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Jesse’s Lost Journal — by Mark Patton

Entry 51, 1985

The plane is now reeking of vomit and blood, hospital no air and the police are very slowly interviewing everyone on the plane before they let us off. They interviewed us right away as we were very close to the man who was killed. It is amazing what a first class ticket buys you. The police were very nice, almost servile. The stewards kept hovering, trying to make us comfortable.

When they questioned us, Colin made it clear we had taken sleeping pills and we were in fact sleeping head to head the entire flight. He explained my sickness and the police said it was very common to react so strongly to seeing a violent death for the first time. Inside my mind I am rolling my eyes… “if you guys only knew and Thank God you don’t!” .

As I have come to understand Fred, the one thing I am certain of is that he is very detail oriented… so I was relaxed in the fact that nothing would point to me. The handprints… gone. I guess he did a little magic clean up (the fact is a zombie-like maintenance man climbed on the wing and washed the window, do the math).

While sitting there I had time to contemplate what he was up to in my old hometown, I am sure he was jacking off to some poor teenager’s misery. Since the movies have come out Fred has begun acting rather cheesy, like he is watching Comedians on Johnny Carson and trying out his act. I am use to him now just like I am use to murder and blood… shit happens. I may sound blasé but it is like I am in a war, if I cry over every stranger killed I will really lose my mind and most likely my life… sorry, I am going to make it out alive! Like Nancy said “I am into survival”.

I guess we are done here as the we are being allowed off the plane… it seems the police believe that this young, beautiful man decided to slit his own neck in a public suicide… that is good for everyone… mostly Air France… New York has Son of Sam… they do not need any more serial killers or strange murders.

As we get our bags we are “strobe fucked” by a different type of photographers. Into a cab and we are on our way home. Colin asks “my place or yours?” I opt for his as at the moment I just need to feel comfortable and safe.

As soon as we got to the loft, we showered and finally free of the vomit smell and the blood I felt much better. Colin needed to edit the film, talk to Vogue about Paris and rebook our lights. I have nothing that needs to be done, I am booked out of my life for 10 days… the paintings are ready. As Colin figures out life, I draw a bath (such a luxury, I have no tub only a shower)… so that was the day…I guess that was enough.

Jesse’s Lost Journals

~ Preface ~

Jesse's Lost Journals
© by Mark Patton. All Rights Reserved.

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