第4章 The New Music

-- What did you do today? -- Went to the grocery store and Xeroxed a box of English muffins, two pounds of ground veal and an apple. In flagrant violation of the Copyright Act. -- You had your nap, I remember that -- -- I had my nap. -- Lunch, I remember that, there was lunch, slept with Susie after lunch, then your nap, woke up, right?, went Xeroxing, right?, read a book not a whole book but part of a book --

-- Talked to Happy on the telephone saw the seven oclock news did not wash the dishes want to clean up some of this mess? -- If one does nothing but listen to the new music, everything else drifts, goes away, frays. Did Odysseus feel this way when he and Diomedes decided to steal Athenes statue from the Trojans, so that they would become dejected and lose the war? I dont think so, but who is to know what effect the new music of that remote time had on its hearers?

-- Or how it compares to the new music of this time? -- One can only conjecture. -- Ah well. I was talking to a girl, talking to her mother actually but the daughter was very much present, on the street. The daughter was absolutely someone youd like to take to bed and hug and kiss, if you werent too old. If she werent too young. She was a wonderful-looking young woman and she was looking at me quite seductively, very seductively, smoldering a bit, and I was thinking quite well of myself, very well indeed, thinking myself quite the -- Until I realized she was just practicing.

-- Yes, I still think of myself as a young man. -- Yes. -- A slightly old young man. -- Thats not unusual. -- A slightly old young man still advertising in the trees and rivers for a mate. -- Yes. -- Being clean. -- Youre very clean. -- Cleaner than most. -- Its not escaped me. Your cleanness.

-- Some of these people arent clean. People you meet. -- What can you do? -- Set an example. Be clean. -- Dig it, dig it. -- I got three different shower heads. Different degrees of sting. -- Dynamite. -- I got one of these Finnish pads that slip over the hand. -- Numero uno. -- Pedicare. Thats another thing.

-- Think youre the mules eyebrows dont you? -- No. I feel like Insufficient Funds. -- Feel like a busted-up car by the side of the road stripped of value. -- Feel like I dont like this! -- Youre just a little down, man, down, thats what they call it, down. -- Well how come they didnt bring us no ring of roses with a purple silk sash with gold lettering on that mother? How come that?

-- Dunno baby. Maybe we lost? -- How could we lose? How could we? We! -- We were standing tall. Ready to hand them their asses, clean their clocks. Yet maybe -- -- I remember the old days when we almost automatically -- -- Yes. Almost without effort -- -- Right. Come in, Commander. Put it right there, anywhere will do, let me move that for you. Just put that sucker down right there. An eleven-foot-high silver cup!

-- Beautifully engraved, with dates. -- Beautifully engraved, with dates. That was then. -- Well. Is there help coming? -- I called the number for help and they said there was no more help. -- Im taking you to Pool. -- Ive been there. -- Im taking you to Pool, city of new life. -- Maybe tomorrow or another day.

-- Pool, the revivifier. -- Oh man Im not up for it. -- Where one can taste the essences, get swindled into health. -- I got things to do. -- That lonesome road. It ends in Pool. -- Got to chop a little cotton, go by the drugstore. -- Ever been to Pool? -- Yes Ive been there. -- Pool, city of new hope.

-- Get my ocarina tuned, sew a button on my shirt. -- Have you traveled much? Have you traveled enough? -- Ive traveled a bit. -- Got to go away fore you can get back, thats fundamental. -- The joy of return is my joy. Satisfied by a walk around the block. -- Pool. Have you seen the new barracks? For the State Police? They used that red rock they have around there, quite a handsome structure, dim and red.

-- Do the cops like it? -- No one has asked them. But they could hardly. . . I mean its new. -- Got to air my sleeping bag, scrub up my canteen. -- Have you seen the new amphitheater? Made out of red rock. They play all the tragedies. -- Yeah Ive seen it thats over by the train station right? -- No its closer to the Great Lyceum. The Great Lyceum glowing like an ember against the hubris of the city. -- I could certainly use some home fries long about now. Home fries and ketchup. -- Pool. The idea was that it be one of those new towns. Where everyone would be happier. The regulations are quite strict. They dont let people have cars. -- Yes, I was in on the beginning. I remember the charette, I was asked to prepare a paper. But I couldnt think of anything. I stood there wearing this blue smock stenciled with the Pool emblem, looked rather like a maternity gown. I couldnt think of anything to say. Finally I said I would go along with the group. -- The only thing old there is the monastery, dates from 1720 or thereabouts. Has the Dark Virgin, the Virgin is black, as is the Child. Dates from 1720 or around in there. -- Ive seen it. Rich fare, extraordinarily rich, makes you want to cry. -- And in the fall the circus comes. Plays the red rock gardens where the carved red asters, carved red phlox, are set off by borders of yellow beryl. -- Ive seen it. Extraordinarily rich. -- So its settled, well go to Pool, therell be routs and revels, maybe a sock hop, maybe a nuzzle or two on the terrace with one of the dazzling Pool beauties -- -- Not much for nuzzling, now. I mostly kneel at their feet, knit for them or parse for them -- -- And the Pool buffalo herd. Six thousand beasts. All still alive. -- Each house has its grand lawns and grounds, brass candlesticks, thrice-daily mail delivery. Elegant widowed women living alone in large houses, watering lawns with whirling yellow sprinklers, studying the patterns of the grass, searching out brown patches to be sprinkled. Sometimes there is a grown child in the house, or an almost-grown one, working for a school or hospital in a teaching or counseling position. Frequently there are family photographs on the walls of the house, about which you are encouraged to ask questions. At dusk medals are awarded those who have made it through the day, the Cross of St. Jaime, the Cross of St. Em. -- Meant to be one of those new towns where everyone would be happier, much happier, that was the idea. -- Serenity. Peace. The dead are shown in art galleries, framed. Or sometimes, put on pedestals. Not much different from the practice elsewhere except that in Pool they display the actual -- -- Person. -- Yes. -- And they play a tape of the guy or woman talking, right next to his or her -- -- Frame or pedestal. -- Prerecorded. -- Naturally. -- Shocked white faces talking. -- Killed a few flowers and put them in pots under the faces, everybody does that. -- Something keeps drawing you back like a magnet. -- Watching the buffalo graze. It cant be this that Ive waited for, Ive waited too long. I find it intolerable, all this putter. Yet in the end, wouldnt mind doing a little grazing myself, it would look a little funny. -- Is there bluegrass in heaven? Make inquiries. I saw the streets of Pool, a few curs broiling on spits. -- And on another corner, a man spinning a goat into gold. -- Pool projects positive images of itself through the great medium of film. -- Cinemas filled with industrious product. -- Real films. Sent everywhere. -- Film is the great medium of this century -- hearty, giggling film. -- So even if one does not go there, one may assimilate the meaning of Pool. -- Id just like to rest and laze around. -- Soundtracks in Burmese, Italian, Twi, and other tongues. -- One film is worth a thousand words. At least a thousand. -- Theres a film about the new barracks, and a film about the new amphitheater. -- Good. Excellent. -- In the one about the new barracks we see Squadron A at morning roll call, tense and efficient. "Mattingly!" calls the sergeant. "Yo!" says Mattingly. "Morgan!" calls the sergeant. "Yo!" says Morgan. -- A fine bunch of men. Nervous, but fine. -- In the one about the amphitheater, an eight-day dramatization of Eckermanns Conversations with Goethe. -- What does Goethe say? -- Goethe says: "I have devoted my whole life to the people and their improvement." -- Goethe said that? -- And is quoted in the very superior Pool production which is enlustering the perception of Pool worldwide. -- Rich, very rich. -- And there is a film chronicling the fabulous Pool garage sales, where one finds solid-silver plates in neglected bags. -- People sighing and leaning against each other, holding their silver plates. Think Ill just whittle a bit, whittle and spit. -- Lots of accommodations in Pool, all of the hotels are empty. -- See if I have any benefits left under the GI Bill. -- Pool is new, can make you new too. -- I have not the heart. -- I can get us a plane or a train, theyve cut all the fares. -- People sighing and leaning against one another, holding their silver plates. -- So you just want to stay here? Stay here and be yourself? -- Drop by the shoe store, pick up a pair of shoes. -- Blackberries, buttercups, and wild red clover. I find the latest music terrific, although I dont generally speaking care much for the new, qua new. But this new music! It has won from our group the steadiest attention. -- Momma didnt low no clarinet played in here. Unfortunately. -- Momma. -- Momma didnt low no clarinet played in here. Made me sad. -- Momma was outside. -- Momma was very outside. -- Sitting there lowing and not-lowing. In her old rocking chair. -- Lowing this, not-lowing that. -- Didnt low oboe. -- Didnt low gitfiddle. Vibes. -- Rock over your damn foot and bust it, you didnt pop to when she was lowing and not-lowing. -- Right. Course, she had all the grease. -- True. -- You wanted a little grease, like to buy a damn comic book or something, you had to go to Momma. -- Sometimes yes, sometimes no. Her variously colored moods. -- Mauve. Warm gold. Citizens blue. -- Mauve mood that got her thrown in the jug that time. -- Concealed weapons. Well, what can you do? -- Carried a .357 daytimes and a .22 for evenings. Well, what can you do? -- Momma didnt let nobody work her over, nobody. -- She just didnt give a hang. She didnt care. -- I thought she cared. There were moments. -- She never cared. Didnt give pig shit. -- You could even cry, she wouldnt come. -- I tried that, I remember. Cried and cried. Didnt do a damn bit of good. -- Lost as she was in the Eleusinian mysteries and the art of love. -- Cried my little eyes out. The sheet was sopping. -- Momma was not to be swayed. Unswayable. -- Staring into the thermostat. -- She had a lot on her mind. The chants. And Daddy, of course. -- Lets not do Daddy today. -- Yes, I remember Momma, jerking the old nervous system about with her electric diktats. -- Could Christ have performed the work of the Redemption had He come into the world in the shape of a pea? That was one shed drop on you. -- Then shed grade your paper. -- I got a C, once. -- She dyed my beard blue, on the eve of my seventh marriage. I was sleeping on the sun porch. -- Not one to withhold comment, Momma. -- Got pretty damned tired of that old woman, pretty damned tired of that old woman. Gangs of ecstatics hanging about beating on pots and pans, trash-can lids -- -- Trying for a ticket to the mysteries. -- You wanted a little grease, like to go to the brothel or something, you had to say, Momma can I have a little grease to go to the brothel? -- She was often underly generous. -- Give you eight when she knew it was ten. -- She had her up days and her down days. Like most. -- Out for a long walk one early evening I noticed in the bare brown cut fields to the right of me and to the left of me the following items of interest: in the field to the right of me, couple copulating in the shade of a car, tan Studebaker as I remember, a thing I had seen previously only in old sepia-toned photographs taken from the air by playful barnstormers capable of flying with their knees, I dont know if thats difficult or not -- -- And in the field to your left? -- Momma. Rocking. -- Shed lugged the old rocking chair all that way. In a mauve mood. -- I tipped my hat. She did not return the greeting. -- She was pondering. "The goddess Demeters anguish for all her childrens mortality." -- Said my discourse was sickening. That was the word she used. Said it repeatedly. -- I asked myself: Do I give a bag of beans? -- This bird that fell into the back yard? -- The south lawn. -- The back yard. I wanted to give it a Frito? -- Yeah? -- Thought it might be hungry. Sumbitch couldnt fly you understand. It had crashed. Couldnt fly. So I went into the house to get it a Frito. So I was trying to get it to eat the Frito. I had the damn bird in one hand, and in the other, the Frito. -- She saw you and whipped you. -- She did. -- She gave you that "the bird is our friend and we never touch the bird because it hurts the bird" number. -- She did. -- Then she threw the bird away. -- Into the gutter. -- Anticipating no doubt handling of the matter by the proper authorities. -- Momma. Youd ask her how she was and shed say, "Fine." Like a little kid. -- Thats what they say, "Fine." -- Thats all you can get out of em. "Fine" -- Boy or girl, dont make a pennys worth of difference. "Fine." -- Fending you off. Similarly, Momma. -- Momma lowed lute. -- Yes. She had a thing for lute. -- I remember the hours we spent. Banging away at our lutes. -- Momma sitting there rocking away. Dosing herself with strange intoxicants. -- Lime Rickeys. -- Orange Blossoms. -- Rob Roys. -- Cuba Libres. -- Brandy Alexanders and Bronxes. How could she drink that stuff? -- An iron gut. And divinity, of course. -- Well. Want to clean up some of this mess? -- Some monster with claws, maybe velvet-covered claws or Teflon-covered claws, inhabits my dreams. Whistling, whistling. I say, Monster, how goes it with you? And he says, Quite happily, dreammate, there are certain criticisms, the Curator of Archetypes thinks I dont quite cut it, thinks Im shuckin and jivin when what I should be doing is attacking, attacking, attacking -- -- Ah, my bawcock, what a fine fellow thou art. -- But on the whole, the monster says, I feel fine. Then he says, Gimme that corn flake back. I say, What? He says, Gimme that corn flake back. I say, You gave me that corn flake its my corn flake. He says, Gimme that corn flake back or Ill claw you to thread. I say, I cant man you gave it to me I already ate it. He says, Cmon man gimme the corn flake back did you butter it first? I say, Cmon man be reasonable, you dont butter a corn flake -- -- How does it end? -- It doesnt end. -- Is there help coming? -- I called that number and they said whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth. -- Where is succor? -- In the new music. -- Yes, it isnt often you hear a disco version of Un Coup de Des. Its strengthening. -- The new music is drumless, which is brave. To make up for the absence of drums the musicians pray nightly to the Virgin, kneeling in their suits of lights in damp chapels provided for the purpose off the corridors of the great arenas -- -- Momma wouldnt have lowed it. -- As with much else. Momma didnt low Patrice. -- I remember. You still see her? -- Once in a way. Saw her Saturday. I hugged her and her body leaped. That was odd. -- How did that feel? -- Odd. Wonderful. -- The body knows. -- The body is perspicacious. -- The body aint dumb. -- Words cant say what the body knows. -- Sometimes I hear them howling from the hospital. -- The detox ward. -- Tied to the bed with beige cloths. -- Weve avoided it. -- So far. -- Knock wood. -- I did. -- Well, its a bitch. -- Like when she played Scrabble. She played to kill. Used the filthiest words insisting on their legitimacy. I was shocked. -- In her robes of deep purple. -- Seeking the ecstatic vision. That which would lift people four feet off the floor. -- Six feet. -- Four feet or six feet off the floor. Persephone herself appearing. -- The chanting in the darkened telesterion. -- Persephone herself appearing, hovering. Accepting offerings, balls of salt, solid gold serpents, fig branches, figs. -- Hallucinatory dancing. All the women drunk. -- Dancing with jugs on their heads, mixtures of barley, water, mint -- -- Knowledge of things unspeakable -- -- Still, all I wanted to do was a little krummhorn. A little krummhorn once in a while. -- Can open graves, properly played. -- I was never good. Never really good. -- Who could practice? -- And your clavier. -- Momma didnt low clavier. -- Thought it would unleash in her impulses better leashed? I dont know. -- Her dark side. They all have them, mommas. -- I mean theyve seen it all, felt it all. Spilled their damn blood and then spooned out buckets of mushy squash meanwhile telling the old husband that he wasnt number three on the scale of all husbands. . . -- Tossed him a little bombita now and then just to keep him on his toes. -- He was always on his toes, spent his whole life on his toes, the poor fuck. Piling up the grease. -- We said we werent going to do Daddy. -- I forgot. -- Old Momma. -- Well, its not easy, conducting the mysteries. Its not easy, making the corn grow. -- Asparagus too. -- I couldnt do it. -- I couldnt do it. -- Momma could do it. -- Momma. -- Luckily we have the new music now. To give us aid and comfort. -- And Susie. -- Our Susie. -- Our darling. -- Our pride. -- Our passion. -- I have to tell you something. Susies been reading the Hite Report. She says other women have more orgasms than she does. Wanted to know why. -- Where does one go to complain? Where does one go to complain, when fiends have worsened your life? -- I told her about the Great Septuagesimal Orgasm, implying she could have one, if she was good. But it is growing late, very late indeed, for such as we. -- But perhaps one ought not to complain, when fiends have worsened your life. But rather, emulating the great Stoics, Epictetus and so on, just zip into a bar and lift a few, whilst listening to the new, incorrigible, great-white-shark, knife, music. -- I handed the tall cool Shirley Temple to the silent priest. The new music, I said, is not specifically anticlerical. Only in its deepest effects. -- I know the guy who plays washboard. Wears thimbles on all his fingers. -- The new music burns things together, like a welder. The new music says, life becomes more and more exciting as there is less and less time. -- Momma wouldnt have lowed it. But Mommas gone. -- To the curious: A man who was a Communist heard the new music, and now is not. Fernando the fish-seller was taught to read and write by the new music, and is now a leper, white as snow. William Friend was caught trying to sneak into the new music with a set of bongos concealed under his cloak, but was garroted with his own bicycle chain, just in time. Propp the philosopher, having dinner with the Holy Ghost, was told of the coming of the new music but also informed that he would not live to hear it. -- The new, down-to-earth, think-Im-gonna-kill-myself music, which unwraps the sky. -- Succeed! It has been done, and with a stupidity that can astound the most experienced. -- The rest of the trip presents no real difficulties. -- The rest of the trip presents no real difficulties. The thing to keep your eye on is less time, more exciting. Remember that. -- As if it were late, late, and we were ready to pull on our red-and-gold-striped nightshirts. -- Cup of tea before retiring. -- Cup of tea before retiring. -- Dreams next. -- We can deal with that. -- Remembering that the new music will be there tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. -- There is always a new music. -- Thank God. -- Pull a few hairs out of your nose poised before the mirror. -- Routine maintenance, nothing to write home about.