(mocking DZ) "or would it have happened anyway? You can't prove anything!" (I'm shaking my head in feigned dismissal, but smiling)]

Upon hindsight, I do wish I did SOMETHING progressive when I walked her to her destination. I don't know, just something. I mean I have my imagination, but just something. who knows now? Advice? Must I be the eternal dreaming youth at EVERY waking moment? Come on Gemini, other half kick in, right? She has an attractive voice. Though I do threaten to be fantasizing juuuuust a bit. I mean it sounds like it. c'est la moi. c'est la overpondering moi. "grow some balls and let'er juggle em!"

I bounced and managed to catch a lounging Kayo in the center of the first floor walkway. As always she looked super fun in her street clothes... something like a baseball tee on straight legged pants into flat sneakers, none with brand recognition to me.. though I almost forget anyway because I was concentrated solely on her face, voice and mannerism. her platinum hair was in braids tied straight back, and they suited her today, with her extremely uplifting and comfortable presence.

"ohmygodwhatreyoudoinghere" she exclaimed with complete surprise. Fancy!
"I heard you were here in Ackerman so I stopped over!"
"what!" Again with the "whatareyoudoinghere!"

and then here comes Sir Abraham. The man looks good. Solid. Really took care of himself, says he lost weight but looks much more agile than before. It's been interesting seeing the guy traverse; though I haven't really gotten to the root of him throughout the four years and seen how that has changed, I don't imagine his humble and friendly spirit to have weakened at all. Even more, his body changed, most likely due to his newfound love for breakdancing. His command of Japanese also increased, something that can only lead to confidence.

I always felt that despite any deep philosophical discussions or tearjerking wahwah sessions, we had an understanding of each other, through dance, through mannerism, through charisma, through similar basic pleasures. And we always found each other within similar circles of people. Gotta keep him around. Ever read him? He's a caption king. Some of the best one-liners ever. Some of the best multi-liners ever. Not in the har har comedy sense (well, not exactly), but in vaguely deep and even thoughtful deadpan, somewhere between scoff-at-the-unchallenged and critical-of-beauty yet submissive-to-epiphany sense. deceptively simple and uncharacteristically unmatched. cryptic at times, but wonderful in his conciseness.

He travelled alone in Germany for two weeks in the summer and has some sweet photographs to show; he's really come into his own regarding that. Used an old Nikon manual from his granny for these Germany shots. Great exposures, though I'm sure he showed me only the best ones.

"Cherie inspires me," he says fondly.

Some advice on how to do a trip in Germany, or any European country, and he sets me off.
1. Do it yourself. Get some maps and go.
2. Try to meet some people. Most in Germany are good about English.
3. Ride the train. Stay at hostels.
4. About $2000 for two weeks. Hey, a months pay for a world of experience hm?

While talking to him between faux-goodbye hugs, (codename) 3101 crosses my line of sight. Ok so this is one of those situations where you had a thing with a girl and she was like whatever she was as a first year, and then come two years later and whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat? I couldn't take my eyes off of her as she made a 30 foot arc through my field of vision.

Apparently Abe saw my frozen stare moving at the speed of wagging hips.
"Go talk to her," he insistently prodded.
"No... We have history." and I left it at that.

What drew my elongated look wasn't her looks necessarily but her whole style. Completely off the wall, sharp but funky but cute but hip but sporty but casual but totally put together and what?? I'm sorry, I was distracted. I was sorrier that I didn't even feel like I could say whats up and bask in her newfound physical presence. One of those you hurt her and her guy friends got beef with you. One of those you double take or don't even look away at all because you never seen anything like it. Well, least not at UCLA where things are pretty conservative for the fashion folken. WAC major. Wow one year has definitely done something different. Or was it even the same girl? One of those. I like how those 8 seconds are burned into my head, and I feel like a chump. Can't but laugh my friends, can't but laugh [smile].

I chat a last bit with Mein Lady of Sunsets Kayo.

"I don't know where this is from, but I liked the sticker!" and
"Hey, that's got.. um.. some personal information," she protests, eventually giving in as I rifle through her planner. In a monthly grid, it's quite thin and spacious, given you write at 8pt. The girl is commuting from downtown LA, working two jobs (one waitress, the other.. crap i forget), and is actually going to Europe to study abroad also. I really didn't get a chance to talk to her as much as I really would have liked. But such is circumstance and personal schedule.

It is now about 0100PM. Has there really been this much going on? Or is my recollection of it just that overdetailed and erratic?
...

0115PM
Pondering Cheese.

Brie really is dealing right now. The Senior syndrome is setting in hard and really I think she needs some choice words of motivation, encouragement and support. Microbio is her field but she totally wants to do something meaningful, something to submerge her academic interests in without transforming into a lab rat. Pipet this, centrifuge that, specimen this, blah blah. Every week in December and January she had apparently though of something new for her life. God bless the girl for trying. I realized on our meeting just after Christmas that we are so alike its eyebrow raising and half-jaw dropping.

1. We are both the youngest sibling, with an older sister who believes in placing burden on herself and blaming everyone for not understanding her.
2. We are nothing like our family, nearing complete opposites of. Though while hers is a family of artists aka free spirited, mine is one of practical people. Interesting contrast.
3. Our respective majors are academic heavy, which conflicts with our desire to explore the social and cultural world around us, including dabbling in art and the free spirit.
4. We have the same conflicts with our older siblings and parents, though hers involve more active and open communication, while mine deal with unspoken resentments and evolved bitterness.
5. We both haven't thought nearly enough about our futures.

Well, at that hang out in December, it all seemed pretty crazy. Her trouble was mainly her future and career, while mine was my home and my family.

As of now, she's still wondering how she's going to get to where she wants; and I realized she's very wary about making the first steps, in case they don't lead her somewhere she expects. My advice was to make the steps first. Not blindly, but confidently. Only then would she be able to see the next steps. If anything, even blind steps would still give her insight.

Somewhere in the middle of that Nessa rolls by looking like she just enslaved a corporate giant beneath her pointy heels. All without dropping a bit of Animal Style. Business class? yes maam. Sharp blue-white pinstriped thin collared shirt, tucked into dark belly button high trousers. or whatever women call them. Hair parted and what's that? are those earrings? Pearls? [My memory might be shady about these small details; a lot has happened since] I almost didn't recognize the girl - excuse me, LADY - but once I caught her, it was unmistakable.

"Business fair. [shrug] you never know, right? Gotta keep your options open!"

I always admired her for her ability to see beyond. What's next, what more? Her smile lit mine, and I saw her off, double double with fries for REAL. I would look forward to Friday night a little more.
...

0145PM
Domestic Violence.

Later on [codename] 21412 rolls by, surprised to see me. I introduce her to Brie and vice versa. She notes how her boobs have grown fuller. Then immediately, she needs to spill some news on me.

[Sidebar::] Ok I am mentioning this in a factual way for the sake of my story. However, it is truly delicate information and I hesitate even to include it in my recollection. Perhaps I am being ignorant and naive and focusing too much on the idea, thereby sacrificing one person's privacy. But the idea is too menacing and important to ignore. If anything, I mention it to gain advice on how to help my friend. So I tell you with disclaimer that if you know anything about this or something like this, do what it takes to make it better, either internally or socially. If you know how to deal with something like this, pass me a note. [::end]

"Waylan, I HAVE to tell you something. Come with me to my car now."
"What? Can you see I'm with my friend?"
"Well, she's with someone, can you leave her?"
I laugh inside and think "what the hell?"
"How about we just sit here..."

I proceed to hear about her troubles. I was never one to shy away from giving advice where I could but this one was out of my league. I would have to ask someone like Aiyah about this later.

"He did what?!" I ask in disbelief. I am terrified and belligerent, like I just got a 900 degree brand of U.S.D.Way on my ass. I don't even know what to think. But what can I do right now? I can only hate the fucker's guts.

He choked her. And drove a car with her holding onto the exterior. Verbally, physically, this guy is a menace and shouldn't be near her. To be honest, I never knew him, and after knowing this I never want to. And yet why does she stay with him?

"What do I do? He's changed so much... He used to be good." she pleaded. I looked into her eyes and saw pure sadness and pent up despair welled up in semi-full tears. I wanted to make everything right for her, right then and there. But I didn't even know what to say, except

"You need to leave him. What he's doing is... UNACCEPTABLE. He's not worth your time. And you need to stop letting him do this to you."

She said she knew it, that she saw it too. But did she? Can she? This is something I would later come to a theory about with Aiyah's help.

We separated as she clung to other acquaintances, and I realized why she makes enemies. She's ultimately a sweet girl, but first impressions are a bitch sometimes; in her case, they are more often than not.
...

0245PM
Consciousness, one level at a time.

Someone nudges me from behind. C LOS! From the days of Bay unification with Mike Mason and Sonny Chiba and the occasional Vanslut!

I inquire as to how he is.
"You know, I'm just trying to raise my consciousness, one level at a time."

I remember the fool remarking on a viewing of "Waking Life" while on a mushroom trip last June. It seems he hasn't stopped his search for deeper and greater awareness. It's a pleasure to know so.

"I'm trying to live by the concept of 'Pay it Forward,' you know?"
"How so?"
"Well.. you know, random acts of kindness. One time I gave my money to a dude who needed it. A week later, I didn't have any cash and I was hungry and boom! someone hooks me up with a sandwich. It's like that."

I know the concept all too well. Though while I don't always realize my initial forward actions, they seem to be validated when something comes back my way. Or is it simply knowing truly good people? [And no talk about causality here, please. The fact that someone sees validity in this perspective and believes himself better off for this personal consciousness is in itself better than many other philosophies because it inherently degrades selfishness.]

I go on blabbing unnecessarily about the most recent books I've read, which happen to be a good number of science fiction novels, all of which were recommended by David Oh:

1. "Ender's Game" by Orson Scott Card (part of a series)
2. "The Golden Compass" by Philip Pullman (part 1 of a trilogy)
3. "The Dark Tower" Pt 5,6,7 by Stephen King (7 parts)
4. "The Code of the Lifemaker"
5. "2001: A Space Odyssey" and "Time's Eye" by Arthur C Clarke

We walked up the hill towards North Campus together with a cute girl that I met a year ago through Samahang, whose name I forget but whose dimples I remember very clearly.

I find C Los has a steady girl. and I wonder now if that was her [laugh]. But dating for a year now, it was half same circle of friends thing and half a "fancy seeing you here again" type of thing. Good for him. I wonder what her take on altering levels of consciousness is.

Once we get to Haines, we run into cute little Meo from Modern 2003, who has joined Chickstep with Meredith. I decide to leave C Los, dimples girl, and Mike something on their way farther north when I run into an old friend from Carlmont High, Mae Dea.

...
0315PM

It's been a while since I've walked in stride with a strikingly attractive girl in daylight. Wearing a v neck bright blue shirt, a small shoulder bag, black and lightly curled hair swept across her forehead, and a healthy glow, Mae is kind of like an unread book to me; I never really knew her content. So I take the opportunity to turn some pages, peruse the inside cover if ya catch my drift [winkwink]. HAH not.

"Remember how Cwust and I were best friends, living together when we moved down here? Yeah not anymore."

Something involving an older boyfriend and Mae was downgraded in her former friend's eyes and even got a little shafted (in her opinion, of course) when both of her roommates moved out and ditched her.

But its good to hear that she'll be graduating this year.

We head to the farmer's market because I've been commissioned to retreive pretty flowers for Cathy. It's about 4ish now, and while I'm enjoying the company of certain friends at each beautiful moment, I'm also neglecting one of the more important people. I vow to get her pretty flowers to ease my plight of assholeness.

Man I love the Westwood farmer's market. It's gluttonous with faux-gourmet, organically marketed, and overpriced produce, but the sights, colors, sounds, and scents are huge in my book. I haven't the first clue on what flowers constitute "tropical" or "island," especially with what I see. I realize just how bad I am when I almost decide on flowers I could pick in Mae's garden.

I cash in on bright orange, pink, and magenta daisies (? yeah I'm not even sure) and scurry off to meet Aiyah, who is waiting for me out in front of Bank of America on Westwood with her pledge sister Regina and boyfriend Unknown. All I know is that Regina has been bitching about pledge class issues and her boyfriend made a beat using a Jay-Z vocal that ended up being sophmoric in quality and unbalanced musically; 8th note cymbal crashes for a whole two measures on the end of a four measure loop?? Come on. But hey, 2 hours of work can do that.

I pick up some things at DZ's and manage to have conversation with Aiyah throughout. She really plays up her bros. What a little sister. Another good idea comes when she comments on using the labcoat DZ procured for me as actual outerwear. Further thought concludes its totally doable. Not even that, it's tight!

"Mix it with an actual khaki trenchcoat, a grey scarf, and darker soft tone sweater," she mentions casually. Funny how she's really good at imagining things for other people but doesn't try them for herself. In actuality I already think of a better use. I mean, what is fashionwear but a costume aimed at allowing us to assume altered personalities? I think the trick of tweaking the physical appearance is so one can rethink or reinvent their own personal self-image, ideally creating something dynamic and fresh; the weird part is that we ultimately stay confined within our relative comfort zone, adhering to whatever fears and insecurities we harbor - unless, that is, experimentation becomes our element. But yeah a labcoat as trenchcoat. Rock it, you science people. Can anyone get colored or multicolored labcoats? Seriously.

It's almost 6 when we leave for Irvine, which means I could have kicked it with Cathy for a little bit after all. I feel kind of guilty still, though I manage to assuage my concerns with a bag of oatmeal raisin cookies that I baked (crunchy and overdone because my mother wanted me to apply her 'golden-brown' colored food philosophy, which in this case, does NOT work all the time.).

...

6pm
"Abusive men and the women who love them!"

Talking to Aiyah on the trek down the 405 gave a lot of insight into the issues of domestic abuse.

Oddly enough, I realize now that I have a friend who has dealt with unplanned, teenage pregnancies; I have a friend who has dealt with abusive relationships; I have friends who have dumped whole bottles of prescription drugs in their gullets and given their lives to synthetically produced crystal balls; I have friends who used to cut themselves for fun;
I even have friends who prefer not to have friends. For some reason I relate these people and their abnormal issues (though that really is of debate isn't it? "normal?") to each other and wonder how it is that I fit in.

Hmm.. ever have a girlfriend go 6 weeks without a period? Yeah its kinda freaky. Anyway.

So here's one theory about abusive relationships and why the victims seemingly (masochistically) endure through them:

over time, as a relationship evolves and love grows (or rots, whichever), the attachments similarly solidify. Basically it seems like, after a while, especially after a while of being degraded, mistreated and stripped of individual identity, the submissive one in the relationship is rendered dependent on the other, despite any devious treatment. It's like.. even though they know that this shit isn't worth the trouble, they are too weak to pull away, too accustomed to being told who they are or what they are worth, too unwilling to decide for his or herself that enough is enough. Because love is pain and from pain will only come love, because it can't get worse right?

I think that's wrong, because so long as you live and breathe, your torture has just begun. The resilience of the body and mind is the only thing maintaining your ability to sustain trauma, and that is seriously a bitch.
...

more later. that fool needs to get dropped on his skull, have mercury injected into his blood, and get run over by a rusty spiked steamroller inch by inch.

...