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this letter to Norman Court by Pablo D’Stair (Part 13)

May 27, 2011 · 8 minutes

A note from Pablo D'Stair on his new novella: this letter to Norman Court is a novella consisting of 22 sections (each around 1250 words) I am releasing by way of serializing the piece across blogs, by reader request. A little hub site is set up at www.normancourt.wordpress.com that has a listing of the blogs that have featured or will feature sections—please give it a look, get yourself all caught up if the below piques your interest. It is my simple hope to use this as a casual, unobtrusive way to release this material to parties interested. As of now the 22 slots have all been requested (cheers to everyone for that) but if you enjoy what you read please do get in touch with me via unburiedcomments@gmail.com. I welcome any and all comments on the piece (positive, negative, or ambivalent) or general correspondence about matters literary. Cheers, Pablo D’Stair --- this letter to Norman Court Pablo D’Stair thirteen Spent the start of the day with checking out of my room, getting directions from the desk clerk to a storage place few blocks down, renting out a small storage unit, like half a closet, bit heavier in cost than a bus station locker but I couldn’t make myself easy with one of those. Didn’t want to have to come back any time soon, so took out eight hundred dollars to get me by, told myself consider it all I had in the world and treat it accordingly, tracked down a commuter train got me well away by nightfall and took out a room a motel advertised weekly rates made the seven days equivalent to three nights regular, parking lot lined with tractor trailers and vans, place just down from a freeway entrance. I walked to the end of the line of strip malls—mile, mile-and-a-half of nothing but them—bought myself a squat bottle of vodka someplace as I went, kept on a bit further getting myself warm with it, smoking cigarettes from fingers I couldn’t feel. Eventually I settled on a particular public telephone, out in front between a veterinarian office and a shoe store some shopping center closed down for the night, already. Took my time arranging the coins I’d broke a ten for, set them on the shelf there used to a phonebook someone’d made off with for whatever reason. Took another swallow, dropped the coins down and dialed the numbers out. Few rings in, guy answered I could tell he was in someplace public but could tell also that as soon as I’d said You left this number for me he’d excused himself, was moving out away

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