The More You Ignore Me Read online

  THE MORE YOU IGNORE ME

  COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Travis Nichols

  COVER AND BOOK DESIGN by Linda Koutsky

  Coffee House Press books are available to the trade through our primary distributor, Consortium Book Sales & Distribution, cbsd.com or (800) 283-3572. For personal orders, catalogs, or other information, write to: [email protected].

  Coffee House Press is a nonprofit literary publishing house. Support from private foundations, corporate giving programs, government programs, and generous individuals helps make the publication of our books possible. We gratefully acknowledge their support in detail in the back of this book.

  Good books are brewing at coffeehousepress.org

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CIP INFORMATION

  Nichols, Travis, 1979–

  The more you ignore me / Travis Nichols.

  p. cm.

  ISBN 978-1-56689-332-9

  I. Title.

  PS3614.I3532M67 2013

  813'.6—dc23

  2012036526

  FIRST EDITION / FIRST PRINTING

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I would like to thank the wonderful staff of Coffee House Press for its support and encouragement, as well as Patrick Culliton, Stephen Danos, Katie Geha, Noah Eli Gordon, Emily Gould, Cathy Halley, Paul Killebrew, Dorothea Lasky, Dolly Lemke, Fred Sasaki, Justin Taylor, Brian West, Nicole Wilson, and Matthew Zapruder for their advice and astute analysis. Thanks to my family for everything inside as well as out, and I <3 Monica Fambrough forever for her insight, patience, and love.

  THE MORE YOU IGNORE ME

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  COLOPHON

  THANK YOU TO OUR GENEROUS FUNDERS

  COFFEE HOUSE PRESS PUBLISHERS CIRCLE

  TRAVIS NICHOLS RECOMMENDS THESE COFFEE HOUSE PRESS BOOKS

  Excellent point, cookiekitty7, one that most certainly deserves serious consideration, but before I address it I would like to bring another matter—of equal, or, perhaps, even, yes, greater (!!!) importance—to the group’s attention.

  First, though, let me say once again how happy I am to be here on this essential culinary site, where every recipe, opinion, viewpoint, and perspective is given the consideration it so richly deserves.

  For this, I humbly thank you.

  (THANK YOU!!!!!)

  Tonight, friends, let us continue together in the grand tradition of online democratic society—rough, fragile experiment that it remains—in strict defiance of the forces dedicated to crushing it under the black boot heel of petty fascism.

  Let us also say: welcome!

  Welcome to all who have heretofore been shunted from society’s fellowship because of their ability (and willingness!) to express unpopular but prescient opinions clearly, forcefully, and—this is crucial—without apology.

  Welcome! Let us begin!

  First, I admit I have hinted at this matter in previous comments (cf. “Yummy Vegetarian Lasagna for Two”), yet I have always hesitated bringing this case fully to bear for fear of what scandalous rumors and/or slanderous opinions might have previously crossed your screens.

  But now I feel so strongly that for the good of our collective endeavor this issue must be brought up that I am disregarding the personal risk to my reputation such attention-bringing might afford, and I am plunging forward because this case has such grave repercussions for us all.

  Risking everything on behalf of it is perhaps still not quite enough.

  Now, normally, I am as light and carefree as the law allows, but for the past few months this matter has brought me terribly low.

  Let me lay it plain: I have been, by a childish and ignorant member of the online community, banned.

  More: My input regarding Charli and Nico’s wedding is no longer even considered for publication!

  I have no idea why, and no one will give me the courtesy of a proper response.

  At first, I thought perhaps it was benign neglect, to re-appropriate a phrase, but I’ve since realized something much more sinister is afoot, so now—since I am no longer even allowed on Charlico.com—I am bringing this matter before you here on this august and humane recipe blog you call, surely in jest, BrendaCookingFun.com.

  No doubt, scandalous rumors and libelous character assassinations have passed before your eyes, sent, as ever, by Charli and Nico’s “best man,” Chris Novtalis—that sulfurous toad, that young dullard, that tyrant erroneously allowed to be in charge of Charlico.com out of misguided goodwill or charity—but please hear me out.

  I am just a citizen who wishes his voice not be silenced.

  My banishment from Charlico.com has obviously been an immense personal loss for me, not only because I made so many wonderful friends and admirers through that site, but because together my cortege and I made great strides toward solving a number of problems of the world.

  I know that sounds grandiose, but I firmly believe that, just as Margaret Mitchell once said, “A small number of devoted individuals can, in fact, change the course of history; Indeed, this is the only thing that ever has!”—yes, in my case, just look at the record!

  Take heed!

  It is all by some miracle still on the site for the world to see, if only said world could stop pursuing vile distraction long enough to read and take note.

  It is shocking to see such truths laid out in plain sight, I know, but it is even more shocking to see them ignored, though I have come to expect no less from the sad excuse for “society” we float through.

  Lest you get the wrong impression, let me be clear that I am not so narcissistic or naive as to think you would consider my personal loss, great as it is, worthy of your in-demand time. Not because you lack compassion! No, don’t think I write tonight to insult you!

  Fear not! Despite what you have heard of me, I am not that man.

  No, you wouldn’t consider my personal tragedy of much importance because you are spending your time working diligently to solve what you see as the great problems we all face in this fearful and horrid episode called “life.”

  Yes, but hear me out—my tragedy and the world’s are not so different. No, in fact, shocking as it may sound, I believe they are ONE AND THE SAME!!!

  The exclamation points, I know, seem out of place or perhaps too much, but you see I’m quite an exuberant fellow, a joyful soul, really, and I can let my emotions get the best of me like a schoolgirl face to face with a succulent lolly, but it is all only for the greater good since, as I hope you’ll see, underneath the emotion there is cold hard reason, such that is missing greatly in this ill-begotten world of incorrigible ineptitude.

  I have had so many—SO MANY!—friends and acquaintances tell me, at long last, that they see my point after all, and yes, it seems I was right all along, and had only exposed my solution with too bright a flash of rhetoric.

  I am working on this admitted character flaw, but I hope you’ll agree that it is a relatively minor one, especially when it is often the reader’s own flaws that prevent him (or her!) from seeing my point.

  A mere distraction, though. I’m quite likable, really.

  In fact, I think we could be great friends if given the chance to meet, if I could be allowed to arrive at your very doorstep with a rose in my teeth (TRA LA!)

  But let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves.

  You see, I would be perfectly willing
to look past my own personal feelings of being slighted, abused, and wantonly rejected by this cruel and imagination-less “best man” if I weren’t able to see in my personal issue the problems of the world.

  I, a humble man of limited means, alone in life except for a vast but distant group of online peers, simply wanted to put my modest writerly talents to use in service of gnosis.

  Contrary to what you might think, the fact that my banishment has become the central topic of discussion for this particular wedding and its affiliated blog does not in any way cloud my thinking about the overall concepts at play.

  I see the “big picture” despite the bride’s continued silence toward me (surely kept up on the advice of the groom’s brother, the wretched best man and moderator, Chris Novtalis, who fancies himself some kind of chivalrous knight instead of, accurately, a bilious nuisance), and in fact, I did not even seek out that particular blog but rather had it thrust upon me by fate and simple geometry.

  Triangles and pyramids, my dears!

  Natural shapes, true, though they are not nearly as simple or as ordinary as they first appear, especially when they manifest themselves in human relationships, as they do more often than one might expect, if one knows how to look.

  The impatient reader here surely asks, “Fascinating, but how does this revelation lead in any way to the full-blown catastrophe on the previously mentioned wedding blog?”

  Gravioria manent, dear readers.

  Gravioria manent.

  Allow me a brief reminisce: I once had a particularly contentious encounter with a confused and dissolute young woman I like to call My First Love, or MFL.

  We do not (yet!) need to go into detail about MFL, but suffice it to say that in the years since this encounter I have desperately wanted to explain myself more articulately to MFL, as well as to see what might have become of her, how she has developed both emotionally and physically in the time since our memorable encounter.

  Despite these dreams—and despite my dedication—I have had little luck tracking MFL down in the “meat space,” since it seems she refuses to register her utilities in her maiden name, nor will she list her phone number in the white pages of any conceivable locale.

  Quite frustrating, yes, since I simply want to tell her that I misunderstood my role, lo those many years ago.

  For reasons that seem silly now, it was, in the first few days of my unemployment, QUITE IMPORTANT for me to explain myself thusly to her, and my inability to find MFL began to cause me serious harm.

  The dark folds began, once again, to smother and choke me.

  But then—praise be!—fate intervened and my search for MFL became a mere prelude to this Charli matter.

  Let me explain.

  Since I had been given this gift of time away from employment, I embarked on a few long-delayed projects, including the aforementioned search for MFL, and one such project involved obtaining images of certain female politicians.

  In the course of searching for a particularly choice candidate—one I will not name, for fear of giving her my unpaid endorsement—I came across a luminous image that was clearly A BOLT FROM BEYOND!

  The image itself first appeared quite ordinary—“my” candidate waving smugly to a group of protesters—but in the background, in amongst this motley group, I spied a young brunette insouciantly waving a placard while staring directly into the camera’s lens with a kind of dégagé pout that could not but stir a proper man’s soul.

  My eyes took in this young brunette—her gleaming doll’s teeth, her eyes done up in slipshod shadow, her rabbit nostrils midquiver, all on display in the background of this idiotic campaign shot—and I immediately felt as if I had once again fallen through a wormhole into the past, for, dear readers, this young woman in the campaign photo looked EXACTLY like MFL as I had known her twenty years ago!

  Are you still seated, readers?

  Yes?

  Then, I have not made myself clear.

  How can I accurately explain the singularity of this?

  It’s not as if MFL had a common look—no, she seemed a one-of-a-kind beauty, a very particular taste, a young Ally Sheedy in a bulky sweater hiding quite an array of goodies—and so the idea that someone twenty years later would strike the same pose, cut the same profile, shock the same system . . . well, it might as well have been a narwhal leaping from a city sewer system to impale a passerby with its tusk.

  What were the odds?

  The odds were so improbable that the fact of this occurrence clearly indicated that the true structure of reality had been made manifest in our false world in order to tell me . . . what?

  WHAT WAS THE TRUE STRUCTURE OF REALITY TRYING TO TELL ME?!?!?!

  Perhaps, I thought then, slumped over my keyboard from mental fatigue, this young replica of MFL and I would have an opportunity to correct the mistakes of the past.

  Perhaps, I thought, brightening, there may indeed be second acts in life.

  Perhaps, yes, I sat up straight, I do have one or two adventures left in this dim interval.

  Perhaps there is a reason I have been cast aside from the workaday world.

  Perhaps I do indeed have a purpose in this new millennium!

  I lifted my head from atop my keyboard, raised my fist to the sky, and yelled, “YES!!!!”

  I made a personal vow then and there to investigate, for, if given the chance, I would do everything in my power to give this new young woman the benefit of my love!!!!!

  Unbowed by the tracking devices surely installed in the search engine I am forced to use, I set to work with my detective skills and unsurpassed vigor to uncover the identity of this young beauty.

  In no time—never mind how, ye cops!—I had a name: Charli Vistons.

  And—in a blink—I had a Facebook page.

  Wondrous bounty!

  I deliriously noted her interests and affiliations, her likes and (implied) dislikes, all laid bare for the world to see like some streetwalker’s tawdry wares, and, dear readers, disappointment did not touch me, for Charli was not only the very image of MFL, but it seemed she possessed the spirit of MFL as well!

  Salinger, the Beatles, Dusty Springfield, Harold and Maude, the Umbrellas of Cherbourg—it was all the same!

  I felt the stars aligning after noting that Charli lived a mere hundred miles from me, a day’s journey, and she worked semipublicly “on campus” as a “Film Studies Teaching Associate” at my very alma mater.

  Film studies!

  It truly was all happening again!

  I began an itinerary in my head, had gotten halfway down the interstate of my mind, in fact, when I saw—brutal fate!—that Charli was “in a relationship.”

  Dagger!

  What was this twist?

  Worse, it seemed she was to be—ah—married.

  And soon!

  Samsara had seen fit to deal me yet another blow, eh?

  I shook my fist at the ceiling, then out the window at the sky.

  I rent my night garment (still worn from the previous night) and clawed at my chest.

  After a few long minutes of this, I found I could not ignore my feelings any longer, and so in a flurry of clicks and scrolls I delved further into the life of Charli Vistons, obstacles be damned!

  I saw, of course, that the young beauty’s fiancé was a rotund pud of a man named Nico, unworthy of her succulent charms.

  I admit, this was more than a bit shocking—surely she could do better?—but I followed the chain duly, hoping to find some indication that Charli would not be throwing her life away, that perhaps her fiancé was handsome on the inside.

  Sadly, he was just as dull and insipid, it seemed, inside as he was out.

  Thinking Nico’s Facebook profile might offer a different and perhaps better perspective on Charli’s situation, I clicked on each morsel offered there until I arrived, finally, on a link to the dire and garish wedding website, Charlico.com.

  I stayed there, despite the insult to my sensibility, in good faith. />
  Once there on the “splash page,” I felt I had sufficiently calmed down—I admit I can get carried away—and could accept whatever role in Charli’s life destiny assigned me: teacher, lover, admirer, friend.

  I knew I could still help Charli—which, dear readers, is all I have ever wanted to do!—but I knew even then I must be judicious about my battles. I couldn’t simply heave myself headlong into her life.

  That was, of course, the mistake I had made with MFL.

  So, how to approach Charli?

  Would her “wedding” really happen?

  Was the whole thing as ghoulish as it seemed?

  The hidden world does reveal itself to us, readers, if only we take the time to look.

  I proceeded with my clicking, and, thinking I was headed to Charlico.com’s “registry,” where I could perhaps offer some consumer advocacy, I must have misclicked in a moment of inattention, for lo, I found myself unwittingly “on the blog.”

  My browsing history reveals that this fatal act happened in the small hours of a Wednesday morning.

  Immediately upon load of the Charlico.com/blog page, I became confused.

  Society had clearly declared to me on numerous occasions that weddings were private celebrations restricted from public online discussion, and yet, here was a wedding website with a very public blog?!?!

  Why?