“We looked all over for you.”, “In that discotheque-you suddenly left. As in a dream, none of the faces at the tables belonged to people we knew. Bennett sensed my explosive feelings and did his best to get me away from the university as soon as possible. Was Bennett that able to adjust to my absence, calmly going to plays and coming home to wash his socks? Sexy Adrian. “There you were very cautious.”. I fell in love with Bennett partly because he had the cleanest balls I’d ever tasted. That would be even harder to take. Pierre promptly took it out on Roger-which really wasn’t fair, since Roger hears Pierre veiling “ibn sharmuta” constantly whenever they go out driving. Dr. Pearlmutter had referred Brian to a psychiatrist who tried for five gallant days to keep him out of the hospital. They were designed to prove that I was not just an ordinary woman. Burnt. Allen Ginsberg and Peter Orlovsky. About that I certainly agreed with him-right up until the time he tried to fly out the window and take me with him. No matter how Lady Luck had smiled on me, I always ended up a loser. When people die you are not supposed to feel nothing. He mourned the dead and his own preoccupation with death. It was a kind of madness, a total absorption. Even if you loved your husband, there came that inevitable year when fucking him turned as bland as Velveeta cheese: filling, fattening even, but no thrill to the taste buds, no bittersweet edge, no danger. The closer we got to France, the more I included myself among the latter. I learned from Shaw that women never can be artists; I learned from Dostoyevsky that they have no religious feeling; I learned from Swift and Pope that they have too much religious feeling (and therefore can never be quite rational); I learned from Faulkner that they are earth mothers and at one with the moon and the tides and the crops; I learned from Freud that they have deficient superegos and are ever “incomplete” because they lack the one thing in this world worth having: a penis. I wear it for The jetting of the face into prearranged patterns; a faint foreshadowing of the rigidity which comes after death. Dit betekent dat Zalando.nl als webshop is gecertificeerd door de … Would it be billed as a human interest story? Adrian with me? “After all, it’s natural for a brother to love his little sister…” And he went on doing what comes naturally. Instead I kept hearing from all those other clowns: the married Florentine who liked me to whisper dirty words, the American professor who claimed I had changed his life, one of the mail clerks at American Express who had convinced himself I was an heiress. I have to bloody well fuck someone before your very eyes or you don’t give a damn about me. Is that the kind of mothering you want?”, “But I do. Relax, I commanded myself. I began to remember scenes from Murders in the Rue Morgue. I can’t read your mind. I stare at him, calmly consulting his watch. How could you sit on a train fucking total strangers with your eyes? Bennett gives me a sour look implying that that doesn’t suit him and marches to the front of the room where he sinks down next to some henna-haired candidate from Argentina. Everything about it is musty. I stopped blaming myself; it was that simple. God only knows why. If I learn to build the right vehicle, then I can discover even more territories. “I refuse to be impaled upon a pin,” Adrian said, unaware of the pun it immediately brought to mind. On the rare occasions when I made it to class, I sat there scribbling poems in my notebooks. Literature is work, not fun,” he said. Never had I felt happier about my fat ass than when I was with Adrian. He went on snoring. After the fat sopranos came the literary ladies: women poets who dedicated books to him, women sculptors obsessed with having him pose in the nude, women novelists who found him so fascinating they made him the central figure in their romans à clef. The medical building of the University of Vienna is columned, cold, cavernous. “But this is incest,” I said emphatically. Lalah and Chloe (who are sharing one set of bunks) are not supposed to know-being, my mother thinks, too young-so Randy and I engage in some conspiratorial trips to the drugstore for supplies and go sneaking around the cabin looking for places to hide them. We were that determined. I was in a frenzy of outrage and moral indignation. I couldn’t get over the expression on the man’s face. They were all sandbagged down with children and babysitters, with graduate courses and teaching jobs and analysts and patients. He didn’t even remember the events which had sent him to. Now women were finally learning to be wanton and wild-and what happened? Suddenly she falls, knowing she is going to die when she hits bottom. There’s plenty to go around, but it always goes to the wrong people, at the wrong times, in the wrong places. Charlie’s family had met with money by way of Charlie’s Uncle Mel-the famous pseudo-WASP ballroom dancer who glided through the 1930s with patent-leather hair and a fixed nose and a dancing shikse wife. And I had all the other corny symptoms too: I kept thinking I saw his car across the street and maybe later I would even run over to inspect the license plates. ), “Well it is. “Typical tight-ass English middle class,” Adrian said of his Mum and Dad. Motivating everything was the terror of being alone. It looks less like an embrace than like a rescue scene, she sinking, he reluctantly allowing her to cling to his leg for support. I found the place where the synagogue had stood before it was burned down. Brian fell into no category and all categories. Or maybe he was really death, the last lover. From his worn pigskin briefcase, the point of a conductor’s baton protruded. You’re so damned weak. Me sucks on his pipe as if he were sucking on me. How could I plead worship of the Winter Solstice and the Rites of Spring? I was hypnotized by Ludwig’s portrait with its paranoid eyes. I couldn’t be an artist on pain of being painted over. We complete ourselves. It was harder to do nothing. The future did not exist. Why? The cause? “Right. Oh he was right for all the wrong reasons. “You’ve got to watch how you pronounce Yiddish words like masochistic,” I said. (In later times we were to sound more like the dialogue from a Strindberg play.) Poor people starving from lack of protein all over the world. I’m damn well going to Cherbourg with you. I wanted to be big with child. Adrian sort of bumped along like a horse and buggy. If Bennett and I got back together again, it would have to be under very different circumstances. an absolute authority, Can you predict fate? “Don’t!” he said, snatching it from me. Arrange to get people fucked by famous figures of the past: Napoleon, Charles II, Louis XIV… sort of like Dr. Faustus fucking Helen of Troy…” I loved being silly with him. And we don’t even call her Mother because she’s so much fun. He never appeared to spend any time studying. But Hollywood insists on imagining the artist as a dreamy-eyed matinee idol with a flowing bow tie, Dmitri Tiomkin’s music in the background, and a violent orange sunset above his head-and, to some extent, all of us (even those of us who should know better) try to live up to this image. Why didn’t I have an affair or leave him or insist on some sort of sexual freedom arrangement? Since there was no meeting Bennett wanted to attend that afternoon, we decided to take a walk together in the direction of Freud’s house. You’re no adventuress. But just go into any German toilet and you’ll find a fixture unlike any other in the world. He wanted to be soft like a eunuch. 7. And I understood them, in a way. He was horny all the time, but he was terribly afraid of being vulgar. All that long winter, he mourned his grandfather, his father, his sister who had died at sixteen, his brother who had been born retarded and died at eighteen, his friend who had died of polio at fourteen, his poverty, his silence. At least John and Ron were good-natured creeps who adored us. “I was afraid you’d leave without me.”. As sacred as Delphi or the Parthenon. For two years I had lain in bed with Bennett and thought of other men. She would like to forget the whole scene, pretend it never happened. Sex, as I said, can be summed up in three P’s: procreation, pleasure, and pride. He daydreamed about his conducting debut-which otherwise he did nothing much to hasten-and he began symphonies. It’s no longer just a question of creaming in my pants-I’m dissolving. He looked up in mild surprise. Somehow the idea of bearing his baby angers me. At that point I remembered an epigram by Antonio Porchia which the analyst had not wit enough to quote: I believe that the soul consists of its sufferings. “It’s the sunniest bloody day I’ve seen in weeks.” But he’s catching the giggles from me and even before we get to the café we’re both high. “My superego is soluble in Europe,” I say. I may have neglected to report another aspect of the paper on artists (whose author, as I recall, was a certain Dr. Koenigsberger). The pink V of my thighs, the triangle of curly hair, the Tampax string fishing the water like a Hemingway hero, the white belly, the breasts half floating, the nipples flushed and rosy from the steamy water. The smell of TV dinners in passageways. “You sweetheart!” He takes the book. I didn’t answer. A little girl who was neither bitchy nor mealy-mouthed because she didn’t hate her mother or herself. without you. It really sums the whole thing up, I think. Lyndon Johnson was the nation’s one hope for defeating Goldwater and preserving peace. Alone? “I guess I am. Bennett stripped instead, and fucked me violently right there on the cot adjoining Adrian’s. My life spilling out into the street, and nothing but a slim volume of verse between me and the void. “Madam, if you want to get laid, then you’ll get laid.” Me started the car. Actually, I’m beginning to get pretty good at this. They turned their heads as one and stared. “You promise you won’t hold this against me?”, “What kind of ghoul do you think I am?” I was astonished. I could tell he was turned on by the way Adrian had pursued me. At 1 a.m. the door opened and Bennett burst in. Obviously it was dangerous to stare at your eyes in mirrors too long. “I know.” He puffed his pipe and looked off into the distance. Bennett asleep. But their explanations always seem to lack something. “You seem so depressed,” he said, full of counterfeit tenderness. “Look, ducks, I know about you from myself. Oh he would become silent and act disappointed with me, but he never directly opposed any clearly stated wish of mine. The sullen essence of squareness. Nobody can rape a woman unless she consents at the last minute. Then I swam in the pool for five minutes and went back upstairs to confront my “work.” But I found it nearly impossible to work. Charming writers could turn out to be most uncharming people. She knows she can’t go there. I knew that screwing Marty would not take me any nearer the truth I was seeking-whatever that was. (I was the sort of kid who knew words like “bough.”), There was, in fact, a fat, darkly printed book in my parents’ library called The Golden Bough. It’s August, after all, and there probably aren’t any French people within miles of Paris. That was the only heating facility. By closing me out of his world, Bennett had opened all sorts of worlds inside my own head. She had gone to Paris to escape him, so why did she come back to New York, move in with him, and live with him until she was forty? Like Chaucer’s Canterbury pilgrims. It used to play over and over again as I shuttled back and forth from Heidelberg to Frankfurt, from Frankfurt to Heidelberg: A grimy European train compartment (Second Class). I remember him knocking on the wall between our bedrooms to comfort me and assuage my fear of the dark. After that I remember dragging my suitcase down endless corridors, trying to sleep in a folding chair on a pitching deck, and waiting on line in the early morning damp while the immigration officials inspected our papers. You wanted intensity, but you get numbness. Didn’t I know that mine was the lowest crime in Dante’s book? The moral of the story is the same anyway, isn’t it?”, “Your morals are like roads through the Alps. 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