]Exister[2

By William Fairbrother

Oeuvre as novel. Poetry, fiction, autobio, prose-poetry, code-work poetry, novella, theatre, filmscripts... The second half of the oeuvre as novel "]Exister[".

9000 line poem.

• Language: English
• Publisher: William Fairbrother
• Release date: Feb 29, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463814413

William Fairbrother

born april 10, 1956, la jolla, california, 10:10 pm. was santa claus in the sixth grade christmas play. played little league, pop warner football, huffy basketball, track and field, swimming. hand bitten by a bear at yellowstone. read a lot, wrote silly poems and very short stories. learned to cook. became a boyscout, a mormon. trips and vacations to baja. read thurber. took up photography. watched television and movies and plays. took up surfing, skateboarding, biking, made surfboards. immigrated by ship with mom to sydney australia. bondi beach. painting and literature and world history. played tennis, rugby, painted, read shakespeare... learned to drive. was homeless. flew back home to california. graduated high school. played golf, went skiing. read a lot, wrote a lot, surfed a lot. worked in restaurants - all positions. attended community college: literature, theatre (buddy ashbrook), art history, native american studies. plays produced. read symbolists, dadaists, and from there back and forth through all of world literature. played on the badminton team. became editor of the college literary magazine. won the bravura award for poetry. lived with a woman and her daughter. attended university of hawaii, lihue, painting, art history, sociology. moved back to california. amateur surfing competitions up and down coast. one professional contest - seaside heights, new jersey. saw charles bernstein, william burroughs, jim carroll. attended ucsd - literature/writing (reinhard lettau, ron silliman, bram dijkstra, bobbie louise hawkins, paul dresman +), art history (moira roth +), playwriting (adele shank, paul foster) and directing (alan schneider), performance art (alan kaprow, elanor antin, jerome rothenberg). plays produced and poetry readings various uc colleges. many surf trips to hawaii and mexico. lived in vw van. lived with several different women. met ferlinghetti. moved to colorado - worked as handyman at the rolf institute, worked in restaurants. ginsberg liked one poem. went snowboarding. lived with mom holding her hand while she died of bone cancer. moved to chicago. moved back to colorado. lived in willis, texas. lived in baja california sur in a tent on the beach with a girlfriend from chicago. moved back to california. moved to denmark. after two months married a woman (an artist) with a young daughter - they had a son. opened the first state-controlled organic restaurant in europe, in copenhagen: "southern california mexican natural foods" - after two years went out of business. traveled some in europe. placed second in denmark's surfing championships. wrote a lot. worked as chef in a 700 seat restaurant. published several chapbooks of poetry, quite a few poems online - both english and danish. created own website: 'virtualitch'. after 10 years of marriage got divorced. became a cobbler at a medieval tourist center. once son turned 18 moved back to california - sacramento. (after 20 years in europe). worked as a librarian at the rudolf steiner teacher's school, then many cooking jobs downtown and midtown. off and on homelessness. attacked by an idiot with a knife - 10 surgeries - lost use of right hand... currently homeless

Book preview

]Exister[2

by

William Fairbrother

© Copyright 2019, William Fairbrother

ISBN: 9780463220276

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019920367

Published by William Fairbrother at Smashwords

Other books by/with William Fairbrother

I Cry Gray Mountains on the Moon (Literary Objects)… Xlibris Corporation

Burning Gorgeous – Seven Twenty-First Century Poets… Robertson Publishing

Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

This book is available in print at most online retailers.

ISBN: 98-1-945526-95-4

Table of Contents

I Cry Gray Mountains on the Moon

Uchujin

Mind Objects

Marika’s Cooking

First Lines and Titles

I Cry Gray Mountains on the Moon

After the crash they fished the smoldering little black box out from the cracked, twisted, charred wreckage of his brain-greased skull.

A commission played the device over and over but even so nothing took, nothing-echoes of terror, calamity, and profound disuse.

So experts were called in who deciphered the random screams into hollow swirling thoughts they thought were hysterical birth-related memories.

They outlined something plausible/palpable - A horrible accident, without cause, confused effects - so un-detailed, porous, so simply un-notable, he no longer exists.

||||||||||||||.......||||||||||||||

I wonder if what we forget is remembered by another, or if all we have forgotten coalesces in what is called the 'Collective Consciousness' or better yet, 'Unconsciousness' - because I forgot to shave this morning and a man who was shiny-shaven stood on the sidewalk before me - both waiting for a bus. Obviously he'd forgotten something, and he stared at my face thoughtfully and pulled his chin and said shyly to me that he'd forgotten my name, but we had never met.

||||||||||||||.......||||||||||||||

If you had all the money in the world I'd ask to borrow just enough so I don't have to think. And when it runs out I'll borrow from someone else who's borrowed from you to pay you back with interest and buy a little extra Time to not think. And the one I've borrowed from will have to borrow to cover for me, plus. And the one he borrows from will have to borrow. And maybe next I'll hit that fella up, or someone else in the know - So I don't have to think.

And still you'd have all the money in the world.

||||||||||||||.......|||||||||||||

US record 1915 - 2001

US vs GERM[ rd.3KO ]((+1))

US vs AXIS[ rd.9KO ]((+1))

US vs KORE[ split ](( 0))

US vs VIET[ rd.9KO ]((-1))

US vs GULF[decision]((-1))

US vs SOMA[decision]((-1))

US vs BALK[decision]((-1))

US vs USSR[see below]((-1))

US(I) vs PALE[continue]((..))

US vs TERR[unending]((..))

2 wins, 5 losses, 1 draw [2+ continuing]

Remarks:

Brilliant amateur career... strong pro International debut

(slow to begin, big finish)...

unsanctioned bouts between.

Second pro bout won

delivering a huge blow (may

be cause of later difficulties).

Much hyped match vs CUBA

never materializes (like the

loud, long running US vs

USSR media fiasco). Split

decision, US vs KORE. Bad

loss to VIET. Unsanctioned

bouts between (including

rd.1KO vs featherweight

GREN). US vs GULF (US

abandoned ring). US vs

SOMA (bit ear). US vs BALK

(US abandoned ring). US vs

USSR--messy--US as AFGH

defeats USSR--then must

defeat AFGH (self). In guise

of ISRA, US unable to finish

against PALE.

US vs TERR--endless.

Prognosis:

Perhaps all the

unsanctioned bouts in

between pro bouts

weakens US (for example,

US vs COLO now

playing—biological

mistakes...). Huge blow

delivered early in career

has marked a downturn.

In decline.

||||||||||||||.......||||||||||||||

Let us begin with losses[[[[ of identity

(Gräss::::Losses)::::tHEN

[gawk gawk]+HE eGG of intertextualité...

]]]fLOATing::::there are feathers

in an egg...Is it the old Abbott&

Costello routine Who's On First

[why this constant doubt...]]]but tHEN [gawk

gawk]+...Losses...Language Being invented to encapsulate

this Loss but an already inside a loss (N) Let us focus on

the pretty typography the the in the tHIS perhaps

interactive mESS what???

Inventing inside of an already existing

and therefore (I)1 is [[err]] ||201||or

flabulent...headstrong ((thol

word))...and yes word we exist

inside a punctuation now...as Losses

[[ss]] let us contrive language in

concourse [[[gik]]] mellifluous

unchained the diarrhea the sphincter

the asshole the butt the backside the backside

at a distance of Language::::THAT punctuation we

are inside [[[convolution]]] to undress the dressed

situation and then ((of course)) are losses.

||||||||||||||.......||||||||||||||

O. is going to the well, absorbed in thought, fluctuating thought and non-thought. He had sat cross-legged in the meditation hall all of yesterday, all last night. Then he finds himself going to the well. The wooden bucket.

He had meditated on the first thought-instant at birth until it became transparent. He moved to the other side and turned and saw its transparent back. But it could not be a wall with a back, so it disappeared. He carries this disappearance to the well, similar in heft to the wooden bucket.

In that it has disappeared, it cannot be carried; in that it is without dimension, how can he feel he carries it? But it is with him - now the bucket is in his hand but he is not truly aware of it being there - being there empty, and his body and mind so absorbed nothing is felt, nothing experienced, except going to the well.

So the first thought-instant at birth is an empty wooden bucket, not felt, but being carried. 'Am I going to the well?'

He finds and enters the memories leading up to going to the well: He was sitting, though wholly numb, floating, he felt himself sitting. It occurred to him that he was sitting. He was in the meditation hall. Sight returned. He blinked - and the blink created a moment - as if beginning time, re-beginning time. Was it dust? And it became clear that he would go to the well. He cannot remember taking up the wooden bucket outside the portal. He marks its weight now, to make sure he has brought it with.

Suddenly he is at the well. He senses he is here. His eyes itch, and he blinks. He begins lifting the bucket then becomes aware of something, of a presence, a person - he realizes the master is standing there beside the well, gazing at him.

He bows.

Who are you? ¹

I am O.

You are not O. ²

Who am I, then?

Let us begin by finding out what you are doing.

I am at the well.

So?

I... I am seeking truth. ³

There is no truth. You are a blathering child.

I seek after my true nature.

How is that? - Your only possession is an empty wooden bucket!

Yes, I have an empty wooden bucket!

What is in it?

Nothing.

And so I ask you again, who are you? ⁴

Nothing.

He is at the well. Nothing is always there, on its way to the well. Better that, than the space occupied by some O. traveling through nothing going to the well.

Nothing is always already here, and not here.

He blinks. And in his blink all memories collide. Time is set once again in motion.

It is morning! Pale light! Birds are singing outside!

¹

He bows.

Where are you?

I am at the well.

So?

Water

The well is empty.

²

Then I have been mistaken.

So what are you doing with that wooden bucket?

I'm here to gather emptiness!

With that he turns his attention to the well, slots his bucket, wheels it down, down it goes, down, until stopping wheeling, then up, up, and grabs it off the hook, and turns to face the master - gone.

He stands, peers into his empty bucket.

There!

²

Water

Tell me everything you know about water.

I'm thirsty.

Is that water?

Yes.

Or is it water now, and once you've quenched your thirst, water is something different?

Water.

Do trees not experience thirst?

I am not a tree! The birds in the tree do not experience the thirst of the tree - but the leaves do!

The master hits him hard on his shoulder with something which he does not see. There are your leaves!

He experiences his sharp pain in shock, then bows, nods excusing himself, walks off with empty bucket.

³

So?

I need water.

What for?

Thirst.

How can you be thirsty?

It was just a thought.

You do not thirst after truth!

Yes!

Drop it!

The bucket?

Donkey! There is no water!

But I'm thirsty!

Drop it!

Needs?

Drop it!

But I'm thirsty!

Drop it!

How can I abandon everything, without abandoning abandon?

There is no water in the well!

What am I to do?

Drink!

⁴

I am O.

Do away with it!

O. thrusts the bucket toward the master, then feels shame. The master, unhurt, casts the bucket down.

No witnesses! ⁵

We are alone.

Truth only exists in that bucket which is thrown down.

He upturns it - nothing.

There is no truth.

⁵

He is at the well. Nothing is always there, on its way to the well. Better that, than the space occupied by some O. traveling through nothing going to the well.

Am I to penetrate nothingness? I am a sedentary being. On what plane do we arrive at truth? The master is not here. The water quenches thirst. The lightness of being enters only my corpse - life itself is fat with flesh and exuberant. The only positive thing I can say, or think, is that I do not exist.

||||||||||||||.......||||||||||||||

Instruction one, Spencer Douglas, Spencer Douglas, level three, level three, level three, instruction one, standing, no feet, no gravity, no heat, no cold, relax, foreground hazy gray-white, slow swirling ceiling with darker grays, lighter ground out front two lights fast approaching eye-level, (head-lights) form, outline, no detail, no weight, no substance lengthen flatten arrive two human forms male female glowing white, (electric lights), bodies float, bright eyes, distinct features smiling (marvelous), no threat, slightly bobbing, hovering, eyes penetrating.

Welcome to level three.

Nod, smile [smiling].

What's your name?

Speak Spencer Douglas

Do you know where you are, Spencer?

Instruction one, their greeting, speak Level three.

Good. Simply spread your arms to fly.

They shift their gaze to each other spreading their arms, she glances back to Spencer.

Remember the instructions, farewell.

They dive below him, turn, zoom off, two lights, standing, no ground, floating, standing, falling, falling, falling, Spencer Douglas, level three, fly, fly, spread arms, falling, no motion, fly, flying, rotate, turn, roll, no wind, no air, velocity, propulsion, lateral motion, definite upward, downward, gradual descent, laugh, laughter [laughing]

SD (Instruction one, who, where, Spencer Douglas, Spencer Douglas

............... foreground hazy gray-white, slow swirling

[horizon] [clouds]

level three, level three, level three, breathing, instruction ceiling darker, lighter ground out front, two lights fast

[sky][chiaroscuro]

[sky-below][?][don't look down]

one, standing, no feet, no weight, no heat, no cold, no substance, approaching eye-level, lengthen, flatten, arrive, two human forms [headlights] [no gravity] [relax]

Spencer Douglas, level, Spencer Douglas, level three... glowing white, standing, bobbing, male, female, smiling [electric lights][marvelous][hovering]

[couple] [no threat]

smiling Welcome to level three. [nod] [smile] [vibrating]

energy, breathing, no voice, no feeling, density, plasticity

What's your name?

[speak]

Spencer Douglas. [vibrating]

no echo, no breath, breathing, lips, mouth, no hands, no arms

Do you know where you are, Spencer?

[their greeting]

instruction one, Spencer Douglas, level three

Level three.

[connection] [Smiles--increase] [warmth][ ][smile]

a) L-3 R-(bc)[i/i]

SD (a) L-3 R-(bc)[i/i] 2

foreground hazy gray-white, slow swirling ceiling darker, Instruction one, Spencer Douglas, Spencer Douglas, level…

lighter ground out front, two lights fast approaching eye three, level three, instruction one, standing [head...

level, lengthen, flatten, arrive, two human forms glowing no feet, no gravity, no heat, no cold, relax, no weight, lights electric

white features, smiling, bright eyes, no substance[... lights]

[marvelous] [no threat]

slightly bobbing erect

[hovering]

Welcome to level three.

Nod, smile...

Spencer Douglas.

Do you know where you are, Spencer?

[their greeting]

Level three.

||||||||||||||.......||||||||||||||

Five Card Stud. Five Card Draw, One-Eyed Jacks and Suicide King Wild. Five Card Draw, Jacks or Better to Open, Progressive, Trips to Win. Hi-Lo-Poker. Pass the Shit. Between the Sheets. Fuck Your Neighbor. 727. Two Card Guts. One Card Guts. Indian.

||||||||||||||.......||||||||||||||

when where expense total

8-19 pinball 2 321

8-19 laundry 2 319

8-19 coffee/Trident 1 318

8-19 toiletries 3 315

8-19 hat 15 300

8-19 food/Lolitas 2 298

8-19 C.-loan 30 268

8-20 beer/pool/Sundr 8 260

(loss) 30 230

8-20 lunch(schnietzel) 3 222

8-20 coffee/Trident 1 221

8-21 pinball 2 219

8-21 drinks/JJ' s 10 209

8-21 B.-loan 5 204

8-22 breakfast/Aristo 7 197

8-22 cigs/pepsi/Lo's 5 192

8-22 Coffee/Trident 1 191

8-22 lunch/Viet Hoa 6 185

8-22 drinks/West End 5 180

8-22 pinball 2 178

8-22 beer/pool/Sundr 2 176

(won) +50 226

8-23 breakfast/Mom's 6 220

8-23 coffee/Trident 2 218

8-23 choc milk/Lol's 1 217

8-23 toiletries/pepsi 7 210

8-23 movie/BaghdadC 5 205

8-23 dinner-picnic/Lol 6 199

8-23 beer/Sundowner 4 195

8-23 pinball 1 194

8-23 coffee/Trident 2 192

8-23 beer/pool/Sun 10 182

(won) +30 212

8-24 breakfast/Dot's 7 205

8-24 pinball 1 204

8-24 cigs/sqrl food/Lo 4 200

8-24 shoelaces/mall 2 198

8-24 coffee/Trident 2 196

8-24 pinball 1 195

8-24 beer/pool/Sun 12 183

(won) +50 213

8-25 coffee/pastry/Tr 3 210

8-25 snack/Lolita's 3 207

8-25 pinball 2 205

8-25 coffee/Trident 1 204

8-25 payback-J. +5 209

8-26 breakfast/CoffeeS 5 204

8-26 coffee/Trident 1 203

8-26 drinks/JJ's 15 188

8-26 cigs 2 186

8-27 coffee/Trident 2 184

8-27 lunch/Mustard's 5 179

8-27 pinball 2 177

8-27 drinks/JJ's 20 157

8-28 breakfast/Mom's 6 151

8-28 cigs/7-11 2 149

8-29 breakfast/Coffee 5 144

8-29 coffee/Trident 2 142

8-29 laundry 3 139

8-29 drinks/ElephantB 6 133

8-29 movie/Bull Dur 5 128

8-29 beer/pool/Sundr 6 122

(loss) 15 107

8-29 cigs/Lolita's 2 105

8-30 breakfast/GoEgg 6 99

8-30 cigs/snack/Lol's 4 95

8-30 coffee/Trident 2 93

8-30 pinball 2 91

8-31 cover/beer/Exp 40 51

8-31 breakfast/Nor.BC 10 41

8-31 dinner/Garcia's 6 35

8-31 cigs/Lolita's 2 33

8-31 coffee/Trident 1 32

8-31 pinball 1 31

8-31 drinks/West End 5 26

8-31 movie/Tucker 5 21

9-1 coffee/pastry/Tri 5 16

9-1 cigs/pepsi/pens/Lo 4 12

9-1 tips-day bussing +18 30

9-1 pinball 2 28

9-1 lunch/JJ's 6 22

9-1 tips-dinner buss +20 42

9-1 drinks/mall 8 34

9-1 beer/pool/Sundr 10 24

(loss) 15 9

9-2 breakfast/Denny's 7 2

9-2 cigs/7-11 2 0

9-2 tips-day bussing 7 7

9-2 paycheck-Garcia's +351 358

9-2 sunglasses/mall 40 318

||||||||||||||.......||||||||||||||

I want to give my son a Swiss army knife, one of those with thousands of blades: - cut, open, chop, whittle, screw - You know - everything. One to go underneath the skin of who of what he is - dig into whens and wheres and tweeze away the whys the depths of which no one can remember. A cool knife with built-in compass, a clock so he's never lost nor late, a mobile phone so he's never out of touch or lonely, a rope to climb trees, the shovel which digs the holes in which to plant, the glow-stick of enlightenment, something appropriate for rolling-out the hard hot sticky sweets of being alive - desire and understanding with which to quench the thirst to survive.

||||||||||||||.......||||||||||||||

Is it laziness or boredom between the truths we acknowledge and the nothing we do about anything? So caught up in the wondrous bullshit of survival. Not that we hunt down and kill our meat, or sow the soil to reap our wheat much less grind it. Who drinks water anymore - practically free but nearly tasteless? Our houses built for us, clothes sewn for us, our only skill in life is shopping - and we're bad at it, so advertisers tell us what to buy, like politicians expounding on what we should think, how to vote. Having two or three points of view to choose between is not democracy. Saying we have our say at the polls is bullshit 'cuz the polls are closed more often than not.

How can technology help us transform what we call democracy, which is nothing other than an organization of thieves soaking their pockets with our sweat? It can erase them. Let's let a machine which deals in ones and zeros run the whole shebang. Isn't it truly a matter of allowing mathematical precision to govern the human needs, verify strategies for feeding the hungry, for example. There is far and away enough food being produced to feed all. It is a political decision which starves a few here and there - children. We have the means to do something but don't 'cuz Farmer John says: What with those viruses and all of that, humans must be led by humans. Simply punching it all into a machine and following orders from a machine ain't human. But I say, is it human to allow children to starve to death? Apparently so.

So let's do away with human governance. We don't got what it takes. Some think God holds the answer; others wait for aliens. We're absurd, we're an absurd race of beings. Someone somewhere at some point has to say enough! It's like a lion out of control with greed killing everything in sight. He eats until satiated, but the rest rots, no more food. We cannot see it from where we are. The supermarkets are loaded. We can't imagine what it will be like without. Caught up in the dream that it's endless, progressing, progressing endlessly… We dream the dream our parents had. That it'll get even better. We believe there is something waiting for us after death. We are absurd. Manufacture religions out of absurdity, political systems of absurdity. I can care less that that notion of absurdity comes from France - why is it a competition? We are absurd.

If there were a God overseeing the whole, what would He think:

Human beings allow other human beings to starve to death, for political reasons. Torture and war are everyday occurrences. Those who escape are treated to ostracism - pure hate, and those who remain are poisoned by bitterness. The cycle repeats itself endlessly, and endlessly the fools believe their race will last forever. It will not. But what does it matter? If every human being died tomorrow birds would sing, grass would grow. That God - those aliens - will have come upon Paradise.

||||||||||||||.......||||||||||||||

Past the broken debt of imagining, over the shaky bridges of insecurities, through the woods of uneventfulness, under the gaze of the all-seeing Innocence - we travel backwards, and one step further til oblivion.

Without chancing the loss of our voice, stay quiet, remain wholly absorbed in silence, our silence, the silence which at once penetrates us and emanates from us, trickles through us, leaks into our midst.

Water grey but absorbent. Birds float. And it is more the pain at death we fear - more than the nothingness. Our losses so numerous over the years - it won't feel peculiar to be without existence.

||||||||||||||.......|||||||||||||

Underneath contentment simmers joy, lurks fear. And below their constructs languishes greed for survival, and deeper much deeper anger, resentment, guilt, embarrassment, inside the flesh of which lies exhaustion, duress and stress the mess which fashions us, changes us, pulls our face, and below this a fascia of knowledge, echoed language, the coursing of memories gathered from birth, teeth of death, resignation, polarity, brilliance of wonder, thirsty aging. Deeper still the singing identity circling in the membrane of our being. A blood pulsing, our hearts waxing, waning.

||||||||||||||.......|||||||||||||||

I believe the most important part of language is rhythm. Language is nothing other than music. Therefore, most essays, for example, are boring, while most pop lyrics provide at least a little caffeine. The written word and the spoken word are not at odds - they are brothers displaying different talents. Many times, I'll write a poem and not read it aloud. The rhythm is something inner, though it would flow quite naturally if read aloud - sometimes it's best to keep things inner - to experience the rhythm of language inside and silently. That's what thoughts are. I believe the most important part of thinking is its rhythm. Thought is nothing other than music. Therefore, most gathering is draining, while most dreams give us at least a little strength. Thought and dreams are not at odds - they are brothers exhibiting different talents. Many times I'll think something to myself, when it could just as well have arrived from a dream. The dream becomes disarmed, gesticular - sometimes it's for the best to forget dreams. That's what intuition is, something forgotten the moment it occurs. I believe the most important part of intuition is rhythm. Intuition is nothing other than music. Therefore most unconscious acts are automatic and logical, sequential, while most things purposely done in our daily life are labored and nonsensical. Intuition and Doing are not at odds - they are brothers displaying different talents.

Many times I'll be intuitively guided through a situation. Sometimes the rhythm is fluid and comes to me as if a series of silences within silences - the inner dance of silences - something which I experience as Nothing. That's what Being is. I believe the most important aspect of being is rhythm…

||||||||||||||.......||||||||||||||

We all have our trip, our idea of ourselves, our important projects, our thing, our own business. We have our reasons, our meaning, our methods, our excuses. Truth is a hopeless word, useless idea, needless need. As soon as we give it up for lost we're confronted with it again. Endless guest. Invited and welcomed yet immediately uninvited and annoying, and greeted every morning with the same false, anonymous cheer - never remarked, but certainly noticed. The truth is, well, the truth is we're all failed beings. Unable to appreciate the insignificant, to dampen dreams of grandeur. No, not us! We aren't aspiring - perfectly contented with perspiring! Work it out. Get a job. Work, work, work. We are not plastic without our jobs.

So when people ask 'What do you do?' and I invariably answer 'I breathe,' the same sincerity, complicity - the same half-snickered, self-abased and wondering smile.

||||||||||||||.......|||||||||||||||

my means are broken

and their thieves everlasting -

jump out a window

||||||||||||||.......||||||||||||||

Monomalwai

howwatti tchu i atman

tolofsi, igu, igy

min gong hai, tchu tchu oy, to ming fa roy

cha, aye

la, ting naw foy - basta ra

te di nep, hung foy chi, maw i

why I am dead?

||||||||||||||.......||||||||||||||

the eternal Being wraps its arms round me

|||||||||||||.......||||||||||||||

I am not romantically involved with the Angel of Death, though we see each other socially on occasion, get drunk, pass out - usually in an alley somewhere that stinks of 'home' -

But we never touch each other, or when it happens, we blush -

I don't even know his 'other' middle name - the 'of' is lovely... I've heard rumors 'Horrible, Frightful, even… 'Steve...'