Thanks again for the last weekend. In Lockdown, being in California is unlike what you go through every day. For example, the plumbing is all fucked. The wolves are losing their home. And then look at Facebook.
Page numbers are coming. Book of the Dead.
A little boy grew a gun out of his hand like the first time I saw it on the radio show.
Yesterday my best friend died, and today I’m contemplating whether that’s an adequate excuse to sit out gym class.
“Best friend” is a stretch. Jojo invited me over to her house once in middle school, making her the only person I was ever close with, because nobody had ever done that before, and nobody would again.
Right now, I’m sitting on a bench in the girl’s locker room.
I’m scanning the toilet bowl for blood. I can’t see any, but I haven’t got everything out yet, so I use my thumb and index finger and start stroking to dislodge the last spits of urine. I’m only 29 and already sort of incontinent, apparently. Just a few years ago I could shoot a urinal puck around with the force of my stream.
Is it a stricture? Something wrong with my prostate?
Note: all paginated references to Dennis Cooper’s new novel I WISHED are based upon the PDF version kindly supplied by Soho Press.
Dennis Cooper is the author of The George Miles Cycle, a novel in five volumes, a sort of Californian In Search of Lost Time. Dennis is also an accomplished film director,
