Fever Dream

Fever Dream by Rhianon Jameson October 2008 In another life I must have been bad In another life I must have been real bad Stripped down, break my pride Straight through the other side Rip through my memory Nothing that I want to see I love the way you punish me In another life I must have done wrong In another life I must have done wrong Don t tell me what I ve done Don t see what I ve become Ravish me, tear me down Stub my life into the ground I love the way you punish me (Steve Wynn, “The Way You Punish Me”) The day was unusually warm for late September. I discretely blotted my brow with my handkerchief – at least, I hoped the action was discrete – as I leaned back in my chair. Mr. Donald Chisholm and I were having a cup of tea at Steamperk and I was wondering why I felt feverish while, simultaneously, I attempted to keep up with his explanation of how he planned to make a great deal of money in a falling real estate market. I was failing at both tasks. Mr. Chisholm was a land speculator, and had graciously agreed to give me an hour of his time to explain his business to me for a newspaper article. He was in his early fifties, with a full head of hair, albeit mostly gray, and a handlebar moustache that was inexplicably nearly jet black. He was dressed as one might imagine a land baron to be dressed, in a new suit from Mako Magellan’s and an ivory walking stick with a gold knob. Except for the moustache, which made him look a little like a theatrical villain (and whose color was both vain and silly), he was a handsome man with an athletic build. Although I felt I was reasonably clever with figures, his dazzling manipulation of borrowed money, tax dodges, depreciation, ruthless foreclosures, and sheer speculation on a further decline in the market was quite beyond me. I took notes and nodded at what I hoped were appropriate times. In truth, the interview was a coup for me, as Mr. Chisholm preferred to operate privately and fairly anonymously. I wondered why he would grant