ich habe die schnauze voll von ihm

Page Sixty-four

Tuesday 23 March 2010, Greenfield

Yes, I’m in Greenfield, but I was in Turners till about twenty-five minutes ago.

What I’m going to write here is the sort of thing I’ve usually put on the Sehnen blog, but today it’s going here.

About ten minutes ago, when I crossed the street from the bus stop, there was undercover man Lacoy, walking down the same stretch of sidewalk that I’d normally walk on. So I walked in the street. There we were, walking along beside each other, with maybe ten feet between us. I’d already had one of his walk-by’s at 10:30 this morning, one in which he kept quiet (for which I was grateful). But not this time. As we both walked along and I refused even to look at him, refused to leave the street and walk on the sidewalk, he gives me Hi in his idiot-voice. I ignore him. So he does it again. Louder.

For the last couple of weeks I’ve only been speaking to him in German. I have some cause to believe that he might understand German, though he never came out and said so. But when I used to go to his hovel, we’d talk about the various languages I’ve used in my blogs, and one night he asked me to talk to him in German, which I refused to do. But since he asked for German rather than any of the other languages, I thought he might have some knowledge there.

So… if you read the post I made on my website earlier today (it’s Page Twenty-two), you’ll know that I’m in very poor shape today. Poorer than usual. And undercover man Lacoy bothering me isn’t welcome on any day, but especially not now. So I yelled at him, and this is what I yelled: Ich glaube, ich kann nicht mehr hören.  And I pointed to my ear. Another man that I know for certain is a Matthew colleague, as Matthew once admitted it to me, heard me yelling and came back around the corner that he’d turned into a couple of minutes before. So, Lacoy left me alone after I finished yelling, and turned onto another street.

I think that finally, and this has only come about recently, I no longer love him. But I’ve said that to myself before, and it hasn’t turned out to be true. When I’ve seen him over the last two months, my reaction has been more like: that’s someone I used to love. I’m hoping that when I move back to Turners, he’ll be off on another big case (I say that with great derision). He told me himself that he’s the “best.” Whoever he works for,  he says himself that he’s the best. He told me in April last year that it was time for him to go, but he didn’t go. So go already. How can whatever organization you work for spare their best undercover guy on one assignment for over two years? Go already. Although there are some who’ve told me he’s been in Greenfield for years, so maybe here is his permanent assignment.

I don’t doubt that back in the day, when he said he did, this guy loved me. I spent a lot of time with him then, and I don’t believe, in the end, that it was more undercover shtik. I felt too much energy coming from him at times that was definitely love. But I’ve wrangled before in other blogs over what kind of love this was that he felt. Not the kind I need or want. Not the kind that can exceed his ego’s love for his job, and its love for the fact that he’s the best,  and its love for the thrill of catching the bad guys, what he called “fighting back.” It doesn’t seem to ever enter his mind that he and his colleagues have slithered so deeply into the muck to catch bad guys that they have become bad guys themselves.

(monkey at www.whatonearthcatalog.com)

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