There’s another part that I’m not telling you.
It’s about the little boy who a long time ago lost his father and his mother grew away from him into her new boyfriend or her own sleep and he grew up in a crumbling house with a shitty carpet filled with fleas and stinking of cat spray. Dishes would pile in the sink because no one would care to wash them until no dishes were left and even then it would move no one to lift a finger so they turned to paper bowls and plates. On those days, it would be the boy who would stand on a chair to reach the sink and he would do the dishes, scraping rotting peanut butter from the knife, skimming flies and sheets of mold from the pots filled with putrid water. It would take a full twelve hours for an eight year old boy to clean that kitchen.
There was a brother and once he wanted dog and it came into the house. But no one would take care of it or feed it and it got sick and was kept penned up in the kitchen until the floor became a seething sea of shit and piss and diarrhea. A neighbor visited and put a call out to CPS.
There’s more. I could go on and on with more. I could fill the remainder of my life and a catastrophe of pages with more. But this will be sufficient.
Imagine what happened, how it was, when the boy first read Gatsby and how Fitzgerald seized him with a vision. Just get the hell away. Get as far and fast away as you possibly can. Build a mansion. Populate it with people. Fill it with parties and surround yourself with campfires. Night after night. Go to that place, make that place, with your own majesty and desire will it in to being. Matter not that the story ends in tragedy. That all can be worked out in the details.
How stupid for a boy to be driven by such a silly story.
But he was.
I imagined one day arriving at a house. It would be a grand place and it would be protected from anything bad or sullied that would want to intercede from the world. It would have it’s own water, and good soil and could grow food. It would be surrounded by protected space that would never in anyone’s lifetime ever be developed.
A family could grow and could grow old here. And that’s the way it would be.