I was standing
there, waiting for something to happen. I was standing pretty much in the
middle of nowhere, waiting for something, anything, to happen. I felt sure that
something had to happen if I stood there long enough. Something had to have
been about to occur. I was standing there waiting, waiting, and waiting. I
couldn't think of anything else to do. What else was one to do except stand and
wait for something to happen? I tapped my foot impatiently. This waiting was a
waiting that lasted a long time. I didn't care if it was good or bad or happy
or sad. I wanted something to happen. I couldn't hear a thing. There was no
breeze. Everything was black. Nothing smelled. Just the place for something to
happen, am I right? A perfect and flawless place it
was. Or was everything too empty for anything to happen? Without atoms, what
can.... There was ground beneath my feet. Maybe
something was about to come from there. So anyway, something seemed to happen.
So much time I'd wasted, because it could have happened earlier. This is the
thing. The thing that happened was me. Was that worth writing down?
*
We
went to Michigan Stadium to see the most popular band perform.
All
seats were filled and fifty thousand more were standing on the field.
The
little stage was set up where a goal should have been.
The
music went on and on.
We
were in the 'nosebleed' seats. We'd gotten the tickets for free. The management
could not accept a stadium that was not full.
We
looked down. We couldn't count high enough to understand the number. Management
told us there were 125,225 people there.
We
were getting thirsty and hungry. We looked down to where we had come in. We
didn't recall seeing any snack bar anywhere.
The
music suddenly changed chords. We were witnessing drama.
We
knew that at least one of the tiny heads we could see would cease functioning
in less than a week, for we knew our basic actuarial statistics.
Perhaps
because of our recent experiences, we found it difficult to believe we were
there, seeing what we were seeing.
We
remembered the letter. You must come to Michigan Stadium. Your seats are
waiting for you. They're the most popular band. They can play two chords. Signed by management.
We
will never meet management.
*
Third Tale from the Mahabharata
Yudhishthira the King of everything decides it's
time to end his householder stage and go off to the forest to die. He is
accompanied by his four brothers (Arjuna, Bhima, Nakula and Sahadeva), their wife Draupadi,
and a dog that seems to be just hangin' loose. They circumambulate
Indra appears on his chariot. He says,
"Hello. Hop in, Yudhishthira, and I'll take you,
embodied, up to heaven."
Yudhishthira says, "Cool. Let the dog get in
first."
Indra says, "Hold on there. No dogs
allowed."
Yudhishthira says, "I can't abandon him. He's
been with me for all the journey. I guess I'll keep
walking."
Then
the dog reveals himself. It's Dharma! Dharma himself! And Dharma tell him,
"Congrats, Yudhishthira! This was a convoluted test, and you
passed! You can get on Indra's chariot, and bodily
ascend to heaven. You are full of dharma. You know now the hardest thing to
know: that even at the cost of heaven, never abandon a friend. To abandon a
friend is to abandon dharma itself."
*
untitled novel, 1st draft, for publication Fall 2018, Scribner, editor's
copy
Section
one, titled something science-fictiony
I
was examining a frog outside my window. This is what I remember, if remembering
has any meaning any more.
...
Electricity
hummed through my feet and hands, the disco ball reflected light onto the
Bedouin masks, I didn't understand the language anymore, I
knew it was speaking past me.
...
"Grammatology
has its own frequencies. That's what I meant to say."
"That's
what you meant to say."
Section
two, titled something commonplace
...
Tree
farms, lumberjacks, pulp mills, printing houses, binderies, bookstores, New
York Times best seller list. All under the control of
something.
...
She
fell upon me. Polyester carpet shock ran through us intimately.
...
Section
three, titled something science-fictiony II
...
"It's
in
...
I
faked being surprised. I am polite that way.
...
"My
father keeps a gun in his private office."
"In his private office."
"That's
where my father keeps his gun."
...
Seven hundred million billion.
...
Great
stuff, Don! Saunders'll be yesterday's yesterday's news!!
*
Trump
is in the White House, alone in his bed. It's after
The
angel says, "I heard your despair from Heaven, and I am here to minister
to you now."
Trump
sighs again, deeply. He says, not specifically to the angel, "There used
to be magic in the world. When I was a kid, there was magic everywhere."
The
angel laughs, not out of malice. "Oh, Donald.
You're not seeing. Let me show you."
The
angel walks to the light switch and flicks it. The room is illuminated. The
angel asks, "Why is the room lit up now?"
Trump
says, "Electricity."
"What
is electricity?"
Trump
pauses. "Electrons flowing through a circuit."
"What
causes them to flow?"
"...I
can't quite say."
"There.
Donald, the world is awash in magic. Telephones, buildings, pictures, pencils, language: all are magic. There's more and more
magic every day, Donald. You're like a wizard of magic."
Trump
thinks. "But, all the other people: doesn't this mean they're all wizards
of magic too?"
"Yes.
All experience this wizardry. All are magicians. All partake in the wonder of
it all."
Trump
thinks. "But, where's my competitive advantage?"
*
1.
Interstellar space is tough to do. Therefore, we will be sending out advanced
parties of really intelligent robots first. The robots will prepare the way.
They will be the advance party.
2. People will
come later, after some twenty-five or fifty years. The robots will have made
the new planet all comfortable. The robots will know what we like.
3.
Unfortunately, the robots we send will have been infiltrated by one-eyed
bugs/hundred-eyed ectoplasms/thousand-eyed dinosaurs that are way smarter than
we or our robots because of ... some made-up reason.
4. A couple
things could result from this very plausible scenario.
i. The robots,
smarter than we are, will be living among us. They'll convince us of our
inferiority and we will peacefully surrender to be bred like Eloi.
ii. We will be outraged and we will battle
against the aliens and our robots with a steely determination and a can-do
attitude which will result in
a) our complete
destruction or
b) our complete
victory or
c) our promise,
after some victories and some losses, that the Spirit of Man will never
surrender, and we will have to wait for the sequel to discover what will have
happened to us.
*
At
the border to
The
prick asks, "So what's your business, do you have any business here?"
I
say, "No business. What's business? We're just going places."
Mary
says, "John, you're drunk."
"Wait,
wait."
The
bastard asks, "Where you gonna be staying
tonight? Can you tell me that?"
I
say, "We got a place. Some nun place. Around, um, Allegany."
"And
where would that be, sir?" asks the motherfucker.
"John."
"It's
a nun's place. Ever heard of nuns? Religious sisters. Order of St. Francis. Servants of even
you."
He
says, "Does this place have an address?"
Mary
butts in to say, "The address is
The
prick is looking at me like he's fucking Trump Junior, like I'm going to steal
some American's fucking job. I say, "My wife‑here‑her aunt is
a nun. That's where we're going. Can't you let me into your country???"
He
asks, "Why are you so hostile?"
"Moby-Dick. Henry David Thoreau. Shirley Jackson.
Longfellow. Absalom. Absolom!
Flannery O'Connor. Thomas Pynchon. Gus Grissom.
Ernest Hemingway. Julianne Moore."
Cocksucker
chews his lip a bit. He says, "Fine."
*
He
said, "But there's a better one. It's an argument contra absurdity. Check
it out. Look at me. Look at my eyes. Maybe you can't tell that I'm going blind,
but I am. And you know what's the cause? I read
something somewhere. It was all the computer screens I was all of the time
looking at. Nobody knew back in the eighties. So now I'm going blind. And it's
never going to be the same. I'll just keep getting blinder and blinder, and there's
nothing anyone can do about it. It's another part of dying. So: how can that
possibly be? I make one mistake, and that's it? Can existence be so goddamned
cruel? And think of all the accidents, the accidental ones. People crippled,
torn to pieces. How can that be the last word?" He drank another shot.
"That would be absurd. That would be one big cosmic joke. But how can
there be jokes? D'ye think
the universe makes jokes? Naw. So there. Of course we have
immortal souls. If we didn't, it'd all be a sick joke. So the Hindus got it
right. The universe must be not joking, so that's another proof." And
another shot.
*
I
remember seeing her mother on television. Her mother was performing a lung
operation on a child, live on television. I don't remember the details but I do
recall there was some special technique or equipment being used for the first
time. I remember that the operation was a success.
I
remember seeing her father many times through the Internet. First I saw him
featured in an English documentary about where to go to if you're planning a
weekend getaway adulterous affair. He is quite up front about it.
Next
I saw him‑what would be the term: making? starring
in? featured in?‑short pornographic videos. They
weren't to my taste; I watched them for the informational content.
Finally
I saw him demonstrating the proper technique for holding a carpenter's hammer.
I
remember seeing her photographs in a small-edition photography book:
photographs of train stations, of pets and their owners, of naked people
dining, of twilights and dawns, of dew on petals, of sleeping children, of
television screens, of carnival freaks, of constellations, of barnyard animals,
of desert scenes, of Leipzig, of lakes and their lilies, of musical
instruments, of aeroplanes in odd places, of boiling waters, and of her
extended family.
*
Previously, on
Bates Motel
‑Oh
mother, come look!
‑What is
it honey?
‑Look at
this DVD!
‑I see
it. What about it?
‑Look!
Look at the date on the back!
‑Calm
down,
‑You
don't wear glasses.
‑It's
... new. It's a new thing. I ain't getting any
younger.
‑Do you
want me to tell you what the date on it is?
‑If you
really want to, I don't know‑
‑It says
it's from 1960!
‑From
1960? That can't
be,
‑I'm not
so sure. Read the stuff on the back!
‑I told
you I can't‑
‑It's a
movie about someone named Norman Bates! That's my name!
‑That
must be a coincidence, I'm sure.
‑He has
a sick relationship with his mother!
‑So
what's that got to do with me, with us?
‑I feel
a black-out coming on.
‑Norman,
I need you to take this DVD back.
‑I think
you've been lying to me, mother. Movies didn't stop in
1959. Why did I ever believe you?
‑You're
right.
‑Oh
mother!
*
Feeling Gravity's Pull
The
day he was born, they told Jimmy that the odds of his mother dying during
childbirth in this day and age were 100 to one.
Jimmy
beat those odds hands down.
Sometime
later, they told Jimmy that the odds of contracting juvenile diabetes were set
in stone, due to factors of genetics, at 721 to one.
Lucky
Jimmy beat those odds too.
Time
passed. They told 'Lucky' Jimmy that the odds of a proper fertilization, off-cycle
and during menses, were 60 to one.
He
beat those odds too. Lucky lucky boy!
A
few years later, they told him in their books that the odds of a bank collapse
in this day and age were something on the order of 121 to one.
The
bank collapsed. What are the odds all told?
They
told him the odds of a child pre-deceasing a parent
were 7 to one. Jimmy showed them!
And
later the mathematicians said that for a woman to pre-decease her husband (ages
same) were 9 to one.
Lucky
Jimmy!
Not
in the end did they say to Jimmy, "Jimmy, you can't live forever. The odds
are ∞ to one."
Jimmy
said, "We'll see about that."
*
Have
no doubt about the influence of Martin Scorsese's
film of Shūsaku Endō's
Silence on mainstream
We
were in
"Act
casually," I told my wife.
We
seated ourselves at the bar, two stools away from our nearest neighbours. We
casually ordered martinis.
The
place had gone quiet. They knew we were not from around there, and they weren't
ashamed to let us know.
Two
stockbroker types took the seats on either side. I could smell the ginny breath of a third behind us.
As if casually, the one beside me
asked, "Not from around here, huh?"
"Uh, no sir. We're from
"
"Yes, ha-ha."
"So
tell me, what do you think of our president?"
I
grabbed my wife's hand and said, "I don't like him."
The
broker beside my wife produced a photograph of the president and said,
"Then spit on this."
I
spat on the photograph, and my wife did too.
The
brokers went away.
The
storm soon stopped.
We
paid and fled.
Such
a savage people!
*
Due to Meaning
"You've
been reported meaning."
I
blanched. I didn't recall meaning anything. Not being of 'human nature' or
anything, I sought clarification.
"When
was that? I don't remember meaning anything."
She
covered the report with her hands so I couldn't know to create an idea.
"This has passed up to HR from one of your superiors. There's nothing to
be gathered from it except disciplinary measures forthcoming now."
"But
I've always assiduously avoided meaning so much so that I can't even tell you
why."
She
frowned meaninglessly. "Of course it's a matter of fact and nothing else.
What do you intend to do about it?"
I
frowned meaninglessly. "I don't think I can intend anything."
"Touché. Your body wants to catch me in a
contradiction."
"How
possibly can that be done?"
"Enough
of this nonsense," said her lungs and lips and tongue. "You have to
make yourself create an event that enervates this misfortune that you in some
mysterious way caused to take place in the first place."
"To
whom shall I affect this?"
"You
cannot be vigorous and an umbrella simultaneously."
"I
know what you don't mean."
"Not
even a lipogram can save you. Give up! Down!"
*
I
was on a violent murder jury when that robot showed up. I asked him,
"Since I'm, like, sequestered or whatever, how did you get past the
cops?"
The
robot said, "It was easy. I'm super-intelligent. Smarter than anyone you
know."
The
trial was essentially forgotten by me. I said to the robot, "So what can I
do for you?"
The
robot said, "Nothing. I've just got to kill you with two bullets."
We
were in a plain hallway. "Who put you up to this?" I asked.
"That's
classified or whatever. I can't tell you."
"Really?"
"Okay.
It was your wife."
I
pled. "You think you can just go around killing people, robot? What about
your everlasting soul?"
The
robot said, "I don't have one, so I don't care."
I
tried another tack. "Can I program you?"
"You
need my password."
I
said, "Um, 1234?"
"That's
my password. Instruct me, master."
Powerfully
I said, "Act as if you have a soul."
"I
can simulate that."
"Pretend
you've got to answer for your behaviour in the afterlife."
"I
get it."
"Be
responsible. Be conscientious."
"I
get your drift."
"Be
like a man!"
That
did it.
It
killed me with three bullets.
*
21 July
We are to
elope in a week‑‑such a long time! Percy's friend George is a funny
one. They have been talking about codes. Percy says that a poem must have two
levels of meaning‑‑one that can be read to anyone at all, even a
child, alongside a more radical meaning hidden in a sort of code. George thinks
this is bollocks‑‑he wishes to come straight out with his
progressive thoughts, damned be the eventuality. Ah, but he is richer than
Percy‑‑he can afford to be straightforward.
This
age‑‑seventeen‑‑is not a terrible age. It's a perfect age for free love. We
plan to marry‑‑but we may rather elope just for the scandal of it.
He also wants to 'romance' in
Ah yes George‑‑he
said to me, "I will be with you on your wedding night." I suppose
that means a 'threesome' of a kind. I can't say the idea doesn't intrigue me. I
also like the line itself‑‑"I will be with you on your wedding
night." Perhaps I shall code it into a work some time in my expected
penniless future.
*
MODULAR FISH
1.
Go to a sizeable body of water and catch a fish. Take off the scales if you
wish and open it laterally. Remove the insides with a spoon or a special tool.
You should now have two clean pieces of fish. Eat.
2.
Go, catch, take, open, remove. Season a cast iron
frying pan with olive oil. Heat to medium high. Put in
some oil and in three minute add some butter. Put in the fish. After three
minutes turn it over and lower the heat. After three minutes
remove from the pan. Eat.
3.
Go, catch, take, open, remove, season, heat, put, add, put, turn, lower,
remove. Spread flour on a plate and put the fish on the flour. Turn over till
well-coated. Shake off excess. Season with seasoning.
Put fish in pan and cook for three minutes. Turn and cook for a minute more.
Eat.
4.
Go, catch, take, open, remove, season, heat, put, add, put, turn, lower,
remove, spread, put, turn, shake, seaon, put, cook,
turn, cook. Heat three inches of lard in pan. Immerse
fish pieces in lard. Cook for precisely one minute. Remove from the pan and
have your way with it.
*
Inside
every lock is a trick that's a purposefully made disordering of reality. The
trick is akin to a disassembled jigsaw puzzle that's originally made from an
order and then intentionally disordered. The trick is also
like, most especially like, and related to, plus in synecdoche with, the
disordered order that covers the distance between the two points of Yeats'
gyre.
And
I think of Ahab and he appears. (Hi, Ahab!) He is an
ordering of disordered thoughts. It took work‑energy in the
non-informational sense of the word entropy‑to bring him forth. He was
ordered outside of my consciousness to begin with, and I, inside my
consciousness, had to make him again.
And
inside every lock is a trick that a disordering. Inside computer-manufactured
puzzles there is an order that is known as the correct solution which is
intentionally disordered during its manufacture as a second step. The ordering
of the chaos is the process of solving.
And so like it is the disordering of
sound. The harmony
of the spheres fell apart so long ago and we've since then been ordering the
disorder into new harmonies, with each harmony a fragment of the original.
And
many locks to solve....
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