For their March Issue, Split Lip Magazine featured this is nothing– another compacted glimpse of Grant Maierhofer’s newest project Marcel, Wisconsin. It is exquisite, and not just because Grant is one of my favorites. His characterization is so good it makes me want to weep:
With the first wave comes the first urge toward vomitus and he’s made compensation for this by leaving a garbage can near the couch for his regular nights of heavy drinking. He upheaves and the day’s thoughts and urges seem to flood from his mouth like some sort of purple delusion. He watches it melt away and stick to the tissues at the bottom of the bin as his mind begins to wander a long, seemingly endless road towards light. He covers himself in the blanket to squint warmly at the sensation so profound that loving it is almost terrifying.
SEEKING WANDER WINDOW WILLOWS…SEEKINGS WANDERS WINDOWS WILLOW…WILTING SEEKING WANDERING WINDOWS WINTER…
MICHAEL! MICHAEL… MICHAEL!!! MICHAEL, WAKE! MICHAEL, WAKE UP!
The inside of his skull was crying. He couldn’t open his eyes. He knew the sound. He knew what it was. He couldn’t open his eyes. The voice. That voice. His mother!
“Mom?” he whispered.
“Michael, what is this?” He heard her voice thrown to the table on which sat his rig, all the necessities for heroin use.
“It’s. Ugh. My head. What are you doing here?” He still can’t open his eyes. She doesn’t force him. It’s all been stripped. The TV’s off. Twin Peaks and the sanctity of heroin are gone. It’s all some distant thought now, some star off in outer space or wherever.