So Daniel and Jennifer–this is it, is it?
Huh! I’m afraid you’ve caught me a little off guard with that one, yes indeed-y. Call me Colonel Alzheimer, but don’t I have a clear-as-day memory of Jennifer saying this was going to be a yearlong gig? Huh? No matter. You’re not likely to find me crying over the broken shards of our collective consciousness vessel–no way! You’ve got the wrong guy, here. A couple of minor returns to local retailers and I will be fine–thank thee very much. Woo–hooo! Free as a bird! Save your receipts on this trip called life, that’s my motto, baby! Noblesse moi, le deluge!--that’s what I say–!
And yet, I must admit, as I pace the widow’s walk of my converted zeppelin in New Denmark, Pa. (I’ve driven off to the country for this last installment), the sky darkening to a color that makes me suspect it might require a biopsy–I can’t help but feel a sense of regret. Did we do enough, I ask myself, and the answer comes without hesitation–“Yes! Of course we did! Now get some kind of lo-cal treat and call it a day.” And I hear those words–that mental click that comes after the exhaustion and exhilaration of hard work–and I know my job is done and a complete mental breakdown is unavoidable.
Eric Richard
(Eric Mendelsohn is currently working on a new screenplay titled Pants Macabre and is married to Joan Himmler-Mendelsohn, the writer of El Rio Boredom.)
