#phrogging

Ever heard of phrogging? (Pronounced like frogging)

"The bathroom--it's perfect! You'll be able to live in decency and cleanliness...and no one will know."

This is so much fun. A made-for-TV classic adapted from the above Jack Vance novel, BAD RONALD stars Scott Jacoby (who would play the teen magician in THE LITTLE GIRL WHO LIVES DOWN THE LANE a few years later) as a nerdy outcast who accidentally murders a snotty little girl for making fun of him. His overbearing mother secrets him away within the walls of their house, where he's meant to live until some undefined future date when it's safe to come out. This day will never arrive, as his mother dies and leaves him all alone--that is, until Dabney Coleman moves his cute teenage daughters into Ronald's house. He decides to make one of them his bride, absorbing her into the fantasy world he has created in his mind.

I really wish the internet had more pictures of Ronald's deco-y fantasy art, which is pretty interesting! Genre film luminary Kim Newman suggests that novelist Jack Vance could possibly have drawn on the Parker-Hulme murder case for inspiration, which later provided the basis for Peter Jackson's HEAVENLY CREATURES. I can't vouch for exactly how likely that could be, but it's an intriguing notion. In any case, Ronald's outsider art career adds a cool splash of color to this weird, brisk little movie. I dug it.

It's amazing how almost nobody looks up. And why would they? Really. I mean, they're so wrapped up in their own bullshit.

I always see them come in, lugging books or bags, or both. First thing they do when they enter, all of them, is search the place with their eyes.

Is my favorite table taken? Is there a place with an outlet? I need my computer charged to 100% at all times. I want the window seat.

Most of them need it to be quiet. Students, mainly, but you get the occasional suit taking a break from the office, coming out to enjoy the crowd. But all of them, whoever they are, come to do work. So if it's too packed, too noisy, usually they'll leave without even bothering for a to-go coffee.

The rest stay. They claim real estate, spreading their belongings as widely as they can. In one chair, they'll drop their bag. In another, a jacket. They buy not just coffee but snacks, and they spread everything all over their tables just like you'd spread food on a blanket at a picnic, all over the damn place. I wonder how filthy their homes look, some of them, they leave behind such a god damn mess. I'm glad I don't have to clean it up. I just watch from up here.

Now, I said almost nobody looks up. Some do. But even then, you'd be surprised. They actually look away.

First time it happened I was new to it all. I'd just moved here. I'm sure you don't even notice it anymore, being from here and all, but to me, i thought it was funny. Everything's a repurposed warehouse, even the apartments. Maybe it's a city thing, I don't know. Either way, when I got here, the thing that got me was, why would you spend so much time renovating an old warehouse and just leave the ceiling like that? All beams and ductwork, iron and sheet metal, just hanging overhead. Looks dangerous, if you think about it, like the whole thing could collapse on you.

I mean, you clear out this big space, fill it with new furniture and redo all the brick. You install some new lights. Then you go and name the place some shit like Bodega Noir Coffee and Workspace to attract the hip clientele. But you never bother to change the old warehouse ceiling. You just slap a coat of black paint on the the overhang like you ran out of money at the last minute and you're hoping nobody looks up. Which, like I said, mostly they don't.

The first time someone noticed me, I was new, like I said. To be honest, I don't know what put the idea in my head. Mainly, I guess I just wanted to see if I could do it. I'd done some urbex before. I had some friends who'd done a little phrogging. You never heard of that? Look it up. It's wild. Anyway, I guess the idea just popped into my head thinking about all this stuff. I guess really I should tell you about how it happened the first time.

It was that big coffee shop by the railroad tracks. You know the big one with the small shops in the back? The one with the really high ceiling? Well I ended up there randomly. Turned out I'd shown up on a day when the shops were all closed. That whole back area was dark. Nobody around. I was about to head back to the counter and grab a cup of coffee when I realized how nobody was even looking up. Everyone had a laptop open looking so damned absorbed.

So I scaled the wall. Easy as shit. I had a little experience climbing. Like I said, urbex.

Anyway, I'm expecting someone to say something. I get all the way to the crossbeams and sit my happy ass down. Look down. Everyone's still got their faces in a computer screen. Not even the baristas noticed me. I sat there for a good while before I decided to hop down. Laughed it off. But the next day i went back and did it again. This time the shops were open. But the workers were all on their phones, or counting registers, or doing inventory. None of them noticed me.

Before long I realized that, so long as I found a good spot and didn't move too much, I could stay up in the ceiling pretty much all day, just sitting on the crossbeams, Indian Style as we used to say.

Now, I've always been quick. I saw the possibilities right away. I applied at a few of these coffee shops, stayed just long enough to learn the entry codes, or to make copies of the keys, then made up some excuse about a "big job" that I had to take, and split. From there, it was just a matter of showing up after everyone had left and I'd stay overnight in the place. In the morning, I'd watch the place fill up, then hop down and make friendly with the staff. I'm good with people. Most of them liked me. I got some free drinks out of that.

Anyway, the point is this: the first time someone actually saw me. That shit scared me, if I'm honest. But in a good way. Exhilarating, I guess, like skydiving. I've never been, but I can imagine.

So this place is like all the rest. Hip decor, big empty space, and those ugly warehouse ceilings with all the sheet metal ductwork and iron crossbeams. I'm up in the ceiling. I'm looking at this guy for some reason. He reminded me of someone. Suddenly, he looks up. We make eye contact. He sees me. I mean, no doubt in my mind he sees me. I freeze. I feel scared. Exhilarating. I think something's about to happen, right? He's gonna tell the baristas. Maybe he's gonna scream. Shit, maybe he'll pull out a gun, I don't know.

You know what he did? I mean I already spoiled it already, telling you earlier, but he didn't do anything. He just looked away. He pretended he didn't see me. I watched him first look out the window, then look back at his computer. He pretended to work for a few minutes. I didn't take my eyes off him. I couldn't. Finally, this guy looks around the shop. He gets up, stuffs his laptop into his bag, and gives me one last look. A quick one. Then he skedaddles. I mean, he knows I'm there and he doesn't even tell anyone.

What did I feel? Confused, yeah. But more, I was angry. I mean, that sorta person is just a liar, aren't they? He saw me, I know he did, and he told himself he didn't. He lied. I was so damn mad. I knew people were self-absorbed. But that shit really was another level.

Well, he never came back. I only ever saw him once more. And he saw me. And he couldn't pretend anymore. I made sure of it that time.

From then on, I found myself hoping that someone to look at me. I waited and waited for it to happen again. Sometimes I was sure someone was, but then I'd look and the person's eyes would be fixed on the computer screen. You can feel when someone's eyes touch you, you know. They've actually done studies. It's a real thing. I began to feel it, but I could never catch the person in the act. I realized after a while, that if I closed my eyes and paid real hard attention I could tell where the eyes were, the ones that were looking at me.

And so I began to pick them out, one by one. I'd wait for them to leave. They'd still be pretending not to see me. Just like I said before. Liars, all of them.

Most of them lived near the coffee shops they visited. They walked. I followed. I found where they lived. These old warehouses provide lots of cover. I came back after dark. You pick up a lot of little tricks for sneaking into places doing urbex.

And the rest you know. I plucked out the eyes. For lying. Because they looked right at me and looked away.

But what you want to know is where they are. You found the eyes. Where are the bodies? Haven't you been listening? God damn it. It's funny. People are a fucking joke.

Nobody ever looks up.