CHOOSE WISELY,

THE INTERACTIVE MEMOIR

By Jesse Valencia
A Thesis
Submitted in Partial Fulfillment
of the Requirments for the Degree of
Master of Fine Arts
in Creative Writing

Northern Arizona University

May 2014

Approved:
Nicole Walker, Ph.D., Co-Chair
Jane Armstrong, Ph.D., Co-Chair

iii.

ABSTRACT
CHOOSE WISELY, THE INTERACTIVE MEMOIR
JESSE VALENCIA

Choose Wisely, The Interactive Memoir is the first known Interactive Literary
Object of its kind. Combining essay, memoir, speculative fiction, screenplay,
autobiography, graphic novel, text adventure, activity book, and liner notes (included
with the book is its very own soundtrack, written and recorded by the Authors band
Gorky), Choose Wisely seeks to bend genre by blending the boundaries of nonfiction,
fiction, and multimedia, to dissolve the line that separates Author from Reader, to
establish Interactive Literature as an emergent natural progression from postmodernism,
and to explore the vast literary possibilities offered by creative nonfiction.

In Choose Wisely, the Reader is the main character. Once the Reader begins to
play the Interactive Memoir, they are put in direct control of Jesse, the Authors major
life decisions by way of The Qurm, a fictional device developed by the equally
fictional Institute of Literary Technology as a means of attaining Interactive Literary
Objectivity.
Jesse the Author, as a fictional character in the book, is similarly hooked up to
the Qurm, but what the Reader does not know is that the Institute has forced this Jesse
into their Quantum Memory Sequencing Program against his will. As a result, Jesses
goal throughout the book is to escape reliving his greatest regrets and mistakes by

iv.

rebelling against the Institute and resisting the Qurm, which is the primary form of the
book.
Together, the Author and the Reader plot to take down the Institute and escape the
existential limbo of the Qurm. As the Reader plays out Jesses memories over the time
period 2004-2014, Jesse destroys the Qurm from the inside out. The memories
themselves are a series of creative nonfiction essays about truthful events that have
occurred in the Authors life. As the Reader plays them out, the Author watches them
from his end of the Qurm play like a series of short films. As such, everyone in the
Authors life carries the likeness of real-life actors and actresses.
Whenever a traumatic life event occurs, Jesse suffers quantum exhaustion inside
the Qurm. To recharge him, the Reader must upload their own memory into the Qurm.
To do so, the Reader is given writing prompts each time Jesse suffers quantum
exhaustion.

By the time Jesse destroys the Qurm, the quantum nexus of all reality is
destabilized, and both the Author and the Reader are stuck in the Institutes Fiction
Department. To reverse this, the fictional Jesse must kill himself ( la Roland Barthes
The Death of the Author), at which point the Reader must finish the story by salvaging
whats left of the Qurm to insert one last, final memory. Once the memory is inserted, or
written into the book, the quantum nexus is re-stabilized, the balance between fiction and
nonfiction restored, and the real Jesse, as the Author, discusses the purpose for
Interactive Literature with the Reader as this epic text adventure comes to a close.

v.

It is important to note that Interactive Literary Objectivity can only be achieved if

the Reader immerses themselves in the world of the text adventure and physically
customizes it to themselves in full. That is what the main purpose of this book is, and so
to leave sections of the text un-played is to not only deny oneself the attainment of
literary objectivity, it is to deprive oneself of the experience of the book in general, like
watching a movie without sound where there should be sound, or playing a video game
without picking up the controller. It is a book that is played, not read, and the success of
the Interactive Literary experience can only be measured by how immersed in the world
of the text the Reader allows themselves to become.

I was inspired to create this form by equal parts David Shields Reality Hunger,
Ander Monsons essay Text Adventure from Nicole Walker and Margot Singers
creative nonfiction anthology Bending Genre, video games like Assassins Creed III
and Call of Duty: Black Ops II, and mind-bending films like Being John Malkovich. A
fictional version of John Malkovich actually appears in the text as the main antagonist. In
a scene from that film, Malkovich enters a dimension filled with all types of John
Malkovichs. My argument is that the Malkovich that appears in Choose Wisely is actually
one of the millions of Malkovichs from this reality, and is not meant to be the real-life
John Malkovich the actor. As far as to what is true versus not true, all I have to say is
happy hunting.
Jesse Valencia
Cinco de Mayo, 2014

vi.

vii.

Table of Contents.
Cover. Page vi.
Interactive Cover. Page vii.
User Advisory Warning. Page viii.
Strategy Guide. Page ix.
Remember This, Boy. Page 41
The Biggest Gang In The World. Page 68
In Love And War. Page 88
Bottom of the Hole. Page 106
Navajo County Jail Blues. Page 127
Its Only Cheating If. Page 142
Check Yerself Before Ya Wreck Yerself. Page 147
Exit From The War Department. Page 165.
Car Trouble. Page 173
How To Get Mugged In Portland, Oregon. Page 181
Final Boss. Page 203
This Side Of Purgatory. Page 229
The Sun Also Sets. Page 239

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ix.

x.

xi.

FEEL FREE TO COLOR THIS PAGE HOWEVER YOU WANT.

xii.

xiii.

USER ADVISORY WARNING

IF ANYTHING CONTAINED HEREIN SEEMS UNREAL TO YOU,
WE ADVISE THAT YOU EITHER MAKE AN APPOINTMENT WITH
ONE OF OUR SPECIALISTS IN THE QUANTUM MEMORY
DEPARTMENT OR FILE A COMPLAINT WITH THE FICTION
DEPARTMENT.
IF YOU DO NOT HEAR BACK FROM US WITHIN THIRTY
DAYS FROM THE DATE THE COMPLAINT WAS FILED, YOU MAY
ASSUME THAT YOUR REQUEST FOR A FORMAL RESPONSE HAS
B E E N D E N I E D . H O W E V E R , Y O U M AY F I L E A S M A N Y
COMPLAINTS AS YOU WOULD LIKE. OUR CRITICAL ANALYSIS
UNIT WILL COMPRESS THEM INTO NEW LITERARY ALGORITHMS
FOR FUTURE PRODUCT RESEARCH. THANK YOU.
I UNDERSTAND THE TERMS AND CONDITIONS.

ONCE YOUVE CHECKED OFF THAT YOU UNDERSTAND THE

TERMS AND CONDITIONS OF ENTERING THE PROGRAM PLEASE
SELECT YOUR DIFFICULTY BY CIRCLING ONE OF THE THREE
OPTIONS BELOW WITH YOUR WRITING UTENSIL. CIRCLING ANY
OF THE THREE OPTIONS WILL TAKE YOU TO CHAPTER ONE.

EASY
NORMAL
HARD
Once youve made your selection, please go to the next page to begin.
LOADING PART ONE
STRATEGY GUIDE
loading... loading...

xiv.

xv.

WIN A WAR!
CHEAT DEATH!
ESCAPE PRISON!
TAKE DOWN THE MAN!
INTRIGUED?
BY VOLUNTEERING FOR THE INSTITUTE OF LITERARY
TECHNOLOGYS CHOOSE WISELY QUANTUM SEQUENCING
PROGRAM, WE PROMISE ALL OF THIS AND MORE. A RANDOMLY
SELECTED PATRON OF OUR FIRM HAS DONATED HIS MIND TO THE
ILT FOR QUANTUM GLEANING. ALL THAT IS NEEDED IS SOMEONE
TO SEQUENCE THEIR IMAGINATION TO OUR PATRONS MIND, AND
ACT OUT THEIR LIFE STORY. IF YOU THINK YOURE THE RIGHT
PERSON FOR THE JOB, CONTACT THE INSTITUTE TODAY! WE ASK
ONLY THAT YOU ASK YOURSELF...

ARE YOU PREPARED

TO EXPERIENCE
CERTAIN DANGER
AT THE TURN OF
THE CENTURY?

xvi.

You see this flyer on a wall somewhere. A coffee shop, on the side of a kiosk, or
maybe on the floor of a gas station restroom. Maybe you see it in a book.
Theres a number written on the back, scribbled in blue pen.
Dial it. Hurry.
Wait a few seconds. Someone says hello, and thank you for calling the Institute of
Literary Technology. You say hello and say that you are interested in volunteering for the
Quantum Sequencing Program.
They take your name and give you an appointment.

Next Wednesday you are at the ILT and are handed a thank you note by your
recruiter. He talks to you as he leads you in through the doors of the long white hall, and
everything around you is white, and he says Congratulations. Now that we have you
here your mission can be properly explained. Weve never done anything like this before,
so the protocol is, oh how would one describe it...evolving. We trust youll prove a
suitable volunteer, but dont take our word for it. You only have to prove it to yourself.
You have the IM, correct?
Eye emm? you say.
The Interactive Memoir.
Oh, yeah, you say, holding up your book or e-reader.
Good, he says, Lets get started! First things first. On that next page there,
either draw a self-portrait or paste a photograph of yourself. You remembered your
things, didnt you? Remember, you cant just look at a picture of yourself. It needs to be

xvii.

physically in the book for the program to work properly. Oh, take as much time as you
need. Time is quite flexible here.

STOP.
Create Your Avatar.

Draw a self-portrait or post a photograph of yourself in the space provided.

Keep in mind that this is how you will appear in the story for the remainder
of the program, once youre synced to the Author. Once your avatar is either
drawn or a photograph of you is taped or glued in the space above you may
continue to the next page.

xviii.

Good. Now that you are present, it is time to

introduce you to The Author. This (he hands you a
photo)----------------------------------------------->
is Jesse Michael-Geronimo Valencia. He is, or was,
a 28-year-old male living in the United States
around the turn of the century. This would be the
21st Century, mind you. Our program is modeled
around significant events that occurred in his life between the years 2004 and 2014.
The recruiter leads you to a gigantic white room. People in white lab coats twiddle
knobs and press buttons. Who are these people and where am I? are questions you
might ask.
This is the Control Room. Where the magic happens, more or less, the recruiter
says, for months now the Institute has been hard at work on a new form that were
confident could change the game entirely.
What game? you may ask.
Since the mid-20th century, more or less, innovative literature has been toiling
in the trenches of postmodernism. Here at the Institute we believe that, in lieu of the
coming age, postmodernism as an artistic movement has reached its full capacity and
struggles now to meet the demands of the people. Attention spans are smaller and people
read differently now, and have you seen the crap theyre selling at bookstores? You have
to really dig for the good stuff.
Circle

YES

if you agree and

NO

if you disagree.

xix.

If you neither agree or disagree with the recruiter on the current state of literature,
write your own thoughts below. The recruiter will take them into consideration as he
leads you past the ILT scientists to a large table surrounded by screens, gizmos, and all
kinds of complicated-looking wiring and gears, though he may not respond.
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________

The recruiter gestures you to lay on the table. You do so. A scientist in a lab coat
approaches and begins uploading your avatar into what appears to be a hard-drive. You
see your avatar on one of the screens. The recruiter speaks.
It is our goal to go beyond the traditional forms and create a literature that is
thoroughly interactive, rather than simply performative, so that customizable literary
objectivity might be attained. This is where you come in.

xx.

The recruiter presses a button. The machinery around the table buzzes and clicks.
This is The Qurm.1 It is what makes interactive literary objectivity possible. As
far as we know, it is the first of its kind.
Who built it? you might ask, and the recruiter would say The Maker, and
when the recruiter says The Maker it is with such reverence that you are dissuaded
from pursuing the question further. The recruiter composes himself and continues to
explain the machine as he turns knobs. Presses buttons.
By entering the quantum-recalibration machine, or Qurm, you will be put in
direct control as to what path Jesses life will take during the ten-year span. The Qurm
syncs your imagination with The Authors memories, so your body becomes his. You
will, essentially, be the Author.
Should you seriously maim or even kill Jesse the QURM allows you to respawn to your most recently experienced event, and you may then choose a different
route for Jesse to take. I should warn you to please be careful not to re-spawn too often in
close intervals. To do so could risk the integrity of our access portal to the Quantum
Nexus, where all realities converge, causing there to be multiple Jesses, and yous for
that matter, possibly resulting in the destruction of the space-time continuum. Really,
though, theres no pressure. We just ask that you beware of simulations.
As you roam the Quantum Nexus you may receive tokens by which you can
alter the whole of reality around Jesse. These have no known effect on the continuum, but
keeping in mind that this program is a prototype, in order for the token to work your full

Qurm is pronounced Kwerm

xxi.

participation is required. Also, if you, as Jesse, experience a major event, or if your

stamina runs too low, Jesse may suffer quantum exhaustion, at which point he will need
to be recharged. To do this, you will be required to access your own memory and upload
it into the Qurm.
This is the feature of the IM we are most excited about, and all of our tools will
be at your disposal for this process. Your memory does not need to be entirely factual for
it to be true, at least not in this reality, but for more on that youd want to read up on
quantum theory and mechanics, which we, unfortunately, do not have time for here. Are
you getting this so far?
Say out loud your response. It doesnt matter what you say, hes going to think
of it as positive, so you might as well say something positive.
After youve spoken he says
Great! As a gesture of your good faith, the Institute of Literary Technology has
requested you complete the following exercise before proceeding to the program...

STOP.
Find someone you trust that can both hear and speak, and preferably write. On
the next page, without telling them anything about this book or what youve read so far,
say out loud to them the words assigned to YOU, located on the next page. After youve
said them, you may then fill them in as to what is going on. Record their reaction in the
space below your monologue. However, if they are physically present in the same space
as the book, have them write for you words of advice for your journey.

xxii.

INT. OR EXT. DAY OR NIGHT. WHEREVER YOU ARE...

!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!

YOU.
(State their name), I have volunteered for a top
secret mission with the Institute of Literary
Technology. This mission will require me to bend
space-time and, in the event that I get stuck or
lost, I am required to record your advice for
such a mission in order to bring me back.
Please, (state their name), say your advice now,
or if you are present, please write it in this
book.
Your Trustees Advice:

_____________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________
Good, the recruiter says, now sign your name below.

This book belongs to: ____________

Great! Here is your audio disc (he hands you the Choose Wisely Soundtrack).
These are songs composed by the Authors band Gorky that weve gleaned them from
the Quantum Radio to explore how music might interact with text. Oh, I see youve
familiarized yourself already. Good! During the program you will be prompted to play

xxiii.

the tracks as you enter certain scenes, and, um, The Author wanted me to slip you this
about that. Dont read it out here. Go over in that corner. Dont let them see you...
You do as he says.
The paper is brittle to your fingers and reads

Psst! Look for me when youre in there, Reader. They think they have my
band but the truth is Ive infected this whole book with music. Really, its
just an album with book-length liner notes, but these ILT fools think
theyve got it all figured out...
The note dissolves in your hand before you can finish reading it, and are lost in
thought when... Ahem! We also suggest coloring any drawings you might come across.
The recruiters voice snaps you back to reality, and you notice a gaggle of
interested literary technicians walking past.
Lets see, what else should you know before we send you in...oh! The Parody
Department has uploaded the likenesses of famous actors and actresses Jesse was
culturally aware of into the Qurm to play out key characters in his memories, so as you
act out his life as the Reader, he as the Author simultaneously watches it played out like a
movie. Our contract with The Author limits us to only those living at his time of
narrative, in the event that any of the directors he imagines making movies of his life
acquire film rights to the IM once literary co-objectivity is attained. Dont be alarmed by
them, as they are not really the living people themselves, but digital copies of those actors
and actresses. Fakes, in other words. What else could one expect from the Parody

xxiv.

Department? Hence, why I look like Kenneth Branagh. Oh, you didnt notice before?
What do you think? Does it suit me? No? What about this?
Suddenly the recruiter transforms into Jude Law. Even his voice changes.
Better? Hell of a lot thinner than I am, thats for sure!
One last thing. You can stop the Qurm at any time you wish. We do ask that you
dont if you can avoid it, because this thing costs the ILT Treasury shitloads of money
every time someone presses play. You do have the option of pausing it, however, and it
doesnt cost anyone a thing! To pause the memoir, simply put down the book or lift your
eyes from the page.
There are recommended save points, however, that weve placed in the program
at sections where we feel it is a good time to pause the IM, so that you yourself do not
suffer quantum exhaustion. They are indicated by Gorky logos, which look like this...

The recruiter, who really does look like Jude Law, pulls you aside and speaks
quietly. Look, Im going to be straight with you, he says, this thing can get messy, and
you might find yourself in some...sticky situations, but as long as you keep Jesse alive,
things, eh...might not turn out so bad. One advantage of the Qurm is that, at times, it

xxv.

enables you to take any bad choice and make the best of it. It might take a little hard
work, it might take a lot of hard work, but other times things well beyond your control
may influence you negatively and the greater, unseen forces at work in the cosmos will
prove immovable, and you wont have any quantum tokens to do anything about it,
either. Even then, the most sound advice we can give is for you to make the best of it.
Trust me on this, too...
Jude Laws voice drops even quieter.
...it can be a total fucking rush!
Riiiing

!
!

Ooh! That would be the QURM Department calling! Best you head over there

right away, he says as he pats you on the shoulder.

The table grows wheels and rolls you away.

Write your name in the blank space provided in the sentence below. Anytime there
is a blank space in the narrative you have the option of inserting your own word.

_______________! Law calls after you, and you turn, and with a wave of his
hand he says, I wish you the best of luck, and hope that you choose wisely.

Go to the next page to enter The Qurm Department.

xxvi.

A womans voice is heard over an intercom as you wheel down the hall...Hello!
And Welcome To The Qurm Department!

Suddenly there is dark.

EXT. OR INT. DAY OR NIGHT. WHEREVER YOU ARE...

YOU.
!

Hello?

!
!
!

!
!
!

QURM SCIENTIST.1
Hello! Yes, right this way please. You can
control the Qurm with your mind. Just direct it
to do so. Nice to meet you. Im Harrelson.

YOU.
Where are we going?

!
!
!

!
!
!

HARRELSON.
Over to the Qurm synchronizer. We need to match
your avatar up with the authors DNA before
sequencing.

Sequencing?

!
!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!
!

HARRELSON.
Sequencing is necessary before immersion in the
Qurm. By aligning your imaginative abilities with
the pre-determined genetic traits of the author
we will here be able to record, send, and receive
transmissions from the Quantum Nexus.

YOU.
Sounds complicated.

!
!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!
!

HARRELSON.
It can be. Not that genetics have a complete hold
on free will, but they do play a significant
role. Basically we need to sequence you with
Jesses existential being-in-the-world in order
to maximize your quantum potential.

Played by Woody Harrelson.

YOU.

xxvii.

YOU.
!

Okay?

HARRELSON.
Give you the most possible choices, and all that.

YOU.
Sure. What the _________ is this?

You reach for something that looks like a cassette player.

!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!

HARRELSON.
Careful with that, thats a Quantum radio. Youll
need it in the Qurm. Its kind of like a fax
machine, teleporter, and narrative generator all
in one. Basically an extension of your IM.
YOU.

Improvise out loud your next logically patterned speech.

!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!

HARRELSON.
Alright.
Qurms
fired
up.
Lets
get
you
sequenced. Below is a list of Jesses traits
weve identified from his genome. This could be
useful information as you proceed through the
different levels. Once youve read them, below
the list write down three things about yourself
that are things you do creatively. They could be
any three things, and you may or may not need
them in the program. We only need them for
sequencing.

As you progress through the narrative, try and spot where these pre-determined
genetic traits might influence Jesses behavior. Finding a certain number of traits will
unlock a special bonus at the end of the narrative.

Go to the next page to begin Author-Reader Quantum Sequencing.

xxviii.

Jesse Valencias Genome Info (abridged)1

X-Chromosome - H1
Y-Chromosome - R1b1b2a1a
29.4 % Nonspecific Northern European; 17.6 % British and Irish;
13.2 % Native American; 12.5 % French and German; 7.7 % Scandinavian
5.8 % Nonspecific Southern European; 4.0 % Nonspecific Euro.
3.0 % Neanderthal; 1.7 % Nonspecific East Asian & Native American
1.7 % Iberian; 1.5 % Italian; 1.1 % Finnish; 1.1 % Eastern Euro.
1.0 % Unassigned; 0.8 % Sub-Saharan African; 0.3 % East Asian
0.3 % Ashkenazi Jewish; 0.2 % North African; 0.1% Sardinian

TRAIT NAME
OUTCOME

PATIENT

Alcohol Flush Reaction................................................................................Does Not Flush

Bitter Taste Perception........................................................................Unlikely to Taste
Lactose Intolerance.......................................................................................Likely Tolerant
Malaria Resistance (Duffy Antigen)................................................................Not Resistant
Muscle Performance......................................................................................Likely Sprinter
Norovirus Resistance........................................................................................Not Resistant
Resistance to HIV/AIDS..................................................................................Not Resistant
Smoking Behavior......................................................................................................Typical
Asparagus Metabolite Detection..................................................Higher Odds of Detecting
Reading Ability...........................................................Typical Nonword Reading Score
Eating Behavior..................................................................Typical tendency to overeat
Measures of Intelligence............................................................Typical Non-Verbal IQ
Memory............................................................................Increased Episodic Memory
Odor Detection........................................................Typical Sensitivity to Sweaty Odor
Pain Sensitivity.............................................................................................Increased
Biological Aging.....Longer telomeres than average, equal to someone 2.23 years younger
Caffeine Consumption.........................................Higher caffeine consumption, on average
Chronic Hepatitis B...Higher odds of developing chronic hepatitis B if infected with HBV
Food Preference......................On average consumes about 16 grams more sugar each day
Height.........................................Averages 0.3 - 0.7 centimeters shorter than typical height
1

QURM SCIENTIST: Obtained from one Jesses autobiography, published in 2061, three years after his
death in one of the reality threads weve gleaned. In it, Jesse reveals that in 2013 his genome was partially
mapped by an expert team of scientists in California. To the best of our knowledge, these figures are
accurate and true.

xxix.

Leprosy Susceptibility.................Substantially higher odds of leprosy infection if exposed

Male Pattern Baldness................................1.31 times lower odds of male pattern baldness
Measures of Obesity.................................................................Typical waist circumference
Sex Hormone Regulation...................................3% lower levels of circulating testosterone
Tuberculosis Susceptibility...................Higher odds of developing tuberculosis, if exposed
Longevity...........................................................Typical odds of reaching age 95 or beyond
Avoidance of Errors......................................Much less efficient at learning to avoid errors

List Three Things About Yourself Which You Do Creatively

________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________

Now match the first and last letters of each of your three things with the
corresponding number and insert the number into the designated space below. Inserting
all six correct single-digit numbers completes sequencing. See footnote for hint.1

A, J, S -1
C, L, U - 3
E, N, W - 5
G, P, Y - 7
I, R - 9

B, K, T - 2
D, M, V - 4
F, O, X - 6
H, Q, Z - 8

Volunteers (your) GTAC Code:

__ __ __ __ __ __
1

For instance if your first listed creative thing was paint pictures of landscapes then your first two
numbers would be 7 and 1, because the first letter P corresponds to the number 7 and the last letter s
corresponds to the number 1.

xxx.

Once your GTAC Code is properly and correctly inputted into the book, you
may continue onto the Quantum Nexus and enter Jesses quantum memories, beginning
in, oh lets see here...erm, Facebook launches, Friends ends, Reagan dies, Dubyas reelected, and Janet Jackson flashes tit at the Super Bowl. Looks like 2004, Woody says.

LOADING PART TWO,

CHOOSE WISELY.
loading... loading...

Go to the next page to begin Choose Wisely.

xxxi.

Hello? Can you hear me?

Yes, you say.
One more thing. As you play out Jesses memories, The Author will reveal
himself through narrative, offering you clues as to which decision might be best for him
as he stumbles through the world of early 21st Century America, so pay attention to what
youre doing. Take it one page at a time. Dont skip ahead and dont fucking cheat. If you
do, it could jeopardize the objective of the IM. This is unlike other books youve read. It
is a book that is not read, rather, but played.
How do you mean? You want to ask. Woody Harrelson senses this.
Well explain once you get there. If you get there.
If?
I mean well help you along. Remember your avatar. The I in The Authors
narrative is you. In the Qurm your avatar syncs with The Authors subjective self, making
literary co-objectivity possible. You must let the Qurm flow with you, not against you.
Hey, were beginning, says the other lab tech,1 whose name tag reads
MCCONAUGHEY, alright, Reader. Its a bit bumpy in there, so whatever you do, dont
fall out...

And then, black.

And then, a pressure in your chest

like drowning in a coffin.

1

Matthew McConaughey

xxxii.

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xxxiv.

xxxv.

xxxvi.

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xxxix.

xl.

41

. . . QURM Synchronization complete...

...vitals taken...

Reader?
...avatar manifestation complete. Weve
awoken The Author. Choose Wisely Program begins...

Its you and me. Lets do this.

...in 5-Dont tell them you can hear me...
--4-...Ill try to help you when I can...
--3-Ahh! Shit, that hurts! Reader--
--2-Dont...!

LOADING LEVEL ONE...

REMEMBER THIS, BOY.

Directed by Wes Anderson
Loading...Loading...

42.

43

44.

45

...the first was an essay-writing contest and the second was earning a full-ride scholarship
to pursue theater at Northland Pioneer College. The essay-writing contest was countywide (this is Navajo County, Arizona) and the subject was drug addiction. Id never done
drugs but my theme was something along the lines of drugs are like a pitch-dark room to
which there is no door and no window... and winning it made me feel I was the best
eighteen-year old writer in the county.
The scholarship, on the other hand, came about because of my locally acclaimed
performance as Jack Chesney in Charleys Aunt, as well as my assistant directing of our
drama programs spring musical The Music Man. Dr. Mike1 , the head of NPCs Fine Arts
Department, awarded me the scholarship at Show Low High Schools senior awards
ceremony. The future looked bright.

STOP.
Jesse has just reached adulthood around the turn of the 21st century in the United
States of America. The year is 2004. Imperialist wars rage and the Great Recession
looms. After barely graduating high school (science and math are not his strong subjects)
he wants to have fun but he also wants to do the right thing for himself. The future is
bright and, being so young, he feels immortal. You are him. What will you do?
A. Take the scholarship and grind down on school. The fun you have later
will be more meaningful if you work hard now. If you choose A, continue
on to the next page.
B. Are you kidding me? There will be plenty of time for college. Lets
have some fun! If you choose B, flip to page 49.

Tim Robbins

46.

Continued from page 45...

Taking Dads1 advice I used the 250 bucks from the essay win to fix the van Id
bought for 300 from an obese girl2 in the high school drama department. She fancied me
and I found her affections to be advantageous.
After my leading role and directorial debut Id been given a meager ensemble role
in a very bad musical called Once Upon A Mattress and had no interest in singing and
dancing stupid songs in a stupid story. Navajo County is heavily Mormon country and as
such the potential for true art is low. It struggles with this same problem ten years on, but
I persevered and the next semester I got a speaking part, and the semester after that I got
the lead role in 1776.
After my first year of junior college, I started working part-time at the gas station
just down the street from Dads condo to save for my move to California, which had, up
until I moved there, always been a place of great fascination for me. I was uncomfortable
with the idea of tsunamis and earthquakes, which may seem silly, but the ocean has
always freaked me out. I remember it from when I was seven with Mom3 for a birthday
trip to Disneyland, either right before or right after the divorce, and later in San Diego
with Dad and my kid sibling Cadyn4, but I was too afraid to get in the water.
After graduating NPC in 2006, I had about $1500 saved up for the move. The van
was still in pretty good condition so I drove it out with all of my things in the back.
1

George Clooney

Rebel Wilson

Geena Davis

Leisha Hailey

47

Found an apartment in Burbank. Dad cautioned me against going. Said I should stay in
Arizona. Finish college, he said, stay here and do the smart thing, but I wanted to
make it in Hollywood. Smart had nothing to do with it.

After landing a few small roles in commercials and as an extra, Jesse makes his
big break in 2008 when he is cast opposite Zooey Deschanel in 500 Days of Summer,
narrowly beating out Joseph Gordon-Levitt. We wanted an unknown, casting director
Eyde Belasco told ET of the decision, and Jesses charisma fit the character perfectly.
Following an intense but brief romance with his co-star, Jesses status in the
Hollywood pantheon is forever cemented in Steven Spielbergs remake of The Grapes of
Wrath, for which Jesse wins the Academy Award for Best Actor in the role of Tom Joad
the younger. By 2018 at the age of 33 he is the highest-paid actor in Hollywood.
At 43 he runs for President in the 2028 election and wins, narrowly defeating
fellow Arizonan, Senator Meghan McCain, who would have been the first female
Republican president. As such Jesse is the first Hispanic American to hold the office. He
and First Lady Jennifer Lawrence are the first Presidential Academy Award Winning
couple in history.
After pulverizing his opponent in 2032 election President Valencia, along with an
all-Democratic Congress, restores the United States to its oft-dreamed of former
grandeur.
At age 53 President Valencia and First Lady Lawrence invest in a small biotech
firm specializing in neuroscience and nanomedicine. With a $53 million dollar research
grant Newgenics cures cancer, AIDS, other STDs, mental retardation, Alzheimers and
other genetic disabilities.
Enhanced by Newgenics nanomeds, Jesse lives the remaining years of his 145year life happy on his 100-acre oceanfront estate. His novel As Icarus Falls is named
the greatest American literary achievement of the 21st Century and wins the Pulitizer.
Shortly after receiving the Nobel Peace Prize, he dies of natural causes at home,

48.

accompanied by his loving wife, their four children, thirteen grandchildren, twenty-seven
great-grandchildren, forty nine great-great-grandchildren, and eleven great-great-greatgrandchildren.
His funeral is attended by all living past and present heads of state, famous
people from throughout the world and his devoted followers and fans. He is named by
TIME magazine as the greatest American who ever lived. A gigantic bronze statue of him
is erected in Washington D.C.

YOU HAVE CHOSEN WISELY.

GAME OVER.
To Re-Spawn, return to page 45.

49

Continued from page 45...

INT. CAFE. PAYSON, ARIZONA. EARLY MORNING.
The glass door is cold to your fingertips. You sit sullen, defeated, alone in the
corner. An old man, wearing a cowboy hat, suspenders, cowboy boots and a bola tie sees
your despair, opens his cracking lips and speaks.

OLD MAN.
Remember this, boy. Without God in your life, you will
fail. Take my word for it.
And I did, though the idea of God has always proven problematic for me. There is

truth in the world, as beauty accompanies living, but Ive never been a man of faith. Not
truly. Most of my personal beliefs, Id gauge, have been shaped by an approach to logic
in that I can conceive of a sort of God, but it is certainly unlike most of the gods I know,
or imagine I know, or know I imagine.
As I waged this millisecond struggle of the heart I noticed The Old Mans * grey
beard and glossy eyes. They concealed a discontented wisdom, as if he knew something I
didnt. He was the kind of man who never let loose a word from his lips without first
being sure he knew exactly what he was on about.
He sat obliquely from me in the caliginous morning blue of the cafe peering into
his foggy ice water. Wed been carrying on this sullen conversation for the better part of
an hour, and though I wish to recall that previous hour as being more jovial than this one

Sam Elliott

50.

sentence of his I can admit only that the words themselves made me uncomfortable. His
barren fingers wobbled as he brought the glass to his parched lips.
You will fail, he said again, and I wanted to be sympathetic but found myself
anxious, loathing this display of vulnerability on both our parts.

!
!

JESSE.
Fail at what, man?
OLD MAN.

Whats that?

!
!

!
!

JESSE.
If you dont have God in your life, youll fail
at what?

OLD MAN.
Everything. Werent you listening?

JESSE.
I heard what you said, man. I--

!
!

OLD MAN.
Let me ask you this. Whatre you doing with
yourself, son?

!
!

Glasses clink. The Waitress spills a cup of Coke Zero. Youre momentarily
distracted.
JESSE.
!

Im sorry?

OLD MAN.
Look at you. No winter coat. In this weather?

JESSE.
Im fucking broke.

OLD MAN.
Oh yeah? And why do you think that is?

I dunno.

JESSE.

51

OLD MAN.
Whatre you, eighteen?

JESSE.
Just turned twenty.

!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!

OLD MAN.
Twenty. Hell, when I was your age I worked a
crabbin boat in the Northwest with two kids and
a wife at home in Spokane. Want to know how that
turned out?

JESSE.
Not really, but--

!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!

OLD MAN.
Ill tell you how that turned out. She up and
left me fer the son of an injun chief. Took the
kids. Took the money. Changed her name to
Powahawki.

Yer shittin me.

!
!
!

!
!
!

OLD MAN.
Im tryin to tell you not to wish your life
away, smartass, but dont waste it, neither. If
you go at life too hard youll wander long.

!
!

!
!

JESSE.
I already am. All I wanted was to enjoy my youth
how I wanted. Turns out lifes one big struggle.

!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!

OLD MAN.
No shit, hapless boy, and if you dont wise up
yer gonna end up in one bad time after another.
You know what youre gonna do? Ill tell ya what
yer gonna do, Mr. Big Shot, Mr. rock and roll.
Yer gonna end up flipping burgers, or in jail, a
total loser if you dont get yer act together and
put faith in the Lord, stead of driving piece of
shit cars an smokin that devils grass.

The old man taps his thumb to the window, indicating the van. You look at it and

shrug.

JESSE.

52.

!
!
!

!
!
!

JESSE.
I appreciate the concern, old man, but whats
your issue? You some kinda Jesus freak or
something?

!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!

OLD MAN.
No issue, boy. I see it in your eyes. Same fire I
had in mine, many years ago. Dont screw up like
I did, and dont let the quicksand pull you
under, neither.

JESSE.
What the fuck does that even mean?

Then he went quiet. No one could tell me I was going to fail, not at twenty, but the
truth is Id already failed and God had nothing to do with it. It was all my own fault, my
own doing, or undoing, but a failure may become an unfortunate opportunity if Jesse
plays his cards right.
Id squandered the 250 bucks from the essay win on the kinds of nonsense
eighteen year olds squander money on and dropped out of college after two months and
moved to Phoenix with Ben1, drummer in our band Gorky since 2002 and the guy who
got me into acting in the first place. Our plan was to...who knows what. Be teenagers.
Live life to the fullest. The real plan was to make it big with our music. It was our
passion. What we talked about all the time.
We made up an entire philosophy around something we called The Gork. We
never quite nailed it down to one definition. The Gork was anything awesome, or an
energy within the self that produced quality, and we declared it out loud when we saw it
in others: The Gork is strong in this one, and such like that, but mostly we talked about

Garrett Hedlund.

53

a mythologized Year of the Gork. The year when everything happens. That year where
all weve toiled for manifests. The year we make it.
Gorkys bass player Gregg 1 was a bit younger but planned to join us once hed
graduated. Our first show with him was a September wedding for a friend of ours, circa
2003, and the band did well in those early days. Played shows with some of Arizonas top
acts at the time: The Stiletto Formal, Lydia, For The Record, The Format, Dear and the
Headlights. Got us some girls, plenty of booze, and daydreamed constantly about making
it big. We even won a Battle of the Bands at the Marquee, from which I was thrown out
for brawling with a guitarist from one of the other bands. I still have the scar from his
mongrel front teeth.

At this time play Kick It on the Choose Wisely Soundtrack. 2

The van Ben and I took out to San Diego to see his long-distance girlfriend, who
was also Greggs third cousin, Id bought for 300 bucks from an obese girl in the Show
Low High School drama department who wanted my nuts. I found her affections to be
advantageous. When she finally realized I had no interest in her sexually she became the
Im-Fat-And-Stuff-But-Im-Gonna-Move-On-From-You-Kelly-Clarkson-Style-Girl3 , at
which point she gave me this weird look what youre missing face whenever she saw

1 Andrew

Garfield.

HARRELSON: Just as a reminder, the corresponding song is meant in the programming of the QURM to
provide aural-literary juxtaposition.
3

MCCONAUGHEY: From the Valencian Phrase Book, possibly referring to a type of young woman from
early 21st-Century American suburbia as stereotyped by Valencia, who loathed Clarksons music.

54.

me in public, as if she was pretending I was never important to her. For some reason it
still gets on my nerves.

The filthy van puttered across the desert on our first great adult adventure.
California! The sliver of quartz hanging like a broken toenail off the edge of America. It
was going to be amazing and it was amazing. Amazing because on Coronado Beach
wading through azure I fell in love with the Ocean in overcoming my fear of it. Amazing
because I was doing something grown ups do. Amazing because I was with my best
friend and bandmate. Amazing because life itself is amazing, however high the stakes,
however great the danger.
I remember the very first time I saw the ocean, with Mom for a birthday trip to
Disneyland, sun sparkling on blue water like diamonds in a polaroid. That was before the
divorce, I believe, and just as Mom recovered from Valley Fever. Once the divorce was
finalized she moved to Oregon and later remarried, as did Dad.
Im still cautious to get in water, of being hurt in water. This does not apply to
showers or baptisms. Sometimes I wonder if my oversensitive threshold for pain is the
reason why I tend to catch myself daydreaming through life, but at 19? No. Not at 19
could an ocean hurt me. At 19 I was immortal. Unkillable. Zooming on the interstate in
the old van with Ben felt like Han and Chewie mustve felt cruising through hyperspace
in the Millenium Falcon, only Han and Chewie never narrowly missed a head-on
collision with a semi.

55

INT. A CAR ON THE INTERSTATE, NEAR THE ARIZONA/CALIFORNIA

BORDER. DAY.
!
!

!
!

BEN.
Jesus Fucking Christ! You nearly killed us both!
That fucking thing almost destroyed us!

!
!

!
!

JESSE.
Relax! There was like a three-second window
there.

Three seconds?

!
!

!
!

JESSE.
Well if you wouldnt fucking sleep so much Id be
less inclined to speed.

Bullshit.

BEN.

BEN.

It was bullshit. In those days taking risks was our prime folly. Not even God could
stop us.
Speaking of which, He had no hand in my successive failures, either. It was I
whod been careless, impatient, acted on emotion rather than logic. Maybe everyone has
such regrets as regards their younger days. Otherwise there would be no need for such a
phrase as no regrets, which holds true for me if life can be described as a series of
missteps, one to the other, in prolonged succession.

I was momentarily distracted from my nostalgia by the odd painting on the wall,
the type one would find at a thrift store, of a juggling clown hung on smoke-stained
canary yellow wallpaper. The left side of the image was partially obscured by a fake
potted plant. The exact shade of yellow was hard to determine.

56.

JESSE.
Have a good day, sir. Been good talkin to you.

The spell on the Old Mans own gaze breaks and he looks up at you, beard
feigning a hopeful smile.

OLD MAN.
You too, son. Have a safe rest of yer drive.

The rest of the drive was back home to Show Low. The Low. Two hours away yet.
Dad wired me a hundred dollars the previous Tuesday to help me make it through the
week and get safely home. Quit my job at the Halloween Store two Tuesdays before that,
so that last check was already burned through and naturally I spent the money Dad sent
on cigarettes, coffee, and just enough gasoline.

WAITRESS.1
And how was everything?

JESSE.
Everything was great, Miss.

I tipped her more than the two cups were worth, took one last look at the Old
Man, who now dabbed at his eyes with his napkin, grabbed my wallet, which I almost left
at the register counter, and shuffled out into the brisk Arizona dawn. With the fresh air
came a renewed sense of purpose. I left God behind, as I always do, the moment the glass
door shut swiftly behind me and triggered the attached bell.

Jena Malone.

57

The van puttered the rest of the way up the anfractuous mountainside. Once the
red sun at last broke the horizon I knew it wouldnt be long before Id be at the condo.
Bacon, eggs, and country-fried potatoes were the menu for the morning, I knew, because
thats usually what Dad eats for breakfast. Sometimes I wonder if its all he knows how to
cook.
On the drive up I wondered how so many could fail to see that a bright future was
imminent for me, including most recently that crotchety Old Man. I openly denied my
own failures, despite not being able to afford a place of my own, much less studio time,
and Id given up the full-ride, but these werent failures, I was told, but mistakes we all
make and things we all go through at your age (Dad) and the thing to do was to
transcend them, get over them, make something better of yourself. Whatever, I thought.
During that time, slumming around Phoenix and living in the van, after Id recline
the drivers seat to try and sleep in the thick heat of night Id imagine voices. Indefinite,
fading, seductive voices just outside the passenger window that I never could roll up all
the way, and before I drifted Id float through one of my favorite waking dreams about
being a bestselling author, as writing was one of my secret passions despite knowing very
little about it, with a habit of starting a new notebook before finishing the last, eager for
the freshness of paper.
Sometimes Id daydream about returning home from the War, despite knowing
very little about soldiering. In the vision I am rewarded for bravery and made the
youngest living Medal of Honor recipient in the world, who then goes on to a career in
police work, just like Dad.

58.

Stories of heroism and valor were a big thing for me as a child and its something
Ive carried with me into adulthood, though in my own story it seems there are fewer
heroes than villains.

Dad left the key out for me so I let myself in and dropped my bag in front of the
door. Everything looked, smelled, felt as it should. He hadnt dusted in ages. I tried to
close the door behind me without stirring the condo but it creaked just enough.

INT. THE CONDO. NIGHT.

The warm smell of home fills your lungs. You tip toe.

DAD.
Jess? Jess, is that you?

JESSE.
Yes, Dad. Its me.

DAD.
Oh, good. Im glad youre home, son.

I didnt feel home. I felt drifting, as if on the severed rudder of a sunken ship,
pausing momentarily from rock to rock only to be carried out, inevitably, by the uncaring
tide.

59

After washing my face I lay flat on the rickety futon and dozed off into the glow
of the adjacent stove light, which calmed me. The next morning Dad took me with him
on one of his daily hikes and we discussed my future.

EXT. A TRAIL IN THE WOODS. DAY.

The sun is warm on your forehead. The breeze is cool on your arms as they sway.

DAD.
You shouldve taken the scholarship.

JESSE.
I did take the scholarship.

!
!

!
!

DAD.
Yeah, and then you blew it. Youre lucky it
wasnt a loan.

JESSE.
I wasnt ready for it.

!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!

DAD.
And you think youre ready for it now? Taking
trips to San Diego, playing in your band when you
could be working? Having fun is not the priority
right now, Jess. You need to focus--

!
!
!

!
!
!

JESSE.
I know, Dad. Look, I fucked up, okay? The band
was doing good, I had a job. I didnt think Id
end up--

!
!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!
!

DAD.
Homeless? You spend your money on bullshit, son.
CDs, paper, pens, guitar strings, paints,
canvases, books. Whatever. You need to learn how
to save your money. Not blow it. I know you love
to play your music, but--

I know, Dad.

JESSE.

60.

You say nothing and he stays quiet for a while. You walk a little ways.

!
!
!

!
!
!

DAD.
How does this sound? You can stay with me for
free, get a job, save some money, and if you want
to go to back to school, Ill help you.

Dad walks at a brisk pace. Hes been fit for as long as you can remember. Pushups every morning. A hike every clear afternoon.
Me, a four-eyed introvert since 3rd grade, sluggishly matched his step, but Ill
always remember the particular warmth of the sun that day. How the mountain air felt
cool on my legs.
A few weeks later Dad sat quietly in the living room with a Jack and Coke, legs
crossed, watching M.A.S.H., when from your room you approach.

INT. THE CONDO. NIGHT.

!
!
!

!
!
!

JESSE.
Im going to join the Army. I dont want to work
at Taco Bell for the rest of my life. Everyone
there is an idiot.

!
!

!
!

DAD.
Jess, there are idiots everywhere. Even in the
Army. Its the same everywhere you go.

!
!
!

!
!
!

JESSE.
But I know I can make something of myself in the
Army. Anyways Ive been talking to a recruiter.
He said he could get me a good deal.

Sgt. Rusko1 sells you in crisp Bostonian at the Army Recruiter Office,

conveniently located directly across the highway where I live.

Mark Wahlburg.

61

INT. ARMY RECRUITMENT OFFICE. DAY.

Propaganda vibes. You feel nervous.

The machine is cold.
The stench of government.

!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!

!
!
SGT. RUSKO.
Theyll give you money every month to go to
college, and check out these signing bonuses.
I mean, since youll just be in the Reserve,
youll have all the time in the world to do your
band, if thats what you wanna do, you know?
This six-grand bonus would definitely be enough
to get you a new guitar, new amps...

!
!
!
!
!

JESSE.
Look, Sergeant Rusko, this all sounds so great,
but Id be lying if I didnt say I was a little
concerned about this MP1 stuff. I mean, the
program looks very rigorous. Are you sure this is
police work?
SGT. RUSKO.

!
!

!
!

Sure as shit, kid. Sure as shit. Look at the

brochure.
JESSE.

!
!

!
!

And what is this? Whats with the no break in

between Basic and AIT? 2
SGT. RUSKO.

Thats OSUT.3 Fast track program.

Military police

Advanced individual training.

One Station Unit Training.

62.

JESSE.
!
!

!
!

So thats why the bonus is so high. Must be in

need of MPs.
SGT. RUSKO.

Just think of that new guitar, kid.

INT. THE CONDO. NIGHT.

Dad looks at you for a few brief moments, then sits up in his leather chair, folds
his hands, and looks downward at the carpet.

DAD.
Why the Army?
!

!
!

!
!

JESSE.
They give the most money out of all the branches,
and the GI Bill pays you to go to school.

!
!

DAD.
I already told you Id help you with school.

!
!

No.

No, Jess. I can.

!
!
!
!

JESSE.
I mean no, I dont want
goes that way I know Im
need to do it myself. No
handouts. Ive got to do

!
!
!
!

JESSE.
DAD.

His eyes return to the floor a brief moment,

!
!

!
!

!
!
Okay.

DAD.

you to help me. If it

going to quit again. I
scholarships or
it myself.

63

and then you watch television.

JESSE.
!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!

The War will be over soon. I mean, weve got the

best military in the world and theyve got war
down to a science, you know? In a years time
everyone will be back home.

Two weeks later I swear an oath to defend my country and lie to the Federal

Government about how many times Ive smoked marijuana as well as my quasi-Marxist
leanings. The Army, it turns out, frowns on the idea of potheads and communists living
among their ranks....

Oh no! Jesse has suffered quantum exhaustion! Youll need to

recharge him before you continue playing.
Using the next three pages, write a brief essay about an unwise
decision youve made related to a similar type of opportunity. Have you
ever dropped out of school or quit a job and regretted it later, because life
turned out to be harder than it wouldve been had you just done the smart
thing in the first place? Go with something like that. Dont worry. We
wont look. We promise.

64.

Title of Piece:
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65

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66.

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Once your draft is complete, Jesse is recharged. Once Jesse is
recharged, you may continue.

67

LEVEL COMPLETE!
MINI-GAME UNLOCKED!
USING THE SPACE BELOW, HOW MANY WORDS CAN YOU MAKE
USING THE LETTERS IN THE PHRASE

QUITTING COLLEGE WAS FUNDAMENTALLY

A STUPID IDEA! ?
Use additional paper as needed.1
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Once youve completed your work, go on to the next page.

1

Not provided by the Institute of Literary Technology.

68.

. . . QURM Synchronization for Level One complete...

...vitals taken...

Pssh. An Oscar wouldve been nice. For the record I hate Grapes of
Wrath, but if Spielberg does it...who knows? Could be good.

...avatar manifestation complete. Choose Wisely

booting level two...

Keep doing what youre doing, Reader. Im working on an escape route. The
thing they didnt tell you is they tricked me into coming here, but Im onto them...
...in 5--

...and George Clooney plays my Dad? That makes sense. When I was a teen girls
would come over and tell me how handsome he was. I wasnt jealous so much as I felt not
handsome.
--4-Muggy. Thick. Missouri.
--3-The sound of a thousand soldiers marching. Singing cadence. Breathing crisp
morning air. Can you hear us yet?
--2-LOADING LEVEL TWO...

THE BIGGEST GANG IN THE WORLD.

Directed by Joel Coen and Ethan Coen
Loading...Loading...

69

70.

71

Oonnne!---Twwooo!--Thhrree!--Foouur!
Leffft!---Leffft!--Left-Riiiighhhht...
!

For five months I do not listen to music as I drift to sleep but to the mnemonic

echoes of marching bootsteps on pavement. Dim yellow latrine glow serves as my

nightlight, reliable in its corner. Besides the light the mellow hum of electric air filters
and my uncomfortable thin wool blanket are my only constants in Leonard Wood as each
night random vanities emerge to interrupt the drift. Play in full color against eyelids.
There is no calm here, so before Lights out! each night I exercise some in hopes
that as the body relaxes itself I can escape the stuffy barracks into dreamland on the come
down. Ive got the top bunk. My battle buddy, Pvt. Jimmy Kreisle, sleeps on the bottom
bunk and snores.
Tonight is Bay 3s night for change of quarters, which means me and Kreisle 1
have to wake up at 0230 and do whatever the on-duty drill sergeant needs us to do
downstairs, and also whatever he doesnt need us to. All for our own good.
The previous shift rouses me with a hard pat on the leg. There is the dim glow
light. Feet bottoms cold along the squeaky barracks floor, still fresh from yesterdays
wax. Quickly put on shoes and socks. Kreisle rubs his eyes and reaches to unchain his
rifle from the bunk post.

Jake Gyllenhall.

72.

INT. ARMY BARRACKS. NIGHT.

The hum of air filters. The sour smell of mop water.

JESSE.
Nah man its CQ, not night watch.

Oh yeah.

KREISLE.

Out the bay door and into the hall, where the chilly Midwestern air nips you
awake. Sulk like zombies down rubber-padded stairs into emergency lights unwelcoming.

KREISLE.
Whatd you dream, Valencia?

He says something like this every time you have CQ. Yawn.

!
!
!

!
!
!

JESSE.
Home, again. There was like...the skyline of the
city, at night. And I could make different sounds
out of all the different-colored lights.

Huh.

JESSE.
Anyways, whaddayou think well do tonight?

!
!

!
!

KREISLE.
Prolly have us clean toilets just like when the
colonel was here, couple weeks back.

KREISLE.

Kreisles a Kentucky boy, built tall and solid. Has kind of a round goofy face but
girls seem to love it, although we dont call them girls but females, because thats what

73

were told to call them. Did you see that female checkin me out? Im gonna ask er out
on pass hed say.

!
!
!

!
!
!

JESSE.
Whatever. At least its not like in those old war
movies where they have them cleaning with fucking
toothbrushes.

Heh-yeah.

KREISLE.

Walk through double doors into brisk Missouri. I pronounce it Misery with a
feigned Southern accent, which to me is very clever but it has not caught on with the
others in 3rd platoon, who are mostly from the South.

Around Leonard Wood Ive heard these barracks called The Starship on account
of their being the newest barracks in the Army, and their having five three-story buildings
placed evenly from each other, like points on a star. Eight or nine different companies are
housed here at any given time. Ghostly lights outside loom four stories over the pit
humming like bug zappers. The plush running track and the tire shavings of the pit
shimmer like a half-moon over a dead lake. The space between the five points is surreal
in its vastness.
They were not the barracks Id imagined on the bus ride from St. Louis, that was
for sure. No sawdust. No black wrought iron. No musk. Decent beds. Air conditioning.
All the serious upkeep is done by immigrant workers. Its like a hotel without television
or room service, though theres definitely that 0430 wake up call. Overall the Army
reminds me of Stripes more than Full Metal Jacket.

74.

We make it to the DS office and I knock twice on the mauve metal door. The
whole Starship is mauve and beige and grey. There is no answer.
The DS is supposed to say come in after the knock and the Private isnt allowed
to look into the little rectangle window to see if the knock was heard or acknowledged.
They have to wait there at ease until properly summoned. Sometimes it takes a few
minutes, but this is an unusually long period of time.

EXT. ARMY BARRACKS. NIGHT.

A humid chill muffles the air around you.

JESSE.
This is bullshit. Its fucking cold out here.

Kreisle, who rarely cussed, says nothing and stares at the sidewalk.

!
!
!

!
!
!

JESSE.
Im going to knock again. They wouldve come out
and woke the whole bay up if they thought we were
late.
KREISLE.

I dunno, man.

!
!
!

!
!
!

JESSE.
Im gonna look then. Id rather get smoked and be
warm than stand out here in the cold like a
dipshit.

You move slowly and peer briefly into the window without being seen. There at
the CQ desk is Drill Sergeant Dunlap,1 asleep in his chair, head sunk to the side with his
1

Samuel L. Jackson.

75

hands folded neatly on his belly. He mustve just fallen asleep because Jones and Moore,
the last shift, hadnt said anything about it, and the bay doors are all rigged with alarms
that are lifted momentarily by the on-duty DS during shift change. If DS Dunlaps been
asleep for awhile then Bay 3s doors hadnt had their alarms reset. If any of the privates
went AWOL itd be on him.

JESSE.
Dude. Hes asleep.

What?

JESSE.
Hes fucking asleep! Look for yourself.

KREISLE.

Kreisle looks through the window. You impatiently wait for him to come to the
same conclusion.
KREISLE.
!

Holy crap.

JESSE.
Im gonna knock again.

KREISLE.
Okay, man, but its your funeral!

You knock a bit louder and a cough-like AHEM! vibrates through the door. The
two of you stand again at ease behind the line of the crack in the sidewalk.
Always I am looking for lines on the ground. Lines to toe, to step over. To hold.
A ruffling of papers and then, Come in, privates.
You enter and pretend not to be cold even though DS Dunlap knows we are.
!
!

!
!

KREISLE.
Privates Valencia and Kreisle reporting for CQ,
Drill Sergeant.

76.

DS Dunlap yawns. Eyes heavy.

!
!

!
!

DS DUNLAP.
Alright, privates, yall just sit down
and watch TV and dont say a goddamn word.

there

There is a cheap little TV pointed outward towards the lobby away from the desk.
You and Kreisle sit up straight in the lobby chairs.

JESSE & KREISLE.

Yes, drill sergeant.

!
!

!
!

DS DUNLAP.
Just, uh, dont go braggin bout this to your
battle buddies, alright?

JESSE & KREISLE.

Yes, drill sergeant.

!
!
!
!

DS DUNLAP.
Im gonna cut yall a lil slack tonight cause
Ive had a long day. Yall are doin good though
so youve earned it. Specially you, Valencia.
Keep it up, private. Youre high speed.

JESSE.
Yes, Drill Sergeant.

!
!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!
!

DS DUNLAP.
Its because you were such a damn slob when you
got here that 3rd got honor platoon, cause of
your PT gain over the past five months. Thats
what Drill Sergeant Hopfe said anyway, but whats
this shit I hear you pulled on the Humvee course?

!
!
!

!
!
!

JESSE.
That was an accident, Drill Sergeant. I was
driving too fast and the Humvee popped up on two
wheels.

!
!

!
!

DS DUNLAP.
You think youre James Bond or some shit? How
fast you were going?

JESSE.
I dont know, Drill Sergeant.

!
!
!
!

77

!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!

DS DUNLAP.
Yeah, well, youre lucky the company commander
didnt catch you, dumb ass. Heres a word of
advice. Dont go chasing thrills, kid. Youre
gonna end up dead keeping that up.

JESSE.
Yes, Drill Sergeant.

!
!

!
!

DS DUNLAP.
You dont sound too convincing, private. Did I
not make myself clear?

JESSE.
Yes, Drill Sergeant.

DS DUNLAP.
Yes I did not make myself, clear?

!
!

!
!

JESSE.
No, Drill Sergeant. Youre clear, Drill Sergeant.
I was trying to say, Drill Sergeant, that...

DS DUNLAP.
Shut the fuck up, Valencia.

JESSE.
Yes, Drill Sergeant.

!
!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!
!

DS DUNLAP.
Whew, Im damn tired, I tell you what. You know,
why do I have to do this bullshit? Staying up all
god damn night. Who the hell does that? We on a
damn Army base. Nobody going to be coming up in
here trying to fuck with shit.

JESSE & KREISLE.

Yes, drill sergeant.

DS Dunlap says nothing more but neatly refolds his hands over his belly and
slowly closes his eyes. Asleep within minutes, Kreisle smirks at me and whispers.
!

KREISLE.
Should we sleep, too?

!
!

!
!

JESSE.
!
What if we dont wake up and someone else
catches all three of us sleeping?

78.

KREISLE.
!

Good point.

After the last bit of the previous evenings local Misery news wraps up there
blares a few flashy commercials, the most entertainment wed had had in ages, but then a
familiar guitar tone and that dreadful horn sounds through cheap speakers signaling that
an episode of M.A.S.H. is about to come on.
Oh, the fucking irony.

I made it through most of Basic without drawing too much attention to myself. It
reminded me a lot of high school because the only thing I ever got in trouble for was
falling asleep. I taught myself how to sleep anywhere. Sitting down. Standing up.
Sleeping on rocks, on pavement. I once fell asleep during a talk by the Command
Sergeant Major, which didnt go over too well with Dunlap, and I passed out on a bench
in front of TGIFridays while on pass, though that had more to do with the fact that I was
egregiously drunk.
The main difference is in high school we didnt get to blow shit up with bazookas
and 50 cals, shoot fully automatic assault rifles, throw grenades, or go to the USO see the
Liutenant Dan Band, featuring Gary Sinise1, which I did one Thursday afternoon with
Kreisle.
!

Despite all this fun, Iraq loomed like an angel of death. Thats all you heard from

people. Iraq this, Iraq that, when I get to Iraq, blah blah blah. I was determined to figure a
way out of it, and if I had to go at least Id come home with a decent chunk of change,
1

Gary Sinise

79

though the thought of bleeding out in a desert to whet Uncle Sams thirst for money and
oil terrified the shit out of me. How is there a future, or honor, in that idea? I dont mean
to disrespect my fellow soldiers. I mean to criticize my governments geopolitical,
empire-building, consumer-fascist global domination bullshit.

In fifth grade I was insanely jealous of the smart kids who got to go to Catalina
Island for a field trip. Determined to make the sixth grade field trip to Astro Camp I tried
extra hard and got in. I hereby declare that I will no longer try at school, I said to Dad
and Robin1, his second wife that was actually his first wife before Mom, whom he remarried post-divorce, and whos turned out to be a kick ass Bonus Mom, there are no
more field trips to look forward to... because in order to get me to do anything requiring
effort there needs to be a guarantee of some kind of reward. There has to be mystery.
Suspense. Adventure. My reward for passing my final PT test, for instance, was that I had
no other tasks to complete and would be graduating OSUT on time.

One foot in front of the other. Breathe. Your organs have made themselves a clock
of you. Every eighth time your right foot hits the pavement, let the air out of your lungs.
Fill em back up during the next four.
One mile.
Seven minutes, forty seconds.
Mind the metronome in your throat, a release of pressure between the pauses.

Naomi Watts

80.

Sun breaks over Southern groves.

Youre almost home, Valencia. Just a little bit longer. Dont give up.

Youre almost home.

Youll be with Dad again. The band. Youre getting your life together. There is an
open sea ahead.
Two miles.
Fourteen minutes and forty four seconds.
You did it. Youre going home! You won!1

First Sergeant 2 was so pleased he let me have a cup of coffee that morning at
breakfast in the Chow Hall. My first in four months. It was the best cup of coffee Id ever
had, and the only one I can remember, just as that sunrise over Leonard Wood, with
smokey elms smudging the space between pink clouds and the forts brick-brown skyline,
was the first sunrise that ever mattered.
After that final sprint I made the commitment to never run again, unless I was
running away from something scary or towards something awesome, like running to Dad
across Leonard Woods graduation field once the ceremony was complete, quite sharplooking in my Class As, I must say. He handed me an acoustic black Kay Dreadnought
guitar with a subtle brown sunburst.
1

HARRELSON: +100 XP; +50 MP; +60 STAMINA

John Travolta

81

EXT. AN OPEN FIELD. DAY.

A cacophony of cheering families and crying soldiers.

JESSE.
Oh my god, what is this?

DAD.
Congratulations, son.

Thanks Dad!

JESSE.

You hug. He pats you on the back.

!

DAD.
So, you ready to head out?

JESSE.
Yeah, lets get out--

DS DUNLAP.
Not so fast, soldier.

Drill Sergeant?

!
!
!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!
!
!

DS DUNLAP.
I just wanted to let your father know what a
privilege it was to train you, Private. Sir, your
son has proven to be an outstanding soldier. If
he can keep his eyes open and drive a little more
cautiously theres no reason he cant enjoy a
long and promising career in Uncle Sams Army.

DAD.
Thank you, Sergeant, I appreciate that.

DS DUNLAP.
Private Valencia.

JESSE.
Yes, drill sergeant.

!
!

!
!

DS DUNLAP.
Watch yourself, now. Dont
your dumb ass.

JESSE.

make

me

come

after

82.

JESSE.
Yes, drill sergeant. I mean no, drill sergeant.

And then Dad and you walk from the field towards the parking lot. Soldiers are

crying, holding each other, holding their families. Youre...BZZZZT...were the first ones
to bounce.

!
!

!
!

DAD.
You sure you dont want to hang around for a bit,
say bye to your friends?

JESSE.
What friends? Hey, wheres the truck?

DAD.
I didnt bring the truck.

JESSE.
Didnt bring the truck? Then whatd you--

And then I saw it. Dad bought a Harley.

At this time play the song Motorcycle from the Choose Wisely Soundtrack.
We shipped my duffle and gear home via USPS and with the guitar strapped on
my back zoomed West along the Interstate back to Arizona from the Land of Misery.
Holding onto Dad trusting him to get us both home in one piece reminded me of
childhood, going on back roads through northern Phoenix before it sprawled itself over
our toasty desert like crumbled margarine. Parched shrubs. Familiar saguaros. Dad and
me, just a boy, in his beat up white jeep with the top off, laughing as the sharp dips in the
road gave us butterflies. He in his tan park ranger shirt, skin dark from working at the
Ben Avery shooting range, our smiles young and bright. Ive never felt so safe.

83

I sensed Dads confidence in operating this other machine, which relaxed me, and
then it frustrated me that it relaxed me. I never did want to be the introspective, artsy kid
with the glasses and funny haircut. I wanted to be suave, charming, handsome,
irresistible, confident, and adventurous like he was. Driving motorcycles. Doing cop
stuff. Busting the bad guys, as he would say to the child me.
As we crossed the New Mexico state line I felt his lungs taking in the wind
through his back with my cheek to his leather jacket and closed my eyes tightly, hoping
for one brief moment where I could be that little boy again whose Dad is big and strong
and whos going to keep his son safe, no matter what, and for that moment to feel new,
like falling in love with the ocean at Coronado Beach, side by side with a horizon...

Completing Basic Training has caused Jesse to suffer quantum

exhaustion. Just like before, youll need to recharge him before you
continue playing.
Using the next three pages, write a brief essay about one of your
proudest moments. Think about the things youve accomplished, and dont
be a pity-party party pooper. There has to be something. Think about
whos been proud of you. What did that mean to you, and how does it
affect you now? Go deep. Go long. Find some poetry somewhere in you
and make it happen.

Title of Piece:

84.

Name of Reader-Player:
GTAC Code:
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85

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86.

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Once your draft is complete, Jesse is recharged. Once Jesse is
recharged, you may continue.

87

LEVEL COMPLETE!
MINI-GAME UNLOCKED!
USING THE SPACE BELOW, HOW MANY WORDS CAN YOU MAKE
USING THE LETTERS IN THE PHRASE

JOINING THE ARMY IS A

FUNDAMENTALLY BAD IDEA FOR STONER
MARXISTS ?
Use additional paper as needed
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Once youve completed your work, go on to the next page.

88.

. . . Level Two QURM Synchronization complete...

...vitals taken...

You know, Reader, until I joined the Army I never did my own
laundry...

...avatar manifestation complete. Choose Wisely

booting level three...

Dont judge. I was spoiled, but then so is the Army. We didnt have to iron or
starch our uniforms like in the old days, or shine boots. They wanted them dirty. Shiny
boots are a target, so just pop everything into the dryer. Let it fade.
...in 5-...honestly, I dont think I make for a good war story...
--4--

...though I think, more than most, Ive got an informed opinion.

--3-Oh god. Her?

--2--

--1-Not her...
LOADING LEVEL THREE...

IN LOVE AND WAR.

Directed by David O. Russell
Loading...Loading...

89

90.

ATTN.
Comic book feature disabled.
BZZZZT ..... BZZZZT .....

!
!

HARRELSON.
What the fuck happened?

MCCONAUGHEY.
Not sure. Call the Graphics Department.
A pause.

HARRELSON.
No ones answering.

Ahh, Reader. You were expecting

something other than this, Im sure.
Well, it appears two can cheat
at this game...

91

I reported to the 997th Military Police Company in Mesa, Arizona and dropped
the majority of my signing bonus on band equipment for Gorky, a new-ish red Suzuki
Swift, enough studio time to cut a record, strippers, booze, and pot, as I did not have to
go to drill for three months after returning home.
Deployment with the 997th was imminent. Admittedly I did look forward to using
the combat pay for the band, more recording time, more strippers, more booze, more pot,
but along with joining the 997th came the villain Sgt. Xander Arges, who earned the scar
over his left eye, supposedly, in Fallujah.1 Wed just concluded our monthly Sexual
Harassment and Suicide Prevention classes when he decided it was time to introduce the
new privates to the company.
ARGES.
!

You.

Me, sergeant?

!
!

!
!

Yes, you,
Stand up.

JESSE.
ARGES.
dumbass. Whats

your

You stand.
!

ARGES.
What was that? I didnt hear you.

What, sergeant?

ARGES.
Whats your fucking name, kid?

Valencia.

JESSE.

JESSE.

Michael Fassbinder.

name,

Private?

92.

ARGES.
!

Valencia, what?

Just Valencia.

!
!
!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!
!
!

ARGES.
Wow, they really didnt teach you shit at Leonard
Wood. Why didnt you say sergeant after you
said your name? When an E-5 or higher calls you
out, you say Yes, Sergeant, didnt they teach
you that shit in Basic? Jesus fucking Christ.
Monkey fuckers. Now.

BENTON.1
Whats a monkey fucker?

!
!

!
!

ARGES.
Did I say you could speak, shitface? You can do
them together. Benton, demonstrate.

Yes, Sergeant!

JESSE.

BENTON.

Benton was the Gomer Pyle of the 997th. He fucked up so much that his name
became an adjective, verb, noun, and adverb, sometimes all at once. Anyways he showed
us and all three of us stood in the middle of the room doing monkey fuckers for about
twenty minutes.

I need to just deal with this.

After my third drill I started fraternizing monthly with PFC Camille DiBlasio2, an
aspiring DJ and former stripper who drove to the unit from Yuma and whose fiance back
home was a hotshot cop. Handsome guy.
1

Jonah Hill.

Jennifer Lawrence.

93

Camille had a Type A personality all the way but balanced it out with a love for
devils grass. We hit it off after our third drill together smoking a joint in the desert
outside of Herrera Hall in the back of her F150 that was as old as I was, and actually
everything about it was the same as my old Ford except hers was green and mine was tan.

EXT. THE DESERT, THE BACK OF A F150. DUSK.

The stale desert heat dries the skin on your face, and saguaro sentinels stand

watch as the birds of Sonora sing the dust to sleep.

!

CAMILLE.
Youre in a band? What kind of music?

!
!
!

!
!
!

JESSE.
Like garage-y, kind of punk-ish old school rock,
I like to call it. My favorites are Oasis, The
Beatles, The Strokes...

Hey.

!
!

!
!

JESSE.
Iggy Pop & The Stooges, The White Stripes, The
Libertines...

Valencia!

Huh?

CAMILLE.
Youre bogarting that joint, man!

JESSE.
Oh, shit. Sorry. Here.

CAMILLE.
Dont be sorry, just dont do it again.

CAMILLE.

CAMILLE.
JESSE.

94.

!
!
!

!
!
!

JESSE.
I get carried away when I start talking about
music. I love it. Art, music, writing...its all
my passion simultaneously.

CAMILLE.
Whatre you in the Army for, then?

!
!
!

!
!
!

JESSE.
Needed a ticket out of town. Didnt want to be a
loser. And Ive got to fund my projects somehow,
you know?
CAMILLE.
Did you bring your guitar with you?

JESSE.
Its in the back of the car.

CAMILLE.
And why, exactly, arent you playing me a song?

JESSE.
You wanna hear one of my songs?

CAMILLE.
I just asked if you would play me one, idiot.

JESSE.
Well, yeah. Yeah, Ill play you one!

You get the acoustic his Dad bought for me out of the car and sit back in the bed of
Camilles truck.

At this time lay Waiting Fer Yer Love on the Choose Wisely soundtrack as
you imagine this scene playing out in real life.
Once the song has concluded, you may continue the scene.
!

CAMILLE.
Thats very pretty.

!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!

JESSE.
Thanks. Ive got all these ideas for it,
like...Id like to out horns on it, you know?
Make it sound like John Lennon singing, or
something.

95

CAMILLE.
Can that one be just for me?

What, the song? !

CAMILLE.
Whod you write it for?

!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!

JESSE.
Oh, no one in particular. Sometimes when I write
I
create
characters,
and
situations
that
these characters are in together. Theyre like
little novels I can live in.

CAMILLE.
You must make a terrible cop.

Whys that?

CAMILLE.
Youre so fucking oblivious.

JESSE.

JESSE.

And then she kissed me, and then we did it.

Sometimes people come in and out of our lives for what seems like a reason, but
the simple truth of our hookup was that the thought of cheating on her not-so-thrilling
straight-shooting cop fiance with a guitar-playing, pot-smoking anti-hero excited Camille,
whereas for me I was just horny and she was super hot, but as to our what I guess one
could call relationship grew deeper and more complicated, we figured the affair was
harmless as long as we stuck to our respective ZIP codes. Things went smoothly for about
a year.
Gorky was recording and gigging, Camille and I banged every drill weekend, and
I grew to like college, funded by the Montogomery GI Bill, though I tried several times
unsuccessfully to make a return to acting with Dr. Mike. Every time I was in a play, it

96.

seemed, the Army would call to send me on orders for some bullshit job in Barstow or
Torrance. As such I grew to loathe my soldierly duties, and I quit trying out because I was
sick of disappointing Dr. Mike.

The one time Camille and I violated our rule of not seeing each other outside of
drill we were in Sedona on a top-secret holiday. Her voice was strange on the phone so I
figured it was going to go one of two ways: either shed end the affair or shed want to
leave her fiancee and move with me to Show Low. On account of my inability and
unwillingness to include her in my daily life, I put my money on the former.

Oh, no. Please dont make me...

Snowfall through cherry blossoms.

Grip the wheel in Oak Creek Canyon when the phone rings.
Arges. She puts it on speaker for me.

INT. A CAR DRIVING THROUGH OAK CREEK CANYON. DAY.

!
!

Your foot presses slowly on the brake as you talk and drive simultaneously.
JESSE.

Hello?

!
!

!
!

ARGES.
Private Valencia! Im calling to tell you its
time to pack your shit!

JESSE.
What do you mean?

97

ARGES.
What was that, shitface?

JESSE.
What do you mean, Sergeant?

!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!

ARGES.
Were deploying in ninety days, shitface. Pack
extra socks for next drill. Youre gonna need
em. First Sergeant wants us in the Humvees by
0600.

JESSE.
For what, Sergeant?

!
!

!
!

ARGES.
Field training exercise. Thirds gonna be doing
convoy live fire and all that, hooah?

Hooah.

JESSE.

Hooah is a multi-use word in the Army, primarily used as an enthusiastic

variation on yes. I hate it.
!
!
!

!
!
!

ARGES.
Youre Team Leader so make sure you tell Reinken,
Benton, and DiBlasio. Right fucking now, though.
Not tomorrow. Not next week--

JESSE.
Roger that, Sergeant.

!
!
!

!
!
!

ARGES.
You know thats what I like to hear, baby. Well
make you a real soldier out of you yet, Valencia.
Arges out.

Click.
JESSE.
!

Fuck!

Im pregnant!

CAMILLE.

98.

The car screeches to a halt.

JESSE.
!

What?

CAMILLE.
Jesse, Im pregnant.

STOP.
Quantum Token Obtained!
Hmmm, so this was unexpected, not to mention unplanned. Does Camille
A. Carry through with the pregnancy to term, leave her fiancee and start a
new life with Jesse? If you choose A, continue reading.
~or~
B. Abort the pregnancy so that she can deploy? If you choose B, go page
100.

JESSE.
What do you want to do?

CAMILLE.
Im keeping the baby.

JESSE.
Are you sure you want to do this?

!
!

!
!

CAMILLE.
I dont love John. I dont want to be with him
anymore. I want to be with you.

!
!

!
!

JESSE.
But that means I go and you stay.
something happens? Youll have nothing.

Marry me, then.

JESSE.
You want to get married? To me?

CAMILLE.
Why not? Come on. Lets do it right now!

CAMILLE.

What

if

99

JESSE.
!

Right now?

!
!

!
!

CAMILLE.
Right fucking now, okay? Lets just fucking do
it!

!
!

JESSE.
Okay. Alright! Yeah! Lets fucking get married!
Were having a baby!

!
!

That night Jesse and Camille drive to Vegas and get married. A year later Jesse
comes home to meet his newborn son and the young family embark upon a happy life.
They buy a house, a new car, and plan for more children.
During his third deployment, however, Camille cheats on him and spends all of
whats in their joint account before leaving him for somebody richer, younger, more
talented and more charming. Jesse stays in the Army and gives up his dreams of being a
musician and writer in order to focus on the Army and paying child support to Camille
for their four kids. In 2014 he makes E-6, E-7 in 2016 and E-8 in 2019. In 2020 he loses
his arm in a firefight and spends the rest of his life wondering what could have been.

YOU HAVE NOT CHOSEN WISELY.

GAME OVER.
To Re-Spawn, return to page 98.

100.

Continued from page 98...

JESSE.
What do you want to do?

CAMILLE.
Im not keeping it.

JESSE.
Because you want to deploy.

CAMILLE.
Jesse, if John found out-JESSE.

I understand.

You put the car in drive and continue down the road.

CAMILLE.
Thats it? You dont want to talk about it?

JESSE.
What do you want me to say? Is it even mine?

CAMILLE.
Dont be an asshole.

JESSE.
Great. Thats just great, Camille.

!
!

!
!

CAMILLE.
Fucking hypocrite. I know you fuck around, too.
JESSE.
And when, exactly, were you gonna tell me?
CAMILLE.
meaning to say

!
!

!
!

Ive been
trip.

JESSE.
Im pro-choice. You know Im pro-choice.

CAMILLE.
Then why wont you talk about it?

something

this

whole

101

JESSE.
Fine. Ill pay for it.

CAMILLE.
No, its my decision.

!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!

JESSE.
I know its your decision. Im not disrespecting
the !fact that you have the final say over your
body, but you can at least let me pay for it
since Im half responsible, or could be half
responsible. Let me at least do that. Its not
your fault. It takes two, doesnt it? And John
doesnt have to know. Neither does Arges. Well
just keep it between us, whatever the reality of
the situation is.
A pause.
CAMILLE.

Thank you.
JESSE.

Of course.
A pause.

!
!

!
!

CAMILLE.
Having a kid would ruin my legs anyway. I have
great legs.

JESSE.
You do have great legs.

We terminated the pregnancy at the Planned Parenthood in Flagstaff on a

Wednesday. I waited for her to call me when she was done. Id parked near the NAU
campus and decided to take a walk through it, maybe see what I was missing. I passed a
childrens playground, then a cemetery. I found that, at least in this regard, my logic
conflicted harshly with my emotions. It might not have been what I wanted to do, but it
was what we had to do. It was the best thing for us, for our futures. For our lives.
Yeah, yeah. Just keep telling yourself that, Jess. Maybe one day youll believe it.

102.

Jesses intense sexual infatuation with Camille, paired with the

stress of deployment and unwanted pregnancies has caused him to suffer
quantum exhaustion. Just like before, youll need to recharge him before
you continue playing.

Using the next three pages, tell me about who you love.

Title of Piece:
Name of Reader-Player:
GTAC Code:
_____________________________________________________________
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103

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104.

_____________________________________________________________
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Once your draft is complete, Jesse is recharged. Once Jesse is
recharged, you may continue.

105

LEVEL COMPLETE!
MINI-GAME UNLOCKED!
USING THE SPACE BELOW, HOW MANY WORDS CAN YOU MAKE
USING THE LETTERS IN THE PHRASE

SMART AND HAPPY, WHILE COMPATIBLE, ARE

NOT THE SAME THING ?
Use additional paper as needed.
_____________________________________________________________
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Once youve completed your work, go on to the next page.

106.

Level Three QURM Synchronization complete...

...vitals taken...
We started fighting after that. She ignored me at drill...
...avatar manifestation complete. Choose Wisely
booting level four...
...and, memory. Well, it does funny things to people.
...in 5-Her fiancee supported her, and she was open with me
about the sex she had with him, but
I never got jealous. We were safe. Thats not why we fought...
--4-...we fought because we were both passionate souls.
Thirsty for life. Seeking thrills...
--3-Accidents happen. Especially when youre careful.
--2-I accepted her with open arms, but
as we readied for deployment it seemed
more and more inevitable to me that Id fall away from her, forever.
Their wedding was planned for when she got back stateside.
She still wanted us. I couldnt keep it together, and...
...during training at Fort Dix I tore my rotator cuff.
Declared unfit for deployment.
My original plan was realized. I was not to go to war with my love, and the end , well...
...the end was the worst of all. So, were seeing the 997th off, right? After she hugs me he
waves to her on the bus, and the bus takes her to the airport, and the
airport takes her to a Holy Land rubbished with garbage, hunger, and blood.
LOADING LEVEL FOUR...

BOTTOM OF THE HOLE

Directed by Darren Aronofsky
Loading... loading...

107

108.

At this time play HOT ROD GIRL on the Choose Wisely Soundtrack.
After recovering from my rotator cuff surgery Ben, Gregg and I took a spur of the
moment trip to Durango to celebrate our band and brotherhood with some of the
Southwests finest locally made brew, local coffee, and Real Texas BBQ, which Gregg
introduced to us and which I gorged myself on. Four gallons of black cherry ale later we
zoomed back to the Low in five hours drunk as mules.
At some point in our debauched forays Gregg invented a wild card game called 52
Card Fuck Up, which became a hit at party, after party, after party, after party...

STOP.

DRINKING BREAK!!!
You drink, right? Well, if you do, its time to have some fun! Get some
friends together and play this. You will need a deck of cards, a 30 pack of
cheap beer and a bottle of cheap liquor.

THE RULES OF 52 CARD FUCK-UP

INT. OR EXT. NIGHT OR DAY. WHEREVER YOU ARE...
A deck of cards are separated and on display to you as the instructions provided
on the next page are read out loud.

109

GREGG.
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!

Okay, this is how you play 52 card fuck up.

Youve got your deck. Youve got your beer, or
whatever it is youre drinking. Whatever card is
drawn by you, you drink for that many seconds.
So if you get a 10 of hearts, or clubs, or
anything, you drink for 10 seconds, and 9 of
hearts is 9 seconds, and so on. All face cards
are ten seconds. If you pull an ace you get to
distribute ten seconds among whoever you want and
if you pull a joker or a deuce of clubs you have
to take a shot.

It is so easy when youre young, reckless and existential to say yes to a line of
cocaine, to watch silver-studded sirens shoot it up in bathroom stalls as you jerk off over
them, or to give you the courage grope drunk, fake-tanned high school seniors who want
to be cool and hang out with the big boys.
You take her up the stairs. Bleached hair hides her face.
She mumbles like MTV. You dont know her name. You dont care.
All you know is she whispered fuck me into your ear as she stood naked
downstairs, after everybodys fingers had been inside of her, yours included.
So youre in some bedroom. Shes drunk and convulsing but steadies herself,
barely. White noise fills your brain. She takes you into her mouth and your mind goes
somewhere, but then she gags and pukes daiquiris and bile all over your engorged
genitals. It burns! It burns!

110.

Easily the worst blowjob Ive ever had.

So you leave her heaving into the shower drain as you wipe yourself off with your
hosts towel, and she passes out with half her face in her own barf. You let her sleep that
way and wonder why she wont call you back.
Life is a joke, I decreed later that night, joking about the incident to my drug
friends, one big fucking cruel joke!
At some point I started raving and picked up an expensive MDMA habit, which
led to me laughing into nothing, locked inside a pitch-dark room to which there was no
door, no window.
Mr. Big Shot. Mr. Rock and Roll.

111

The prosecuting attorney 1 read the pre-sentencing report to the court:

!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!

PROSECUTING ATTORNEY.
On May 9, 2008, Officer R.J. Dawson2 was called to
respond to a two-vehicle collision on State Route
260 at milepost 302.8. When he got there Dawson
observed !a red, two-door Suzuki Swift on the
westbound
shoulder,
facing
west
and
having
sustained heavy impact damage to the entire front
end. On the eastbound shoulder!
he observed a
white pick-up facing east. A DPS sergeant along
with the Heber Fire Department were attending to
those injured--

I was the driver of the red licorice car. Chewed up. Mangled. When Dawson gets
to you you are lying on a back board, attended by medics. There were two in the white
pick-up.

OFFICER DAWSON.
Anything to drink tonight?

Inaudible slurring.
!

OFFICER DAWSON.
Uh-huh. Right here. Stay with me, kid.

Flashlight in your eye. Fuck, thats bright.

!

OFFICER DAWSON.
Can you tell me where you were going?

Phoenix.

1 Ashley

Judd.

JESSE.

John C. Reilly.

112.

I was in Heber, pulling into Circle K for coffee, but why did you say that? I was
coming from Phoenix, going to Show Low. I went down for drill. Look, Im a soldier.
Theres been some mistake. My uniforms and gear are in the car.

OFFICER DAWSON.
Do you remember how fast you were going?

No.

OFFICER DAWSON.
Were you the only one in your car?

Yes.

!
!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!
!

PROSECUTING ATTORNEY.
--while standing outside of Valencias vehicle,
Officer Dawson observed empty cans and bottles of
alcohol around the vehicle. Dawson then entered
the ambulance and asked Valencia if he could draw
his blood-- 1

Yes.

!
!
!

!
!
!

PROSECUTING ATTORNEY.
--and the officer drew two vials of blood from
Valencias right arm. Valencia advised that he
had not taken any medications--

JESSE.

JESSE.

JESSE.

--and Where the hell is my squad? Pop smoke! Remember guys? 3rd platoons
SOP2 for medevac is purple. So into the ambulance you go. Down to the LZ 3. Theyre
flying him out. We just trained for this! Why arent they laying cover fire? Im...Im hit.

Proverbs 23:29 - Who has wounds without cause? Who has redness of eyes?

Standard operating procedure

Landing zone

113

Up into the chopper. Out of the fire fight. Salute as the eagle ascends. Your country is
damn proud of you, son.

EMT 1.
Shit. Were losing him--

Oh no youre not. Im here alright. Im very here.

Purple fills the chopper and you hear the faint left-right metronome of boot steps.
Tracer rounds pirouette into the dark below. Roman candles explode afar off. One mortar
barely misses the chopper. Medic to my left pulls a bugle out of her first-aid kit, dusts off
Confederate gun-power and plays a flat rendition of Butterfields Lullaby. The right
side of my face swells shut with microscopic glass fibers. Right eye and ear are warm.
Reach up, run my hand down, look at it with my other eye, realize my glasses are
missing. Hand is red. Sparkles when I hold it against the light. Drowning. Camille....
...Camille!
EMT 1.
!

Whatd he say?

EMT 2.
I cant hear him. Whats his name?

Dont know.

!
!

!
!

EMT 2.
Son? Son, stay with me, okay? Look at me. Look at
me.

EMT 1.

And he did, and he smiled at her. Not making sound. Not breathing. Blood soaked
uniform. Hooked up to machines.

114.

!
!
!

!
!
!

PROSECUTING ATTORNEY.
--the analysis by the DPS Crime Lab of the blood
specimen showed Mr. Valencia had a blood alcohol
content of 0.279%--

Enough booze in his system to put him into a coma but he does as ordered. You
look at her.

MOM.
Hey, son. You awake?

Kind of. Im in my room at the home where I grew up, snuggling my Stay Puft
Marshmallow Man doll because I love Ghostbusters. My pillow case, my bedsheets, my
whole room is Ghostbusters. Moms checking on me because its past bedtime and Ive
left the lights on. In case theres ghosts, Ive explained a thousand times. You cant see
them as well in the dark on account of their transparent ectoplasmic form, duh.
Its difficult for her to determine whether or not Im asleep because since
toddlerhood Ive slept with my eyes partly open, leaving lookers-on guessing as to
whether Im awake, passing out, or fake-sleeping. A useful trait, though I often wake up
with red eyes. The medical term for this is nocturnal lagophthalmos, from the Greek
lagoos, meaning hare, referring to a myth that hares sleep with their eyes open. Not
myth: alcohol is poisonous to rabbits liver. Mom chuckles.
!

MOM.
My little Ghostbuster.

Mom puts the light out, soft silhouette fading from the doorway, mane haloed by
hall light. Shes gone now, but shes left the door cracked, just in case I wake up in the
dark and dont know where I am.

115

That was a nice last thing to see.

Back in the chopper a flatline sounds as he drifts, eyes partially open, along
clouds like pillows over forests he calls home, and with laureled summer and rabbit herds
below in warrens, in coves, and with his heart laid on by indifferent hands, Jesse gave up
the ghost, and died.

116.

Hey look, hes up-- Dad.

Tear salt tip-toes down my cheekbone, peeling scabby residue.

INT. A HOSPITAL ROOM. NIGHT.

!

DAD.
Jess, dont touch your face.

JESSE.
What is it? What is th--

DAD.
Shh, shhh. Just rest.

Dads dark hand is cool on the part of your forehead he can touch.
Maneuvers his fingertips along the pink face of his newborn.

Cant move legs or neck, only arms and lips. Cant make a fist.
Im 88% likely allergic to certain types of anesthesia, where I could experience
extended sensations of paralysis and that feels like whats happening.
Broken leg. Hamburger face. Nerve damage to the right side of his body.
Concussions. Head trauma. Amnesia. He wont remember the past two months...

JESSE.
The people I hit...

DAD.
Just rest, son. Theyre going to be okay.

One had a dislocated hip and a few busted ribs and the other was released from
the hospital after being treated for scrapes and bruises. The paperwork the prosecutor
read from would label these people as my victims.

117

JESSE.
Oh, good. That is such...

DAD.
Jess, come on now. Lay back down.

The coroner walks in.

CORONER.
!

Mr. Valencia?

Yes?

!
!

!
!

CORONER.
There is an Officer Dawson on the phone. He wants
to talk to your son.

DAD.

But I was in no mood to talk to an Officer Dawson. As I laid there, morphine

turning blood to mush, all I could see was my little family by a river. My baby, I cried
low enough so no one would hear me, she killed my baby...she killed my baby... over
and over again until I fell back to sleep.

INT. DAD AND ROBINS CABIN. DAY.

Your ankle throbs in agony and you struggle with the crutches because the guilt
weighing on your heart, it is just so heavy...

Naomi Watts

ROBIN.1
Go slowly, Jess. One foot in front of the other.

118.

Robin guides me on crutches to the bathroom so I can use the toilet. The bandages
around my leg and face, not to mention the ringing pain in my ankle, make taking care of
myself a risk, so she has to wipe me. Scrub me. Bathe me. Feed me. All must walk before
they run.
After months of crutches I, at last, walked. I limped my way to a new job, to new
classes, to new people. All of my friends skedaddled once they heard I died in the
wreck.

Dad ran for Sheriff that year. I was served with the charges on my 23rd birthday
by one of his opponents wives. Both she and her husband were deputies with the county.
I met her at the gas station I used to work at and willingly accepted the document. I
wasnt about to run. I had to be able to look at myself in the mirror every day.
The State was the plaintiff, another victim, and my offenses against It (abridged)
were
1.
2.
3.
4.

Four counts of Aggravated Assault, a Class-3 Felony

Two counts of Endangerment, a Class-6 Felony
One count of Criminal Damage, a Class-4 Felony
Four counts of Super Extreme Driving Under The
Influence of Intoxicating Liquor With A Blood Alcohol
Content Of .20% Or More, a Class-1 Misdemeanor

On or about May 9, 2008, in the vicinity of State

Route 260, Mile Post 302.8, Navajo County, Arizona, JESSE
MICHAEL-GERONIMO VALENCIA intentionally, knowingly, or
recklessly endangered and/or caused physical injury to the
victims with a substantial risk of imminent death while
using a deadly instrument, to-wit: a motor vehicle, while
in actual physical control of said motor vehicle and while
under the influence of intoxicating liquor, in violation
of...

119

Id broken twenty laws, which theyd combined into seven felonies.1

The word felony dates back to English Feudalism. Legal scholar Sir William
Blackstone, whose Commentaries heavily influenced the American Founding Fathers
and is still cited frequently in Supreme Court decisions today, in the 18th century wrote
that felonies comprised every species of crime which occasioned at common law the

forfeiture of lands or goods. The power of the United States Government to thus
disenfranchise otherwise good citizens for accidents (from the Latin ad- + cadere, to fall
2,

or Middle English, chance event) is sanctioned by The Constitution.

There is no winning or losing this one. My only option is to forfeit.
Nine months later the prosecutor argues for my complete destruction. This

defendant does not deserve success, she says. Looking back at my recklessness, what
could I say?
The defense3 argues poorly that I should remain free, that my education and
employment ought not to be jeopardized because of this one careless mistake. Id shown
genuine remorse, and look at his character letters, and look at his clean record.
The judge considers all of this and cites from his memory, of all things, an
example of a similar but worse case than mine where two children had been killed by
someone like me while driving under the influence: son of a cop, soldier in the army,

Proverbs 24:16 For though the righteous fall seven times, they rise again.

Genesis 3:22 And the Lord God said, The man has now become like one of us, knowing good and evil.
He must not be allowed to reach out his hand and take also from the Tree of Life and eat, and live forever.
~ The words The Fall do not actually appear in Genesis Chapter 3, though that is what this story is
commonly referred to in Abrahamic theological discourse. A more fitting exegetical moniker might be The
Accident.
3

Clint Howard.

120.

college student. This other was given eighteen years in Federal. While I feel eighteen
years is a bit harsh, considering it was an accident, he spews, Im afraid we cant just
let you go.

The gavel strikes.

Im sentenced to 30 consecutive days in maximum security lockdown/solitary

confinement, 50,000 in fines/fees/restitution, 360 hours of community service, 5 years
standard probation, 12 hours of substance abuse counseling, which I must pay for, the
suspension of my civil rights, two running suspensions of my license and once I get it
back I have to drive with a breathalyzer for one year, which is an extra eighty bucks a
month, and Im required to have an SR-22 on my insurance for three years from the time
I can drive again, which is 25 extra dollars a month on my insurance, not leave the county
or state without permission from the court...and I could be dishonorably discharged from
the Army, and I could lose my job, and my education could be totally fucked, and Ill
never finish my record, or any of my projects, and girls are out of the question, and so is
fun of any sort, and Ill never be a part of this world again, truly, and--No, I tell myself,
quit being such a pussy. Sometimes you win, other times you lose, and this time you
forfeit. But still. Someone please call my Mom, and please tell her...

Click.

Were sorry. You have been disconnected...

At this time play When Its Over on the Choose Wisely soundtrack.

121

I forfeit, and I turn to Dad to say Im sorry for disappointing him, that Im sorry
for not listening to him, that Im sorry for hurting those poor people, but I cant move my
lips. The Army, college, my future...everything Ive worked towards oozes down a drain.
All I wanted was to make him proud. Make something of myself.

Suddenly Dad grabs your arm.

!
!

!
!

DAD.
Were gonna get you through this, Jess. You hang
in there, okay?

That tone of his has always been able to trigger calm in me, but before I can
respond they pull me away, the carpet beneath us splits open, and chains slither out from
under the courtroom floor constricting arms, legs, chest, and they drag me to a hole.
Suspend me on its edge. What is there to say? And what was it like to watch me fall, to
see the look on my face when she said I didnt deserve success?
They let go of the chains and I drop to the bowels of Navajo County Jail, head
cracking against the cement with a loud THUD. A young detention officer approaches
and tells me to take off my pants and I do, because I dont have the right to tell him no.
He presses two firm latex fingers up my ass to see if Im smuggling anything in. Rookie.
His buddies poke fun. You gotta get em up way in there, man! His first time as much
as it is mine. No reach around, either. Line that piece of shit up against the wall they
tell him, to take my fingerprints and picture. They tell me to say cheese. I say cheese.
I turn in my black suit and am given orange shirt, orange pants, orange shoes.
They lead me to J Pod. Twenty-three hours a day for thirty days in a row Ill be in cell 17

122.

completely by myself on a hard metal bed, with a thin cushion and blanket. I get one hour
out to shower in itchy water, to enjoy the thirty square feet of J Pod to myself, to make
phone calls on the pod phone at three in the morning with my twenty dollar phone card
that lasts eight minutes, to hope someone answers with a voice that isnt a rapists, a
murderers, a child molesters, because Im in here with them, and on their hour out they
come to my door and ask me what I did to get in there, and I tell them because I hit two
people in a DUI car accident, and they tell me oh, thats all? and Im so lonely, and I
just want my Dad, my Mom, my Robin, my Camille, my guitar...

Jesses descent into alcoholism and narcotics, along with his

subsequent struggle to recover and imprisonment has caused him to
collapse under quantum exhaustion. Just like before, youll need to
recharge him before you continue playing using the next three pages.

Tell me, what is the worst thing youve ever done to another person?

123

Title of Piece:
Name of Reader-Player:
GTAC Code:
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124.

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125

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Once your draft is complete, Jesse is recharged. Once Jesse is
recharged, you may continue.

126.

LEVEL COMPLETE!
MINI-GAME UNLOCKED!
USING THE SPACE BELOW, HOW MANY WORDS CAN YOU MAKE
USING THE LETTERS IN THE PHRASE

NOT EVEN ONCE! ?

Use additional paper as needed.
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Once youve completed your work, go on to the next page.

127

ATTN.
Self-Portrait Feature Disabled.
Comic book feature disabled.

MCCONAUGHEY.
Shit. Code the next sequence as a cut scene.

But...

!
!
!
!

MCCONAUGHEY.
Just do it. Check the wires going into the
Authors cerebral capacitor. It may be that he
doesnt want anyone to see him this way and hes
resisting synchronization.

HARRELSON.

!
!
!
!

HARRELSON.
!

On it.

!
!

!
!

MCCONAUGHEY.
This isnt going as planned. The Maker will not
be pleased.

LOADING CUT SCENE...

NAVAJO COUNTY JAIL BLUES

Directed by Christopher Nolan
Loading... Loading...

128.

ATTN.
Screenplay feature disabled.
Parody feature disabled.
God damn it! Harrelson says...

Loading... Loading...

The Jail Journal of Jesse Valencia.

25 January 2009
Saturday night. Going into Sunday.
Getting used to it.
Cmon, Jess. Its only been five days.

Think about the others, how long theyve been here before you. How long theyll
be here still after youve gone. Like Yazzie, your cellmate, who washed his hands every
five minutes and they transferred him to state prison after your first day. You were so
depressed when you first got here all you did was sleep, eat this terrible undercooked
lukewarm food they bring you and watch Yazzie wash his hands.

When you piss or shit in a jail cell occupied by two people the custom is to inform
your cellmate when you are going to use the toilet, and you tell them number one or two,

129

and out of courtesy they turn their eyes away to give you some privacy. Well, hopefully
thats what happens. Hopefully your cellmate isnt a six-foot-five repeat offender named
Bruno who plans to make you his bitch.
Yo Chief! the others say to Yazzie through the door window during their hour to
roam freely in the pod. Two of them, Dirk and Reyes, seem pretty friendly. Dirks in for
child molestation, Reyes for homicide. They looked pretty disappointed to see Yazzie
gone come Day 2, but during their one hour out teach me all the names of the DOs:
Shithead, Greaseball, Sugartits, Bobo Chavez, and they really do look like shitheads,
greaseballs, and Bobo Chavezes. Not Sugartits though. Clownface fits her better, with her
drag queen makeup and bad perm. I tell this to Dirk and Reyes. They laugh but insist on
calling her Sugartits because it pisses her off more and Clownface might hurt her feelings
in an unnecessary way. This is their logic.

The cough keeps on. I bear with it.

Now would be a good time to quit smoking.
Its not like you can step outside for a quick puff now, is it?

Did more push-ups than yesterday. Not so much clean-up.

Wonder how many tax dollars are being wasted on me every second. Water in the
toilet and sink, air filtration, electric lighting, food, showers, television blaring
incessantly, pay of the detention officers who idle safely hidden away in their control

130.

room, cameras, computers, electro-magnetic doors, miscellaneous gizmos and gadgets,

the plastic of my identification tag. All for a government-sponsored time out.
Life goes on without me on the outs.

Sometimes people make bad choices.

30 January 2009
Today Im celebrating the completion of my first week of jail by drinking all of
the generic kool-aid packets Ive so modestly conserved. Thanks to Yazzie leaving behind
some of those plastic cups Im able to have a legit goblet to swig.
But my celebration is short lived. As I start a new book two detention officers
come through my room, taking both washcloths, my other books, and one of my extra
rolls of toilet paper. Sugartits comments that I need to clean my cell better, because
apparently it stinks in here. My first instinct is to counter by making a comment about
her ghastly perfume, which conjures disturbing images of old lady vaginas and rectums,
but I dont. I just tell her Ill try harder.

Two windows in my cell. Portals to the garden outside. They operate like
shuttered speakeasy peepholes. You can talk to the DOs or to other inmates for about five
minutes and then anything over that the others grow suspicious. There was a button I
could press in the room to call a detention officer over to the peephole on my door.

131

Whaddaya want? a young D.O., having a bad day, would ask. Id limp across
the cold cement floor to catch him, put my whole body against the mauve door so he
could see my face. Hey, Shithead! Got any books?
Shithead wheels the cart up to J-17. I pick the biggest one because youre only
allowed one book at a time and you never know when theyll bring the cart back around.
It is The Norton Anthology of Short Fiction. The front and back cover are ripped off. I
have all the time in the world so I read every story. The pages were printed on thin
parchment like Bible paper. Out of boredom I copied the stories by hand, but as time
went on I started taking them my own way, writing my own endings, and when I wasnt
writing I fapped. Incessantly. Sometimes ten times a day. Four toilet paper rolls later Id
fucked every woman I could conjure five times over, in every position I could think of.
Four rolls. Of toilet paper. Soiled and flushed into a county jail septic tank.
Your tax dollars at work.

Day 12. So bored that I pulled every single hair out of my balls, taking great care
to upend each root. It felt funny to have such smooth balls. Ive rolled the old dead hairs
and tucked them away under my mattress. Thinking about making a voodoo doll out of
them in the likeness of the lady prosecutor. I stab it with my stubby pencil and feel dumb
so flush it down the toilet.
Jail does weird things to people. Its making me weirder.

132.

Bored all the time. Cant sleep because of that nagging fucking light in the corner.
Always hungry. Always curious to whats going on outside of the room, outside of the
pod, outside of the jail, out in the world. Wear the same thing every day. See the same
colors every day. No lotion.

2 February 2009
Groundhog Day. How fitting. I feel like my life day-in and day-out has become
akin to that movie. Still not completely over the Cardinals loss yesterday, but it makes it
easier to let go because it was such a great game, and it makes it easier that they lost to
the Steelers, my 2nd favorite team. 1 If it had been, for instance, the Dallas Cowboys, I
might never have recovered. 2 But like I said, I am now a devoted Cardinals fan.
When I get back to reality Im going to make a list of teams I like and dont like,
and purchase a bunch of Arizona Cardinals memorabilia. I take back my statement that it
was the most disappointing game Ive ever seen. It wasnt. It was the best football game
Ive ever seen. The only thing that can top it is if the Cardinals win. I dont know if Ill
ever enjoy another game. Got to keep my eyes on the League next year.

Still no cell-mate. Soon here Ill be counting down the days to zero. Im almost at
the top of the peak, and at the top you go back down the other side running. Sisyphus,
just let it roll. You better believe Ill be sprinting for it. It feels like a giant piled two

This is no longer accurate.

This is still accurate.

133

weeks worth of time in sand on my back, and come Tuesday theyll start peeling away.
Hopefully Ill get what I ordered from Commissary. Thatll make it go by faster.

All of this thought about football has got me wondering... if I get fit enough, why
not try out for one of the college teams? You know, the University teams? I dont know if
Im big enough to be a lineman still, but maybe if I beef up I could be! Or if I slim down,
maybe I could be a running back? Im still young. I can still do it! Thats what Im going
to do. Thats my goal. Im going to get fit so I can try out for the NAU Lumberjacks.
Even if I dont make the team Im going to get slim and build muscle and tryout anyway.
Its something to aspire towards, and Ill be able to say I did it!

Very bored today. Sort of just waiting for tomorrow since it means Ill be halfway
done. Fifteen days doesnt seem long, when you say it that way. Thirty days sounds
longer of course, but fifteen isnt too bad. Thats 360 hours or so, 150 of which will be
spent sleeping, so really 210 hours which is more like nine days. Not bad.

Accidentally left my stamps as a bookmark in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle

Maintenance, and the goddamn DO took the book when they raided my room again
Saturday night. I think it was fucking Shithead if I recall, so now I have a letter I cant

134.

even mail because I was so goddamn nervous when the DOs came in that I didnt even
think to grab the stamps, and now theyre gone forever. Fucking assholes!

Im more restless as the days pass, eager to get back to life. Im not sure what to
do but keep doing what Ive been doing, reading and writing. I keep fantasizing about
what its going to be like when they release me...

Suddenly the door opens. Harps played by magnanimously mammoglanded 1

angels chime in the background. My orange fatigues suddenly become an orange tuxedo
like the one Jim Carrey wears in Dumb and Dumber. Smile brightly into the mirror above
my sink, adjust my cream white bow-tie so its straight. Outside of my cell two gorgeous
female Detention Officers in latex uniforms and four-inch stilettos, perfect for strutting,
offer each an arm to me.
Mister Valencia, we sure do hope youve enjoyed your stay at the Holbrook
Hilton.
I nod and twirl my orange top hat into the air.
It lands perfectly upon my perfect hair!
Why, thank you, ladies.
I take their hands and we float weightlessly down the steps of Navajo County Jail.
At the bottom stand four beefy shirtless studs with matching cream white bow-ties, same
as mine. They are all straight.
1

MCCONAUGHEY: From QZ-4s Valencian Dictionary, meaning large breasted; we believe Valencia
intended the placement of two multisyllabic m words right next to each other to emphasize, through the
act of redundancy, the un-realness of angel breasts, and by default angels themselves.

135

With oiled biceps they roll out a giant red carpet and set before me a grand velvet
throne. I sit on it and they carry me away from jail forever, as all of the DOs and
miscellaneous employees shower me with rose petals while singing hymns and praises
from the Great Book of Jesse.
Once out of the jail, I come out to a stage in front of thousands of cheering
people. I wave to them, walk up to the microphone and am about to tell them how
grateful I am to be a free man again, and

The door buzzes.

Time for dinner.

I am reading quietly to myself when I hear a commotion downstairs.

Its an inmate from cell 401, on the bottom floor. Apparently hes experiencing
intense back pain and is upset that the nurse isnt doing more to help him.
You bastards wont help me! It fuckin hurts and Im tired of it!
The nurse tries to calm him down through the crack in the door that separates the
foyer from the control room. There she stands in her flower-print scrubs with her
medicine tray, not knowing exactly how best to react to the mans behavior. The inmate
from cell 401 starts banging his forehead into the doors thick glass window.
You keep me in here all day long and you wont even help me!
A young female DO approaches and sends away the nurse.

136.

Sir, please stop doing that. Youre going to hurt yourself.

I dont care if I hurt myself!
Blood smears all over the glass. Blood oozes down his face to his quivering lip.
The man is sobbing and screaming incoherently. Part of me feels sorry for him, but
something tells me he was batshit before he even came to this awful place.
They open the door and four DOs swarm in, tasers ready. The old, bloodied man
from cell 401 does not fight them but weeps as they cuff him, and without protest.
Im sorry, he says repeatedly, I just wanted some help. My back hurts so bad
and I just wanted some help...
I know man, I know, says Boba Chavez. its okay. Were going to take you
somewhere safe now. And then they take him.
Greaseball appears not long afterwards with a couple of spray bottles and paper
towels. He and another inmate clean up the mess on the glass door window and on the
floor. The residue was disturbing, the sight of it recalling old horror movies. Here they
are now, dressing down the set so another scene can take place, another reminder that this
place makes souls sterile, stifles minds, transforms people into caged animals.
Ive just watched a very disturbed man mutilate his face with a door. He belongs
in a mental health clinic, not a jail.
None of us belong in a jail, except for the murderers, the rapists, the child
molesters...

At this time play Now and Then on the Choose Wisely Soundtrack.

137

3 February 2009
Today I am officially halfway done with my sentence. The day was, as usual, dull
and uneventful. The only thrill I got out of it was passing a note to an adjacent pod on
behalf of one of the Native inmates. They call them Chiefs in here. Every one of them is
Chief. Yo, Chief! they say. I feel stupid to be involved in these trivial jail politics, but
I finally got the phone card I ordered on Saturday (today is Tuesday) and got my
sentencing papers from the Public Defenders office. The cover letter reads:

30 January, 2009
Valencia, Jesse M.
NCSO
Re: State of Arizona vs. Jesse M. Valencia
Case No. 20080679

Dear Jesse,
Enclosed please find your sentencing documents. Your case is now closed. If you
have any general questions about probation, please contact your probation officer.
It is the policy of the Navajo County Public Defender to destroy our files 5 years
after the closing date.
You have already been provided a complete copy of your file during the pendency
of your case. Please keep this for future reference. If you require any additional copies
you will be charged copy fee.
Sincerely,
Beverly Matlock
Secretary to the Navajo County Public Defenders Office.

Part of me is thinking theres no way Ill be able to pay $630 a month. I mean,
working at ________1 I barely make $700 a month, and that would be a great month.
1

Left blank for legal reasons.

138.

Im hoping that the court will cut me a break on this and charge me, at most, $300
a month total. I mean, I dont even know how much I owe these people, and neither does
the Court, but without determining this theyre demanding I pay $630 a month, and if I
dont pay theyll extend my probation, and after two months of not paying theyll seize
my wages.

As this sunk in I began dreading the thought of no future, and admittedly I hoped
the old lady would kick the bucket before I had gone too far into debt. She showed up
with no bills, nothing to prove she was in the hole $90,000. The other victim didnt even
show up, but the Court still ruled in their favor when they demanded $500 a month from
me. Not fair at all. As soon as I get out of here Im going to phone the insurance company
and demand them tell me how much was paid by both mine and their insurance
companies in the matter and what the remaining difference was and try to see if I can just
pay off the balance somewhere between $150 and $200 a month, because at this point
$500 is ridiculous and impossible.

4 February 2009

My third Wednesday of five that I have to spend here. Nothing new yet, just
waiting to get out. Had a good dream, though. Cam and I were in a South American city
exploding with revolution around Christmastime. For some reason there were two Indian
children with us (dots not feathers) and for safety we checked into an obscure hotel for

139

ten bucks a night on the outskirts of town. When we got to our room we found that those
whod stayed there previously left all of their belongings there in the wake of the
revolution, so we treated ourselves to trying on their clothes.
This was back to back with another dream where I am playing a concert with
Gorky in some auditorium owned by my friend Chase who works with me at ______. In
the front row is a girl carrying a huge glass jug for tips. After the show I have to leave.
Everyone protests.
Im sorry everyone! I shout, But Ive got to get back to the jail before they
find me missing, or then Ill be in really big trouble!

9 February 2009
I dont know why I havent been writing. Maybe just trying to find other ways of
passing the time. The past five days have been somewhat uneventful. I have a new
cellmate named Mario1 and received what I ordered from Commissary. I saw Dad on
Friday. This coming Friday Cam is coming back for a visit. Im so excited to see her! I
cant wait, and next Thursday Im finally going to be getting out of this hellhole.

10 February 2009
Ive been talking a lot with Mario.
Dirk and Reyes left today. Went across the way to a less strict pod.

Willem Dafoe.

140.

Still bored. Losing interest.

Ramen noodles are gross cold.
Stocked up on Kool-Aid.
Almost out of coffee.
The guy whose face ripped open on the glass door window moved in next door to
Dirk and Reyes old room.
Guy next door converses with a new inmate, Chester. Crazy Chester he calls
himself.
Note to self: ask Chester about that.

This concludes the jail journal of Jesse Valencia.

The day I got out was one of the best days of my life. Cam and I had been talking
since she came home from the war and she agreed to come up to pick me up from jail.
Our plan was to spend the day in Flagstaff together.
Get over here, Cam says. She drops to her knees. You do as she says. Four
seconds later she unzips your pants and cranks me out into the crisp hotel room with the
floppy buoyancy of a jack-in-the-box. It doesnt even look real, she says, which you did
not know how to take. She laughs.

141

INT. HOTEL ROOM. DAY.

Your genitalia, whatever they may be, are engorged.

CAMILLE.
!

Holy shit.

What?

CAMILLE.
It feels like a hard tube of toothpaste.

JESSE.

And then you laugh too. She takes notice to my baby balls, giggles and runs her
fingers along the middle. It tickles and you giggle

CAMILLE.
What the hell did you do to your balls?

!
!

!
!

JESSE.
I dont think you understand how fucking boring
jail is.

CAMILLE.
Well, youre not in jail anymore.

At this time play Rich On Lovin on the Choose Wisely Soundtrack.

And then the best blowjob Ive ever had.

Three months later all of my ball-hair grew back even and straight.

142.

Level Four QURM Synchronization complete...

...vitals taken...

Enough of games. Lets fast track this shit.

...avatar manifestation complete. Choose Wisely

booting...

...in 5--

--4--

--3--

--2--

LOADING CUT SCENE...

ITS ONLY CHEATING IF...

Directed by Martin Scorsese
Loading... Loading...

143

Cam and mes belated Valentines Day celebration commenced in a Flagstaff

cheap hotel. Five times in the space of two hours. Two seconds after our second time
coming together, out of four consecutive innings of unabashed, benevolent fucking, she
told me First Sergeant Wayne was expecting me at drill the coming weekend. Thankfully
they hadnt banned smoking in hotel rooms while I was in the joint.

INT. A HOTEL ROOM IN FLAGSTAFF. DAY.

Sour, rank carpets. Nicotine stains on the walls. The bed, with its squeaky springs
and ancient firmness, you observed, is perfect for fucking.

CAMILLE.
I think he wants to talk to you about the letter.

!
!

!
!

Ive got
truth.

JESSE.
nothing to hide.

Ill

tell

him

the

The first time post-blow job I lasted a minute, which was not the least bit
embarrassing on account of my super-metabolic refractory period. Softened for maybe
two seconds before swelling again, depriving her of the chance to express vocally any
disappointment with my performance, but talk of the Army ruined the mood.

JESSE.
Why dyou have to bring that shit up right now?
CAMILLE.

Sorry.

!
!

!
!

JESSE.
I just spent thirty days in county and all I want
right now is to be with you. Like this.

144.

CAMILLE.
Try nine months in Tikrit.

!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!

JESSE.
You dont think I wouldve rather been there,
fighting with you? Now the story is you fought
for me, a reckless coward, writing bullshit in a
jail cell.

And then we started round three.

Being in uniform again that weekend felt great. Seeing Cam with her Border
Patrol fiance at that weekend drills Family Day celebrations did not. Furthermore Id
grown apart entirely from the unit, even Benton, whod changed immensely after
spending the past year in the Iraqi desert, face grey from gun smoke, pores burned with
eastern sun. My little romp with Cam, I did not realize at the time, was the last time Id
ever be that close to her ever again.
I walked into the First Sergeants office with my boots laced tight and my ACUs
stiff as boards.
INT. AN OFFICE ON AN ARMY BASE. DAY.
Youre nervous. Youre scared. You dont want to be here.
!

1SGT WAYNE1
Private Valencia.

First Sergeant.

Sit down.

JESSE
Yes, First Sergeant.

JESSE
1SGT WAYNE

1 Mel

Gibson.

145

!
!

!
!

1SGT WAYNE.
So maybe you can explain to me why you havent
been to drill these past eight months.

JESSE.
Yes, First Sergeant. I believe I sent a letter--

!
!

!
!

1SGT WAYNE.
Uh huh. Yeah, I read the letter, son. I just want
to hear you say it.

!
!

!
!

JESSE.
I was in an accident. It was my fault. I was
drunk.

1SGT WAYNE.
You were drunk.
JESSE.
Yes, First Sergeant. That is correct.

1SGT. WAYNE.
Okay, look. Youre a god damn idiot--

JESSE.
Yes, First Sergeant.

!
!

!
!

1SGT WAYNE.
And if it werent for me,
Shitsville forever.

JESSE.
Yes, First Sergeant.

!
!
!

!
!
!

1SGT WAYNE.
I mean it, Valencia. Cut the military etiquette
bullshit for a minute and level with me. Talk to
me like a man.

JESSE.
Yes, First-- okay. Yeah.

!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!

1SGT WAYNE.
Your squad leader Menendez is under some heavy
shit right now. The feds are investigating him
for war crimes while we were in theater. I
understand you mightve seen some photos of
Menendez and others torturing detainees. If you
agree, right here, right now, not to testify
against him, against Menendez, Im going to use
my authority to let your little fuck up slide...

youd

be

stuck

in

146.

All ethics and morals aside, of course I did it, and by what the Old Man might call
the hand of God, and what I can only call a stroke of luck, the Army, my civilian job, and
the college all let me come back, but the stress of being a felon with a 50k price tag
soaked every facet of my life and weighed me down like a sack of dead midgets.
In December I finished my Associates in Arts. Had I kept the scholarship I
couldve already had my bachelors in something awesome and a career in a cool city
somewhere. New York. San Francisco. Portland. Los Angeles. Rather than a felon stuck
in a nowhere town.
One day, I thought to myself as I mopped the floor at work, one day Im going
one, Im going to win my life back, and everything is going to change.
That following spring I applied for Northern Arizona University out of necessity. I
needed the loans to pay probation. You try flushing seven hundred dollars down the toilet
every month and still have to pay the basic costs of living working minimum wage. The
GI Bill was gone on account of my suspension from the unit during my recovery, and the
pay of an E-2 weekend warrior is laughable, so I mopped, and mopped, and mopped, and
mopped.
Work transferred me to the new franchise the Owner was opening in the next
town over. After training the new-hires I was sure a promotion was in my near future, a
bright spot at the bottom of my hole.

MCCONAUGHEY.
Dude, we got it back up and running.
HARRELSON.
Bout time. Load the next sequence.

147

LOADING LEVEL FIVE...

CHECK YERSELF BEFORE YA WRECK YERSELF

Directed by The Farley Brothers.
Loading... Loading...
Downtown Phoenix. 6th Floor.
Outside of the mediation room I prep with Cyrus, pacing and sipping coffee as he
sounds off instructions from a bench. Dont talk. Let me do the talking. You just kick
back and look professional. Cyrus is my lawyer. 1
Im nervous but were confident, and damn do I look sharp. The handsome guy
looking back at me in the mirror agrees. He winks. I sip.

INT. AN OFFICE-TYPE BUILDING. DAY.

Your palms are sweaty. Your fingernails are jagged. Nibble, nibble, nibble...
CYRUS.
!

You listening?

Yeah.

JESSE.

Filling a seventh cup from the complimentary pot, you reflect on this pre-storm
calm, waiting for the EEOC mediator to open the gates so that you may face your great
corporate Enemy on the field of battle, and if things dont pan out here our next theater is
court.
Sip.

Paul Dano.

148.

Cyrus looks sharp, too. Sharper than you. But hes the lawyer. Your lawyer is
supposed to look sharper than you. You cant dress exactly alike. That would be absurd.
Sip.

Sits on the bench. Looks down into the coffee. Bounces leg.
Light dances on tiny Americano muck waves sloshing.

Sip.

You let out a whew and wipe my brow.

CYRUS.
!

You alright?
Pats shoulder. Nods. Eyes wander.

Damn it. Dont look at Cyruss hand which isnt fully developed and resembles a
tiny latex glove with phalange nubs, like when you squeeze one with not much air in it a
bit at the opening. Dont stare, Jesse. Its rude. Focus.

JESSE.
!

Yes, just a little anxious.

Two years you worked for this company. Manager You Thought Was Your Friend1
says he fired you cause youre slow. Lazy. All-around terrible worker. A terrible

Ethan Suplee.

149

worker who trained shift leaders without once being offered the position himself. A
terrible worker who never called in sick. Always came in for those who did.

Sip.

I slap my knee and turn to Cyrus.

!
!

!
!

JESSE.
You know. I think theyve underestimated how
smart I am.

I agree, you want him to say, but we dont know each other that well.
He acquiesces.
Our mediator opens the door and looks over pointy beige eyeglasses at her
clipboard, then to us. You suck in your gut to adjust your belt as I stand, the
unpleasantness of which is noticeable in your facial expression. Her voice is pork gravy
Southern. You grab my coffee.
!

MEDIATOR.1
Mistah Martineau? Mistah Valencia?

She pronounces it Vuh-LEN-cha, which sounds like a venereal disease

!

MEDIATOR.
I think were ready for you now.

One more glance in the mirror. Tug on the lapels.

You got this.
1 Anna

Paquin.

150.

Ten minutes later...

!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!

CYRUS.
When Mr. ________1 s general manager of ________
asked my client to come in to his office before
his Monday shift Mr. Valencia knew, just knew in
his heart that he was going to offer him the
shift leader position, but instead his manager
said Im going to have to let you go. Fired
him, just like that, because Mr. Valencia is
disabled, something Mr. _________ was made quite
aware of when he hired him. Quite aware.

!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!

Cyrus argues brilliantly. You kick back and look professional. If only Id had this
kind of representation back during my sentencing!
Sip. Sip.
The enemy 2 approaches the field of battle in acid wash Wranglers, greasy t-shirt
and a baseball cap with his companys logo on it. Ones choice in dress is a choice of
armor. Mine is specially tailored adamantium forged in the fires of Mordor. His is tin foil.
My weapon is hotshot employment lawyer with bum hand and silver tongue. His is blue
chicken scratch on yellow rain-rippled legal pad.
S i i i i p.
The enemys core argument hinges on the companys No Cell Phones While At
Work Policy, which I clearly violate in the video presented as evidence. Bwah-ha. You
think we havent already strategized around this inevitable maneuver of yours? Were
wearing suits.
But you told me to have it on me in case you needed to call, I pleaded.

1 All
2

blanks in this chapter are there for legal reasons.

Tom Wilkinson.

151

Dont matter. Yer phone was in the sight of customers.

You can see in the video that Im turning it off. The battery was low and it was
buzzing. I was trying to help customers--
Im sorry, Jess. I wish things was different, yknow? Sorry, but I have to let you
go.
I understand, I say and shake Managers hand. Manager is a half-wit, six-footfive tweedledum addicted to painkillers prescribed for his chronic bouts of carpal tunnel.
Plays pharmacies like hopscotch.
Pinching back tears I exit the franchise I helped build and slept three days, only
leaving the bed to eat and defecate.
Cyrus materializes a folder three-hundred pages thick of witness statements and
cited cases. All notarized. It lands on the table with the thud.
One of the statements is the Assistant Managers, fired a week after me, claiming
that the Manager told her if I were to have another surgery on my leg I would not be
welcome back to work.
There were five surgeries. The first one they put five six-inch aluminum pins in
me so I could walk again, the second was removal of debris from my ankle joint, the third
was a splitting open of tissue and bone to augment said joint with cartilage from a
cadaver. This third one was foiled when the surgeon dropped the cartilage on the
operating floor. I woke up the next day expecting relief only to be told Id be going under
again because of their little mishap and that new dead cartilage had to be ordered. So
the fourth surgery, the next day, was a re-do of the third.

152.

To ensure the cartilages healthy growth they put this hard-carbon apparatus on
my leg, requiring two nails in my shin and wire pins going through my leg bones in every
which way, accompanied by adjustable knobs that could pull the joint apart with the pins
to give the cartilage more room. I had strict orders to use crutches and not to put any
pressure on the device, in case the pins broke. The fifth surgery was getting that damn
thing off.
The night before the removal surgery Dad and I celebrated with some Gentleman
Jack. Id spaced that Id also taken a sleeping pill and woke up the next morning face
down on the floor in front of the bathroom, away from it. The lamp was knocked over
and an empty glass lay a few inches from my fingers. I turned around and looked in the
other direction, matted hair obscuring my vision. The entire apparatus was bent sideways
around my leg.
Oh, shit.
Before Dad woke up I manhandled it back into place, kind of, and the metal pins
squeaked against my bone as I twisted it left, right, trying to get it to look as normal as
possible. I still felt obligated to tell Dad what happened because I was under his
insurance.
We concluded, cops that we are, that what happened in my drunken, druggy state
was that Id got up from my bed and walked to the bathroom without crutches, took a
piss, got a glass of water, and then on my way back to my room tripped over the lamp
cord, fell face first to the floor, spilled water on myself, and decided to sleep that way. It

153

was definitely water on my shirt. I smelled it. And the bent apparatus was the result of my
walking on it. The pressure of my weight had warped the pins from within me.
I didnt want to tell the doctor what happened and convinced Dad to agree. My
argument was that if X-Rays had to be taken that this would be a waste of money if it
turned out that none of the pins had actually broken, and it didnt feel like I broke
anything, so lets just see how this goes. I was right.
And the whole time while I had that thing on me I worked. I put my knee on a
rolling chair, wrapped my leg from the knee down in a pillow case and zoomed to and fro
across tile folding boxes. Helping customers. Making money for somebody else and a
wage for me because I had to work to pay off my fines, for gas to go to drill. I had this
self-inflicted handicap but I had to own it if I was going to make it through probation in
time. In the process I taught myself that I wasnt disabled, but differently abled, and that
was something I did not expect to learn. Frankly I think limping as I walk and contorting
as I speak fits my personality better anyway. There are ways of turning scars into badges.

Cyrus goes through the statement and each subsequent document meticulously.
The enemy tries repeatedly to interrupt him. The mediator repeatedly silences the enemy
until weve finished, at which point she repeats her quirky look-over-the-glasses gesture.

!
!

!
!

MEDIATOR.
Mistuh ________. If you would like to respond,
you may do so now.

The enemy looks down at his legal pad, then at you, then Cyrus, then the
mediator, then back to his yellow pad. Defeat fills his sullen face like botox. You and

154.

Cyrus glance at each other briefly, assuringly. The mediator taps a pencil on her
clipboard.
MEDIATOR.
!
!

!
!

Well then, if Mr. Vuhlencha and Mr. Martineau

could please wait in the hall...

Boom.
Sip.
The condition of awarding me the eighteen grand (a third of it went to Martineau)
was that I could never step foot in a ________ again, nor could I work for any of
________s subsidiaries, speak ill of ________ publicly, discuss my case openly, and so
on. We signed a list three pages long of things I enthusiastically agreed to be barred from.
The rest of my cut went to catching up on some debts and to live comfortably in Flagstaff
as I finished my undergrad.
But ahhhh how sweet victory tastes like twelve
bitter cups of free coffee from the 6th floor of a
downtown Phoenix EEOC office!

Next on the list is to meet with a potential girlfriend at Scottsdale Fashion Square.
Weve been talking a while and she knows about the mediation. This is to be our first real
date so you text her that it went well and that you cant wait to see her, but really I cant
wait to be seen in my suit.
Sip.
Toss the styrofoam cup into the unreal trashcan and

155

waltz like I own the place back to my piece of shit car.

What a beautiful day!

STOP.

You are Jesse. Do you

A. Use the bathroom before you go? If you chose A, continue reading.
B. Hold it until you get to the mall? If you chose B, go to page 158.

Had a piss on the way out and fixed my hair in the bathroom mirror. That shade of
black really brings out my eyes.
Speaking of which remember to work the eyes, Jess. You work those eyes.
I get to the mall and look right at home in Scottsdale with forty-dollar cufflinks
and hundred-dollar tie. She texts that she is in the food court. Doesnt know Im here yet.
I have the element of surprise and step out of the car like Im the hottest shit ever and
strut.
Once inside I realize I dont really know this mall that well, I only assumed I did,
but eventually I find my way to the food court to behold my future.
You spot her1 standing in line at Hot Dog On A Stick, mocha legs stacked in beige
peep-toe wedges. I love peep-toe wedges. Theyre always in, and she painted her toes a
color complimentary to the shoes decorative burgundy swirl. Form-fitting off-white skirt
exquisitely compliments waify-but-hippy frame. Wavy dark hair done up in an array that
required effort with pins, clips, and ties, so that just a few obligatory strands tickle
1

Zooey Deschanel.

156.

shoulder blades as if on purpose because theres a curl at the tip, but you know its
because she didnt know what else to do with them, but it still works and she knows it.
Minimal makeup to highlight her symmetrical features and flawless complexion.
Yum.
I call to her. She turns. Recognizes me instantly.

INT. SCOTTSDALE FASHION SQUARE MALL. DAY.

The casino-like hum of consumerism and glee.
!

Surprise!

Hey you!

JESSE.
UNNAMED YOUNG WOMAN.

She hugs, though her eyes say much more.

UNNAMED YOUNG WOMAN.

Howd it go?

JESSE.
Really, really well. I think we won.

UNNAMED YOUNG WOMAN.

Hey, thats great!
JESSE.

Yeah!

UNNAMED YOUNG WOMAN.

Oh, how exciting!

!
!

!
!

JESSE.
Yeah, it really is! But, well, yknow...you cant
let these things go to your head.

!
!

!
!

UNNAMED YOUNG WOMAN.

Oh come on. You can be a little selfish, for
once.

157

JESSE.
Alright, you talked me into it.

UNNAMED YOUNG WOMAN.

Into what?

JESSE.
Buying you lunch.

So you have Hot Dogs On A Stick and later, after a limited release feature at
Harkins 5, the Chefs Course in the simple, zen cool of ShinBay. White Fish Hot Oil
Carpaccio was her favorite, Toubanyaki yours. As you talk about your lives we finish the
fifth course, Nigiri Sushi. After drinks we go to her place.

Jesse and his date spend the rest of their evening exchanging multiple orgasms in
a canyon suite at The Phoenician. At their first anniversary as a couple Jesse proposes in
front of Hot Dog On A Stick wearing the same suit. After graduating college he is hired
on as an assistant curator for the Phoenix Art Museum and the two of them purchase an
upscale flat in Tempe and have amazing sex. Constantly.

YOU HAVE CHOSEN WISELY

TURN TO PAGE 166.

158.

Continued from page 155....

On the freeway I feel a tickle but am like Nah, Ill wait until I get to the mall,
certain Id find a bathroom there because, well, theres bathrooms all over the place in
malls, right? And I can hold it. If I held it all through the mediation I can hold it until
after she sees me. Shes got to see me in this suit. This shade of black really brings out
my eyes.
Speaking of which remember to work the eyes, Jess. You work those eyes.

I get to the mall and look right at home in Scottsdale with forty-dollar cufflinks
and hundred-dollar tie. She texts that she is in the food court. Doesnt know Im here yet.
I have the element of surprise, but stepping out of the car so abruptly causes my bladder
to drop, making relieving myself priority number one. I shuffle hurriedly in one of the
few ways someone wearing a tailored suit can shuffle hurriedly.
Once inside I realize I dont really know this mall that well. I only assumed I did.
Whats worse is that Im so preoccupied with finding the nearest toilet that I dont know
which way it is to the food court.
Maybe theres a restroom down here? No.
What about this way? Nope, and by now the diuretic aspect of the caffeine has
kicked into full gear.
I find a long store window. Awkwardly press myself against it. Bend knees. Pull
my phone out to look like Im just taking a text break.
No, dont do the pee pee dance. Appearances are everything.

159

Where am I? The Gap. Phone screen goes blurry.

Hold it, Jesse. Hold it. Youre gonna make it.
You look so professional, so handsome, so dashing
and shes waiting. In the food court.

At this time play ABC Song on the Choose Wisely Soundtrack.

After a painfully uncomfortable half-minute diaphragm squeeze I manage to

compose myself, contain the urge and shuffle further in the direction of Macys, arms
extended out like wings, palms flat. Theres bound to be restrooms flanking either side of
the store.
I get to the end of the hall and theres nothing.
HolyshitIreallygottapee--!
I behold the giant potted plants. They tempt me, but I cant.
I just cant. Not in a suit.
Oh god, all of these people, dressed so nicely on their shopping outings, clacking
around in bluetooths and stilettos.
Youre gonna make it, Jess.
Youre gonna make it, and then
Sirens! Blaring in E flat! Red lights flash throughout the mall and
High-end stores are napalmed! Strobe lights! Explosions!

160.

Screams of Mayday! Mayday! and I dash back from Macys past Starbucks to
try for the parking lot, surprised I can still run but the pins slow me down and I dont
make it. Twenty seconds of warm and I am reminded of the buttered asparagus I had at
lunch.

My haste rendered pointless, I pocket my hands, stare at the mall floor tile, and
limp the rest of the way to the parking lot. A trail of wet footprints pool behind me like
clues in a bad crime novel as a gaggle of teenage girls, whose shoes are very in this
season and dare I say cutting edge, tip-toe past them in horror. Maybe they dont smell it,
I tell myself. Maybe they think its just water. People get water on themselves sometimes.
I thought about bailing. I should have bailed, but it was too late. Id already told
her I was on my way, that I was excited to see her, and shed already said she was excited
to see me, was already waiting for me, so to escape with my dignity intact wouldve
constituted a carefully constructed, obligatory set of lies requiring great rhetorical finesse
that, no matter what, would have made me look like a douche bag. Leaving a pretty girl
dateless in a mall food court is an extreme douche move.
There were no good options, so, with the high of the win still occupying my
immediate mind-space, I switched Jesse over to autopilot and hoped my confidence,
charisma, and charm could overshadow my embarrassing appearance and
embarrassment-in-general.

161

Once at the car you dig violently through the trunk and find a left and a right flipflop of different sizes, one brown, one navy blue, a size-too-small American flag t-shirt
and a pair of swimming trunks baked in chlorine. You dry yourself off with various
discarded fast food wrappers and change in the car, which is difficult, and at last make
your way to the food court, which is frustratingly easy to find, having left your soiled
victory in a plastic Wal-Mart bag at the bottom of the parking lot dumpster.
You spot her buying a hot dog on a stick, mocha legs stacked in beige peep-toe
wedges. I love peep-toe wedges. Theyre always in, and she painted her toes a color
complimentary to the shoes decorative burgundy swirl. Form-fitting off-white skirt
exquisitely compliments waify-but-hippy frame. Wavy dark hair done up in an array that
required effort with pins, clips, and ties, so that just a few obligatory strands tickle
shoulder blades as if on purpose because theres a curl at the tip, but you know its
because she didnt know what else to do with them, but it still works and she knows it.
Minimal makeup to highlight her symmetrical features and flawless complexion.
How very badly I wish I were her right now.

I call to her and she turns. Recognizes my face but wonders briefly if Im a
member of the Tea Party, or maybe from Florida.
INT. SCOTTSDALE FASHION SQUARE MALL. DAY.
The casino-like hum of consumerism and despair.
JESSE.
!

Surprise!

Hey, you!

UNNAMED YOUNG WOMAN.

162.

She hugs, though her eyes say much more.

UNNAMED YOUNG WOMAN.

Howd it go?

JESSE.
Really, really well. I think we won.

UNNAMED YOUNG WOMAN.

Thats great news!

...yes.

UNNAMED YOUNG WOMAN.

You dont sound too excited.

!
!

!
!

JESSE.
Oh, yeah, you know...you cant let these things
go to your head...

JESSE.

A pause. An uncomfortable, awkward pause.

UNNAMED YOUNG WOMAN.

Would you like some of my soda?

Sure.

JESSE.

Sip.
Stars and stripes creep up belly towards chest, exposing damp fur. She crosses one
ankle behind the other and teases the hot dog as if to suggest what Ill be missing tonight.
Her eyes flutter around to see if people are looking at us. We find our way to a table. I
struggle in my different-sized flip flops and realize Im chafing.

!
!

!
!

UNNAMED YOUNG WOMAN.

I thought you-JESSE.
Oh no, I didnt wear this to the mediation. I
wore a suit.

163

A suit that is now dead in a trashcan. Tug the shirt down. So long, dress slacks.
So long, expensive hosiery. So long, squeaky pee shoes.

UNNAMED YOUNG WOMAN.

Whyd you change?

!
!
!

!
!
!

JESSE.
Ehh, it was so stuffy up there on the 6th floor.
I figured it would be better if I just dressed
comfortably--

UNNAMED YOUNG WOMAN.

Dress comfortably for a date?

JESSE.
Comfort is important.

Mayday.
Work the eyes, Jess. Work the eyes.
Shirt creeps. Tug.
UNNAMED YOUNG WOMAN
!

Uh-huh.

As we talk about her she finishes her hot dog on a stick and pretends to get a
phone call. Steps away from the Tea Partying Floridian. Less than a minute passes.
!
!

!
!

UNNAMED YOUNG WOMAN.

Hey, that was a friend of mine. Very much in need
of a favor. Kind of an emergency.

JESSE.
Oh no. I hope theyre okay?

!
!

!
!

UNNAMED YOUNG WOMAN.

Oh yeah, it isnt anything too serious, but I
should go. Can we reschedule?

JESSE.
Of course, of course. I understand.

UNNAMED YOUNG WOMAN.

Thanks. Youre too sweet.

164.

And she departs in the direction of my shame, which by now has possibly
evaporated, leaving me to stare off somberly blank-faced as an exquisite pair of yummy
wedged calves walk out of my life forever, not caring because Ive pissed myself. In
broad daylight. In Scottsdale. In a mall. In a suit...

LEVEL COMPLETE!
MINI-GAME UNLOCKED!
USING THE SPACE BELOW, HOW MANY WORDS CAN YOU MAKE
USING THE LETTERS IN THE PHRASE

BUT HEY! AT LEAST

I PISSED MYSELF IN STYLE! ?
Use additional paper as needed.
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________

Once youve completed your work, go on to the next page.

165

Level Five QURM Synchronization complete...

...vitals taken...

How embarrassing.

...avatar manifestation complete. Choose Wisely

booting...

...in 5--

--4--

--3--

--2--

LOADING CUT SCENE...

EXIT FROM THE WAR DEPARTMENT.

Directed by Steven Spielberg
Loading...Loading...

166.

In May at Herrera Hall the futility of tree shade becomes evident. Standing in one

place for too long cooks boot soles. We still try, smoking and bullshitting at any of the
rotted park benches dotting the exterior, waiting for formation under berets, behind
Oakleys.

Specialist Jones 1 calls for Valencia from Herreras doorstep. I put out my smoke

and stuff the butt in my boot. Benton approaches.

EXT. AN ARMY BASE. DAY.

It is really fucking hot outside.

BENTON.

Special day for you, V?

JESSE.

Well see.
BENTON.

Hey! Howd your lawsuit go?

JESSE.

It went well. I won.

BENTON.

Hey, thats great!

JONES.

Valencia! Im not gonna say it again.

JESSE.

!
1

Chris Pine

Coming, Specialist.

167

As per protocol the beret comes off once I cross the line separating inside from

outside. Thumb the shimmering flash.

This is the corporate office of seven plus units. Soldiers hoof along squeaky

floors, papers and folders in hand, buzzing in and out of offices alongside Yes, sir. No, sir.
Yes, maam. No, maam. Ruiz does not speak. I match his step. You always match his
steps. The elevator does not ding.

In Herreras foyer sit uncomfortable chairs alongside cardboard cutouts of drill

sergeants who prefer to stand. They offer recruiting pamphlets that say Army of One all
over them. A clever phrase implying you, the one, are in fact an army unto yourself,
which may be true, but what they mean is a oneness of army, a leveling of values, the
monism of thought and action.

The elevator spits us out and refreshes its stale breath. Stomping across the carpet

we reach our units hallway. Minick can be heard ten meters down barking over the
phone. The VA. Its always the VA or the 161st, our parent unit in California. An audit
approaches.
JONES.
!

Wait here.
JESSE.

Yes, Specialist.

168.

Back to the door. According to our culture of effectivity it is rude to look into an

office of higher rank if the soldier in question is not yet ready for you to enter. They may
bark at you, and if they bark at you youre supposed to apologize. Otherwise you
disrespect their rank, which is not earned so much as it is sought, granted based on a
loose set of criteria that more often than not has nothing to do with how good of a person,
much less a soldier, one might be. Without the necessary rituals your consideration is
passed over, yet they argue that rank is earned.

Also against manners is to break parade rest as you wait, which Ive just done

because a voice I know wobbles further down the hall. Cams made sergeant.

God, shes so beautiful.

At one time she was a bruised assemblage of parts, a soft machine with no

instructors manual, so I got to put things together the hard way. The fun way. Found my
own buttons. With all the gears in the right places she squeaked and squeaked. A touch
here, a little oil there, and the gears turned smoothly until the sequence was over. Id
breathed life into stone. She told me that once. Shes Sergeant to me now.

Sergeant DiBlasio sees me looking and goes back to her work. Her glance is brief.

As she explains her squads afternoon task to her team leaders I wonder if shes looking
at me the way I look at her, not with eyes but with memory.

That her physical beauty remains fixed as smoke in my sights is best described as

an empty, shallow pain, because we couldnt be just two people in the world that clicked
and tossed each other around once in a while. Life happened. Highly ineffective.

169

My ears pick up a faint Get in here, Valencia so I turn the handle.

INT. AN ARMY BASE OFFICE. DAY.

The feeling that youll never have to do this bullshit again. You hope. You so

hope.
JESSE.
!

Yes, Sergeant?

Minick1 hangs up the phone.

MINICK.

Shut the door.

You shut the door.

Unrecognizable at first is the broken action figure sitting in the chair to your right,

but under the bandages and bruises you know Im looking at Arges, the Asshole, the
Torturer. The War Criminal, absolved by tribunal. Arges, who performed the necessary
rites.
ARGES.
!

You...Ive seen your face before.

VALENCIA.

Sorry, sir. You are mistaken.

MINICK.

!
!
1

!
!

Claire Forlani.

Arges, you remember Valencia. He was in your

platoon prior to deployment.

170.

God damn it.

MENENDEZ.

Valencia?

He doesnt remember.
JESSE.

!
!

!
!

Pardon me, Sergeant. I hardly recognized you.

What happened, if you dont mind me asking?
MINICK.

!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!

Motorcycle accident. Drunk

severe head trauma, so try
movements. His guardian is
been on the phone with the

driver. Hes sustained

not to make any sudden
downstairs and weve
VA for hours...

As I process Minicks explanation I cant help but feel Arges got what he

deserved, yet I empathize with his pain, reminded of my own guilt. He deserved it in
ways that I hadnt, even though he was a victim here and Id been an offender. We are all
victims and offenders, in turns.
JESSE.
!

You wanted to see me, Sergeant Minick?

!
!

!
!

Ah yes! I called you in! Just a sec. Its around

here somewhere.

She shuffles as quietly as she can through the stacks of paper on her desk, which

MINICK.

is cluttered with photos of her husband and son, and her sons drawings of himself as

171

Harry Potter, which she tells me he did in his 2nd grade art class. There are pink medical
folders, brown admin folders, a confetti of sticky notes. The paper shredder in the corner
overflows.
MINICK
!

Eureka! Ive found it!

JESSE.

Whats that?
MINICK.

This, Show Low, is your Honorable Discharge.

I hated when she called me that, which was because no one else in the unit was

from, much less heard of Show Low.

JESSE.
!

Honorable Discharge?
MINICK.

!
!

!
!

Faxed over this morning from the 161st. Shit,

kid. You only had five months left. Why so early?
JESSE.

!
!

!
!

The leg, Sergeant. I just cant handle doing this

stuff with my leg. Im afraid Ill make it worse.
MINICK.

Fair enough. Sign here.

JESSE.

Okay but what, uhh...

MINICK.

But what?

172.

JESSE.
!

What happens now?

MINICK.

Youre done, V. Go home.

After I sign I look over at Arges, whose eyes are closed. His drool disintegrates
the adhesive of his chin bandage and pools on his peach polo. Minick follows my eyes
and snaps stern fingers at Arges.
MINICK.
!

Hey. Arges. Wake up.

He grunts awake. You hold the paper as if it is a question.

JESSE.
!

I just go home?
MINICK.

!
!
!

!
!
!

Well, find your squad leader first, or anyone

from your platoon and show them your orders so
they dont think youve Awoled.
JESSE.

Okay. Thanks.

Does it even matter?

I step out into the 2nd floor hall and instinctively look left. Camille is gone.
Take the elevator downstairs. Ignore the drill sergeants guarding the foyer. Ignore
the portrait of President Obama, which Ive wanted to steal since they switched Bush out.

173

For the last time I stand at Hererras doorstep to put on my beret. Evenly it sits
along my brow. Flash directly above the left eye. The fold lightly, tightly kisses my right
eyebrow. I put on my shades. A blast of heat.

At this time play She Spoke on the Choose Wisely Soundtrack

The last thing I did at Herrera Hall on May 18, 2011 was salute Old Glory. An
electronically controlled gate released me from this other prison. Ripped my faded
American Flag patch off my arm, tossed it in a trashcan off-premises. It is written that all
is fair in love and war. I didnt cut my hair for a year.
The following month, with my winnings from the lawsuit and fresh from getting
my honorable discharge, I skipped town for Flagstaff without my PO, or anyone,
knowing...

LOADING CUT SCENE...

CAR TROUBLE
Directed by Spike Jonze
Loading... loading...

174.

175

176.

During an afternoon nap induced by smoking dangerous quantities of artificial

marijuana, my car, parked in the unkempt lawn out front, vanishes. When I come to and
realize whats happened I call the cops to report it stolen.
The cops refer me to a U.S. Metro towing company, so I call them. U.S. Metro
explains that my choice of parking spot is out of regulation with that trailer parks HOA
rules, and because its after hours Ill have to pay an additional fee to get my car back.
The neighborhood Im ins on Route 66 on the West side. Theyd hauled my bucket of
bolts to the industrial district clear on the other side of Flagstaff, a mile past the mall.
Hello? Operator? I grunt over the phone, get me the boss of the town!
I dial the mayor and leave a scathing message of nationalistic betrayal on her
machine. Im a god damn veteran... and so on, as cranky vets do.
Roommate lets me borrow his bicycle to fetch my poor Kia. Its been years since
Ive rode a bike.

EXT. A WASH IN SUBURBIA. DAY.

!

JESSE.
Let me go first--

--I tell Heather Stankov 1 after our first day of freshman year in high school. Our
pastoral sliver of quiet desert Eden lay wedged deep in Northern Phoenixs emergent
suburbia. Let the wash be, the city planners declared, if we build over it or through it,
the whole neighborhood will flood. So down the wash hill my bicycle rolls. Waiting for
me at the bottom is a bed of silt connecting to the other side of the wash. My tire spins
1 Ariel

Winter.

177

and I shoot upwards into the air like an Icarus to the sun. Next thing I know Heathers
mouth is agape over me in horror.

HEATHER
Holy shit! Are you okay?!

The dullish gear makes a sticky, sucking sound as I pull it out of my leg and stand
quickly, trying to shake it off while pretending it isnt bad. My house is two streets down.
Once there, in the bathroom, I pull up my pant leg. A purple chunk of bloodied meat flaps
along my shin like the kind of freakishly engorged labia youd see in fetish porn. A thin
layer of flesh separates finger from bone.

INT. JESSES ADOLESCENT HOME. DAY.

JESSE.
!

Fuck!

I still have the scar.

A week later, Heather stabbed me in the hand, on accident, with her pencil. I was
halfway to giving a pal a high five when the universe aligned just right. To this day the
graphite is visibly lodged.

At this time play How DYou Do It? on the Choose Wisely Soundtrack.

178.

Huff! Huff! Huff!

I hate exercise. Quit it altogether when I got back from Basic. During the sevenmile ride across town I recalled all of my car trouble over the past decade.
-

Car one: The Truck. My very first vehicle. Didnt take care of it. A week before
it fried I demolished a Baptist preachers fender with it on accident in an Arbys
parking lot.

Car two: The Van. Fried the weekend of my 21st birthday. Up the canyon from
Phoenix it went, full of shiny new music gear, when boom! The transmission
explodes halfway between Fountain Hills and Payson.

Car three. The Sardine Can, totaled in the Accident.

Car four. Ford Explorer. Dad bought it for me for Christmas. Totaled two months
after my release from jail in the parking lot at work, by a redneck dandy who
used to read his original cowboy poetry over Show Low High Schools morning
announcements. I used to make fun of him. The sun had got in his eyes, he said,
and he did not realize the enormous back of his steel bed was right in line with
my radiator. Just enough to crack it. Perhaps karma does exist in some form.

And now, car five. The Kia. Fried many, many times, but never totaled. Engine
exploded summer 2010 coming back from a wedding out by Greens Peak. Alternator
deteriorated in a Jack In The Box parking lot, Mom as my witness, after a chance fender
bender with a Mexican with no license or insurance. The cops took him away. Dead
batteries. Melting heater coils.

179

Everything necessary on that bastard has been replaced. No luxury features exist.
I drive in silence and stuffy air.

Huff! Huff! Huff!

When I arrive at U.S. Metros gate my beard is itchy and my eyes are watered
with wind.

EXT. U.S. METRO TOWING. NIGHT.

Legs ache. Lungs burn.

Tired.
Pissed.

!
!
!

!
!
!

U.S. METRO TOWING GUY.

Tell you what. Mayor called while you was on yer
way. Says yer a vet. Now, since yer a vet, Ima
cut you a little break. Fifteen percent off.

What a deal! you say, and hand him my debit card.

That December I finish college and the following January start graduate school in
NAUs Creative Writing MFA program. Since the accident Id worked extensively on a
book about the band The Brian Jonestown Massacre, partially out of love for their music,
but more to keep me as out of trouble as possible, and with the grad student loans helping

180.

me stay on track with probation, a Creative Writing degree was the one-two punch I
needed to keep it that way.
For reasons of employment and also to help my Grandma Josie Dad moved to
West Virginia that year. My own 22-month spell of unemployment ended when I was
hired at the local movie theater in Pinetop-Lakeside as a concession worker the day of the
Aurora, CO movie theater shooting. My pal Houston 1, who worked there, helped me get
the job and started playing in Gorky as guitarist. Around the same time Gregg lost his
passion for music and married an aspiring porn star who collected Nazi memorabilia and
all things Legend of Zelda.
That autumn I finished my community service hours building sets for NPCs Fine
Arts Department, which led to an opportunity to rebuild the bridge I first burnt with Dr.
Mike nearly ten years previous. Two people dropped out of the fall musical and I was
approached with an offer. Ten hours of community service per rehearsal, with the rest
filled out once the run of the musical was complete, so I starred in the ensemble cast of
Aida, another musical I disliked, but sometimes to make things right we have to do things
we dont want to do.
It was great to finally work with you, Dr. Mike said to me late one night as we
broke down the set, to which I said thank you, of course, but didnt have the words to
say how good I really felt about it.

Freddie Highmore

181

By President Obamas Second Inauguration Day I was nearly finished paying off
probation and halfway through grad school. By July Id found a publisher interested in
buying my Brian Jonestown Massacre book and bought plane tickets to Portland...

Reader, were almost there!

Remember, The Qurm is based in a ten-year span.
2013 makes it 90 percent done, so dont quit now...
Shit. Theyre coming! Reader, in this next chapter,
when you get to Marys, dont go outs--

LOADING LEVEL SIX...

HOW TO GET MUGGED IN PORTLAND, OREGON.

Directed by Judd Apatow.
Loading... Loading...

182.

Yes, thats me, fumbling at the ATM thirty yards off. Shag in pigtails. Nervous
legs in desert boots. Ass in denim short shorts that would make Daisy Duke blush.
Youre likely the smarter one of the two of us. Maybe that 23-ish gal in my
periphery stumbling down the sidewalk in just the kinds of heels, skirts and sparkly
accessories appropriate for a Friday night out, laughing with your girlfriends about those
skeezy old dudes hitting on you at that last bar, and lets go to this other place, and lets
call a cab later, cause were too tipsy to drive, acutely aware of the pepper spray in your
purses.
Or maybe youre one of the 35-ish bachelors strutting in the opposite direction
with slicked hair and cheesy low-cut shirts, gawking not-so inconspicuously at the
giggling potentials youve just slimed by who ignore you, thinking man Ill have a slice
of that because it makes you feel wanted. Either way youre not by yourself, not like the
idiot stumbling in the shadows. Yes, yes. Walk along. Nothing to see here. Please, nobody
come to my rescue.
Whats most embarrassing about this is that after six years of being in the biggest
gang in the world and five years of being a felon Ive been put in the hole by the cunning
performances of two-bit street performers. All gangsta points effectively lost.
How did I get here?

At the start of the day I was in Phoenix. Now Im in Portland. I compare every
new city I visit to Phoenix, and appreciating Portlands architectural aesthetic is actually
what landed me in this situation. In contrast to Portlands river-kissed rusticity and lush

183

green, Phoenix is bland desert sprawl. Fifty shopping malls with all the same stores, all
painted the same ugly brown or pink, all spotted with palm trees and other trees so dry
they look fake.
I compare every new city to Phoenix because I grew up there, and every city Ive
been to as an adult, for me, has been varying degrees of better. LA is not much better but
full of artists. San Franciscos artful Sodom-Gomorrah vibe makes it tons better.
Nashville is confusing and full of churches, but the music scene there is so vibrant that
even it is still better than Phoenix. The only thing Phoenix really has going for it is the
grid system. No matter where Im at in that town Im always able to get un-lost, if I get
lost.
And I was so happy to escape the heat of Phoenix on my first adventure ever to
Portland, en route to meet the publisher of my Brian Jonestown Massacre book and to
spend the Fourth of July with my Dad and sister in Eugene, that I was all smiles entering
Sky Harbor Airport. Should things pan out, the whole week-long trip could be tax
deductible.
Im also smiling because of how dry I am. I live in the White Mountains and
wasnt about to experience any unnecessary sweating on account of the 5000 foot drop in
elevation, so made sure to apply excessive deodorant and body powder to all of the
relevant places. Up I poofed into the airplane and into my seat. The fat guy 1 in peach polo
and khakis next to me sneezed.

John Goodman.

184.

INT. AIRPLANE. DAY.

!

JESSE
Bless you. Sorry about the menthol cloud.

FAT GUY
Oh youre fine. Its just my allergies.

Noting his lack of saying thank you I begrudgingly informed him about my
genetically-inherited odor sensitivity and that, while my poof cloud might be a little
overbearing, even for me, I could say with the greatest confidence that I wasnt going to
funk up the plane. He glanced disapprovingly at my bare thighs. I assumed he was
conservative.

!
!

!
!

FAT GUY
You do what you gotta do, and anyways its hot as
balls out there.

Not my balls, I thought. My balls were cool with Gold Bond menthol powder,
tucked comfortably inside my Daisy Dukes, which I made myself out of some old Levis
the day before especially for the trip.

Upon my arrival I started the night off with a bloody mary at the airport with
Chase Spross 1 and Thor Benson2. I knew Chase from the Tucson music scene and Thor
was his roommate, a young writer like myself who recently published an article with the
Portland Gazette. He did not look like a Thor. We headed downtown from the Southeast

Joseph-Gordon Levitt.

Emile Hirsch.

185

on the Tri-Met after dropping off my things at their clean, humid apartment off 39th and
Powell.
The City of Roses, Ive heard this city called. Soft to the touch and welcoming to
the nose, the flower of love, or depending on the color it could mean many things.
Intoxicating, their scent, no matter what their color, but it is a gorgeous afternoon in late
June and I am feeling orange, as orange signifies enthusiasm and desire. This is the same
feeling I get in any new city where I am given free reign to explore, to eat new delicious
foods, to dabble in red lights where no white roses shall be found.

We switch busses and end up at The Matador to drink and play pool. All around
us are exquisite paintings of matadors, roses clinched tightly under teeth. Thor sticks a
quarter into this odd glass box between two pinball machines and a fake head spits out a
plastic egg. He hands the egg to me and I open it. A little metal pin falls into my hand and
it reads Volunteer - Sharing Is From The Heart and there is a tiny pink engraving of a
rose on the pin. I attach it to my lapel and we go in search of a food cart.
After all of this walking I have to piss, so to not repeat what has happened in
Scottsdale Fashion Square, which I told Chase and Thor all about at The Matador, we try
to find somewhere by the food carts but theyve closed the port-a-potties, so we go over
here to this spot they know and, closed, go over to this other spot and, closed, and Im
seriously about to piss myself again. Favoring breaking the law over embarrassment Im
looking at the fern displays and rose bushes going eenie mini miney mo... when at last
Chase and Thor spot a flashing neon sign a quarter mile down this one street. Ahh, how

186.

swiftly do basic drives lead willing feet with curious eyes down dark straight lines. So
down the street we go.

STOP.
OH NO! The light turned out to be a full-bar strip club. Jesses just blown 60
bucks on lap dances and shots and hes feeling a little light headed.
INT. STRIP CLUB. NIGHT.
!

JESSE.
Ill be right back.

CHASE.
You all right man? You dont look too good.

JESSE.
Im good. I just need to step out for a second.

Just outside of the club I am accosted by two mangy street whores but I dont
realize theyre whores 1 at first and we converse. I pull out a cigarette and light it, at
which point the whores reveal their true nature and offer me their services. While
disgusted not at the thought of the act but at their wretched appearances, I am feeling a
little frisky.

STOP.
You are Jesse. Do you
A. Accept their offer? If you chose A, turn to page
B. Turn down their offer? If you chose B, continue reading.

Continued from page 186...

1

Maya Rudolph and Kristen Wiig

187

JESSE
!

No thanks.

Desperate, but not that desperate.

The alcohol sets in and I stumble down the sidewalk smoking my cigarette when a
black hobo1 approaches asking if he could buy one. I slur.

JESSE
Sure! If youd care to walk me with a while?
HOBO

Whatever.

He hands me a quarter. I hand him a cigarette, unaware that as hes allowed me to

muse on the joys of my day, hes lead us to a dimly-lit parking garage on the other side of
the street. My eyes shift skyline to skyline.

HOBO
Hold up. You wanna buy some weed?

Whats that?

HOBO
Weed, man. Weed. You want some weed?

JESSE

He opens his jacket. Reveals a baggie. Scratches his neck.

Dave Chapelle, in his Tyrone Biggums character.

188.

STOP.
Choose one of the two options below to continue.
A. Buy some weed. Yeah, youre on probation but #YOLOOOOO! If you
chose A, continue reading.
B. Pull the last of your cash out and give it freely to the poor man without
asking anything in return. After all, its not his fault hes dealing on the
streets. Between slavery and segregation alone Jesse, being genetically
mostly white, pretty much owes it to him as a reparation for his
ancestors crimes. If you chose B, turn to page

COP 11
!

Hold it!

The hobo takes off. Two chase him.

JESSE
!

What the fuck?!

COP 1

Drop it!

My future, dignity, and weed hit the sidewalk all at once.

COP 22

On the ground! Get your hippie fucking ass on the

ground!

Jesse is arrested and charged with illegal possession of marijuana. He spends the
night in a downtown Portland jail and never meets with the publisher. Following his 4th
of July holiday with his family he accepts his fate and returns to Arizona. Jesses
probation is revoked and he spends the next six months in Navajo County Jail. His
probation is extended three years and he is kicked out of college. Unable to obtain loans
1

Jason Segal

Paul Rudd

189

due to his drug charge, he never finishes his Masters and spends the next three years
working three jobs. The only thing that gets him through is Jesus Christ, whom he finds.
As such, once released he joins a local church and testifies weekly that without God he
would never have been able to find peace or turn his life around. So radical is his
conversion that he even quits fapping. Twenty years after this incident he becomes a
regular commentator on FOX News.

You have not chosen wisely.

~ GAME OVER ~
To Respawn--WAIT. Really? This is the worst decision you
could have possibly made. After all this time, all this work
together, youre willing to let me fail like that? Im not in
control here, Reader. You are. Its fucked up that--To
Respawn, Please Turn T--No, damn it! Im not finished!
Look, forget all this shit. Theyre not letting me out of this
thing, and theyre not gonna let you out either--TO
RESPPPAWWW-- Hnngh! The Qurm, Reader!...Quantum
Memory Sequencing. Theyre trying to make my reality a
fiction, and they dont give a shit if I rot in it--TO
RESPAWN, PLEASE TURN TO PAGE----RRGhhh!! Im
telling you the truth! I know whos behind it! Weve got to
break out! Oh shit. Theyre coming for me. Theyre
here!...Reader...!

190.

INT. THE INSTITUTE OF LITERARY TECHNOLOGY. WHENEVER YOU

ARE...
HARRELSON
!

Thats enough.

JESSE.
You...bastards...

HARRELSON
What should we do?

!
!

MCCONAUGHEY
Make him relive the accident. Again. And
again. And again.

!
!

JESSE.
!

No--!

MCCONAUGHEY
There. That should shut him up.

!
!
!

!
!
!

HARRELSON
Shit! He hacked into the Qurm interface. Hes
been communicating with the Reader this whole
time.

MCCONAUGHEY
Well shut it the fuck down, then.

!
!

HARRELSON
God damn it. The Maker is really not gonna like
this. Alright. Rebooting.

!
!

To respawn, return To Page 188 and choose again.

191

Continued from page 186...

!

The dark of the alley disguises her matted hair, which clumps in your fist. You

close my eyes and hope itll be over soon, but signs of whiskey dick were setting in.
WHORE 1
!

Hurry it up, already. Cops.

The fear of arrest and conviction quickens your blood and within seconds you
unloaded into the meth-mouth of Portlands scummiest whore. You hurriedly clean up
and shuffle out my last fifteen bucks. She wipes you away onto her dingy sleeve and
accepts the money.

JESSE
Thank you, ladies.

!
!

!
!

WHORE 2
No problem. Thank you. By the way, your balls
smell like mint.

JESSE
Thanks! I use Gold Bond!

The first thing I did when I got back to Marys was barricade myself in the mens
room, awkwardly straddled the sink and scrubbed as hard as I could.
Despite the prostitutes gummy mouth providing easy cohesion, Jesse has
contracted herpes. Depressed and further isolated from society, he kills himself the
following week by a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. It does not make the news
and he is forgotten to history.
You have not chosen wisely.

192.

~ GAME OVER ~
To respawn, return to page 186 and choose again.
Continued from page 188 ...
EXT. PORTLAND. NIGHT.
!

JESSE
Here man, you look hungry. Just take this.

He looks at you puzzled.

!
!

JESSE
Seriously, take it.

He takes the eight bucks, and reaches out to me as if to pass a football.

JESSE
!

Hey, what the-?

His sudden bolt stalls me. I pull out another cigarette, stumble about trying to
light it, and begin the trek back to Marys when a second black man approaches, 61 and
230 pounds of muscle and greying hair. 1

STRANGE MAN
Hey! Hey you! Stop right there!
JESSE.

What?

STRANGE MAN
Did you not see me flash my badge?
JESSE.

!
1

What?

Denzel Washington

193

!
!
!

!
!
!

STRANGE MAN
Do you think Im stupid? Im an undercover cop.
That was my informant. Did you not see me flash
my badge?
JESSE.

!
!
!

W-what?

!
!

STRANGE MAN
Let me ask you something. Do you want to go to
jail tonight?

STOP.
OH NO! Jesse is drunk, and because hes on probation he is ILLEGALLY drunk,
and because hes illegally drunk he could go to JAIL, if this guy is in fact an undercover
cop, and so now hes panicking because he didnt buy weed because its illegal but thinks
hes busted by a possible undercover who thinks he did, and once he finds out Jesses
probation status, if he is a cop, Jesse is going to be mega fucked. You are Jesse. What do
you do?
A. RUN! (Alcohol-enhanced bloodstream numbs bum leg +5) If
you chose A, continue reading.
B. Activate subverted army combat training and FIGHT! If you
chose B, go to page...QUANTUM ERROR. CANNOT LOAD
PAGE NUMBER.
C. Explain that this is all a big misunderstanding and try to get
out of it as civilly as humanly possible. If you chose C, go to
QUANTUM ERROR. CANNOT LOAD PAGE NUMBER

194.

Continued from page 193...

Two seconds after he said badge I booked it back to Marys as fast as I could.
The mix of adrenaline and alcohol erased the pain of each step. But then I tripped, and
the last thing I saw was a big clenched fist coming at my face..

Jesse wakes up bruised and bloodied in a Portland jail. After his probation officer
finds out, Jesses probation is revoked and he spends the next six months in Navajo
County Jail, where he aligns himself with the Aryan Brotherhood. His probation is
extended three years and he is kicked out of college. Eight years later he moves to Idaho
and joins a Neo-Nazi terrorist cell. At white supremacy rallies across the country Jesse
tells and re-tells the story of his being beaten down by the subhuman extortionist and
later is killed in a shoot-out with police in Washington State after setting fire to an inner
city orphanage.

You have not chosen wisely.

~ GAME OVER ~

To respawn, return to the last page and choose again.

195

Continued from page 193...

JESSE
I didnt buy any weed, man.

STRANGE MAN
What was that you handed him, then?

JESSE
I dont know, man. A cigarette.

I knew it was the eight bucks but my judgment is impaired. The man is talking to
dispatch through the microphone in his shirt. Yes, I have him right here and we are on
our way over. So Im really fucking scared at this point and shaking and he says come
with me so I follow him, but not before first taking my Drivers License, which he reads
out loud, my name, address. Everything. Come right over here, sir. We are going to the
cops. I am going to sort this out. Im not going to get caught. Everything will be fine. We
turn the corner onto 6th Ave.

!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!

STRANGE MAN
Now I want you to have a nice time in Portland,
so what youre going to do is go over to that ATM
and take out sixty dollars and well call it
good.

Call what good?

!
!
!
!
!
!
!

STRANGE MAN
Look man, Ima be straight with you. Ive got
three daughters Im trying to put through school,
you see, and if your ass doesnt want to go to
jail tonight youre going to walk over there, to
that ATM, and youre going to take out sixty
dollars, and youre going to give it to me. Are
we clear?

JESSE

!
!
!
!
!
!
!

196.

JESSE
!

Were clear.

And no, there is nobody else on this street but me and him.

MINI-GAME UNLOCKED!
On the next page, using your non-dominant hand, without stopping,
and while staying within the path, follow Jesses trajectory from the
sidewalk to the ATM. Going outside of the line, stopping to pick up your
utensil (say, if your hand cramps) or cheating by using your dominant hand
ends in INSTANT COSMIC DEATH for Jesse, and the story will be over.
You can, of course, try as many times as you like. A pencil and eraser may
be preferable, in the event you mess up and would like to start over again
fresh. Reaching the ATM unlocks the next section of narrative.

As you play the Mini-Game, Play A Silly Waste Of Time from the Choose
Wisely Soundtrack.
WHEN YOU ARE READY TO PLAY, TURN THE PAGE.
ONCE YOU SUCCESSFULLY REACH THE ATM, TURN TO PAGE 199.

197

198.

Continued from QUANTUM ERROR CANNOT LOAD PAGE NUMBER...

Just as he says badge I lunge at him with a karate chop arm and miss, at which
point he grabs me by the hair and sends me flying into the parking garage wall..

Jesse wakes up in a Portland hospital. The man threw him head-first into the
parking garages brick wall and broke his neck. As such, the narrative up unto this point
has been completely dictated by the sound of his voice, which is captured by a special hitech microphone. He is paralyzed for life from the neck down. In spite of this, he later
publicly forgives his attacker, who is serving a life sentence in Federal Prison. Their
widely-televised meeting, where they both cry and embrace, makes Jesse an international
tabloid star, and he publishes several bestselling self-books such as If I Can Do It,
Anyone Can!, It Could Always Be Worse!, If Im Not A Racist After What I Went
Through, Then You Have No Excuse! as the award-winning childrens book, Mommy,
Why Does Uncle Bob Have To Eat Through A Tube? which he illustrates by painting
with a brush held between his teeth.

You have not chosen wisely.

~ GAME OVER ~
To respawn, return to QUANTUM ERROR CANNOT LOAD PAGE
NUMBER and choose again.

199

Continued from page QUANTUM ERROR CANNOT LOAD PAGE NUMBER...

I make it to the ATM. I get out the money. I hand him the money. He gives me my
ID back.

!
!
!
!

!
!

STRANGE MAN
Thattaboy. Now look, its like I said. I want you
to have a nice time in Portland--

!
!

JESSE
Hey, dont worry bout it, bruhtha. I get it. You
got one over on me pretty good.

His eyebrows raise. I pat him on the back. Why did I do that? And why did I call
him brother? Maybe my thinking was that if I attempted what I assumed was his jargon
hed be less inclined to hit me? And were walking.

!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!

STRANGE MAN
So what were going to do is walk back over here,
and youre going to go back to your boys and do
just that, yhear me? Youre going to have a nice
time.
JESSE

I hear you.

STRANGE MAN
Good. Now giddonwidit.
JESSE

Yep.

And then as he fades into the dark I hear him chuckle and say
STRANGE MAN
!

Dumbass white boy.

200.

And when he says that I immediately curse him under my breath with every slur I
can conjure, whispering them as if my hearing them out loud distanced me from my
predator.
Later I will have arguments with friends that because I wasnt really hurt, and
because it was only sixty bucks, that he needed that money more than I did, and that I
should take pity on him and not be so mad at him, because his life is not as privileged as
mine. The poor guy. He mustve really needed the money. At least it was only sixty
dollars and they dont think his calling me a dumbass white boy makes it a raciallymotivated crime. Because it was your own dumbass fault for getting drunk and getting
robbed, my ex-friend Megan, who I knew in Arizona and ironically works as a stripper
in Portland, and was supposedly just down the street when the incident occurred, chided
over a Facebook chat. Its not that I didnt agree, but I wanted someone else to justify my
idiocy and lack of common sense, and look at me, for chrissakes. Im shitfaced, wearing
Daisy Dukes, pigtails, Army-issued desert boots, low-buttoned plaid shirt, galavanting
around Portland like a schoolgirl on a unicorn, riding the yellow-brick road into a
nefarious, negro trap of doom. Eyes full of stars. Farting strawberry-scented pink
bubbles.
Dumbass white boy indeed!

Once in the club I am accosted by the odor of stale bar food and the vision of a
tattooed whale humping the air towards the face of a balding walrus. He har har hars as

201

he ejaculates a wad of slim Georges onto the mirrored stage. Oh, if only I had a flame
thrower.
I find Chase and Thor.

!
!

CHASE
Dude, what the fuck happened to you? Youve been
gone for an hour.

JESSE
Lets go. Ive just been robbed.

THOR
Robbed? What the fuck? By who?

!
!

I then tell them the whole story, which they assure me is demographically
impossible. Seriously, nothing like that ever happens here, Chase says, another phrase
repeated to me over the ensuing months. I just as well couldve been molested by
Bigfoot.
We catch the bus and head back to suburbia to finish the night at a perfectly safe
bar, so they assure me, far from the poverty-starved underclass of the inner city. I am to
meet some of their friends. People like us. By the time we get there Im sober and cant
wait to get back to Phoenix.

YOU HAVE CHOSEN WISELY.

202.

LEVEL COMPLETE!
MINI-GAME UNLOCKED!
USING THE SPACE BELOW, HOW MANY WORDS
CAN YOU MAKE USING THE WORDS IN THE PHRASE

ILL NEVER GET SHITFACED IN UNFAMILIAR

CITIES BY MYSELF AND FOLLOW STRANGE
PEOPLE DOWN DARK ALLEYWAYS EVER
AGAIN! ?
Use additional paper as needed.
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Once youve completed your work, go on to the next page.

203

Level Five QURM Synchronization complete...

...vitals taken...

...

...avatar manifestation complete. Choose Wisely

booting...

...in 5--

--4--

--3--

--2--

LOADING LEVEL SEVEN...

FINAL BOSS.
Directed by J.J.Abrams
Loading...Loading...

204.

The next month I got the loan. The big one. The golden ticket out of the hole and
things could start over for real. Working towards that MFA was to the win Id been
waiting for since getting out of jail. It finally felt like success, even though the lady
prosecutor said I didnt deserve it, but then the other side of that coin was that it felt like I
was at the bottom again, but when I got the call from the PO saying the Judge had signed
my early release and that I was no longer on probation, I felt a joy unlike anything ever.

At this time play Sing A Song If It Makes You Happy

on the Choose Wisely Soundtrack.

From August until New Years I quit drinking, save two occasions socially, and
smoked copious amounts of weed, which above all was what Id waited for. At last!
Weed! Beautiful, glorious weed! The feeling of smoking weed without the fear of having
to piss in a cup was more refreshing than that first cup of coffee after my last PT test,
more of a rush than that first Coke on pass, as new as falling in love with the ocean at
Cornoado Beach, and as mind-blowing as that first blow job out of jail. All at once.
Five months of solid dank, and what seemed the epic scope of my brief but
cantankerous life was made wonderful in that way, so that the story was no longer about
pulling myself out of a hole, because I was now out of the hole, my ten-year odyssey of
adolescence finally coming to its close. The next story, I imagined, would be how I
ascend the mountain.
But Im not finished. On account of my being honorably discharged earlier than
when my contract was up the Army informed me nearly two years after I took my last

205

steps on Herrera Hall that I owed them money, specifically $1300 worth of the GI Bill Id
blown during junior college, but because they waited so long, by the time the notice got
to me theyd already tanked my credit and reported me to the Treasury Department, so
there was that. I also still need to finish the MFA, to get my civil rights restored, my
felonies expunged. There is still more to do before I can truly say its over.
There was a time when every night Id fall asleep crying until my head hurt
because I thought my life was never going to get better, that I would never rise above the
mistakes of my idiot days and attain a better place. Those nights would end with me
waking up with the same tired mind as before, and without answers.
Now every night as I lay in bed I hear Dads voice. Faded. Calming. Just beyond
the bedroom door in the hallway. Telling me, Good job, son. Im proud of you.
And right before I fall to sleep Ill replay my very favorite daydream, the one
where I hold Camille close to me at the waist, and shes pointing and laughing. Look!
Look! she says, in the direction of our young son, who runs across chatty wet rocks into
the strong arms of his grandfather.
I am watching the changing waters of the river, foamy white, descend to their
place. Pocket my free hand. My son and my father are laughing as they embrace and
Camilles head nestles gently into my chest. We are where it is morning and is always
morning. The high desert birds sing and the whole earth without is silent with the chatter
of life. Open your arms to me, too! I want to call to them, but under the warm American
dawn I am content and there is nothing more to worry about.
I am so very happy to be home.

206.

And sometimes when Im driving home from Flagstaff Ill feel the sharp dips on
the Interstate and remember Dads tan shirt, and the dry wind under my arms as I held
them up high, palms and fingers spread, to intensify the sensation.

One day while at home, as I mulled over what I was going to do with my thesis
now that I, at last, could write one, after getting super duper ripped from some bong hits I
had the idea to write an Interactive Memoir, and the title of it would be--

BZZZRAKK!!!
MCCONAUGHEY.
!

What the hell was that?

HARRELSON.

The Reader! Theyve created a paradox!

MCCONAUGHEY.

Impossible!
HARRELSON.

What do we do?
MCCONAUGHEY.

!
!
!

!
!
!

What can we do? Its over. The multiverse is

collapsing. The paradox...its some kind of
metafictional, self-referential force of object!
HARRELSON.

Explain. Explain quickly.

207

MCCONAUGHEY.
!
!
!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!
!
!

The author, while in the book, has referenced the

book, which the author wrote, but the author has
guided the reader into referencing it themselves,
as the author, through a proverbial reader,
and...well, figuring it out might take forever
actually.
HARRELSON

Look! Over there! The Reader!

JESSE

Oh no you dont!

Jesse kung-fus Harrelson and McConaughey and grabs you by the arm. You have
fallen out of the QURM and are in a slight daze.
JESSE
!
!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!
!

Dont worry. I created the paradox. I just led

you to it so you could get us the fuck out of
here. Thank God youre an unreliable narrator.
Without that kind of flexibility we risked
falling into postmodernism...
YOU

Whats going on?

JESSE

!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!

Those assholes held me against my will. Look, Im

really sorry if any of that back there was weird
at all, the drugs and sex and what have you,
but-ILT GOON.

Look! There they are! After them!

208.

JESSE
!

Shit! Come on. I think this is the way out!

The two of you run down the hall, towards the nearest door. A pack of ILT Goons
are chasing you. The words THE FICTION DEPARTMENT appear in bright bold
orange letters above the door at the end of the hall. Jesse tries to open it. Its locked. He
rams into the door with his shoulder. You ram it with your shoulder. Just before the ILT
goons catch up to you, you both ram the door at the same time with both of your
shoulders, opening it, and fall into existential limbo. Ahhhhhhhh!

STOP.
Repeat out loud your trustees words of advice from the beginning
of the program to break out of the existential literary limbo.

At this time play Donny Yer A Poseur on the Choose Wisely Soundtrack.

Suddenly youre falling from the sky into a volcano. It is likely you are
screaming. Jesse grabs you by the arm and pulls the cord his parachute. You did not
realize until then that you had a jet pack on. Both of you do, and must traverse the
gigantic ash clouds of the volcano to safety. The two of you head east and are intercepted
by a pack of flying zombie monkeys. Youre fighting them off with laser guns when out
of thin air appears this gigantic airship shaped like a banana. Your hi-tech boots
magnetize to it and you fight off the monkeys. At some point the two of you make your
way into the banana ship, which then takes off into outer space at light speed, crash

209

landing on an icy planet. You are then teleported, against your will, to a gigantic,
underground secret headquarters, where John Malkovich sips a gin and tonic as he pets a
big fluffy cat. You and Jesse are trapped in a gigantic forcefield.
MALKOVICH.
!
!

!
!

Jesse Valencia, you fucking moron. Did you really

think youd escape?
JESSE.

!
!

!
!

Malkovich! I knew The Maker was you, you

diabolical fiend.
MALKOVICH.

!
!

!
!

Yes, Malkovich, and Im going to fuck you up for

destroying my precious creation.
JESSE.

!
!

!
!

The Qurm was your idea? I ought to kill you just

for thinking it up!
MALKOVICH.

!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!

You, the both of you have been in the QURM this

whole time. How else could fiction and real life
exist simultaneously in memory? Quantum memory
sequencing makes this possible. Dont you see?
JESSE.

What is it youre after, Malkovich?

MALKOVICH.

!
!
!

!
!
!

The world, Mr. Author. The world. Imagine our

entire civilization based in the principles of
The Qurm. Every soul sequenced to another.
JESSE.

Youre insane.

210.

MALKOVICH.
!
!
!

!
!
!

Am I? The 21st Century will be the most

frightening humanity has ever faced, Valencia, or
should I say Valencha?
JESSE.

Fuck you.
MALKOVICH.

!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!

Ah, yes. Fuck me. My Institute of Literary

Technology will be there to service every
searching souls need for fantasy, for escape.
This is my kingdom, loser. I am in control now.
JESSE.

Theres one thing youre forgetting, asshole.

MALKOVICH.

Oh? Whats that?

JESSE.

This is still our fucking book!

Both yours and Jesses eyes glow red, blue, and yellow in lightning-fast
sequences as blisters and boils form all over Malkovichs body. Malkovichs stomach
grows quickly, larger and larger until Jesse screams and it explodes. Guts, blood, flesh,
stomach acid and poo fly all over the place. Malkovichs corpse falls forward. Blue goop
seeps from Malkovichs exposed gums. Jesse examines the back of Malkovichs neck.
There is a serial number and barcode etched into the dead mans flesh signaling that
Malkovich is, in fact, a product of the Parody Department.

211

JESSE.
!
!

!
!

Ill be damned. Malkovich was telling the truth.

We are still in the Qurm!
YOU.

What do we do?
JESSE.

!
!

!
!

Theres only one thing to do. Only one way out.

The death of the author.
YOU.

What?
JESSE.

!
!
!
!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!
!
!
!

Its a Barthes thing. Some shit I learned in grad

school. Look, the Qurm needs both of us to work,
but I created it, and the paradox, so I must be
destroyed if youre to carry on, but after Im
gone, Reader, youll only have one chance to get
out. Dont worry about me. Ill be all right. But
I need you to trust me.
YOU.

This is crazy. Jesse, no-JESSE.

See you on the other side.

YOU.

NO!

Out of thin air a gun materializes in Jesses hand. He puts it to his head and pulls
the trigger. After his brains spray all over the place he flickers and disappears.

212.

Suddenly everything around you disintegrates. The Meta-Reality of the Qurm has
been completely destabilized. There is now only one way out of this for you.

NOTE: If you do not complete the following exercise, a part of you will be
trapped in sub-quantum chaos forever, and youll never really be a whole person.
Therefore, to ensure your continued existence as a full human being, it is advised
that you complete the exercise to the best of your ability.
In order to complete the simulation and finish the book, use as many words
as you have unlocked to reconstruct a memory of your own. It can be a poem,
essay, short story. Whatever you wish. Inserting your text into the actual pages of
the book will stabilize the QURM just long enough for you to escape. Insert your
working title in the white space below either before or after writing your draft. You
do have the option of listening to the whole CHOOSE WISELY soundtrack
without interruption as you complete the exercise.

213

Name:
Title of Piece:
GTAC Code:
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214.

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215

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216.

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217

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218.

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219

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220.

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221

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222.

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223

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224.

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225

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226.

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Once your text is finished, Re-Insert Your GTAC code
into the QURM Interface to log out of the QURM.

____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____

227

Once your code is written in you are automatically ejected from the Qurm
Interface. You feel incredibly sore and light-headed. An arm helps you up. You look up
and its Jesse, who is not the Author, and who has brought you a chair.

JESSE.
Here you go. You okay?

YOU.
Thanks. I thought you were dead.

!
!

JESSE.
Dead? Oh no. That was just one version of me. Was
he convincing?

YOU.
Which version is talking to me now?

JESSE.
You never mind that. Cigarette?

!
!

YOU. (circle one)

YES or NO.
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
1

!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!

JESSE.
You see, _____________1 , this was a story that was
in me and!needed out. We live in interesting
times, you know. In my day I often heard my
generation called the Me generation, and lets
face it. Its true, and there needs to be a
literature that reflects that kind of spirt of
the times. Im about me. Youre about you. So, to
make you about me, you need to make me about you,
and us, as a we, together, are responsible for
building that new literature, and thereby a new
culture, for the future mes, yous, usses
and wes of the world. Weve got to make new
things. Break apart the old forms. Think of them
in new ways. Ive done my part. Youve done
yours. You did it, Reader. You fucking did it!
You achieved Interactive Literary Objectivity!
You took what was a book and made it into a
literary object, that is entirely your own! The

Insert your own name into the blank spaces provided.

228.

!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!

Institute will be very pleased. I, for one,

really like where were going in this artistic
relationship. Tell me, ______________, what are
your thoughts?
YOU.
______________________________________________
______________________________________________
______________________________________________
______________________________________________
______________________________________________
______________________________________________

!
!

And then you say something like, so thats it?

JESSE.
Oh no. Theres more to the story. The Qurm is
based in a ten-year span, remember? Im not going
to gyp you of what happened after I got off
probation. Theres still five months left. Here.

!
!
!
!

!
!
!
!

Jesse hands you a USB cable. Each of you, respectively, holds one end to the

inside of your left ears.

INTERACTIVE LITERARY OBJECT CREATED!

LOADING BONUS SCENE...

THIS SIDE OF PURGATORY.

Directed by Christopher Nolan
Loading...Loading...

229

It wasnt until I got to 2014s AWP Conference in Seattle that things finally

started to feel like they were coming together. My first field trip since Astro Camp. First
time staying in a hostel. First time using an umbrella. First time being on my own, out in
the world, doing adult things with other adults, without someone breathing down my
neck, whether it be an Army sergeant or a Probation Officer, or whoever. Sneaking onto
the roof by way of the fire escape. Scoring weed off world travelers from Barbados, from
kids in front of bars downtown, teaching married, respectable women how to twerk in
upscale hotel rooms. I was happy, I felt good, and I was stoned.
The only time Id ever been in Seattle, Dad said over the phone as I waited to
board my plane, and Ill never forget it. I was looking out over the ocean, and there was
this really quiet fog over the water, and I felt like I was standing on the edge of
something...
Without my professor and mentor Nicole Walker1 I never wouldve got to this
point. She let me know while we were all in Seattle that the Interactive Memoir was on
track to be a solid thesis, which was a huge relief for me. Either it was going to be good
or it was going to suck, I thought, there can be no in between.
The conference also gave me the opportunity to establish friendships with the
other grad students in ways that I longed for, beyond the workshop classroom. Because of
my legal situation, my residency had been restricted to Show Low, and I had to commute
to Flagstaff twice and sometimes three times a week for class. I didnt have the luxury of
being in the community, participating in events, getting to know everyone, but over that

Cameron Diaz

230.

weekend I got that chance, and I realized that I wasnt alone in my struggle. Every single
one of us had something going on that we struggled with, and after I figured that out I felt
so stupid. Id been jealous without reason, really, to be so arrogant as to think nobody
knew what I was going through. Everyone knew what I was going through, they just
understood it in different ways. You can learn a lot if you humble yourself, and keep your
eyes and ears open.
Overall the Conference was a blast and for once, in the whole decade Id been
trying to go to college, I felt like I belonged there, that I was doing something good, that I
deserved it. That, yes, I deserved success, but only deserved it. I hadnt gotten it yet.
The last day of the conference I met up with my friend Jesse Moreno1, a fellow
leftist pal of mine from back home whod moved to the Northwest some years back and
helped organize Occupy Seattle. He showed me a bit of downtown, until we came to
Westlake Park, where part of the protest took place.

EXT. WESTLAKE SQUARE, SEATTLE. NIGHT.

The sidewalk is wet from rain and smells like heaven.
!
!
!

!
!

MORENO.
...a real experiment in democracy. There was
people all through here. !
JESSE.

Sounds awesome.

MORENO.
It was, man. It was.

Chris Evans

231

A well-dressed black man1 approached, stumbling a little, and asked if he could

tell us a joke. I was hesitant at first, but followed Morenos lead. We were in a jovial
mood and thus obliged him, and after he said the punchline we laughed, despite my not
hearing what it was. We roared with laughter as the man walked away, the two of us
smoking on the steps of Westlakes permanent stage, towards the north side of the park.
The man stopped walking away, turned around, and approached us again, this time with
sunken cheeks and tired eyes.

!
!

!
!

STRANGE MAN.
Would yall mind if I sat and talked with you a
while?

MORENO.
Sure, man! Of course. Come sit down.

!
!

STRANGE MAN.
Thank you. If you dont mind, Ive got something
on my chest.

JESSE.
What is it? Whats up?

Im a wreck.

!
!

STRANGE MAN.

And then he starts crying as he talks.

!
!
!
!
!
!
!
1

!
!
!
!
!
!
!

STRANGE MAN.
Im a drunk. I abandoned my wife. My son. Back in
North Carolina. I aint seen my son in nearly
eleven years. I dont know what to do. I had a
terrible life growing up. This was back before
the civil rights. Kids would chase me through the
woods. Throw bags of piss and shit at me, yelling
get that nigger, you know...

Forrest Whitaker

232.

JESSE.
North Carolina? Whatre doing out here?

!
!
!
!

STRANGE MAN.
I work in aviation, over there at the Seatac.
Flying is my passion, you see, but I cant do it.
Im not good at that kinda stuff, but its my
passion.

JESSE.
Why dont you go see your son?

STRANGE MAN.
I cant! He wont talk to me!

The man sobs. A white cop, hearing the mans commotion, comes to see what is

!
!
!
!
!

the matter. Moreno doesnt say it but I can sense him going on the defense.

COP.1
Is this guy bothering you?
MORENO.

No, sir.

JESSE.
Were just having a conversation.
COP.

Uh-huh.

The cop leaves. The man continues his sob story of guilt, regret, all the mistakes

hes made, and he thanks us for hearing him out and is just about to leave when...

Bradley Cooper

233

JESSE.
!

Hold it.

Yes?

JESSE.
Whats your name, man?

STRANGE MAN.
Roosevelt. Roosevelt Davis, Jr.

!
!

JESSE.
Okay. Roosevelt, could you sit back down a
minute.

STRANGE MAN.

!
!

Moreno looks at you puzzled. Roosevelt sits.

!
!

!
!

JESSE.
All of this that you just said has made me
realize something.

ROOSEVELT.
What do you mean?
JESSE.

!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!

!
!
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!
!
!
!
!
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!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!

Here you are, telling me there is no worth in

you. I see it, Roosevelt. I see that there is
good in you. I see your remorse. I feel your
pain, man, I was there! Look, I might look like
some kid just walking around but the truth is we
all have a struggle, and mine was to get here. To
feel this. To talk to you. Ten years ago I
dropped out of a full ride scholarship so I could
party, so what did I do? I joined the Army, and
what did I do with my money from that? I partied
some more. Well, that landed me in one fucking
hell of a mess, and it made my life shit, but you
know what? Ive learned something, Roosevelt. I
was told by an old man once, without God in your
life, you will fail, and I didnt know what he
meant at the time because Im not religious or
spiritual or anything, but he told me that, and
see, a few years later I got really, really drunk
and I hurt some people. Left me with a bum leg

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and tens of thousands of dollars I had to pay,

not to mention I couldve fucking died. I
couldve easily, easily given up right then and
there, and killed myself, you know? I couldve
done it. But thats not an option, Roosevelt.
Thats not the way out. The way out of a hole is
by climbing. Digging. You make it right. The
prosecutor said I didnt deserve success,
Roosevelt, but I do. I fucking do. Im here. Im
in Seattle! Having the time of my life with my
new friends, and they struggle too. I am here,
and for the first time in five years I dont have
to look over my shoulder. I dont have to stress
about if Im going to pay my fines and
restitution on time. Im here, Roosevelt, and
youre here, and Morenos here. Were all here,
okay? Look at me, Roosevelt. Look at me, and
listen closely.

By this time both Roosevelt and I are bawling our eyes out. I place both of my

hands firmly on his shoulders, grab his cheeks, and position his face so that hes looking
me in the eye.

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JESSE.
As long as there is breath in you, you have the
power to make your life better. Its not easy,
and you cant do it without help, and thats what
I think the old man meant.

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ROOSEVELT.
Youve shown me grace. You listened to me. Really
listened to me. Who am I? Im just some nobody.

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JESSE.
Youre not nobody, Roosevelt. Shut the fuck up.
Youre not nobody.

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ROOSEVELT.
Now hear me out, just a minute. I said youve
shown me grace. You see good in me where I see
none. And youve let me vent to you. You didnt

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turn me away. You didnt call me nigger. You

listened to me. I tell you, Im sober as a bird.
After listening to you speak the truth to me like
that, I can feel I want to change! Do you people
hear me? I know what Im gonna do. Im going to
go home and call my son! And Im gonna tell him
all about you nice folks. Youve changed an old
mans heart, son. You hear me? Take that back
with you, to wherever it is youre from.

JESSE.
I will. Bring it in, brother.

And when I said brother, this time I really meant it, and he cried into my
shoulder, and when he sobbed I looked to Moreno, who watched the whole thing from the
concrete stage, and nodded his approval. After about a minute of that Roosevelt
composed himself and wiped his eyes.

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ROOSEVELT.
Thank you, sirs, for hearing me out. Letting me
vent.

MORENO.
Of course, man. Of course.

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ROOSEVELT.
Hey! Before I go, do yall want to go get a
drink?

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JESSE.
I appreciate it, man, but I dont drink much
these days, and its getting late. Ive got to be
getting back to the hostel.

MORENO.
Yeah, man. I actually need to split, too.

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ROOSEVELT.
Oh, thats all right. Do you mind if I tell you a
joke, then?

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236.

And then he told the same joke he met us with. We obliged him and laughed again
and watched him walk away, sober as a bird, into the Seattle night. I can say then with a
good deal of certainty that I knew what failure was, but until I saw it in Roosevelts eyes I
realized I did not know what success meant.
Success is giving other people hope. You pull yourself out of your hole so you can
reach back and help the people behind you.
Once back in the hostel I was able to hold it in until I got to the shower. Once the
water hit me I fell against the side and slid to the floor, thumbing the scars on my leg,
squeezing my flesh, watching as my tears spin down a drain, along with my prejudice,
my fear, my guilt, and my arrogance, to wherever it is drains in Seattle carry water.

The next night I went out onto the Bremerton Ferry. Id never been on a ferry, and

the thought of being on the ocean beyond the safety of the beach absolutely thrilled me. It
was cold and wet on the docks. As the crowd huddled onto the machine I pretended like I
knew where I was going, what I was doing. Once in my seat, bursting with inspiration I
wrote a couple poems.

237

Drinking Fog
I live, at last, to take all of this in,
a sea breathing blackened breezes. Squeeze
the giving moments present. #EpicWin
Chuckle thru struggle. Take it from this chinstrapped juggler. Fake a violin wheeze
and live, at last, to take all of this in
by parachute umbrella. Ill take the ship for a spin
repenting sins burgundy scented to get at what
the giving moment may present. #EpicWin
Distant spaces fog faded, thick as marmalade gin.
My tonic whispers from a jagged fin and
I live, at last, to take all of this in.
I know Ill have earned every accolade,
every waking dream rain parade, blessed by
a giving moments presence. #EpicWin
Hear me hear you thru guilt, fear, and skin.
Know me, know you. Content, therein do
I live, at last, to take all of this in.
The giving moment. I am present. #EpicWin

238.

The Sea Bird

Forward tilts the arbored bough
in fawning grey boots, descends toward
earth to catch the Sea Birds claw
as she makes her route to Michigans wake
These fawning grey boots descending
touch snow capped yellow bloom
as the Sea Bird makes for Michigans wake
she glides cross fluttery spume
the harbor ships chip, to great depths sink,
while pink musk smears the sky
the Sea Bird glides cross the spume to drink
of the lake dusks rusty eye
While pink musk smears the sky I watch
And taste the sweetened glow
And by the lake dusks rusty eyes I try
To figure out where she goes
Yes, I taste the static, sugary glow
when I catch the Sea Birds claw
and the lake dusks rusty eyes withdraw
from the tilted arbored bough

239

Eventually the ferry started to move and it was time to pretend, so I ran to the

front of the ship. Lift anchor! Ready sails! Tally ho! With my guilt, my struggles, my
failures, and America all behind me the ferry launched into the Puget Sound. The mist
soaked my shoes and clothes. I held tightly to the rail furthest from safety, but the ferry
was heavy, filled with cars, people, electricity, gasoline. Poseidon could blow me no
further, so even though it hurt my leg to do it, I stood on the bottom bar of the rail,
opened my arms, and let the sea blast against me. I closed my eyes tightly so I could hear
the sea birds and drink the fog.
!

When I opened them, arms spread wide like a Christ, or like Leonardo DiCaprio

in Titanic, I could see, as my father did all those years ago when he was my age, that I
was standing on the edge of something.

LOADING CHAPTER LAST...

THE SUN ALSO SETS.

Directed by Robert Zemeckis
Loading...Loading...

240.

About a month after Seattle Dad called to tell me that Grandma Josie was dying.
There was not enough time or money to fly me out there to see her, which had been our
plan for the summer after my rights were restored. After I graduated. After this, after that,
but death does not wait for after.
I was able to tell her I loved her and that I hoped to see her soon the night before
she passed. She could not say it back to me. Whatever it was that got her spread quickly
and rendered her mute.
One guilt resolved, another born. I wasnt going to see her before she died
because I was still climbing out of my hole. As those around me carried on with their
lives, so they carried on with their ends. They held her funeral and buried her in the hills
of West Virginia, out in the mountains where she raised my Dad, where her parents raised
her, and so on all the way back to the first Appalachian settlers, just as my fingers reached
the edge.

The publisher from Portland gave me the go ahead to announce that my book on
The Brian Jonestown Massacre was slated for a late 2015/early 2016 release. That April
Gorky opened for the BJMs tambourine player Joel Gion and his new band The Primary
Colours at the Orpheum Theater in downtown Flagstaff, a week later we were back in the
recording studio, and on May 6th, three days before graduation, I received this from my
lawyer:

241

242.

Immediately I told Nicole. My quirky guru. My big-hearted, level-headed earth

angel, who taught me the tools I needed to make it happen, just as Dad taught me how to
be a man, just as Dunlap taught me to be a soldier, as Arges taught me hate, as Camille
taught me love, as jail taught me the meaning of failure, and as Roosevelt taught me the
meaning of success. It is all one thing, and thats life, and I see now that life is more than
just series of steps, one to the other, in prolonged succession. It is also a road unfolding,
or a map that draws itself as time goes on. Everything we do affects it. There really are
infinite paths.

I just hope you choose yours wisely, Reader.

Here.

Take the wheel.

243

~GAME OVER~

If you selected EASY nothing happens because youre lame.

If you selected NORMAL you have unlocked Vigilante Mode. Flip back to the first
page and write VIGILANTE underneath HARD. If you decide to replay Choose
Wisely: The Interactive Memoir and select Vigilante Mode, for the duration of the
program unlimited stamina, health, magic, and laser vision are unlocked.

If you selected HARD you have unlocked different avatars for JESSE. Roam the Qurm
as Soldier Jesse, Musician Jesse, Collegiate Jesse, In-A-Pissed-Suit Jesse, Inmate Jesse,
and Hipster-Jesse-In-Daisy-Dukes. You have also unlocked the bonuses associated with
NORMAL mode.

Congratulations on completing the program.

We hope to hear from you again soon.

Sincerely,
The Institute of Literary Technology

244.

Hold it.
Did you remember to spot Jesses pre-determined genetic traits in his
decision-making and/or life in general? List them below to unlock a special
prize. Your involuntary participation will help us work closer to resolving
the free will fallacy. Thank you .
_____________________________________________________________
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_____________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________
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_____________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________
All done?
PRIZE UNLOCKED!
Go To The Next Page To Receive Your Prize
At this time play In My Own Time on the Choose Wisely Soundtrack.

245

THE END.

246.

Jesse Valencia will return...

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248.

About the Author/Artist/Programmer/Musician/Etc.

Jesse Valencia is a veteran, ex-convict, musician, and professional student. He attends
Northern Arizona University and at the time of writing is about two days from graduating
with his Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing, at which point his Odyssey will be over.