Any Resemblance to Actual Persons Read Online Free PDF Page A

the research to properly refute my sister’s claims, I had been engrossed in a new three-volume biography of Welles, but I had to set it aside before I got to the end of his life. I’d read all about the tough times Welles went through, how he was forced to do projects simply for the money, but what makes this voice appearance in Transformers worse is that it was his final performance in a film; it came out within months of his passing. Grieving audiences were left not with the grandeur of Kane or his ophidian performance as Harry Lime in The Third Man fresh in their minds, but rather some piece of Sunday morning confection, a toy advertisement masquerading as a film. Indeed, “Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.”)
    â€œAunt Paige was crazy,” Edie concluded. “Admit it. You have to admit it.”
    I admitted that Aunt Paige was a little eccentric, perhaps, but that that was probably inevitable at her age. But if she was really this devoted to our dear old dad, didn’t we all deserve our own Aunt Paige, keeper of the flame, Boswell to our Johnson, Bruccoli to our Fitzgerald, Kinbote to our Shade? If the fear of death is not a fear of an end to our consciousness but rather others’ consciousness of us, i.e., really just afear that we’ll be forgotten, and if here we were in a shrine to our father thirty years after his passing, then hadn’t Aunt Paige effectively offered an antidote to death itself?
    Edie didn’t seem very satisfied with my answer, which was enormously frustrating, but it was not a point I had time to elucidate. I still had a fuck-ton of grading to do. I told Edie this (the part about the grading), and left.
    As you can see, Edie probably did not come back to L.A. with ill intentions. She has always been a bit excitable and drama-prone, but she was not yet, at this point, an insane person. So where exactly did this all come from? A man named Rory Beach. You surely know the name, if not the man, as he appears in Edie’s book both on the “acknowledgments” page and in the character—because this so-called nonfiction book is, as I will prove, a piece of fiction—of “Dr. Beach,” the man who helps Edie “recover” “repressed” “memories.” I have seen no evidence that this man actually has an advanced degree, so I will refer to him as Rory, not “Dr. Beach.”
    Anyway. After I dropped Edie off at our old house that day, I didn’t see her again for some time. My teaching kept me busy. Plus, during that fall semester, Chris got suspended from school for fighting, and I had to home-school him for a month to ensure that he would not get left behind. (I found his math lessons not only impenetrable but frighteningly Masonic in their cryptic iconography, so I spent most of that month helping him stay up on his English, but since I’ve always found Steinbeck’s depiction of the American West to be a bit pedantic I substituted in McCarthy’s Blood Meridian , and the ancillary readings on the antebellum scalp-trade filled in for Chris’s history lessons.)Also, I started dating someone, a new teacher at COLA named Julia. We are still together and I think it is going quite well. (She is, no point in hiding it, the colleague I mentioned on page 7; her legal expertise has helped me enormously in preparing to write this, and will continue to aid me should this issue go to court, and the fact that we have a sexual relationship—on average, three times a week, which, I’ve read, is one above the national average for monogamous middle-aged couples—should in no way be seen as affecting the objectivity of her counsel.) The point is, I was busy, and I assumed Edie was getting on fine, sleeping in her old childhood bed, getting her life back together. That assumption was incorrect. It would be foolish now to spend too much time regretting not seeing more of her during that time,