A Gordon Excerpt

I am including another excerpt from yesterday's writing session, because I thought that Esmondes would really enjoy this... hope you like it! Please note there is no picture because apparently my search function for 'Vampyres Drunk' has been disabled. Actually, I just didn't like any of the pictures. In desperation, I googled 'David Boreanaz drunk', sure I would get something worth using, but instead, there were only near pornographic images of David Boreanaz topless and/or in a bathtub. Weird.

“No, Gordon…” he said, trying to force patience into his voice. “I don’t at all feel that this is an epistemological question.” Jake was of course sure of no such thing, since he had no idea what the word epistemological meant. He was sure that no one knew what that word meant, and it was only used in conversation by pretentious assholes who were trying to make others feel stupid. This was one of Gordon’s mannerisms that drove Jake out of his ever loving mind. He continued to sit as calmly as possible in the tiny chair opposite Gordon nonetheless, a sure demonstration of his commitment to getting answers. It was normally about this time that Jake stormed out of Gordon’s office, muttering insults under his breath.

“Naturally you would think that.” Gordon said, the smug smile on his face making Jake want to plant his fist in the middle of it. “You are nowhere close to understanding the power of be(coming) animal. It has always stood in your path to true enlightenment. You are still caught up in the cycle of attaching discursive meaning to what you should be considering using the concept of signification. Foucault wrote about it extensively in his childishly simple volume “The Archeaology of Knowledge,” though it was explained far more thoroughly and convincingly in my brilliant doctoral dissertation. I was robbed of the award for dissertation of the year. Apparently they considered GRE scores in their evaluation of the various qualifying dissertations. Hard to believe, but some person actually scored higher than I, but of course I didn’t study.” Gordon said by way of explanation, which is to say, it was no explanation at all. For good measure, he flourished his cape and leered menacingly at Jake. It was true, there was a person who had scored higher on the GRE than Gordon, and there was a reason why Gordon had relocated to Toronto, Ontario, though his PhD from Berkeley would surely have granted him any number of academic positions. He had followed his nemesis across the continent, and would not rest until complete victory was his. But that was another story, for another time.

If Jake were a man who believed in using a word like gobsmacked, he would have applied it to his feelings here, but Jake did not approve of the word, even in internal dialogue. Jake closed his eyes and thought of Alice, thought of her smile, and the way the wind blew her hair in her eyes. He breathed deeply and told himself that Gordon was the only one who had information about where Alice was. He needed to get through to him.

Gordon took the opportunity to fill the silence. “You should read it.” He said, lowering the cape and then returning it to cover half of his face.
“Read what?” Jake said, not being rude but truly disoriented. Talking to Gordon usually made him feel that way.
“My dissertation. It will explain everything,” he said, his voice slightly muffled as he spoke through his cape. He lowered the cape, pulled a black thread off his lower lip, looked at it, then moved the cape back to its position and resumed looking at Jake. His desperate need to have someone, anyone read his dissertation was transparent to the point of being pathetic.
“I’m not reading your dissertation, Gordon.”