Flagging appetites always summon up the iridescent vision of variety. Someone else. There was a certain smallish cheerleader type who worked at the Unemployment Office who had mentioned that she bowled at Timberlanes on Thursday nights. Her face was pointed and her butt bobbed. Pistons. No, he thought, I got more than I can handle at home, a saw not less true for being so often repeated. Adultery was messy, both in the inevitably sneaky structure of carrying it off and in the emotional messiness that followed. He’d best keep his nose to the grindstone of the future. What about the grindstone of Patty, the Unemployment Office cheerleader and champ bowler? Probably a pretty grindstone. It was a bold man that ate the first oyster, his dad used to quote from Swift. An Apalachicola oyster. A Bélon. A Bon Secour. An ordinary Chesapeake. Today was Thursday. Make the soup and leave a note saying you’re having a drink with Cletis. Clete would cover. Sure he was with me, not that Diana would check. Call Patty and arrange arrival at lanes at last minute so as not to loiter with the dummies. Then to a tourist cabin where he would roger her little joints loose. His dick rose with his despair. It seemed the act of making a coda defiled the spirit of the coda.

Number Three. DO YOUR BEST IN EVERYTHING

This was easy, since he was doing nothing. But wasn’t readjusting the future a man’s work? Of course. It required infinite wit and intelligence. And the little things. His mother said do little things well like mowing lawns and washing cars and then you’ll be ready for the big things. Like marriage and job. He warmed to the idea that he was good at marriage and had been good at his job. And he was fast becoming quite the cook. Everything was all systems go for this great voyage into the future. The future or bust.

Number Four. GET IN FIRST RATE SHAPE

The chicken hash sat heavy in his gut. Jogging was corny. Perhaps long hikes in the outback alone with his dog. And gun. And compass. No snacks. Maybe a canteen of water. He took the Free Press to the bedroom and lay back with a dark sigh. Buy a set of weights. Do yoga exercises with Diana. Fuck her in one of those weird positions. Why had he thrown away his dirty magazines? Walk ten miles a day and learn the ways of nature. Row a boat all the way around Lake Leelanau. Thirty miles. Hudley would like the boat. Go from two hundred to one seventy-seven, an harmonious figure. Meet Patty in the woods. Eat yogurt. Eat raw deer meat. Eat cottage cheese. Snore.

Chapter 11

“You show all the symptoms of a classic depression.”