With early May sunlight pouring in sideways through the trees lining Summit Avenue, Theresa and I walked briskly to the University Club, bound for a lecture from the author of a book on the tumultuous nature of Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald's relationship. The building stood tall and regal, a(more) cream-colored A-frame with a hexagon of windows flanked by two wings in perfect symmetry. We walked with authority through the heavy front door, half-expecting to be turned away on account of our non-member status of the Club, but were met instead with smiles and ushered into a large room, lined with rows of chairs already taken by an overwhelmingly white-haired crowd. We slipped around the corner of the doorway and leaned ourselves against the wall. "Good thing we're young," I thought to myself. Standing wasn't a big deal – until the light hit Theresa.
Fifteen minutes into the talk, she began to bend forward. At first I thought she was craning around the woman in front of her to see the speaker, but she kept dipping forward at a steady pace, as if falling asleep. "Theresa?" I asked softly, touching her shoulder. No response. I took her firmly by both shoulders, speaking her name more urgently. She was going limp in my arms. My heart started pounding as I wheeled around, my wild gaze met with expressions of alarm from nearby spectators. Turning back to Theresa, her face now visible, I said her name again. Her normally alert, cornflower blue eyes had completely glazed, boring into me in response. I was jumping to conclusions, trying to remember signs of a heart attack, ready to call 911, and then, all of a sudden –
"I thought I was going to faint," she said calmly, as if nothing had happened. The world started spinning again.(less)
A message from the author is what they always want and when I say “they” I mean the “machine”, the actual folks that make things happen. What occurs when the author doesn’t have a message? What bullshit words of wisdom do they want, (to quote Hulk Hogan) “Eat you(more)r vegetables, & say your prayers,….That ain’t how shit really happens in the jungle that is this world.