Caw. Caw.

“Aiming to”—because Matt still remembered well when he used to cut his hair with scissors. His black nail polish, his lipstick phase. He was a faggot in a 800-pound suit. Matt knew the core of him. He wasn’t letting go of that, not easily.

Matt lay on his back on his bed in his flat, picking memories sweatily off his damp fingertips. “Investment banking”. “I-Banking”, for those in the know. Sounded like Eye Banking. A safe full of sclera. Matt had been “eye banking” the boys down in Hulme Park in the backwash swill of 0200 Saturdays, pocketful of lorazepam to take the edge off. On about 3 to 3 and a half milligrams of lorazepam he started to really feel good about cruising, he’d catch a rhythm and a glide, prowling the bushes and benches like a sickass panther, a sickass shark, deep sailing over the continental rift.

Mello had an advanced degree; Matt had an appointment at the free clinic on Nell Lane. Mello got a promotion and Matt got chlamydia. Matt got a prescription. Matt got antibiotics for his burning stream.

soo yup! 😬 couple scenes i had in mind for jean's weeklong death honeymoon:

almost immediately he starts getting mailers for a reactionary right-wing hate group (like MRA meets measurehead's whole shtick). and jean's like "these people are fucking vile but i am also vile" and starts attending basement meetings for kicks, a la marla in fight club. and part of what gets him to live again is the gradual realization that these bunch of losers are actually planning something kind of dangerous and if he returns to the RCM he can do something about it

there's a scene where he cuts himself and then tries to go to the hospital but when he gets there the hospital is literally on fire and burning down. so he faints in front of some civvies and gets first-aid from a ping-pong coach using spare gym socks. and then just goes home.

i actually started writing this but only got like 80 words in. but here's how the start of the doc looks: