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the trombone of couperin ( 4 stories )

1. (the writer.)
women don't do that, he said.
no cocksucker is going to ask you if you own a house --
women don't say, what's your bedroom like. "insinuating", I mean,
that you're a whore.
women ask the details,
what's your auto, who's your dad,
you like pork chops -- just like the c.i.a.,
sneaking in your undershirt:
I bet you have some hair on that chest. how
you going to answer that?
they always have a gimmick: they cry,
they lose something -- I mean the suckers...
always drama, fucking drunks. I mean,
they want flowers, or a front yard? why'n't
they make it clear, it's just a fuck. why'n't
these girls just fuck, you'd think they wasn't
cocksuckers like all them. pardon, I'm slurring.
you'd think they didn't want to drive with a stick...
what's your car, I mean, home state?
you're a real girl, ain't you? no pajamas in there,
I mean padding, talking about beds. how late it is,
it's getting late. nice figure, you a model?
interesting, ohio. never been there. Vassar?
I thought only girls went there.
she pulls her glass to her lips,
drains it. calls mike over:
time to pay up, mike, get this fool home.
come on, baby, let's go home.
2. (the precious.)
he's kind of cute -- he married?
he's a fag? oh, well, all the good ones...
i mean, not that fag's good, but he's cute;
you got a light? he doesn't act sissy...
you sure? i had an uncle who was pansy,
he was nice. hit by a bus --
what about that guy in the corner...
don't look. he's cute. naw, waiting for someone.
i've been learning the new cash register,
but it's killing me -- everything's got to have a tag --
i hate, hate punching little names. work.
maybe i could change him. you think?
naw, i'd alway be wondering
what he was thinking... he's polite.
so, what's john up to? you think he misses you --
ok, not when he's pumping miss debutante...
sorry. want some cake?
i'd kill him. i really would. what a crumb.
you know how he flicks his hair...? no, roy --
kind of thoughtful when he does it...
wonder who he's thinking of.
maybe go with him to a concert --
what kind of music do they like --
longhair, toscanni -- oh, places up in harlem,
tea joints, ha-ha. be-bop... arn't there strippers
in those places...? well, no... women;
who'd want to see some guy in front of other women...
yah, or for guys... not in this country. is that hard,
to hear be-bop? hampton was with goodman on the radio --
you hear it? oh, NBC... brahms -- dreamy.
you think brahms was queer? how about
gershwin -- you never heard talk about him dating.
porter? no, married sort of. too many queers. maybe,
i could get one of those things, those rubber things? --
you think he'd like that?
3. ( the poet )
watch my hands.
they walk around
hide hide in a cloud --
busting people, waiting to get punched -- punch your face.
you want to get hit?
they're walking, want to die. pass the salt.
hit! that's my problem, I was so chicken,
it doesn't hurt -- i'm not vulnerable.
don't watch.
can I have your chicken?
I'm not involved enough, it doesn't hurt I'm no target.
drop the bomb.
you know that song? drop it, drop your sympathy,
don't watch me.
they don't know
they want to die. you see the moonwalk -- jesus walked on water.
I do things with my hands bless you my son.
destination moon. be an astrocrat, marry jackie,
what a trip.
i got drunk --  I don't eat meat, it shrinks me.
they live to die. I finally got drunnng. I talk with horses they don't
understand arms.
my grandma. she told me: think before you act! think think seasick.
I don't want to know before it happens can I finish your guiness?
i got drunk i let it go,
all the tango -- octopus tangle liquid,
... flushing the wash,
i am ocean.
cancer gives me sugar --
i'm high on sugar, they find my sex.
give me a napkin
they tell me what I am,
I release them when when they find my original dick.
that's the world:
hell is heaven hell is hello -- ahah, hello! what a phony.
i AM genius. I invent air. I'm not equal,
I sometimes cry,
not like that, I don't know,
I'm not you, am i you? show me.
hiler was a comunist. the poe is a jew; my father is dead, sick tits,
broken rope-butt mechanical toy
didn't want to die. aristcrat. i'm a boy who
i got harvested.
i got
i goot
i got kicked in the balls
i cried. out of the hostel,
i must
be too.
hostle. i'm in perfect control, and I don't smoke.
a genius invisible to the naked eye, naked girl.
i'm a river of cum floating over the bathtub of st. lou...iss,
i'm a river... i'm the holy dead cow of ol' man, ain't seen nothing.
rivrr.  phoenix & young kurt.
4. ( the sophisticate. )
painting's like you're kissing paint;
van gogh drank turpentine. a jerk.
a drunk? n.o., the world just tastes good. everything tastes good.
-- ? her? yeah, schoen. but, too young. take picasso. a loser. all line.
everything's texture, you live in it. you like touching things?
                                                                                silk and velvet? texture.
not her either. i like older. 30 ... danseuse,
maybe named frieda. you need another?
kellner, noch ein... ... jah, ach fur das bub. ney, achtzehn... ja, und
zwei minuten. ha! fuck off, bitte.
a german with wit.
what'll they think up next.
you over here long --
yah, it's cheap. nothing to buy. you ever bought a girl? I'm too old. now,
back when I was sixteen, 1924...
shit... I'd come over with my mother,
I could find girls I couldn't have even talked to back home. Minneapolis.
really beautiful. my age. bonerdelphia.
two, if I'd conned my mom. no, she had her own games.
maybe she picked up the same girls later,
she didn't think I knew -- got me out of the way.
I can say that, you shut up. not rich.
flour mills. not rich like Rockefeller.
paradise here and in wien if it weren't so sick.
everybody hungry. they needed hitler...
you got that rolli loaded?
yeah, it gets faster. that's why I carry three. yes, same lens, same film...
somebody like her, she moves fast but slowly. great expressions. zeiss. twick, twick
twick. sempre libera. that's it, free.
-- don't know what the hell she's back here for.
she's no Maria Ivogun. strohheim made her. yah, sternberg.
so, hang out in the Adler, you won't get the clap. ich? zauberflote... matinee,
furtwangler and flagstad.
get back to the theatre at 7, they start at nine; we'll scan the crowd,
shoot some muck-muck nazis. you got the list: film, bulbs.
be there and wear a tie. naw, they'll love you. little blue eyed hero.
feb 2017

François Couperin. Ravel: le tombeau de couperin.

15 Feb 17

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