Martins the ohat most people will have heard of, said Linda.
Martin? Is that what you call him? Just "The Angel", said Martin. He looked happier than this on the night he tried to kill himself.
I just cheething? said Linda. You did see him, Martin, didnt you? Martin shifted in his seat. You could tell he was scouting around the inside of his head, just to make sure that there were no escape routes hed overlooked.
Oh, yes, said Martin. I saw him, all right. He was… He was awesome.
And with that, he finally walked into the cage that Linda had opened for him. The public at large were now free to poke sticks at him and call him names, and he just had to sit there and take it, like an exhibit in a freak show.
But then, we were all freaks now. When friends and family and ex-lovers opeheir neers the m, they could e to one of only two possible clusions: ) wed all looped the loop, or ) we were scam artists. OK, strictly speaking, there was a third clusion - we were telling the truth. We saw an ahat looked like Matt Damon, who for reaso known to himself told us to get down off the roof. But I got to say, I dont know anyone whod believe that. Maybe my great-aunt Ida, who lives in Alabama and handles snakes every Sunday m in her church, but then, shes nuts too.
And I dont know, man, but to me it seemed a long way back from there. If you were gonna dra, youd say that mes aionships and jobs and all that stuff, all the things that stitute a regular life, were in like New Orleans, and by ing out with all this horseshit wed just put ourselves somewhere north of Alaska. Whos going to give a job to a guy who sees angels? And whos going to give a job to a guy who says he sees angels because he might make a few bucks for himself? No, we were finished as serious people. We had sold our seriosity for twelve hundred and fifty of ylish pounds, and as far as I could tell that money was going to have to last us for the rest of our lives, unless we saw God, or Elvis, or Princess Di. Aime wed have to see them for real, and take photos.
Just over two years ago, REMs manager came to see Big Yellow, and asked whether we were ied in his pany representing us, and we said we were happy with what we had. REM! Twenty-six months ago! We were sitting around in this fancy office, and this guy, he was trying to persuade us, you know? And now I was sitting around with people like Maureen and Jess, taking part in a pathetic attempt to squeeze a few bucks out of someone who was desperate to give it to us, so long as we were prepared to totally embarrass ourselves. Ohing the last couple of years has taught me is that theres nothing you t fuck up if you try hard enough.
My only solation was that I didnt have any friends and family here; no one knew who I was, except for a few fans of the band, maybe, and I like to think that they werent the type to read Lindas paper. And some of the guys at the pizza place might see a copy lying around somewhere, but theyd have smelled the cash, and the desperation, and they could have cared less about the humiliation.
So that just left Lizzie, and if she saicture of me looking ihen so be it. You know why she dumped me? She dumped me because I wasnt going to be a roroll star after all. you fug believe that?
No you t, because its beyond belief, and therefore unbelievable.
Shittiness, thy name is Woman. That was my thinking, at that point in time, you know, that it wouldnt hurt