Tao Lin - Shoplifting From American Apparel

Sam woke around 3:30 p.m. and saw no emails from Sheila. He made a smoothie. He lay on his bed and stared at his computer screen. He showered and put on clothes and opened the Microsoft Word file of his poetry. He looked at his email. About an hour later it was dark outside. Sam ate cereal with soymilk. He put things on eBay then tried to guess the password to Sheilas email account, not thinking he would be successful, and not being successful. He did fifty jumping jacks. God, I felt fucked lying on the bed, he said to Luis a few hours later on Gmail chat. I wanted to fall asleep immediately but that is impossible. I need to fall asleep. Any second now. Just fall down asleep.

I played video games, said Luis. Perfect Dark. I killed people for two hours then I got bored. I know what you mean by impossible.

This is fucked, said Sam.

You know those people that get up every day, and do things, said Luis.

Im going to eat cereal even though Im not hungry, said Sam.

And are real proactive, said Luis. And like are getting things done, and never quit their jobs. Those people suck.

We get shit done too, said Sam. Look at our books.

I know, but that brings in no money, said Luis. Are we, like, that word bohemians. Or something. Our bios: They lived in poverty writing their masterpieces.

We are the fucked generation, said Sam. Someone release the press release announcing this. Look at that typo.

The word announcing was almost twice as long as normal.

Im laughing, said Luis. That is a good typo.

How do we get out of this, said Sam.

Their shoes were shit, they couldnt afford haircuts, they were stealing to stay alive, living off of strippers to create their art, but they believed that if they could write it something would happen, said Luis.

Who are they, said Sam.

They is us, said Luis.

Im alone, said Sam. What would happen if I started sniffing coke.

You would kill yourself in a panic attack.

Are you sure, said Sam.

You will be on coke trying to steal batteries and your mind wont be working properly and you will fuck up and someone will catch you and then you will go to jail.

Oh yeah, said Sam. I dont have to worry about money anymore, I just steal batteries.

Do people really buy batteries off eBay, said Luis.

Yes. I have undercut the competition. Walmart is crying.

Im going to watch cartoon porn, said Luis. No Im not. Im going to look at Indian women. Have you ever fucked an Indian girl.

No, said Sam. Native American or Indian.

You are awesome, said Luis. Is her picture online.

Im confused, said Sam. What are you talking about.

How did you meet her, said Luis.

No, I havent, said Sam. Youre confused.

What are you talking about, said Luis.

I havent had sex with one, said Sam.

Okay, said Luis. What are you talking about.

Luis, said Sam. What is happening. Its Saturday.

I think we are going insane, said Luis. From not being around people. We are starting to go inside ourselves, and play around inside of our own mental illness. That doesnt make any sense.

What should I eat, said Sam. I have two choices. Cereal or peanut butter bagel.

Cereal, said Luis.

I wanted the bagel. Im eating the bagel, I dont know why I asked.

Sheila didnt let you go over for leftovers, said Luis.

No, said Sam. I mean, we just didnt talk or something.

Are you serious. Is everything okay.

I dont know, said Sam. I woke up at 3:30.

I wont go to sleep until five in the morning, said Luis. We are fucked.

I woke at 10:30 then said this is fucked and went back to sleep, said Sam. I forced myself back to sleep.

Sheila wont talk to you, said Luis. Or is it because your cell phone broke.

No, said Sam. We just didnt talk since yesterday. We are like fighting or something. Or I just didnt email her or something.

When Marissa and I fight we lay on our sides for an hour in different rooms and wait for the person that was mean to come into the room and say they are sorry, then we existentially attack each other in very quiet voices, said Luis.

That sounds great, said Sam. Its only 11 p.m. What are we going to do for six hours.

Do you sometimes look up from the computer and look around the room and know you are alone, I mean really know it, then feel scared, said Luis.

Yes, said Sam. I really do that.

Should we kill ourselves now or start crying or punch ourselves in the nuts, said Luis.

What is wrong with us, said Sam. Should I email Sheila. Or wait until she emails me. I have no car, phone, bike. Im going to add more people on MySpace.

We are so weird, said Luis. We met online a year ago. And we are up a year later being weird as shit.

One year, said Sam. This is weird.

I feel like my chest is going to explode, said Luis.

Im adding random people on MySpace, said Sam.

I feel weird, said Luis. Like I was molested by my uncle or something. You are on the floor. With the blanket around you.

The blanket is over my head, said Sam.

Are we fucked, said Luis and got off the internet.

Sam stared at his computer screen. He lay on his bed. It was November. Sam was in a rural area of Pennsylvania. He had moved here from New York City a few months ago to be near Sheila. He rolled off his bed and looked at his computer screen. Luis was back. I just laid down and tried to cry, said Sam. I made a noise.

My computer took a shit for a second, said Luis.

I cant think, said Sam. Im going to do push-ups. What if Sheila and I break up. Id be so fucked.

You still like each other right.

Yeah, said Sam. I dont know.

I dont know what to do, said Luis. Do you wake up most days and your first thoughts are of literature, you go to sleep thinking about literature.

Yes, said Sam. That is all I think about. If Im having a shitty time with Sheilas mom I think about writing it in my novel later. I think about that the same time its happening.

When Im talking to someone I think can I use this dialogue in a book, said Luis. If the answer is no I try talking to someone else.

Has Marissa ever threatened to kill you, said Sam.

Oscar Wilde said that a genius is a spectator to their own life, to the point that the real genius is uninteresting, said Luis. No, Marissa has never threatened to kill me.

Oscar Wilde was stupid though, said Sam.

Yeah, youre right, said Luis. My chest is going to explode.

My face is going to float away from my skull, said Sam. To emo music.

What are we going to do, said Luis. We met each other in real life and didnt talk that much.

I dont know, said Sam. Publish more books.

Luis sent Sam a link to a porno site. I already masturbated, should I really do it again, said Sam. I already masturbated today also, said Luis. If you need to Ill go away. No, Im just looking a little, said Sam. Masturbation is an escape from literature, said Luis and emailed Sam a photo of a stripper.

Is she sweating, said Sam.

I think they oiled her down, said Luis.

Thats funny, I think, said Sam.

We have been sitting here all night bullshitting and we still dont know what to do, said Luis.

Im going to masturbate then do some other shit then try to sleep for like 20 hours, said Sam. Have a good night.

Have a good night, Im laughing, said Luis.

About four months later Sam was living with Sheila in a suburban area of Pennsylvania. He was alone in Sheilas mothers house drinking iced coffee and looking at his poetry on the computer screen. The room was sunny and Sam felt warm. He looked out the window at a compost pile and an aboveground swimming pool.

A few days later he and Sheila were on a train to New York City. They drank from a large plastic bottle containing organic soymilk, energy drink, and green tea extract and wrote sex stories to sell to nerve.com for $500. Sheilas sex story had chainsaws and Sams sex story had Ha Jin doing things in a bathroom at Emory University. Sheila said she felt excited to be in New York City soon. They talked about making their own energy drink company. They got off the train and stood waiting for another train. They climbed a wall and sat in sunlight facing the train tracks.