a distant memory

julia, do you remember the night i lost my cigarette lighter in the wooded path behind the iridescent bandstand before the failure to remonstrate grew serious? as the bourgeoisie in their white seersucker suits and the hoi polloi in their blue hawaiian shirts forgot the combination to the lock in the depths of despair? and the band - what exuberance! what passion! islamabad! the people have taken to the streets! vladivostok and port arthur and crocodiles! “i think i have had just about enough of this lot” the night spun like the canary islands and then it was over - forever until the cadillacs come back to aurang-zebe

poem

alabaster boyardee cherry declasse enervated fractals gum balls in the new mown hay iridescent juggernauts leading in the kindlly light mothballs in nocturnal obsolescence petrified with quiet fright roll on, roll on, sasketchawan turn your damper down underneath your virtuous airs surge the walpurgnichtical exponentials of clowns youth will be served forever when zeroes proliferate beyond the grave i have walked this way before when all the streets were paved

an unfortunate interruption

part three of three

for part two click here

for part one click here

“i think, before we commence, “ the empress began, “we should agree that the final manifesto we issue should consist of no more than one hundred and forty-four words, as it has been amply demonstrated that this is the maximum number that a human brain can comprehend.” “does anyone not agree?” the duchess of g——— asked pointedly. no one responded. “i believe it is settled then,” said the count of a————. “please proceed.” what a lot of rot, thought terence. but of course he said nothing. how he wished the whole fiasco were over with, so that he could keep his assignation with h————. “here is my rough draft,” said the empress. she proceeded to recite, without notes: the peoples of the earth have demanded justice for centuries. justice from gods, justice from kings, and justice from theories. so far they have not been satisfied. the time has now come -“ just then there was a terrible crash and the window opposite the empress was shattered. all the conspirators knew at once what had happened. “save yourselves!” cried the elderly, gouty general b————. but they were already saving themselves. the rebels seized the baron de d——— (their chief target, at least according to the communique they issued after their bold and largely successful excursion), the count of a————, and fra paolo. roger, the unfortunate cipher clerk from the embassy of p———, was killed in the melee, but he was not regarded as significant enough to me mentioned either in the rebel’s communique, or in the official statement issued jointly by the involved embassies. the others all saved themselves. from the rebels, not from the endless recriminations that followed. later, seated in the club car with terence and the empress, sylvie vowed never to be involved in politics again. “nonsense,” interposed annette, as she passed their table on her way from the powder room to the bar, “what else can one do for excitement in this dreary age?” “you might ask the colonel over there, “ terence responded sulkily. the colonel’s face was flat on the bar, the gallant gentleman himself dead drunk. “where is the barman?” asked the empress, looking around. the question did not seem to require an answer. the colonel and the others had simply helped themselves to the stock behind the bar. “we should be in c———————— in two hours,” sylvie observed absently. “yes,” sylvie added as she seated herself with the drink she had poured herself. “at least this train has an engineer. we can be thankful for that.” “if he has not jumped off at some point,” terence replied sourly. he was still miffed at having missed his assignation with h—————. sylvie suddenly remembered the faceless man who had been seated in the corner. what had become of him, she wondered? *** sources: clarissa, by samuel richardsion; sir charles grandson, by samuel richardson; war and peace, by leo tolstoy; anthony adverse, by hervey allen; the man without qualities, by robert musil; the recognitions, by william gaddis; lord of the rings, by j r r tolkien; the demons, by hermito von doderer; gravity’s rainbow, by thomas pynchon; dhalgren, by samuel delany; infinite jest, by david foster wallace

after dinner the conspirators gathered in front of the fireplace

part two of three

for part one click here

sylvie suddenly remembered where she had seen the colonel before . at the sanitarium at t————, where the conference had taken place to finalize the details of the first catastrophe. how innocent she had been then! the colonel for his part - absorbed as he was in his own machinations - had not recognized sylvie, although he was quite taken by her womanly charms. fea paolo was attempting to tell a joke, but it was not going well, as it depended on the hearer’s recognition of the intricacies of long-forgotten heresies. but who was the faceless man in the corner that sylvie noticed for the first time. had she been informed of his identity - if she had enquired as to his identity - she might have been surprised by the answer, as the gentleman was widely believed to have perished in the dungeons of the people’s republic of y—————. the baron de d———, absorbed in his own thoughts, blew a few perfect smoke rings. sylvie’s mind drifted back to the conference at t————. not to the discussions themselves, but to the perfectly clear air - the first she had ever breathed. where had far paolo been, when the others had been at table? had the message from the pope really taken up the whole time? modest as the meal had been, they had had six courses. after tonight, after the arrangements had been made, nothing would ever be the same. either for the wretched of the earth, or their masters. the baron smiled to himself, as he considered the deviltry which would soon be unleashed. and the opportunities it would provide for such as himself. sylvie twirled the ring on her finger. she had quite forgotten where she had obtained it. roger and general b————, who had taken their time over dessert - the general because of his advanced age, and roger because he had had three servings - now rejoined the party. it was time for the last act to begin, and judgment to be levied on the peoples of the earth. what the gutter press, if it had been privy to the proceedings, would have termed “zero hour”. annette yawned. the duchess of g——— rang a little silver bell to get everybody’s attention. roger stood at the fireplace, behind the empress. the others, even the languid annette and the supremely indifferent baron de b————, arranged themselves in chairs in a semicircle around the empress. so it has come to this, thought sylvie with some amusement. as great a pack of rascals as has ever been assembled - and not an honest person left in the world. “if no one has any objections,” intoned the empress, “we will agree that the decisions of this night are to be regarded as final. at least as far as official versions go. as it is unlikely that we shall ever meet again.” they all agreed, although the count of a——— had to be asked by the empress to speak up, as his response had been somewhat mumbled. sources: clarissa, by samuel richardsion; sir charles grandson, by samuel richardson; war and peace, by leo tolstoy; the magic mountain, by thomas mann; anthony adverse, by hervey allen; the man without qualities, by robert musil; lord of the rings, by j r r tolkien; the demons, by hermito von doderer; gravity’s rainbow, by thomas pynchon; harlot’s ghost, by norman mailer; infinite jest, by david foster wallace part three

the unspeakable, part 2

illustrations by konrad kraus

click here for part 1

his head fell on the table with a sickening thud in those moments she wept bitterly as the car rolled down the interstate it was certainly very good of you but he does not see things the way we do his head fell on the table with a sickening thud “what other kind of thud is there?” and rolled around like a beach ball she tried to remain calm and do her duty he does not see things the way we do her tears flowed like a fine white wine at the horror she had discovered inside him you must earn your own living painful as it is to contemplate since we are speaking of serious things she had never been so humiliated traffic was light as dusk fell as if he were praying she squeezed her eyes shut to stop the bitter tears the horrors kept piling up because he did not see the things the way we do like civilized and rational human beings he could not really be praying you must earn your own living just like it says in the bible do not let him suspect what you are thinking “we can not piece together exactly what happened” sources: frankenstein, by mary shelley; dracula, by bram stoker; three lives, by gertrude stein; the counterfeiters, by andre gide; lust for life, by irving stone; native son, by richard wright; memoirs of a shy pornographer by kenneth patchen; finistere, by fritz peters; pictures from an institution, by randall jarrell; last exit to brooklyn, by hubert selby; daughter of evil, by jerry weil; the dark side of love, by jerry weil

dinner will always be served

part one of three

“i don’t have time for this. my guests will be arriving in an hour. leave a memo explaining, in the simplest terms possible, who this person is and what he wants, and i will address the matter tomorrow.” “but, madam - “ “i have spoken.” “but the fate of the empire is at stake.” “i am the empire and i have spoken.” my sister particularly was pleased with this answer. the menu for the evening meal had been decided the day before. the colonel took down the assault rifle with radiation bullets. as advised in the margins of somebody else’s lost notebook. they were aware that death had entered the room. it was left to the duchess of g————, the oldest member of the party, to make light of the fact. the colonel, the only person in the room who had been through the siege of f———, suddenly felt a curious sense of embarrassment. they all obviously belonged to a privileged section of society. and were what the gutter press is pleased to call “people of the world.” yes, they were, weren’t they? not that it really left them any better informed than the rest of humankind. rather less, really, as they had more illusions to cherish and protect. sylvie had suddenly had quite enough. “come, roger,” she commanded the youngest member of the party, "let us go out on the balcony and look at the moon.” poor roger, who had hoped for a trustful evening after a long day breaking codes at the embassy, could do ought but comply. annette was rather pleased than otherwise that sylvie was showing such spunk and savoir-faire. “the mist is quite silent tonight, don’t you think?” roger asked when they shut the balcony window behind them. the count knew when he was being well served. they obviously belonged to a privileged section of society. baron de d—————, ignoring the attempted ostracisms of the other guests, was quite enjoying himself, sitting my himself by the fire in the most comfortable chair in the room, sipping his wine and surveying the scene. he found sylvie particularly fetching, and was indifferent to the venomous glances of annette. “it is frightfully simple and straightforward” terence was insisting to annette. sylvie had always loved silence and mist. the devilfish is found quite commonly on mediteranean shores. the duchess, under her calm exterior, felt a strong sense of foreboding, and wished she were back in africa, with her lions. ”everything is quite simple and straightforward if one has the means to make it so,” annette drawled. suddenly a chill entered the room - followed by the forbidding figure of fra paolo - the aggressively austere papal envoy. general b——————, in all the innocence of an old soldier, offered the worthy friar a cigar. to the surprise - astonishment would be too strong a word - the offer was accepted. the count began surreptitiously examining the pages of the mysterious abandoned notebook. the duchess composed herself, and began examining the curiously coloured painting of a devilfish which hung over the blue divan. the room served various vague purposes. “can you see a star - right over there?” sylvie asked innocenttly. “no, i am afraid i can’t,” roger replied dubiously. “oh, bother!” cried sylvie, and flounced back into the room. forgetting that our mothers were married at twelve or thirteen. the duchess herself had been married at fourteen, the empress at eleven. they viewed young women of the “the fast set” like annette and sylvie, with amused disdain. dinner was announced at last. the temperature had fallen in the room, and the banquet hall beckoned invitingly. reluctantly, the colonel placed the assault rifle back over the fireplace. they were reminded to speak a language appropriate to their civilized european lives. the country which the general staff was planning to invade was rich and kindly, though it had long been deserted. the butler appeared, with a message for fra paolo that his holiness the pope was on the phone. far paolo politely informed the empress that in that case he would not be dining, and insisted that they proceed without him. annette and sylvie were impressed with her majesty’s frankness in accepting the worthy friar’s excuses. outside in the mist the silence had become well nigh unbearable. though civilization was crumbling minute by minute, the amenities were scrupulously observed. especially by the empress, whose demeanor thrilled them all. as they went to dinner, they continued to speak a language appropriate to their civilized european life. the colonel cast a last regretul glance back at the assault rifle hanging over the fireplace. death, who had not been invited to dinner, watched them depart. did he admire the empress, or any of them, for their frankness? * sources: clarissa, by samuel richardsion; sir charles grandson, by samuel richardson; war and peace, by leo tolstoy; the magic mountain, by thomas mann; anthony adverse, by hervey allen; the man without qualities, by robert musil; the recognitions, by william gaddis; lord of the rings, by j r r tolkien; the demons, by hermito von doderer; gravity’s rainbow, by thomas pynchon; dhalgren, by samuel delany; battlefield earth, by l ron hubbard; harlot’s ghost, by norman mailer; infinite jest, by david foster wallace part two

the white cravat

“the great thing is to remain unknown,” raoul assured gustave. “she has had very much to endure,” gustave replied hesitantly. the baroness emilie, listening to this furtive exchange, paused to control herself. the house was terribly silent. gustave coughed, sounding like a dismally barking dog. “the great thing is to remain unknown,” raoul repeated adamantly. how much longer must i endure this, emilie wondered. standing at the open window, paul pulled his fur overcoat tighter around his swollen carcass. a dog barked outside in the gloom. the entire world was theirs for the taking - why were they wasting time? “the entire world is ours for the taking,” raoul announced, as if reading paul’s thoughts. “yes, so long as we can remain unknown,” gustave responded hoarsely. raoul stared at him without the slightest hint of compassion. “i think, “ emilie interjected. “ we can be sure of that at least.” “yes, “ paul laughed, “in this world we can call our own.” the setting sum lit up the window, coating their bodies in glorious light. weary of the innocent laughter of the small children, anne-marie glanced up at the windows of the great house. the house, as before, was terribly silent. suddenly the setting sun lit it up in a glorious yet strangely terrifying light. paul pulled his fur overcoat tighter around his swollen carcass. emilie and raoul considered gustave without the slightest hint of compassion. anne-marie, seated on the bench outside, was filled with a strange foreboding. strangers who might have obtained access to the house were nowhere to be found. “haven’t we endured enough?” emilie suddenly demanded. raoul turned on her furiously. with the sun gone down, his face was hidden in the shadows. “very well, mademoiselle, let me get straight to the point.” emilie remembered the days when paul wore a white cravat and gold spectacles before they all grew weary of the innocent laughter of small children emilie had always been able to control herself even before the children arrived on the outskirts of the village “it is a useful trait, when dealing with self-regarding men” they agreed that without control they had nothing the dogs began barking again had strangers gained access to the grounds? paul made quite a target in his great fur overcoat and might have been better served with a white cravat and gold spectacles emilie paused and defiantly lit a cigarette she felt she deserved one after being treated like a dog for the whole week the cigarette glowed in the dusk left by the setting sun yes, life should go as soft as a summer’s day if only the strangers would not stop interrupting at all hours they could get on with the caper and make their bundle and be gone the silence was becoming unbearable suddenly raoul produced a small suitcase paul turned from the window with a gesture of mild consternation “so,” raoul announced, “this is a fine summer’s day, is it not?” “you!” cried gustave, “you are the stranger!” the house grew if possible even quieter and they all knew that the dream of the summer’s day was over as raoul took the white cravat and the gold spectacles out of the little suitcase and the world which was to have been theirs dissolved forever sources: the haunted hotel, by wilkie collins; my lady’s money, by wilkie collins; the big bow mystery, by israel zangwill; “the faun” by remy de gourmont; “the brothel” by marcel schwob; the book of monelle, by marcel schwob; the mystery of orcival, by emile gaboriau; file #113, by emile gaboriau; kept in the dark, by anthony trollope; is he popenjoy?, by anthony trollope; the creator, by mynona; honeymoon, by patrick modiano; out of the dark, by patrick modiano