Yeah, I said, and what’s the over-under? Six to the Spurs? Ok. Hmmm. Yeah, let me toss, umm, three hundred k on that. Yes, that’s correct. Yes. Yup. Yeah . . . it’s under Steve Marinara. M-A-R-I-N-A-R-A. Ok. So it’s all set? Ok. Great. Great. Thank you! I hung up the phone and of course Kurt Thomas is announcing himself in the room in all white, yet again. I said, Fuck do you want? No. Actually. Let me ask you a question. How the fuck did you know I was in debt? He said, Perhaps I’m not just a run-of-the-mill white? I said, Okay then. Who am I in debt to? He said, Hmm. Tangentially? Quiet Dom. I said, Fuck me. He said, But aren’t you a little curious about Paul’s speech from yesterday? I said, Not really. Just sounded like some stuff about retards. He said, Umm. I said, Well, then why don’t you tell me. Because you clearly want to. He said, Have you ever considered yourself mentally different? I said, What’s Dom’s last name? He said, Cirillo. I said, Not like retarded, no. But I don’t know. Maybe in some other ways. He said, You did say you were fairly suicidal when I first announced myself to you, no? I said, That’s not inaccurate. But like. I can still read and write. He said, And you’re going to use my talents to help repay your debts? I said, That’s not . . . inaccurate. He said, But would you say that’s in a sense mentally different? Your current mental state? I said, I don’t know. I’m fucking rich and seven feet tall. If I want to kill myself I can’t imagine it’s that uncommon. He said, You’re framing it incorrectly. I said, How so? He said, You’re framing your state in the assumption of an exterior gaze. An additional perspective. I said, And? He said, That’s not entirely correct. I said, Ok. He said, Paul’s point wasn’t about retarded people. No, he was correctly referencing the ideas of perspective and observation. And the rejection of these notions that we know beyond a reasonable doubt are the primary drivers of the suicidal ideal. So when Paul refers to mental difference-as a rejection of perspective and observation and it’s lack of a proper place. It only has to do with the proper location of this difference. Paul correctly notes that it has no placement here. Where we’ve come to accept concepts like perspective and observation. I said, Somehow that makes perfect sense to me. He said, I knew it would. Sans perspective and observation, everything we think about ourselves would require a reinvention. A literal replacement. I said, But ugh. Why is Paul delivering speeches about this shit? I thought he was like a hedge fund manager or something? And you’ll really help me with the Dom thing? He said, His work at the Federal Reserve was precursor to a larger mission. His delicate touch with percentages in DC was actually the primary reason we tapped him for this in particular.
I needed a breath of fresh air. I left Kurt back in my penthouse apartment and went out for a quick walk around Midtown. I only had a few hours before I had to be at The Garden. If someone came up to me and gouged my eyes out I probably would have given them a hug and jacked them off. How the fuck did Kurt know about Quiet Dom? Was it possible. No. That he was a fucking alien or some shit? Stock brokers are basically gamblers. Maybe I’ll start trading stocks. I was looking for a post-nut clarity of sorts. Despite the fact I hadn’t ejaculated in over 24 hours. What the fuck was all of this about? Pat, get a hold of yourself, I whispered forcefully to myself in the street like an unusually large hobo. You’re talking to a Caucasian alien who just appeared in your penthouse. Right after you were reminiscing about Chiara. Is it possible you’re just hallucinating this shit? I saw Kurt standing across the street staring at me with his whiteboy blue eyes. Fuck, I thought. Am I hallucinating? Or am I just losing my fucking goddamned mind? White aliens. They have to be the fucking worst kind of aliens. Why me? Why not a Nubian ET?
On the other hand. If this is real? Then what the fuck is Paul up to. And why is he not telling me? And more importantly why is he not permanently estranged from his wife like he told me he was? Is he still cock deep in pussy? I know he’s not gonna play me when we’re planning on coming out as pillars for the homosexual community. Is he still. Fucking pussy hole? Would he betray me like that? I don’t have enough on my plate without him sneaking behind my back to fuck his wife’s pussy? God, I can only hope that’s not the case.
No, Pat. He wouldn’t play you like that. You’re taking the word of a fucking quote-unquote interdimensional entity over Paul? Your loverboy? Yet on the other hand. If this white Hitler alien is legit then I should have a six figure payday in the morning. But is that worth knowing that the love of my life is playing me? Do I even want to know? Is this a million dollar love I share with Paul? But if he is playing me then what the fuck is he talking about? And more than that. Does he know about Kurt already? Kurt said something about quote-unquote choosing Paul. Because of his inflation hedge fund or something? God I hate percentages. Fuck Paul. Is it bad that I hope Latrell goes like 0-17 tonight? God, I’m such a dick.
Psst! This is what I heard staring blankly across the Hudson River into the shitty grid-like avenues Hoboken. I said, I saw you earlier, Kurt. What do you want now? He said, I wasn’t trying to surprise you, Patrick. I just thought it might be helpful to chat a little further. I said, Talk about what? My boyfriend eating Caucasian pussy? The latent heterosexuality of the love of my life? No, actually. You know what? Do you have a wife or a boyfriend or something? He said, Umm. Not in the sense that you mean. Mockingly, I said, Uhhhhh, not in the sense that you mean. Always not in the sense that you mean, never Patrick I’m going to leave you alone to stare blankly at Hoboken before Game 1 of the NBA Finals. You don’t procreate, you people? He said, You people? Hmm. Well. We generally fornicate with ourselves if that’s what you mean?
I said, Oh, so you fuck yourselves? Well, now it all makes sense! How would you feel if I brought you to see your boyfriend make some weird ass speech about mentally challenged perspectives? With his hoe-ass white wife, who he told you he was estranged from, sitting in the front row? How would that make you feel? He said, Umm. I said, Oh, you can teleport me? You can somehow instantaneously spritz my asshole for me? But you can’t put yourself in my shoes for just a millisecond? That’s super convenient, Kurt. You know what? I’m pissed! He said, Ok, that’s fair, Patrick. No, that’s fair. Maybe. You know what? Maybe this has been unfair to you. All of this. I said, Oh, you think?! And Latrell and Allan both better fucking score 19 tonight! You bookie-ass alien-ass white-interdimensional fuck! Or else you’re gonna have to reincarnate me out of the trunk of a Lincoln Town Car in Red Hook if you want to talk to me again!
He said, Let me take you to lunch and explain. I said, Lunch? Wait. He said, No need to concern yourself, Patrick. Only you can see me in my true radiant form. All others will simply see me as your current teammate. Kurt Thomas. He giggled. I had tears in my eyes. Crying. I said, You’re a fucking cunt, you know that? Kurt smiled and said, Ever been to Mamma Mia. Over on West 44th? I said, I heard it’s barely mediocre. He said, It is. But they know me over there, I’ll get us a table.
The middle-aged blonde hostess (I think she might have actually been from Italy?) sat us in the corner and over a somewhat paltry basket of bread. Kurt said, How much do you actually know about Paul? I said, Obviously he’s a bottom, but. Well. Um do you mean sexually or. He said, In terms of like his past. I said, Well like I said. He was like a hedge fund manager or something? Right? Like stock market? He said, Umm. Paul’s past is unique. You see, Paul was something called the Chairman of the Federal Reserve. Which is one of the most powerful, if not the most powerful, unelected bureaucrat in America. America which is itself the most powerful entity of this epoch. So your lover Paul was actually the most powerful unelected official in the most powerful entity on the planet for a period of time. It was almost exactly twenty years ago when Paul was confirmed into this position by your Senate. Now there was a thing called inflation going on at that time. Are you familiar with this concept? The concept of inflation?
I said, Ummm. He said, It’s when prices go up. Now a moderate amount of inflation is perfectly normal and fine. If the price of a meatball goes up fifty cents nobody really gives a fuck obviously. But if inflation reaches excessive rates it can cause issues. Like if this meal was twice the price in six months, because the prices of pasta and meat sauce shot up, then that would be a problem for this restaurant. They’d probably just go out of business. Or people would stop eating Italian food or something. But if the same thing happened to every restaurant and grocery store in the country then it would cause total havoc! This is what Paul was dealing with in a sense. I said, But how the fuck would that even happen? He said, Well . . . there are a variety of factors people like Paul look at, but in reality. I mean, in reality it’s often unknown exactly why inflation of extreme degrees occurs. Yet for Paul. Well, he obviously had to address this. He had to make sure the rampant inflation of his tenure as the Chairman of the Federal Reserve was kept in check. And not only kept in check but reversed in a material fashion. This waitress is really taking her time. Wow. I said, I’ve heard nothing but. He said, So Paul, in theory, according to many critics at least. He was quite successful in so-called combating inflation. He and his team, via their policy actions, caused the so-called out of control rates of change that American prices were experiencing return to more sustainable levels. And, you know, um. We don’t have to go too deep into the mechanics of the Fed Funds Rates, of subsequent notions of Quantitative Easing, and the granularities of monetary policy. Let’s just leave all of that aside. Let’s put it this way. Paul forever changed the natural rates of change of pricing in this country. Despite the fact that no one really knows what drives widespread rates of change. He had a greater impact on actual rates of change than perhaps any person who’s existed on this planet to date.
I said, Okay. Honestly I always thought he was like buying stocks. I mean. Wow. But . . . was he buying stocks? Kurt said, Which is where we came in. Rates of change have rippled effects. There’s a skeletal framework to commerce that extends beyond the pure dimensions of commerce. Your country accelerated commerce to degrees this planet had yet to endure. Which in itself has vibrational reverberations across what you might call dimensions. And Paul for his part helmed a formidable attack on the natural rates of change of these prices. You see, my species. My race, to put it in your terminology. We’re perhaps more sensitive to rates of change than others. As you aptly noted, we do, frankly, in your terminology at least, fuck ourselves. Which inveterately places us closer to internal rates of change than others. Than less let’s say masturbatory species. Again, rates of change in your sphere can cross over, so to speak, into our so-called realm. So Paul’s maybe not the only reason. But at the very least he’s a primary driver of why a few of us are now here. And why we’ve been working with Paul on a few minor issues. Some of those issues being addressed in the speech I brought you to the other day. And again my apologies if. I said, Ok. But, like, just being honest here? Why are you telling me any of this? He said, Well, Patrick. That answer will arrive in due time.
Walking out I bumped into Herb Williams. A fellow near-guaranteed DNP that night. As soon as he saw me he said, Pat! The fuck are you doing out and about bro? I said, I could ask the same of you! I was hoping our obviously impending NBA Finals game would preclude Herb from asking me if I wanted to hang out. He said, Right on! Well we have at least an hour or two to kill before we have to be at the arena. I thought they did, uh, fuckin espresso here? Anyway, I’m super in the mood for a stick. You wanna go around the corner and smoke one? Have a quick smokey?! I said, Oh of course! Herb pulled out his portable humidor and showed me his cigars as we walked down the block. So yeah, he said, I’m like always getting invited to cigar dinners. And while I’m not super picky with cigars I like what I like. I’ll say that much. What I like? It’s what I like. So if I don’t like a cigar? Nope! I’m not gonna smoke it! So if, say, I go to a cigar dinner for like, I don’t know, 35 bucks and they give you two cigars. If I don’t like those two I’ll just chuck them in here. Then I’ll give them out to people. Haha! Like, hey smoke this. I don’t like it, but you might! You get to smoke a cigar for free. So it all works out. So yeah. If you want one of these then go for it. Save the ten bucks buying one over here. Yeah I’m just gonna have a water. No booze for me.
I said, I didn’t realize you were even into cigars. He said, Oh dude. Over at Havana on the Lower East Side. They’ve offered me a job there twice. That’s how often I’m in there. But anything to get out the house these days. You know? Fucked up home life, you know. You know, I’m just hoping the team really comes together tonight. I think we can get the win!
I said, Oh wow so you’ve been smoking a lot. Quite a bit then. He said, I wouldn’t say a lot. But I do enjoy cigars. I said, How many cigars you smoke a week? He said, Maybe one. Some weeks at least. Some weeks I smoke one. But then there are other weeks where I might smoke six or seven. Maybe even fourteen or fifteen. Sometimes even upwards of twenty. I said, Oh wow. He said, Well when you live in a house with your ex-girlfriend and your options are to stay at home and listen to her have sex with her new boyfriend or go grab a cigar . . . He shrugged his shoulders.
I said, Oh wow. Yeah I’d probably go grab a couple smokes. He said, Yeah. You would think buying a house together would be something done. Oh, I don’t know. When a girl actually sees herself spending her life with a guy? By people who actually see themselves being together for an extended period of time? She came to me four months after we bought the place and said she didn’t wanna be with me anymore. Perplexing! I said, Wow. What a cunt. He said, Yeah this one right here. Mocha fresco Cubano. Oh yeah this is my favorite! I said, So . . . what are you gonna do? He said, I think I’m going with the Mocha Cubano most likely. It’s sweet but at the same time indulges in subtle terrestrial notes as well.
I said, No. About the whole house thing. Your ex banging her new boyfriend in it and what not. He said, Well. That’s the thing. I fuckin blew my nut on this house, Pat. And also on a ring for her. Yes. I bought a ring for her. God! We actually went ring shopping a month after we bought the house. So I blew my nut on the mortgage, long story short. Plus the ring. Which ok whatever. But she doesn’t have any money. So she can’t buy me out. So it’s a bit of an imbroglio for me. A bit of a conundrum. But I also. I mean I could buy her out. But it wouldn’t be easy. I said, Shit. He said, How’s that cigar? I said, Good. Pretty good. I feel like I needed a smoke, you know? You know, I’m glad we bumped into each other. This smoke? It’s actually making me feel alright. He said, Same here! Oh yeah. Definitely same here! We needed this! I’ve been inhaling these things lately! I’m gonna be around after the game too. I’ll be somewhere, finding something to do! Probably smoking another gar. It’s highly likely! Let me know if you’re around.
The leather chairs were comfortable, although a tad outdated, and the bar had no trace of a coffee machine, never mind an espresso machine. A Keurig sat about three feet to the left of the haggard bartender and neither Herb or I bothered to ask if they had espresso. I said, Well, at least rates are low. . . . Aren’t they? He said, Man, I don’t know shit about interest rates. Those are like percentages and shit right? I said, Yeah, neither do I really. I guess they’re like rates of change and shit, or something? He said, Maybe. This girl I’m with. Was with. Experiences rates of change in terms of whose fuckin cock she’s hopping on each month. That’s about all I know about rates of change! And now I’m stuck with her. In my house! For the foreseeable future! Shit! I said, Fuck man. If it was me? I’d toss her two cunt lips right onto the street! He said, You know. I wish I had it in me, Pat. You know? Honestly? I think she might have fuckin played me.
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