Hey, Gothboy Called Today

bookmarking, RJB.

Give us a hint where he is now, rjb.

Hi, Eva and Letty. You two have never met Gothboy. I don't think he has ever been sitting on y'alls' doorstep in TX or FL when you left your houses in the morning. I'm confident that, if you did find him there, you would treat him kindly.

I have no idea where the boy is. When he called me he was talking so damned fast my ears couldn't keep up. He called back and talked to Lisa. She is much closer to his age but she couldn't really add any information as to where he is or what he is up to. She's only met him once, when he came through town a year or so ago. She's black and not at all into the goth scene. She described him at the the time as being "unusual."

I think he may be in a city rather than a small town in AK, but I certainly may be wrong. You may want to peer through your curtains tomorrow morning before you go out to pick up the newspapers.

I did hear his reference to "his friend's cellphone."
That's intriguing. Gothboy is, well, goth, but he is by no means so sad that he can't relate to other people. He's hitched around the country, racking up thousands upon thousands of miles and he knows what is expected of him.

He has never mentioned the word "friend" before. I'm wondering who this person might be.

***
Again, this is an attempt at a group writing effort.
Anyone is welcome to join in. Introduce a character, a scene, a story-line that we can play with. -Johnboy-

So Gothboy called me this evening. From Dayton, Ohio. And guess what? Gothboy is in LOVE!
He babbled on at length about Katie.
Anybody interested in hearing more about the kid?

Absolutely, John. My way of marking.

Hi...Let me go over the concept again. It sure doesn't seem to be working so far but I'm going to keep trying.
Someone starts a story; a story that has a thread of a plot and a character or two. The idea is that other writers advance the plot, flesh out the existing characters or introduce new ones.
In my mind this is a cool idea because you, the writer, don't have to come up with a complete story with all of the characters and plot finished.
We had one very long and enjoyable romp through this a year or two ago. Each evening I came home to find some bizarre twists in the story. But I have never been able to replicate that.
***
I use Gothboy as my start for this story. He actually goes way back to the original tale I mentioned. I like using him because he travels around a lot and he has good eyes and a fine ear.
He can very easily disappear from a story if it ends up going in a different direction. He doesn't mind; he wouldn't mind at all.
So here we go:

***
Gothboy's in LOVE. Katie is just the coolest person he has ever met.
He was hitching out of Houston--not an easy city to get out of by thumb. He had spent a week or two there but, as he told me when he last called, never felt real comfortable with that place. He couldn't explain why.
Anyway, he was on the edge of the road, hitching and not really caring where he is going. And Katie stops.
Her hair is long and black with streaks of red over her forehead and down towards her ears. Not natural black or natural red, but hair dyed like Gothboy often did but now only sometimes does. He ususally no longer has the time or the money or the place to do that.
Katie is a Junior at the University of Dayton. She's heading back there after Spring Break spent with her family in Houston.
She drives fast but well on the Interstate. Above the the speed limit, of course, but not so much above as to be singled out for speeding. Gothboy is comfortable and very happy when he hears the music: his kind of music. They talk and they laugh. They laugh a lot.
Eventually, Katie asks him if he would drive for a few hours. He agrees and she curls up in the back seat. He doesn't tell her that he doesn't actually have a valid driver's license. It's not that he can't drive; it's just that when you don't live anywhere, you never get around to doing things like getting a driver's license or registering to vote or filing tax returns.
Gothboy drives at 65, getting passed by every car and all but the heaviest of trucks.
He listens to the tapes that Katie has, keeping the volume down low
Heading to Dayton and Gothboy is happy.

***
My challenge to you is: tell me more about Houston, Katie, hitching, the Interstate, heavy trucks, or Dayton...or anything else. -rjb-

I am nuts for Gothboy. I've read lots of them, and I could read a whole book of Gothboy stories, RJB. I'm going to write a story that follows on Katie and Gotboy in a few minutes.

It was coming up to 2 am when Gothboy called me to-day. Well, Katie called me, but gothboy has a little habit of taking the phone away and telling me what was up, asking little questions as he goes along.

I met Katie in Tokyo. I was teaching English over there, and she was learning Japanese on a year out. They bunked us together and we spent the eight months so. Katie was a sweet girl. She was timid, yes, but she was up for any adventure. I remember going to every metro stop with her, then getting out to look at the lights. It was her favourite way to see the city.

Anyway, Gothboy and Katie are fine. Katie left for her long summer break five weeks ago. Gothboy blew all his money, giving it to some woman who couldn't afford new knickers, and so Katie thought she'd have nothing to do that summer. Before she got on the old Greyhound bus back to Houston, there was Gothboy, in a lorry. It had 'Blissful Krieger's kosher furniture' on the side. Katie jumped on in and saw that there was another guy with Gothboy. An old cowboy of a man, called Winking Joe. He used to play minor out in the sticks of Tennessee. That was years ago. Lately, he'd been farming up in Iowa. Well, he saw Gothboy looking there blankly on the Interstate, and picked him up, said he could borrow the lorry if Gothboy did a little job for him in Memphis.

They're hawking Elvis memorabilia down there, Katie and Gothboy. They couldn't be happier, Gothboy said, and living in the houses of people kind enough to give them a break. When they can get nowhere to sleep, they just lie under the stars.

It's a lovely summer. Every day, they set out a stall, full of Elvis figurines and cups that Winking Joe made in his spare time. Winking Joe really liked Elvis. When he heard a few songs, he got that chill down his spine. He remembered his youth again, dancing in a dusty saloon on 26th street. Bittersweet to remember it now.

Katie always looked up to me. She wanted to know whether she should die her hair blonde. I said, 'leave it, my friend, just let it be.'

drom, I'm abolutely astounded that anyone would or could dredge up a topic from almost six months ago that only had eight posts, half of which were mine. And it's an incredible coincidence that we two A2ker's happen to know two of the same people: Katie and Gothboy. Small world, isn't it?
***********

Gothboy did call me a couple of times from Dayton. Once in early April and again in mid-May. He didn't mention Katie by name. We were talking about some other things. I suspected that something was going on. It was a bit uncharcteristic for Gothboy to spend a lot of time in one place and Dayton would be particularly unlikely.
Anyway, he did call me from Memphis and told me much the same story that he and Katie told you, drom. I'm glad that you got a chance to talk with him, even if he did interrupt Katie. Gothboy can talk up a storm, can't he?
Katie was asleep when he called me so I have yet to meet her but thanks for filling me in on her background.
Gothboy told me that Katie's parents are a bit miffed that she didn't come home to Houston for the summer and that she is spending the time instead in Memphis with a boyfriend. Have you met her folks, Drom? Gothboy hasn't and he overheard her telling them that his name was "Gary."
His real name isn't Gothboy, of course, but it also isn't Gary. He worked for me briefly so I do know his full name.
Gothboy said that they "happen" to be coming to Memphis in early August. That, he said, should be
wild.
Finally, Gothboy told me all about Winking Joe. What a fascinating life that guy has had which, with each repetition Gothboy and later Katie and Gothboy heard as they headed south, got increasingly embellished. -johnboy-

(Marking this for later. Looks like fun!)

Well, RJB, you know how much I love the idea ever since I read that Reagan post. I wasn't going to let it die or be ignored. I'll carry on adding here so that it remains somewhere near the top... I'm thinking about the next instalment as we speak/write.

Yes, it is weird (although, I admit, I know more of Katie than of Gothboy)-- but life has so many crossings that we all know of someone who knows someone...
(I look forward to seeing you write on this, Smog )

Um, yes, the Reagan post. Realjohnboy feverishly tries to go back through his computer's memory (no longer trusting his own memory) looking for a Reagan reference. He doesn't find one but that doesn't mean there isn't one somewhere.
I'm looking forward to your next post, drom. And welcome to smog. Give it a go, smog. -johnboy-

Joel Krieger's business failed for many reasons. There was never really a strong Jewish population in Iowa, so the demand for kosher furniture was low. The mere concept of kosher furniture puzzled many, since chairs and tables aren't the most edible of products. And Krieger was a German name; the simple farmers didn't know much about the world, but they knew enough to be skeptical, even if poor Joel didn't warrant it.

Krieger was never very blissful anyway. Maybe it was his business practice, maybe it was his past, maybe it was the bare surroundings. Everything about the name of his small shop seemed to lie to the potential customers. Most of the items inside weren't even original or unique; Joel found most of them at dusty antique stores, liquidation sales, or flea markets. Yes, he had made some mistakes with his business.

He was growing older. The only thing keeping him going these days was his frail wife, Laura. She had stuck by him in the days of their youth, when Joel frequented the bars of the big cities and wandered about trying to "find himself." He eventually decided that he had to calm down and get away from all the commotion; they moved west.

"Iowa," he said one day. "We can live the simple life."

Laura provided support to him throughout the years. She knew he was making mistakes, but she was rather passive and never mentioned it. Of course, only a passive person would have dealt with Joel in his earlier years. She was happy just to see him somewhat settled. And her presence kept him working, even on the bad days, of which there were many. But, she was eight years his senior, romanced by his youth a few decades ago, and her health started failing before his. She didn't last long, of course; no passive person does.

Krieger sold the house. He sold the store and left the furniture inside. He sold the lorry with the slogan "Blissful Krieger's kosher furniture" on the side to another aging and aimless man, Joe, who had a bizarre eye tick. Krieger didn't inquire about the muscle spasm, he didn't ask for Joe's last name, and he didn't point out the similarity between their first names.

The bus back east left town the next morning, and Joel was sitting in a window seat of the eleventh row.

I loved that, Smog. I told you that you would be a great story-teller. I look forward to seeing your piece of the puzzle again very much.

Because my computer is awful, I can't post a link to it, but if you type in Reagan, gothboy into your search, you'll find it. It was a topic simply called 'Gothboy,' with one response (mine,) and forty-four views.

Thanks so much. And I look forward to seeing your next one as well. And realjohnboy's next one. And any other stories written by anyone else who might like to give it a try.

I'm writing it right now.

The possibilities are great...

Here's your Reagan post:

Gothboy, my friend Gothboy, has been hanging out in DC for a month or so. He's called me a couple of times. He found some safe place to sleep at night and he has spent his days sitting in public places doing what he does well: watching; watching quietly.
He does draw a bit. I've given him a drawing pad and some 2B and 4B pencils but all I have ever gotten back from him is a sketch on the back of an envelope or some other piece of scratch paper, done probably with a Bic pen from a truck-stop somewhere.
He called me today, telling me that this "whole Reagan thing" was happening. "Tell me about Reagan," he said.
I tried hard to give as good a summary of the successes and failures of Mr Reagan's terms as I could, without my own bias as a very liberal Dem.

Gothboy knows that we have a cabin up in the mountains of western VA.
There is no indoor plumbing or electricity but it's a place where I love to go to. Could he go there for awhile, he asked. Sure, of course.

Gothboy asked me another question or two that I found perplexing. But I will pose those tomorrow.

Very, very good, smog!

I'm enjoying this.