vr

a novel

Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss

March 1999

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

From: SAGReiss
Date: 8 March 1999
Subject: Nolo

No money for cigarettes. Lying in bed. Remorse. I love you, Nichelle. I'm sorry.

RECTVM VINVM
Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss

From: Hillary
Date: 9 March 1999
Subject: on that note. or perhaps a slightly sharper note.

LETTERS TO MEN I HAVE KNOWN

Dear Doug,
I only dated you to prove
that I wasn't a lesbian.

Dear Scott,
I faked it every time.
You must have thought that you
were pretty good.

Dear Chris,
You looked better when I was drunk.
It's been four years!
Why don't you stop calling me?

Dear Derek,
In record-setting rains,
you told me I was beautiful
and I never--
not even for a moment--
believed you.

Dear Trey,
Being second choice wasn't so bad
for either of us.

Dear Kurt,
I didn't notice when you left for France.

Dear Jeff,
I dreamed twice you were a woman,
posing in a magazine ad,
face pressed into a rainbow of t-shirts.

Dear Brian,
It wasn't MY first kiss.

Dear Howie,
From you, I learned that bigger
doesn't always equal better.

Dear Steven,
Why does it feel so good?
Because you're on drugs.

Dear Steve,
Waiting for you,
I almost met someone.
I'll never forgive you for the "almost."

Dear Tom,
What did I expect
from a man who smelled like dust?

Dear Chris,
No.

Dear Alan,
Your house has too many mirrors,
but they'll never be enough for you.

Dear John,
I'm sorry.

Dear Sam, Frank, Phillip, and Tim,
I hate you.

Dear James, Rob, Russell, and the other Rob,
I've forgotten you.

Dear Jim,
You are so intent
on saying
the wrong thing exactly.

Dear Steven,
There are people whose mouths speak only of mouths,
and under a watery, red-rimmed moon,
you and I were two of those people.

Dear Gabriel,
Your accent was intriguing
until I heard what you were saying.

Dear Michael,
Somewhere between summer and fall,
I fell.

Dear Tal,
You'll never get credit for your stories
until you let them be fiction.

Dear Michael,
You again?

................................................................

hillary

"Be regular and orderly in your life, that you may be violent and original in your work." - Gustave Flaubert

From: Nichelle
Date: 9 March 1999
Subject: hey there...

Jen is in town and we're going to be doing errands on Capitol Hill. I thought we'd stop by to pick up Matilda if you're home. I figure we'll stop by in a few hours to see if you're there. If we miss you, let me know when you might be around so that I can get her. Hope you enjoyed kitty sitting.

Nicholina, the Amazon queena

From: SAGReiss
Date: 9 March 1999
Subject: Re: hey there...

Nichelle,

I'm sorry, but I'd really rather you two not stop by. I'm feeling broken and defeated. Couldn't we make some other arrangements?

From: Nichelle
Date: 9 March 1999
Subject: Re: hey there...

I'm sorry, Gaby. Jen is going to be here until I'm ready to nap before bed. Let me know when it's convenient for me to get Mur, or you can bring her down here (I'll pay the cab fare.) any day. If you want to come down for dinner some night, I could actually cook something...

Take care.
-Nichelle

From: SAGReiss
Date: 9 March 1999
Subject: Please don't bang on the windows

I'm sorry, Nichelle. I was cowering behind the shades while you rattled the panes. I had no idea what to do. When I got your message this morning I immediately wrote back that I did not like the plan. I'm bewildered. I don't know what this sentence means: "Jen is going to be here until I'm ready to nap before bed." I can bring Matilda to your place whenever you wish. I just didn't want my place to be invaded.

From: Nichelle
Date: 9 March 1999
Subject: hold your horses, buckaroo

I just wanted to pick up the cat. I didn't want to invade anything. I'm sorry I banged your windows. I wasn't planning to stay for lunch.

I'll be home until about 7:30 tonight, all day tomorrow. I won't be online enough to reply to your mail. If you want to bring her down here today, call before you leave. If not, we'll make other arrangements later, when I know my schedule better. My windows are too high for you to bang on them, so you'll have to buzz me from downstairs- #33.

-Nichelle

From: SAGReiss
Date: 9 March 1999
Subject: Let's be polite

Maybe I'm weird. I cannot understand that you would come over here with a friend without even checking to see if that was OK with me. We can talk when you have time. I'm going to see the man from Vancouver tomorrow afternoon.

From: Nichelle
Date: 9 March 1999
Subject: Re: Let's be polite

I'm sorry. You haven't been on Lambda for days and you don't answer your telephone. I had things to do today, and I didn't have time to sit in front of the computer waiting to see if you had replied. I happened to be walking right past your place, and I only wanted to pick up the cat. I'm sorry you thought that was rude.

I'd like to pick up Matilda tomorrow at about 5 PM if that is convenient for you. If not, please e-mail me soon. I'll confirm it with you tomorrow before coming over if I don't hear from you. I'm not trying to be rude. I'm glad you took care of Mur while I was gone, and I appreciate it. It's a coincidence that my friend happened to be in town the day I had time to get her. I have to work 50 hours over the next four days- I haven't got a lot of time. All you would have had to do was answer the door and hand me the cat. I'm sorry that was a problem for you.

-Nichelle

From: SAGReiss
Date: 9 March 1999
Subject: OK, so don't be polite

"All you would have had to do was answer the door and hand me the cat. I'm sorry that was a problem for you." Is this some kind of game to provoke my anger? Why should I have to answer when people come banging on my windows? Why is this my problem? Am I not allowed to have peace and quiet in my own home? Am I committing some kind of crime by not answering the phone? It took me twelve minutes to answer your first e-mail message. I apologize for the delay. Tomorrow afternoon I've got an appointment at the university at two forty-five. I may not be home by five. Would six o'clock be OK? Otherwise I can bring her over on Thursday, if that is more convenient for you.

From: Nichelle
Date: 9 March 1999
Subject: Re: OK, so don't be polite

I'm not trying to pick a fight. I'm sorry that you're depressed, wounded, and defeated. I have very limited time and I happened to be walking past your apartment. I could have picked her up without making a special trip. I'll be working four 12.5 hour days this week, starting tonight. All you had to do to make my life a little simpler was open the door and hand me a cat. I don't think I'm the only one who is being a little bit rude.

Six o'clock will be fine. I'll be there, and I'll knock on the door if you promise to answer. If anything changes, let me know in advance.

RECTUM,

Nichelle

From: SAGReiss
Date: 9 March 1999
Subject: If I'm wrong, forgive me

I do not wish to have you make a special trip. I'm happy to bring Matilda to your place tomorrow morning or evening or anytime Thursday. I'm sorry that you are overworked. That is no more my fault than it is yours that I'm wretched and hopeless. I guess I must be weird. I cannot believe that it is normal or acceptable behavior for people to invite themselves and their guests over to my home. If it is rude not to open my door when I don't wish to do so, I apologize for my rudeness.

From: Nichelle
Date: 10 March 1999
Subject: cat

I didn't invite anyone to your home. I stopped by to get my cat. It would have been nice to have Jen's help in bringing her home. You could have put the cat into the box, opened the door, handed me the cat, and gone back inside. It would have made my life much, much easier.

It is not your fault that I am overworked and tired, but you have made this far more complicated than it should have been. It's really silly to fight about this. I appreciate the favor you've done by cat-sitting Matilda for me. I'll be by at 6 PM tomorrow. It would be nice if you'd open the door this time.

-Nichelle

From: SAGReiss
Date: 10 March 1999
Subject: I can't agree

I'm sorry. I am happy to bring the cat over this morning or this evening or tomorrow. I did not mean to make life difficult for you. I guess we just disagree on protocol. I cannot understand your position. Apparently you can't understand mine. I felt deeply imposed upon. My wishes were not consulted (or were ignored, for I expressed them). I simply avoided what I thought to be a hostile attack. In such a case one can hardly blame me for how I defended myself. I did not create the situation.

From: SAGReiss
Date: 10 March 1999
Subject: What is your name?

I went to see the mysterious man from Vancouver. He wore a cast on his left leg, and his jacket pocket still bore a ski-lift ticket. I'm struggling to figure out what my name might really be. The man asked what my Hebrew name was: "I don't know. I guess Gabriel is the most likely candidate." "Gibrael?" He looked at a letter in Hebrew I had brought. It was written by a man called Philip Reiss, my father's uncle, a rabbi who presided at my parents' wedding. (I don't know how much of this story to believe. Rabbi Philip of Macedonia? I thought my parents got married in England. Whatever.) He read off five names, not four, but five. The one I didn't recognize sounded like Dominic. Have I got a name I've never heard of? Might this be my Hebrew name? Is the senile old fuck just doddering? Is this nightmare going to hound me to my grave? The man said he'd let me decide, whatever that means. How am I to decide what my name is, especially since supposedly pertinent documents are written in Hebrew? The bastard then ignored my confused and unexpressed wishes anyway and wrote down Gedalya and something in Hebrew. One can't even compare the two scribblings, since only left-handed people can write properly from right to left, and vowels are kind of optional or something. My family name seems to have three letters in both texts, tpo, backwards from left to right. (The whole question of "first" and "last" name becomes bewilderingly complex. Why doesn't everyone just say family and given name? I remember Jeff babbling at me like a madman about Korean people called Kim, when I had to stop him and say: "That's their family name. Remember? Mao Tse Tung is Chairman Mao?") But Gabriel has four letters and an apostrophe (possibly a stray vowel) in one case, n'd3e, five letters and an apostrophe in the other, n'd3te. This shit is very fucking confusing, and I'm sure it'll come back to haunt me. Why should I be called Gedalya, if I can be called Gibrael, which is what the Jordanian cook at the Sheraton used to call me? I guess it doesn't matter. Since I can't actually write Hebrew, I'll just say: "I don't know what the fuck that shit says, bro. My name is Gabe."

RECTVM VINVM
Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss

From: SAGReiss
Date: 12 March 1999
Subject: The Ebb Tide

I like to paint a picture more glorious and amusing. It's odd when the greatest struggle of my strength and will is spent on getting in and out of bed without tearing my head off for want of a cigarette. I've heard the optimistic take. That's like suggesting to someone kidnapped and chained to a radiator that starvation only seems inconvenient, but it's actually a nice way to lose a few extra pounds. I find it best to stay in bed, where my hands don't instinctively clutch for a cigarette that isn't there, that I can't afford. Addiction, my ass. These are the same doctors who go on TV saying that crack cocaine, what my generation called free-base (cocaine mixed with water and baking soda), is more addictive than powder. It's a dis-ease of gesture, breaking the habit of something I've done every quarter of an hour for the past twenty years. If I could I'd grasp the clean air in front of me and crush it till it bled. I think I'll smoke non-filters when I get back on my feet. It'll be my private kind of revenge for these days of sorrow and woe. No wonder I stay in bed. I cannot bear the folly and madness I see about me without a shield of alcohol around my brain. I just want to go somewhere, anywhere, and begin again. Seattle has not been kind to me. I can't even remember what I was hoping for coming out here, a change I guess, which is what I'm still hoping for. The worst thing about madness is that it doesn't usually manifest itself in photogenic terms. One can't even point to something that's wrong, something to fight, or ask a doctor to fix. It's like a tide, a force of such imperceptible power that one cannot resist, a gradual lack of will to live, even worse than some palpable wish to die. I'm sorry this isn't funny. I've no excentric characters to introduce you to, no bureaucracy to rail against except the form of my own mind. I brood about the past, not even knowing or caring what I may have done wrong. I lament the present, not knowing how it could be better, except for material things, whisky and cigarettes mainly, sex an option I don't really recall enjoying. I ponder the future without hope. Is it possible simply not to want anything? I've given up on truth and beauty. I've got to move before bad turns to worse. I don't want to think about what that could be like.

RECTVM VINVM
Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss

From: Joy
Date: 23 March 1999
Subject: Re: Gender and foliage

"play a plant"?

deeer sirs, you off end (theoneandonly) me

per-AIS-ing me on this is ludirous at best. i congradulate you all on your ability to read and write and on the fact that you are all capable of digesting certain quantities (sp) of food.

(wHAT!?)

February 1999

April 1999

vr: 1999