Mission: Impossible (1966-1973)
Good
day, Mr. Phelps. We have a mission for you, and this time it's personal.
You
may have noted over the past year or so that you are being observed, not by any
secret global spy agency but rather by strangers and acquaintances. On the
street, in your phony-front travel agency, in your own Manhattan apartment, and
even in your bed. The eyes of all are upon you, and you are no longer certain
of your security. Who are you? What are you?
Your
neighbour gave you a birthday card, but you know now how your neighbour learned
it, fetching though she is. How did one of your travel clients discover your
email address? Perhaps either of the secretaries offered it up, but which one?
and how to know? Then there's the matter of your telephone number. Has it been
put on the 'Dark Web'?
Why
do you dismiss these questions? Why not investigate?
Oh,
we know why. It is because you have no understanding of yourself. In fact,
you've been in so many false moustaches you don't know what you look like, let
alone are.
We've
given up on you. You will self-destruct in five seconds.
*
Elegy Written in a County
Churchyard (1750)
Far-flung,
the civilizations communicated through channels made of space-time worm-holes.
This was a big deal when it first got started to be done, but later it became
as mundane as owning a toaster.
They
squabbled for about three thousand years about what to do with Planet Earth. It
was a dead thing, understand. It had been plundered near to exhaustion, they
said. However, that was not strictly true, for if humanity had remained
earthbound, there would have been plenty to go around. However, there's a lot
more stuff in the galaxy that's tons cheaper to mine.
So,
what to do with Earth? They squabbled and they squabbled. Maybe a little
memorial plate somewhere in Mesopotamia, between the Tigris and Euphrates?
'Here's where civilization began', more or less. The squabbling continued for a
couple more millennia, on notice boards and such.
It
became apparent that nothing would ever be done with it. Have you ever passed
an abandoned farmhouse? Perhaps you went inside to see unmade beds, pots on the
stove, and the pencilled account of an unfinished game of hearts. That happened
to Earth. It became just some old farmhouse. It was forgotten.
*
All That Heaven Allows (1955)
Poor
Rock Hudson had to go to his neighbour's house, to talk about the tree that was
too huge and dangerous between their properties. He was a shy guy, and it all
felt like an imposition. Who was he to bring up such a delicate subject as
arboriculture? He'd spent a day prevaricating.... It was time to do something!
The
house he went to was a bungalow, in white and grey. Hudson's house was much
bigger. He didn't know what to make of it. He didn't go out often. He was
making so many movies he understood little of his environment. Plus he preferred the company of men.
The
door next door got opened by Jane Wyman. He recognized her, and said: "My
goodness. Jane Wyman! I had no idea you lived next door!"
Jane
Wyman said: "And you're Rock Hudson! And looking swell!"
Rock
Hudson got down to business. "It's the tree out back. It's sick. It's
split. We have to take it down."
"Oh
yes certainly. Take it down!"
"Excellent."
"Douglas
Sirk called me yesterday. Looking for a guy for a lead thing in some thing.
Interested?"
Rock
Hudson said: "Sure, why not?"
*
When We Were Very Young (1924)
She
was relating her problems.
"How
is it possible to really relate to someone? I'm getting more and more, I don't
know, alienated, from people. Is it just that I've gotten too old? Am I simply
tired of everything and I can't get up the gas to be bothered? What can I
do?"
The
Mighty Milne replied: "Don't judge by surface appearance alone. That's
what I do. When I see a person, I don't see a bundle of organs wrapped up in
skin. I see there are mysteries or creation that I'll never know anything
about. I see people not as problems but as challenges."
"How
can that be done? Do you think I have the time to dig down deep?"
The
Mighty Milne: "See them in the dimension of time. They all had pasts. They
were all children once, and, in many ways, they still are. Look past appearance
to see what must have been, back in the past. Babies, even. If you train
yourself to do that, you'll get along better."
"Okay.
I suppose that all makes sense. The whole person."
"The
whole person."
"How
much do you owe me?"
"Ninety
dollars."
*
Decomposing
Composers (1980)
He had a melody and he had
tempi and he knew the timbres he wanted to use. The melody had two long parts
to it, with each part implied by the other, though not in the same key, and
with different tempi and different timbres, and yet the parts complemented one
another. His biggest problem was figuring which part should come first, for
they led into one another so smoothly and their qualities were so equal; it was
so undecidable about the order that he wrote down two different versions,
shuffled together in contrary ways. And the words of the melodies (for he had
words to the melodies) had no order of preference; the song was very much like
a moebius strip which could run infinitely from one melody to the next and back
again endlessly. Which made him realize it had to written on a moebius strip
with every end and every beginning leading into the other part. (It was then
that he noticed that one of the melodies was one bar longer than the other, but
he liked the break in the symmetry.) He then built a machine to advance the
bars one by one.
*
I Was a
Teenage Werewolf (1957)
Every once in a while, when
I'm not musing about anything in particular, I think back to my early years and
golly I'm disgusted and amused by what I see. How did I get through it? Under
my desk at school it was all dirt because I couldn't
sit still. My lips were chapped like mad because I couldn't stop licking them.
I couldn't stand being photographed.
Then came high school, where I
didn't fit in. I dressed strangely, with a ratty straw hat and a too-big cotton
jacket. (Years later, I showed a candid photograph to someone. She said:
"Are you wearing a costume?")
Some nights, when I knew I
wouldn't be missed, I'd go out.
How did I get through it, I
repeat? I understood little, and what I did understand I'd misinterpreted
strongly. I was on the margins of not one but two marginalized groups; the
nerds and the headbangers. Weirdos all.
I got through it. My edges
dulled. I learned to live with it.
Times have changed, though.
These days, I am an elderly werewolf, and, some nights, when I know I'm not
going to be missed, I go out.
*
Don
Pasquale (1843)
"Master James," I
began: "I am choosing to embark on a career as a novelist. Problem is: I
don't have any worthwhile ideas. Is plot-theft defensible?"
"Entirely," he
replied with a smile. "Thieve away. There is nothing new under the sun.
Time waits for no man. And reader, I married him."
"I think the meaning of
your koans is that since the building blocks are all pre-fabricated, one might
as well go all the way."
"Exactly."
"From whom should I
steal? Should I steal from the greats, the not-greats, or the ones
in-between?"
"Do not steal from the
greats, for you will never surpass them. Likewise, do not steal from the
not-greats, for you will never surpass them. Steal from the in-betweens.
Television is a good source, plus it's snappy."
"I see. Should I disguise
the characters?"
"As I was saying to my
good friend Jerzy Spinefeld the other day, it would
be madness to do otherwise, for the result would be dreadful fan fiction."
"Again, I see. How
closely should I follow the source material?"
"Do not be slavish! What
you vaguely remember is good enough, and as you fill in the edges...."
"Again, I see."
*
Ordinary
People (1980)
I know of a married couple
from way back. You know them: their names were Adam and Eve. To themselves they
were ordinary, but the situation was otherwise to GOD. Bless them.
They birthed two boy-children
out in the wilderness, after their loss of paradise. Then one of the boys died.
(The details, if you're a reference librarian, are in the first couple pages.)
This was the primary terrible event in history.
Quickly after hearing the news
of their son's death, and for months and years to come, Adam knew Eve to be a
negligent mother, and Eve knew Adam to be callous and self-indulgent.
Meanwhile, the spirit of their
dead son called out in the voice of peace. Diminishingly, diminishingly....
The surviving son, now without
his brother, was something of a philosopher. He anguished: He was a better
person than me. My parents loved him more. I am guilty.
I think his name was Cain.
I wish there was a good way to
end this, but there's not. The recriminations flew back and forth, regarding
not the voice of the child, deep underground, saying: Let there be peace.
Dedicated
to the memory of Nate Sinclair, 2006-2024.
*
An Introduction to the Principles
of Morals and Legislation (1780)
"I
am not to be seen. Or, rather, at least not clearly. I want others to see me as
I see myself, which is to say: a torso, a pair of legs, two hands, two arms,
and a nose. I want to be seen without eyes, for I see not my eyes, nor do I
want to see them. Most confusion comes from vision, as I understand it. You
must see through your eyes, but you must not be able to see your eyes. I
suppose a man whose nose had been removed might be able to see his own eyes. As
far as I know, this experiment in self-perception has never been attempted.
Perhaps I should write down a prospectus. What would be the effect on his soul?
If he crossed his eyes such that each eye was seeing the other eye, would he
experience a form of vertigo? Would his mind become discombobulated at the
clear sight of itself? Would his soul become incredibly small or would his soul
become outrageously enlarged? Note. The structure of the mammal prevents the
eyes from seeing one another. Is this essential?"
*
Knock on Wood (1967)
-How
often do you think there's lightning happening in this zone? How many hours or
minutes in a year, say?
-Difficult.
Between sixty minutes and one hundred and eighty minutes, I suppose.
-One
to three hours, more or less?
-That's
what I'm guessing.
-And
how many hours are there in a year?
-That
would be twenty four times three hundred and sixty five which would be 25*350
which would be (100/4)*350 so we got 35000/4 which
means something less than nine thousand hours in a year.
-So,
does that mean there's lightning between one nine thousandth of the year and
one three thousandth of a year?
-That
appears to be the proper math.
-That's
not very often, is it?
-Not
very often at all.
-It's
nice when there's lightning, isn't it?
-It's
a spectacular and exciting phenomenon, yes.
-Wouldn't
one be very lucky if something remarkable happened in that rare occurrence?
-It
would be somewhat special to that individual, if the individual was
superstitious.
-Wouldn't
it be a marvel if one were to die during a lightning storm?
-I
suspect more than the usual number of people die during lightning storms.
-Oh.
You're right. That's so.
*
A Handful of Dust (1934)
She
was always a big one for quotes. She could come up with anything that fit
right. I can't remember any of the quotes, but they were sharp quotes, let me
tell you.
We'd
always set a place for her, whether she was expected or not. Even when we'd get
telegrams from Europe, we always set a place for her. Knowing her, she could
have been playing a trick; and, yes, once, she showed up unexpectedly.
There's
too much room in the world now, now that she's no longer there. There's this
silhouette, this empty void, where she should be. It passes from room to room,
or indoors to outdoors, leaving spaces everywhere.
Will
I ever be able to stop hearing her damned voice? Her laughter? It's here, it's
there, it's everywhere, always meaning two things at once.
She
played a pivotal role in so many lives, and she didn't even know she was doing
it. She'd laugh to spittling if you ever said
anything about her in her presence.
Do
you remember her jamborees? Every Friday for three months, and then they
stopped. No-one told her to return to hosting them. "Handfuls of
dust."
*
Ai no korîda
(1976)
"In
the year 1311, a war erupted between two kingdoms in the western mountains.
King Goidu's men had abducted the daughter of King Semasame."
"Quickly!"
"General,
that light must be the bedroom, I've been told."
"Quiet!"
"The guards
are asleep."
"Kill
them all."
"King
Goidu, two of your sons have been killed, and the
daughter of King Semasame is gone."
"My
sons. Did I deserve this fate?"
"Bandits!"
"Ha!
Is it not the great King Goidu, with few men, on the
travels?"
"The
bandit king Noisutzu."
"Aye."
"You
know the region between the kingdoms well. How much to be our guide?"
"If
it's a matter of honour, there is no fee."
"We
are passing through the Swamp of Poison. Careful!"
"How
did you get in here?"
"I
have been sent by King Goidu. He has been shamed by
you."
"He
stole my daughter!"
"I
wasn't told that."
"Join
me."
"The
Great Battle. 19 August 1312."
"Finally we meet!"
"Goidu, this is your fate!"
"Semasame, do not take me for a coward!"
"Noisutzu, why are you laughing so?"
"There
are going to be two fewer thieves by nightfall."
"Noisitzu wed the daughter of King Semasame."
"The
End."
*
Dead! (1966)
The
Question was always there. (This is a stolen line.)
In
the shape of someone else's mother. (So is this one.)
For
all women are mothers, right? (From the Russian.)
Even
if there's no children. (Charles Dickens, perhaps.)
We've
done enough. Let's get out of here. (Numerously.)
We've
only got one tank of oxygen left. (Verne, or Wells.)
These
may be my last words. (Something epistolary, but then:)
We
thought we were being obscure, like everyone else. (Nirvana?)
You
can only do so much with a bird. (Origins unknown.)
He
kept them: "Pieces too small to save." (Room 222.)
There's
that smell again. Like very old wood. (Codger Roger.)
Eventually
you run out of eventualities. (Tractatus LP.)
What'll
we do when we run out of notes? (Charles Ives.)
The
Question was always there. (This is a stolen line.)
This
is the million-and-first. (Naked City.)
May
be. May be. May be. Who said that? (Opus citatum.)
That
dog was a good dog. Very much a dog's dog. (Willie.)
We
can build it. We can build it to heaven. (The Bible.)
Only
steal from the best. (Take this as a guide for your life. Drink deeply, Carolyn
Sullivan. Drink deeply.)
*
The Young Ones (1982 & 1984)
I'm
goddam sick of it that I have to solve all the problems I like solving problems
but Mary and Frank and Astoria and Carla expect me to solve their problems but
woo I can't make Mary's spine problems get better and I can't make Frank solve
the problem of Gaza and I can't give Astoria the Keys to the Kingdom of the
Montreal database and I can't give Carla my devoted love.
I
never got to be a frat boy, or anything like it. So naïve was I I.... I for two
weeks slept in a burned-out condo somewhere up Spadina.
I had some Penthouse magazines and I jerked off, nightly. During the day I
attended school, and met Frank Faulk.
I
don't know who's living or dead. Paul's fiancé Nanci, after they broke it off,
I fucked. She busted me. There's a lot of inessential detail. "I could
write a book."
Nanci
Oosterman, and her brother the photographer. Their parents, and their boat.
'They called us the lovers,' to quote myself. Don Gibson. Pete. &c.
I
can handle it all. My past and present. I wish I had some good ending. Phizz.
*
A Street Cat Named Sylvester
(19563)
The
other grunts all called him Syl, so Syl it was, at least during wartime. He'd
return to Sylvester when there was time for three syllables at once; but during
a war who has time for a trio when one will do?
The
bird wrote him letters regular. Syl was shocked to realize someone actually
cared about him, even if it was just some blondie. Syl wrote back, once for
every two letters, because, as has been noted, time was tight.
They'd
made it into Europe all right, and the place was a mess, and if it wasn't a
mess they left it a mess. It was all pushing on and pushing on to the east.
Where they were they didn't really know. Jerry had been pulling up road-signs
on the retreat, and Syl's French was rusty. Their latitude was anybody's guess.
All they knew was that they were heading east. What would they find?
He
thought of her. What was she doing? How was the moon back in Indiana? He wanted
to get back home, sure, but a job's a job. Didn't pay as much as
heroin-dealing, but getting fed regularly was heavenly.
*
Mit dem grünen
Lautenbande & Die böse Farbe (1824)
Mondrian
one day was sorely tempted by the colour green. "Should I break my habit?
Should I use the colour green?"
He
walked around the block, thinking deeply. "Can't I leave it alone? Can't I
let nature take care of all the greens in the world? What should I say to God?
I'm not trying to usurp him and I'm not trying to topple him. He can paint
better greens than anyone in any case. I do believe someone somewhere would
laugh at me for my attempts."
Still he walked, until he found himself
in a field. It was a field in which there were red and yellow and blue flowers.
"Ah, but those three colours aren't copyrighted by the science behind
greenness! Those colours were made by the birds and the bees. I am a creature
created like them; they are my brothers and sisters. If they can make red and
yellow and blue, then so can I, and that's all there is to it!"
With
that, he quickly returned home. He had his colours ready, and he knew precisely
what to do with them. He knew how to arrange.
*
Kit 'n' Kaboodle (1973)
I
was going to describe several panels from a book of cartoons, but I'm not going
to do that.
I
was going to write something nostalgic from way-back-when, but I don't remember
it.
I
was going to make something fresh and something new, never seen before, but I
can't think of it.
I
was going to paint a picture, a still life, but I can't do that, not for the
life of me.
I
was going to go get this rash checked out, but I refuse to do that.
I
was going to sleep in this morning, but I obviously wasn't capable of that.
I
planned something big, something very big, but it's too late for that.
I
was going to recount something which is on the verge of being forgotten
forever, but I won't do that.
I
was going to steal some ideas from elsewhere, but I don't know how to do that
properly.
I
intended to do so much, so very much, cowboy, astronaut, surgeon, but I did not
do that.
I
thought once of something, but it's gone now.
The
spring has washed away the winter, and it'll never be the same again.
*
Meet Me on the Ledge, Soul of a New
Machine! (1972 & 1981)
Pat
and me by arrangement went up a tall building and sat on the ledge, looking
down across the night city.
I
told him: "I know what's wrong with artificial intelligence."
Pat
said: "O do tell."
I
said: "I doesn't know what it doesn't know."
Pat
said: "So what? I don't know what I don't know."
"No,"
I said. "It doesn't know the extent of what it doesn't know. Its world is
made of words."
"A
word-world? No. Say no."
"No.
Are you a dentist?"
Pat
said: "No."
"Do
you know what a dentist knows?"
"No."
I
said: "A machine doesn't know it doesn't know what it is to be a dentist. You see?"
"Am
I to say: 'No'?"
"No.
Say yes."
"Yes.
A machine doesn't know what it is to be a dentist."
"Does
it know this?"
"No?"
"No!"
I said: "It doesn't know its limits. We do. It's intelligent to know what
you don't know. That's when you can start to know."
He
looked down. "Is this a ledge, or a no-ledge?"
I
said: "It's both. You know that."
"No."
"You're
wrong. You know it."
*
Open the Door [Richard] (1964
[& 1957])
Open the
door Mary
Open the
door and let me in
Open the
door Mary
Mary why
don't you open that door
I know
what you mean and I get your point and I couldn't agree with you more!
But Baby
there's no moon tonight and it's dark here in the forest!
I get my
slippers on but I got no socks!
Yes I go to extremes and maybe I'll
take a look at that I'll take a look at that!
We got a
rich history and it's back luck to jump without a
parachute!
Hell I think you can die that way!
I got to
feed the cats and my loins I mean my stomach is gonna
blow!
It's not
too late to write you a tender loving song you know the kind!
I hope you
know the kind 'cause I can't think of any right now!
Gimme
another chance baby give my chance number ten!
Ah Love
Potion Number Nine does that count?
Come out!
Look at the stars!
Open the
door Mary
Open the
door and let me in
Open the
door Mary
Mary why
don't you open that door
*
The Idler (1758-1760)
Bless
you, taxman, bless your soul
You
may take a lot, but you never take it all
Without
a house, where are you, little snail?
I
can see in my mind's eye an important field. As a matter of fact, my niece
lived in one of the houses that replaced the field.
There's
a certain slant of light
He
says we should replenish our friendships, since otherwise they will all vanish
and we'll be left alone.
I
got Beyonce's new double LP today. The credits are only available through one
of those square grid things. I suppose I'll never know anything.
Cum
on bring the noise
Eric
Wright the novelist said that a plot is merely a frame to hang everything else
on to.
I
wonder if I could have made a swell travelling salesman.
Dyson
spheres.
I
thought about spheres today.
Is
there any way for a sphere to spin without creating a polarity?
They
are the children of the night
You
know, modernist music such as Bartók and Berg and Ives now sounds
completely normal.
I
have to start the laundry tomorrow.
Maybe
snack tonight.
A
rose by any other name would smell as sweet
*
Tight as a Drum (1984)
We
should have better Christian hearts. We should be peaceful, forgiving, loving.
I don't like yelling and screaming. I do it, but I don't like myself after. I
know when I sin. I love this world, and everything that happens in it. All it's
is worthy of awe. I love this house, and I love Mary, and I even love our cats.
I wish this life could go on forever.
My
mother's sister, Donna, has a sick husband, and I know he's reading this.
(Hello, Al! I love you now, and I've always loved you!) If only chance and
distance and miracles would make it possible, of only my own selfishness could
make it so, I would be with you.
But,
in the end, I know that Al would like this. I know more about Islam than the
next Joe, and I have to say it's a shit religion. Mohammad was a pederast and
Islam is the epitome of colonialism. It's so antithetical to Christianity it
stinks. Moslems are garbage. 0 there's so much beauty in the world, but our
forthcoming Califate will ruin that.
Exterminate
the brutes all you want, but we won't win.
*
A Tree Grows in Brooklin (1943?)
They
hewed it down, all of it down, down to a stump, and the mess they left behind
was horrible to see. The atmosphere on the east side of the house became
unbearable: Everything became hot to the touch, and even the cats, usually
loungers longing for Egypt, found it too much to bear. Everyone became tense at
the change, and fighting was everywhere, between cats and people, cats and
cats, and man and woman. They hewed it all down, the landlady and the
neighbour, for filthy lucre. Property values, you see, and who could care less
about a huge old maple tree. Truly, it might fall on some precious vehicle.
They
hewed it down, which took four days. The stump, you see, was mixed with metals
from a hundred years ago, and cutting into it might hurt their precious
chainsaws, so they had to do it carefully. As they went along, the tree got
ground up into chips. I assume they did it because it had more value as chips.
The tree became someone's rear deck.
They
ground it down, and left nothing behind. After a matter of a week, all was
forgotten.
*
Great Expectations (1860-1861 &
1983)
I
cannot and must not escape the obscenity of my existence. My birth was a messy
birth, as messy as all births are. I recall being a farmhand for a summer,
during several barnyard births. I can with my mind's nose still smell the iron
of the rich blood spilt. And yet the mothers would almost inevitably recover,
and seemingly forget the whole event.
Those
around me seemed to react indifferently to the utter obscenity of existence.
Were the simply illiterate? Had they never read Mishima? However, it has to be
understood that though I had what seemed to me to be a special knowledge of
this pornographic horror, perhaps I was not the only one. Perhaps everyone
thinks the same to this very day, and yet they find it impossible to
communicate. Furthermore, I don't believe I am quite properly communicating it
now.
We're
swimming in it to such an extent that we don't see it and we're not ever
properly horrified by it. Perhaps the anti-natalists sense it, and have built
an entire philosophy around it. But who knows how aware they are of it.
As
Kathy Acker wrote: My cunt red ugh.
*
The Life and Strange Surprizing
Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, Of York, Mariner: Who lived Eight and Twenty
Years, all alone in an un-inhabited Island on the Coast of America, near the
Mouth of the Great River of Oroonoque; Having been
cast on Shore by Shipwreck, wherein all the Men perished but himself. With An
Account how he was at last as strangely deliver’d by Pyrates (1719)
So I was on the subway reading The
Life and Strange Surprizing Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, Of York, Mariner:
Who lived Eight and Twenty Years, all alone in an un-inhabited Island on the
Coast of America, near the Mouth of the Great River of Oroonoque;
Having been cast on Shore by Shipwreck, wherein all the Men perished but
himself. With An Account how he was at last as strangely deliver’d
by Pyrates, and a woman came up to me and said:
"Have you read The Fortunes and Misfortunes of the Famous Moll Flanders
Who was born in Newgate, and during a life of continu’d Variety for Threescore Years, besides her
Childhood, was Twelve Years a Whore, five times a Wife (whereof once to her
brother) Twelve Years a Thief, Eight Years a Transported Felon in Virginia, at
last grew Rich, liv’d Honest and died a Penitent?"
Reader,
I married her.
*
The Song of Hiawatha (1855)
The
pool in the back has been generating balloons, Big
orange and yellow and sometimes pink balloons, Where are they coming from? You
might very well ask. The source is in question, but the filter looks guilty.
Where the rubber is coming from is another question. I see them floating up and
floating down Caught between two atmospheres hostile to balloons. And now
there's more, and more, and they show no Signs they're ever going to stop. Are
they getting bigger? They can't be caught because they're wet and slippery And who in the neighbourhood has the weaponry to Take them
down? So far it's only this pool that's so Affected,
but the plague could easily spread to Another pool. (There's lots of pools
around these parts.)
Some
things you can't stop. Some are out of all control. Once a path takes
shape--computers, furniture, language, Television, paper--it cannot be stopped.
Best not to start! There are natural laws concerning all this, something From the calculus, but slide rules are only good for
Problems that have been identified to some extent. So
the balloons will rise until something unnatural Happens. Better let them be.
*
Varney the Vampire (1845-1847)
She can do
it, every single day. Every single day, there are visits she will make. There
are visits she will make, though not according to a set schedule. Though not
according to a set schedule, she will leave her victims behind. She will leave
her victims behind, without even letting them know what happened to them.
Without even letting them know what happened to them, they will sense there has
been a loss. They will sense there has been a loss, of blood or of vitality. Of
blood or of vitality, they will have to replenish themselves. They will have to
replenish themselves, and it will take overnight. And it will take overnight,
in preparation for her next visit. In preparation for her next visit, they may
rearrange some matters in their lives. They may rearrange some matters in their
lives, because they never know when the next visit will be. Because they never
know when the next visit will be, they will put fresh flowers out. They will
put fresh flowers out, because she will return. Because she will return, if
anyone can do it. If anyone can do it, she can do it.
*
Das Schloss (of Otranto) (1922 [and 1764])
The
King pointed to the top illustration on the page. "This is the design I
want."
The
Architect nodded obsequiously. (He would have chosen the bottom one.)
"Yes, it is a grand design. Very modern, very baroque."
"Design
is nothing. From those heights, it would take but a fortnight to destroy
entirely my brother's army."
"It
has secrets too," said the Architect.
Many
years later, after the castle had been built, the King's brother did in fact
attack. The King stood at the castle's peak and yelled out: "Harry!
Retreat now, and you will not be harmed or even imprisoned."
From
below came the response. "William!" (They were on a first-name
basis.) "You are but a bastard!"
This
cut the King to the quick, for it was probably a fact.
Prince
Harry built his own castle upon the spot.
For
years, the two castles stood. The two brothers would look out one upon the
other and brood. The battle would end on one-or-the-other's deathbed, and both
castles would belong to the survivor.
All
that construction! All that stone! All those plans! All those secrets!
Both
brothers died the same day.
The
battle continued.
*
The Big Switch (1968)
"It
was an old house when we moved in. However, it had been fitted for electricity
sometime around 1900, so it was pretty modern for an old house."
"Was
it a big house?"
"Yes,
but it had pretty much fallen into ruin. It was a mess. The electricity
business had been done early-adapter-like, so nothing fit with anything else
and there was no way to get replacements. But Stell and me we carried on as
well as we could."
"Is
this going anywhere?"
"Oh
yes, sir, it is. Something I didn't put together, one-plus-one-like, till much
later. See, down in the cellar there was a switch beside the back door, but the
switch didn't do anything."
"Nothing?"
"What
do you think I mean? And up in the attic there was a switch that didn't do
anything either. Well we figured something got
disconnected. We didn't think much if it.
"Until
one day, just by chance, I flipped the basement switch, and something
happened."
"What."
"Turned
out they were connected. Only if both were up was a circuit created."
"And
what happened?"
"An
atomic bomb detonated in Central China!"
"What?
When? Oh my God."
"Yeah,
never happened."
*
Dykes to Watch Out For (1983-2008)
I
once met a girl or should I say she once met me. We were in the same room
together, with others, for about three weeks. We were planning something, but I
can't remember what. At the end of one of these planning sessions we loosened
up and had coffee and talked about, you know, boys and things. I hadn't really
noticed her at all.
She
came up to me and said: "You don't remember me, do you?"
I
didn't understand. "From when?" thinking she meant in the last three
weeks.
"Eight
or nine years ago. We worked at the same hardware store."
I
remembered the hardware store but not her. However, I pretended to understand.
She
said: "My name's Morgan."
"Oh,
right. I used to call you Morgana."
"I
found out why you called me that pretty recently. Anyway, how have you
been?"
"I'm
doing okay. How about you?"
"Pretty
good. I'm married now."
"Ah!
Happy times?"
"Yes,
happy times."
After
a bit more of that, I went home.
Every
piece of the puzzle came together. I was in love with her for about a week.
Passionately and madly.
Then
it went away.
*
The Penguin Dictionary of Literary
Terms and Literary Theory, New Edition (1991) & Rubber Biscuit (1956)
Estrangement, picaresque novel,
civic critics, futurism, neoteric, table-talk, classicism, novel, alternative
theatre, decires, irony, persona, parody, modernism,
metatheatre
You know, even in the city, where I
am doomed to be, every once in a while you find
yourself walking through a cloud of Farm, it's like your nose has been
transported to the Holland Marsh
Grupo de Guayaquil, primitivism,
pantun, Federal Theatre Project, science fiction, Biedermeier, lyrisme romantique, macaronic,
horror story, daina, quod
semper quod ubique
There was an event in my building
today, an awards show for film and television, went on for four days, at the
end the producers gave themselves an award, Best Grift
Diminishing metaphor, free
association, ivory tower, irregular ode, palinode, classic, estrambote,
euphemism, narratology, portmanteau word, idée fixe, contrast, mode
I told it before and I tell it
again, I used to think dogs are attracted to me because I look like them then I
realized it was only because I smell like garbage
Orientalism, pause, rising rhythm,
colloquialism, epic, keneme, obligatory scene,
romance languages, emblem book, minstrel, tragic flaw, mock-heroic, complaint
Rubber biscuit rubber biscuit
rubber biscuit
*
I Wish It Could Be 1965 Again (1981)
Rage.
Rage.
I
just now heard a song. Broken Doll. And I wondered: who did that? I thought: Wreckless Eric. That couldn't be true. I looked at the
sleeve. Wreckless Eric.
I
was a baby, a little bundle of hunger. I didn't have anything but hunger. Wreckless Eric didn't even exist!
I
could barely see. I couldn't hear. Drop me down in front of Mary Poppins
(1964), I'd suck my stupid thumb.
I
want to be one day old again.
I
want to be ignorant again. I don't want all this knowledge. I don't want to
know what happened on 16 June 1904. I don't want to know my reflection. I don't
want to know about my brother's death.
Soft-skulled,
dumb, fragile....
I
found a dead bird today. It had barely been born, and it had fallen from the nest
in our eaves. She was a tiny thing. Her bones were as thin as sewing needles.
I
wish it could be 1965 again. I wish to not know about so much.
25
December 1965. I want to be ten months old, like then. I want to look at
electrical lights without understanding.
*
Cosmos (1980)
The
universe is
Everything
that happens is
The
motions of the planets is
My
fingernails grow too long because
My
brilliance, my fucking brill, is because
Your
sight, your seeing, is for
Your
science, your cosmological researches, are for
Your
telescope was bought and paid for by
I
should clip them tomorrow because
Those
dead baby birds, those dead, because
Nietzsche
went nuts and I saw why because
The
universe is
In
the supermarket, Food Basics, because
We're
witnesses to the creation of
I
saw humanity in the market, all made by
Reminded
of a Reagan joke. "Waiter, did a chef prepare this? Because I'm an Atheist
and we don't believe in intelligent
There
are no answers, because
This
is a test of the EBS, do not adjust your
"Hello,
my dear. Your uncle passed away, five
There's
some static in the line, hang on there
I
got to get to, got to get back to, got to get really back to
The
dead, who cares for the dead
All
in the boat, boat built by
The
Infidels, yes, I hate them, because
A
book about Queen Anne, a book about the Hurons
Why
is it there
god.
