A Few Interesting Occurences.

A Hooker.
The first week Hocus lived here, Captain and I were awake to hear a pounding at the front door at 3am.

Captain and I do not have typical 9-5 jobs and skate by financially with art work. We sleep in the AM, work (if there is any work) in the afternoons and art until the wee hours. Even with our wonky sleep schedule, someone knocking on our door at 3am is alarming.

We were hesitant to open the door but considered that one of our neighbors may need help. So we answered the door with caution. There, we found one of the local crack whores. She usually patrols the trolley lines and rarely wanders down the residential side streets like ours. She asked for Hocus by his real name, John, explaining that she was his friend and needed to talk to him. Now, her knowing his real name gave some sense of validity to her claim of knowing him. We woke Hocus up and brought him to the door where he privately shooed the woman away and came back inside. Naturally, Captain and I teased him for "not inviting his girlfriend in". Hocus insisted that he had given her a cigarette earlier that day and she returned to the house to proposition him.

At 6am, however, the woman returned, furious, pounding on our front door and screaming for money she was owed. This time Hocus scurried with her across the street and dismissed her in private.

It seems very likely to me that Hocus made some agreement with this woman and failed to hold up his end of the bargain. Whether or not services were actually provided, I cannot say. But arrangements were at the very least made and broken.

 
A display of the great extent of delusion.

I had been out of town for a couple of weeks. And When I returned, Captain was on his way out of town as well. Leaving just me and Hocus in the house.

Last night I noticed that the towel buffering the drafty windowsill in the livingroomwas on the floor along with a few other things that were on the endtable by the window. I remarked, in confusion. Hocus snuck away into the kitchen as if he didn't notice and this suggested guilt. He muttered something about the cats making the mess and disappeared.

It doesn't help to wonder what he is hiding because it could be anything from an angry hooker to a broken dish. Surely, whatever it was I will find out sure enough. I surmised that he was fussing with the cable cords coming through the window, knocked everything over and just didn't bother to pick it up. Tidiness and dexterity are not his strong suits. His guilty-behavior was probably over leaving a mess. I thought no more of it for the rest of the night.

This morning, I got up for work and went down into the empty living room. I felt a draft coming from the same window as last night and inspected it. I saw, through the window, footprints in the snow leading from the back alley straight to that window. But no footprints leaving the yard.

Now, the PS3 and flat screen TV were all untouched. If someone came into the house, they didn't rob us. And who would enter the house through the window only to leave through the front door?

The most plausible explanation was that Hocus lost his keys and came in through the window. Thereby, making a mess coming in and acting all weird and guilty when I noticed all of it. I rolled my eyes at this thought and, just to be thorough, I went out back to properly inspect the other doors and windows.

Only one set of foot prints in the whole yard, a straight line from the alley to the window mentioned and no trail leading away from it. The foot prints had puddles of ice inside them - meaning the sun had been beating down on the prints. So I'm guessing he came in through the window at least the night before last.

These are important details to me because they verify that it was, in fact, hocus who came into the house. And not someone else. Simply asking Hocus if they were his foot prints or if he came in through the window would guarantee a false-negative because he never tells the truth about anything.

But what I observed convinced me it was safe to leave for work.

However, on my way home, knowing that I would be home alone all day long, I felt I should attempt to confirm Hocus' foot prints before entering the house. If anything, I could use his inconsistencies to further deduce affirmation.

So I called and asked him "Dude, tell me these are your footprints in the back yard before I call the police." (A bluff.) He played dumb, stalling to build a story and already I felt I had my answer. He spun a poor story about how he was "concerned about that window last night" and, after I fell asleep (which I didn't sleep last night, BTW) he went out the back door and inspected the yard and window.

I called him out. Told him that there was only ONE trail from the alley to the window, no where near the door, and no trail exiting. He went through the window. I told him, I don't care if he came in through the window, I just needed to know the foot prints were his.

I have been getting text messages of the retelling of his story - trying to convince me that he didn't come in through the window and that he did, indeed, go out and back in through the kitchen door, not the alley. And that there are two sets of tracks...as I am looking out over the back yard at the single trail.

This is a total rejection of reality.

I noted today, when I came home from work to an empty house, that the front door was unlocked. Hocus is at work right now and sending me messages insisting that he never came from the alleyway, through the yard,and into the window. I suspect that he does not have his key and was counting on no one to come home before him. I am tempted to recreate the events that I believe occured about two nights ago, when Hocus locked himself out of the house.

I worry if that is childish.

Hocus

Hocus is my room mate, who resides in the bedroom adjacent to mine. I met him through friends and co-workers at a comicbook shop I used to work at. When my former room mate moved out, leaving me and my remaining roomie, Captain, looking for a replacement, Hocus was the the only available option.

I didn't know him very well at the time but he seemed easy-going and agreeable...and as of today, he has maintained that much.

First Glance
He is a heavy set, african american male of about 30 years in age. He says his name is Matsumoto Daisuke. Yet, every bit of ID on him says his name is John Smith. (actually, it was another Japanese alias but he uses it so often, it would serve as harmful as using his actual real name. Which I also replaced.)  A huge fan of anime, manga, scifi and videogames. A movie buff and TV junkie. All the sort of things any nerd can get along with. He is very generous with flattery and is all too eager to be helpful. Often providing "help" in things that didn't need any doing and doing it so poorly that it needs re-doing. It was immediately apparent that he needed praise and recognition, constantly. I thought this might be pesky but worth the pain if it meant I could afford rent.

A Warning from Friends
When they learned Hocus was moving in, mutual friends discretely warned me of his compulsive lying and attention seeking drama. I heeded their warnings, which were delivered gracefully with concern, not malice, and was sure to keep an eye or ears out for anything that seemed troublesome. I thought it might be best to keep a good distance between Hocus and my personal life but I reserved any judgement until I knew better for myself.

Getting to Know Hocus
Hocus' tangled web did not weave slowly and gradually as I thought it would. It was over the top from the first time we talked. His first claim was that he was half Japanese. Forgetting or doubting or perhaps even disbelieving that someone could lie so boldly - I questioned it. "How so? You have absolutely no Asian physical characteristics." His claim was then reduced to being "adopted by a Japanese woman in the states who also had two other Japanese children of her own."

I was somewhat floored by what I had witnessed. I questioned one unbelievable claim and it shattered into a million little fragments - each bit just as unbelievable as the whole.

Parents and Childhood
It unraveled into a tale of an unfit, single African-American mother who selfishly gave her child up for adoption which was rescued by a loving and stern Japanese doctor who nurtured him and his Japanese siblings in beautiful northern California with their witty and whimsical British father who was often overseas working for the British Army.

A Family of Higher Learning
He verbalized though showed no signs of the feelings he described, that his adoptive parents sadly died while he was going to school at an Ivy League University where he double majored Chemistry and Culinary Arts. He claimed his little Japanese sister moved to England to go to school at Oxford University and does graphic design for most Jpop stars. He mentioned that, throughout his childhood, he kept in contact with his biological mother and brother who, incidentally, also went to an Ivy League School and became an engineer for the government. Despite his masters in Culinary Arts, Hocus does not know the basics of food or work station sanitation and I've never seen him cook anything that involved more work than boiling water. He seemed confused when I stressed the dangers of leaving sponges and knifes in stagnant water.
And what makes me such an expert in the kitchen? I've done a couple years of food prep. I at least know this much.
Sadly, due to lack of practical use for the knowledge, Hocus cannot recall the periodic table. Such a pity that a degree in Chemistry from an Ivy League University should go to waste.

Work
He boasted about his incredible culinary skill which was put to use at a local, historical bakery. He feinted exhaustion at the thought of waking up at 4am to get into the bakery for work and complained that  by the end of his morning shift at 10am he is far too wound up to do anything but work at his second retail job -which he only does because he wants something to do. The bakery is his real job.
In 6 months, I have yet to see him anywhere else but in his room before 10am. I idly asked what my instructions meant by a "starter" for baking bread - a question he had no answer for and I had to look up myself. A starter is an amount of dough set aside - something any amateur would have to know in a bakery. I kept this to myself and remind myself not to get upset about these lies. That I should know well enough to expect them and ignore them.

Love Life
Until recently, he would refer often to his girlfriend who he had been dating (or at least, imagining) for about six years. He insisted that I met her but "forgot" and that she was really impressed with me and thinks I'm awesome. And that they talk about me all the time. She was a Japanese architect who spent much of her time traveling and had little time to socialize. Hocus also claimed to own a luxury vehicle, the details of which I have forgotten, but when asked why he took the bus everywhere (or where the hell he kept it) he would say he lent it to his girlfriend - she needs it more than he does. About a month ago, he casually mentioned he "broke  up" with his japanese girlfriend and had been looking to date art students.
No sign of his car.

Quirks
Hocus has many odd behaviors that do not seem to support one another directly, rather, they serve as a distraction from suspecion or a means to seek praise.

Shock and Awwwww........
When he feels questioned, Hocus will joke that I am acting like a know-it-all. If I explain myself any further, he will raise his voice over mine, ignoring my words and insisting I am only behaving more like a know-it-all and nothing I can say will ever change this fact. He then apologizes, while still speaking over me, begins to shower me with sincere flattery at a volume which is still far too loud for him to hear anyone else but himself speak. Dominating the conversation by volume, he steers the topic towards safer ground before allowing anyone else to speak/be heard.

For instance, the other day he complained about his "bakery job." I had been up by 7am everyday for the past two weeks and knew that he was asleep in his room everytime. Annoyed and not holding to my promise to ignore his lies, I spoke "You haven't been there in over two weeks." He started to explain that he hurt his leg while working and I remarked on the inconsistancy of his described injury and the legal matters he claimed to go through.
What makes me such an expert? I've been hurt at jobs before. So have my parents. I have never heard of any employer who grants any employee a free-self-made-schedule as worker's comp for an injury.  In my experience, employers would be happier to remove an injured employee off the payroll completely. So I asked how this could be so? What legal routes did he go through to get such an arrangement?

Hocus boomed his voice over mine "Ohhh! There you go! I knew it! See, I was talking about how you do this the other day to my friend- about how you're such a know-it-all! Yes! Yes! You are! But it's ok! It's ok! It is just because you think so much, sometimes it gets a bit goofy cause you overthink too! But that is what makes you awesome! And that is kinda what I like about you and why I trust you so much..."

Similar incidence occurred when I questioned his claim that he is of a rich inheritance and that he is the only trusted and capable member in is "family" to care for children and all the children in his family will be under his care should anything happen to their parents. "The process is actually quite easy."

I knew what was happening. I knew this was a distraction. I was suppose to be stunned by the criticism and recoil with doubt or shame, then appeased by the praise and validation of worth. I retorted with a "Yeah, sure, dude" and returned to the videogame I was playing, trying to commit myself to non-involvment for the peace of the household.

Gift Giving
I like to fancy myself as independent. I prefer to do things on my own and provide for myself. Hocus' insistance on providing things for me is rather unnerving. Perhaps it is because I am a girl and having someone trying to fit a role of a provider for me seems patronizing.

Nevertheless, Hocus insists on bringing home gifts from small trinkets to comicbooks to videogames. When I tell Hocus that, while I appreciate the effort, I will buy what I want for myself and that I have no need for the toys and trinkets and comics (which I already own or have read) that he brings to me - he spins a story about how he has so much money that spending it so generously hardly matters. Recently, he has stopped bringing home random gifts and has started to pander to my interests. Any interest I express in a book, game or movie he will go out and buy. He has started to observe the food I buy as well and, in the same day that I go food shopping, will go out and buy the same items.

I am unsure of what to make of this. I feel as if making use or accepting these gifts will obligate me to something. I also feel a strange sense of Hocus trying to own me or make me dependent on him. Could this be a tool of manipulation? A means to feel needed and appreciated? An attempt to make an awkwardly nice gesture and gain acceptance? Is his inability to share real thoughts or feelings being compensated by material goods? Or perhaps he wants to give something he has the power to take away? I haven't really figured this much out.

Denial & Disassociation with own behavior.
Hocus will often spin stories about "liars" that he knows and how much he cannot stand them. He fabricated tales where he caught a liar and made them confess the truth. He swears to be the most honest and straight forward person I will ever know - everyone knows "how trustworthy he is and most of his friends give him money to keep safe." 
He tells how much it hurts him to not be able to trust people and how it angers him to see others manipulated or betrayed. He lavishes himself with compliments of noblity and virtue and then boasts about being fearsome and powerful. He often has stories about hitting people or things "just earlier today" yet, given the description of the blow he supposedly delivered, his hands show no signs of swelling or bruising.
 

Setting & Characters

the house

We live in a large three bedroom row home unit in a rather rough neighborhood. The house is structurally sound and clean though in need of some cosmetic repair. The rent is ridiculously cheap! Easily affordable for an unemployed chump like me. It was formerly a "punk house" and has been rehabilitated. While cleaning I sometimes stumble onto things left behind by the former residence.

My room is the back room, overlooking our (at the moment) overgrown backyard. Smallest of the three rooms, it is attached to the middle room by a door which locks on my side and is covered by a bookshelf burdened by trade paperbacks, D&D books and science literature.

The middle room belongs to the subject of this blog with the invisible life, Hocus. As in Hocus Pocus. It is a term I commonly use  to mean "enabling of a wishful yet implausible idea." In this case, the subject is the embodiment of their own wishful and implausible idea. More on him later.

Next down the hall is the bathroom followed by the large front room, belonging to Captain.

the room mates

Scout:
I will refer to myself as Scout. This could be in reference to To Kill a Mockingbird, but the truth is...I'm in the middle of building a Scout class character for D&D as I type this. I'm sure a more suitable name would emerge if I gave it more thought but I don't think what I call myself serves any useful purpose in this blog.
I am often described as cheerful and silly, and this is my general and consistent disposition. I work well with others, make friends easily and am very extroverted. But I still enjoy my down time and prefer an autonomous lifestyle. I'm a critical thinker and sometimes come off as arrogant or, to others, just really-fucking-nerdy. I tend to question things, assert doubts and request clarification.
I mention this to illustrate my internal frustration when dealing with a Narcissist of the magnitude I will soon describe.

Captain:
I will refer to the room mate, who is not the subject of this blog, as Captain as he is the captain of the house. Everything is in his name, he has lived here for years and, out of more than just consideration, I regard him with the power of veto although he has never asserted or claimed any such authority. We were acquaintances before I moved in. He opened/runs a gaming shop with a good friend of mine and I saw him often at art shows and games of capture the flag. Captain keeps to himself a lot and I wouldn't say we've had any strong room mate bonding. I would describe him as generally silly and informative with a tendency to be critical and blunt. He is usually working at his shop, or maybe just playing Magic, locked in his room painting or, on occasion, playing video games in the living room. He is receptive to fart and poop jokes and childish vulgarities. Despite the serious tone of this entry so far, I find well-timed and placed crudeness funny. As I type this, I have yet to discuss anything regarding our third and newest room mate, Hocus, with Captain and do not know what his thoughts or feelings are on the matter.

Hocus:
Hocus is the subject of this blog. I knew him while I worked at a comic shop through other co-workers. We took him as a room mate after our last room mate (who was never home) decided to just fully move in with his girlfriend. Notice was rather short, Captain and I scrambled to produce a replacement and Hocus was the only available option. I would describe him as having a generally warm personality and is often very eager to prove himself useful.  A hint of sensitivity was apparent, fear of rejection was evident from the start as he quickly resorts to flattery when uncomfortable. But there has been nothing thus far that would suggest Hocus is dangerous or malicious. He is african-american, about 30 years old. An avid and knowledgeable fan of anime and manga as well as horror, scifi and videogames. I believe further description requires it's own entry.

the neighborhood

Captain (not the roommate of interest), and I are the only white people in the area and have not had any bad experiences living here. Our neighbors are sweethearts, offering me yard tools when they see me cleaning the front of my house with my hands, and salting our steps and sidewalks when we aren't home. I often walk down the street alone after midnight for chinese take-out, passing a night club on the way - I'm a white redhead girl of small-medium stature and I suffer no more than a hello or polite nod.
However, gunshots, fist fights, ambulances and police chases are a common commotion and, as far as I have observed, are usually over personal issues between individuals and not random encounters.
I mention this only to illustrate that my neighborhood is rambunctious but not a warzone. This information serves the story of my experiences, as you'll soon read.

Why Am I Blogging This?

I hesitated to begin this project. I questioned my intentions and what I hoped to achieve by under taking a blog documenting my frustration, curiosity and the bizarre behavior of an individual with stunted emotional and mental growth.

I say growth, not development. He is not mentally challenged. Nature did not take away or fail to provide him with the proper nodes or neurotransmitters needed to be a person of reason. What he is suffering is habitual behavior used to overcompensate for insecurity. It is reason turned on its head. It is a disorder and, in my unprofessional opinion, best described as Narcissistic Personality Disorder. I theorize that this disorder started as quirk or defensive tendency in adolescence, went unchecked and took root before adulthood which is where, it would seem, this individual, who I will call Hocus, ceased to grow in personality and the understanding of the world around him.

I suspect that, regardless of the personal distance I keep, the situation will, no doubt, escalate and lead to one of us looking for a new home. I figured that by tolerating and humoring Hocus I could prolong the inevidable indefinitely.

Lately, there was a shift in the household dynamic and it seems as if Hocus is inviting me into his world, whether I like or know it or not. I thought, perhaps, documenting the events henceforth would serve as entertaining and informative to those who read it and a release of frustration and proper perceptive of events for myself.