It must have been around the time he was on variant E before he realised what was going on. He was on a train platform, the time of day not so ascertainable, as it was just grey. He knew he had to get to Grado, although he couldn't imagine why, it was the only place in Italy that had thoroughly bored him.
But there was no denying it: there was the sign after all, blue neon letters with a red border. And he thought, that's wrong, it looks like a cinema theater exit sign you'd put over the doors. This one read 'Italy'. He thought that strange as well, as it was in the wrong language, but it didn't upset him.
A voice over the loudspeakers explained the car he'd reserved had been decoupled but would be arriving soon... but it turned into a warning that there was a bomb on board, and the platforms were to be cleared immediately.
So he ran to get outside the station. Everyone did, as fast as they could, although he only heard their shouts and the sound of their feet on the marble. He was focused on the huge rectangle of light at the station's entrance, which meant escape. There was a muffled explosion behind him.
And he was immediately in variant F: back on the platform, but on another, although it looked the same outwardly. And the same sign, 'Italy' hanging improbably out over the tracks. And the waiting was making him impatient. He muttering 'Gradno', instead of Grado. It was an insult, his local dialect of 'just barely', which he had labeled that vacation.
Out of nowhere, a white drone appeared, looking like a huge angry mosquito, and it was manned, except he couldn't see who was inside. There was a long white bar which had pressed him down to the ground, leaving him no room to wriggle out from under it. It didn't hurt. He was just annoyed. No one was coming to help, but inwardly, he shrugged, because he knew: there would be other variants, and their number was infinite. So he just felt.... resigned to it.
Don't ask me what this means, because I do not know.
Dreamscape with variants....
La Strada--The Finale
The last evening of La Strada was sort of weird. There were six things that looked like parabol antennas, and they were gyrating away. Odd static and music was to be heard. Then they tilted toward the audience, and projections came up on the dishes. Satellite images of cities on earth, and so on, and of outer space.
Then a soprano was wheeled forward to the lowest antenna in the center of the group.
What she was singing wasn't words, just tones.
Then she climbed into a globe sort of contraption, and began whirling away as if she were falling through space.
Projecions of her kept popping up on the dishes, saying things like,
'Why can't I remember what day this is? What day is it?' And 'They lied to us. Why did they lie to us?' And in the end,
The orb spun faster, she screamed loudly and long, and I guess she just crashed to earth. It was the oddest performance of the festival.
It takes TEN to Tango....
Am just going to let these speak for themselves. It was a great afternoon...
Brass!
Two days ago was out in the park. It was brass music, but very post-modern. The audience was fun to watch, however, as usual, so here are the best photos I took....
And by the way, I hate clowns! This one was doing those odd balloon animals....
La Strada for the kiddies...
Went downtown this pm to a court in the city center at the largest department store there, in a court. (The store is like nothing you have ever seen over there...) They had a puppet show for five year olds and up.... (Obviously, I qualify....) I didn't stay long, but it seemed to be about tolerance on the surface. So here are some photos of the puppets, but mostly of the enchanting audience....
Wonderful! Just wonderful...
As you see, the crowd was 'interesting'.....
Just saw the performance 'out on the square'. Except it wasn't really just there, we wandered all OVER the place. Will put in the proper name of the group when I look at the programme at Peter's tomorrow. They are from Spain. All I heard in advance was they did something with suitcases.... Said the people at the market....
But it was much much more. It was all pantomime, not an utterance, grunt or sound. A group of people with only a simple cardboard type suitcase each. At the beginning they were up on the trestles, 'having just arrived and astonished'.
I loved it right from then on. And then they started laughing at the crowd, because they looked 'funny' to them. And it was a good crowd, they started laughing back, not in a mean way. It was purely great. Then they came down and did a sequence where people are trying to be nice and give them italian ice cream.... while photographing them like zoo animals. Only they turned it around and shared with the audience and had their pictures taken too. All very naive on the surface. Then they waved at some 'nurses' on the second floor of the assisted living place on Lendplatz and got invited up, with some of the public. And hung out of winder with them and waved to the audience. Then the audience upstairs got a quick rehearsal, and sang out to the square, waving.
Then my foot hurt, and I thought they were coming back, but they went to the corner, so I didn't see what they were doing, there were hundreds of people crowded about, but it must have been funny.... I rested it for a minute on a pavillion.... Then they went on to the next square in front of a pompous church where there is this dinky little fountain. And they were staring at it, amazed. Water isn't so plentiful everywhere, you know. And then they ran through it, got the audience to run through it, and were so thrilled at the 'miracle' of that, they were getting their hands wet, and running them over the faces of people in the audience, as if to say, 'Isn't that MIRACULOUS?' And yes, I was so up front taking pictures, I got 'anointed', but it was pleasant enough. My synapses were in overdrive, hey.
Then they opened their suitcases. Each had a photo, most of them baby pictures, and one of a grandmother. And they approached people in the audience, looking questionably at them, 'are you her, are you my lost child?`' At least that is how I interpreted it.... It was very poignant. And THEN...
they marched off that square to the main bridge. A pick up stopped at the light, and they all got in with their suitcases, but got off at the next one. It was extremely funny. And then they started ogling a big car at the intersection, and started piling in. And an accomplice was in back honking at the big car for holding up traffic, and the real ones went off the charts and started honking too, much to the hilarity of the audience. One guy was really pissed, and the audience was really INTO it, and yelled through the window, 'What's the problem, is the BABY coming? Because with THAT gut, I can't see any reason to be annoyed otherwise.' And everyone else was jeering and making fun and laughing so hard the tears were coming down.
And then the big car drove off, and most of the troupe were piled up on one another like a woodpile on the back seat. And drove away, and didn't wait for applause.
Which is too bad, because that was one of the very best things I have seen at La Strada.
Am certain I got some good photos and will post them tomorrow if I ask W. pretty please to use his computer, because Lazarus doesn't want to.
So an hour's rest and it is off to the next event.
Big one...
I love being made to THINK in a nice way, I really do.
This week is always fun in Graz... La Strada!
The link is oh-ful. The only one I could find in English, and one sentence: An international puppet and street theatre festival. Well, hell's bells, Preciousses....
All the links there go to German language sites, so what is so 'international' about THAT, huh? Ok, ok, am NOT going to get started here...
As in: 'are English speakers too DUMB, for this, or WHAT?'
Don't mind me, it is the Dog Days here.
That is why 'La Strada' is so refreshing. For the past five or six years, the city hosts this festival, and it is amazing. They invite the best of the best to perform throughout the city, and a few stellar ones to perform in concert halls and the Opera.
It was a stellar idea. Tourists without an inkling will go downtown, or wherever, and get confronted with post-modern theater, and the weirdest things. And it is so unexpected for them, and so delightful, well, stroke of advertising genius for the city, hey.
And if you are STUCK here during the doldrums.... it is a blessed relief to go to one of those squares or parks, and be entertained by high-quality people, and forget the dog days for an hour or so.
Have seen hilarious two-people performances who could charm you to death with magic tricks and the least of requisites. And spectacles that take your breath away. The most amazing of the latter were gargoyles who escape the facade of Notre Dame, get chased, and whisked up on this contraption that looked like the parachute rides in amusement parks, almost five stories above the ground. And then changed costumes on trapezes, and then did the most amazing act I have ever seen, which left the crowd spitless. And then their contraption started opening like a flower, and it was... just stunning. A heart-stopper. And I have the vhs to prove it.
So THAT is La Strada. Till this year, I only got to see one or two performances. This year will be different. They had a brass and percussion thing yesterday, just outside Peter's window, across the way in the park. But I couldn't get him out of the house. It sounded like cacophony, but the people went wild, clapping and whistling, and yelling, so they must have been doing 'something.'
This evening is a group from Spain. People with suitcases, strangers in a new place. Shall see what they do. Out on my square at five p.m. Oh, I hope it is good.... At nine, will be on the Main Square. Sounds kind of crazy from the description in the broschure.... People whose machines won't run any more, and they do crazy things to get them to go again, and then find a 'solution'. It is supposed to be slapstick. But thought-provoking. We shall see. I wanna take pictures again, and will report.
Today was the first day I was able to take Peter downtown, used the wheelchair as cane. My foot did not thank me for it. BUT.... At least I know I can do it now. So I can rest a bit and do it again, you know?
I know, I know... all this is trivial. And there are many things that anger me so much, they would shut down my blog if I REALLY said what I think about a lot of things.
So just forgive me for looking forward to a bit of respite in this terrible year, if I can enjoy myself for an hour or so. Because, whatever it will be, what I will see will hardly be trivial, and that is what I like about La Strada. Most of what I have seen is socio-critical, but can still delight you...
Sounds like a contradiction in terms, but isn't really. It's art.
Or better said, what I think art is. I hope to get some nice photos to show you all.
Dejà vu
Tja, already the 26th, and everyone in full pigged-out mode.... Uh HUH. I didn't even get Christmas cookies, because my dearest colleague was off duty, and otherwise brings me some. Vanilli Kipferln, disastrously delicious with almonds in the dough. Didn't get a single one, nope.
Made up my venison shoulder. I don't know what his neighbours are doing to him over there. But it isn't good. He ate everything. My portion too, but I let him.
So now I am making a pizza for me. Go figure. And just burned it. Fuck.
HE was happy, at least....
(The venison was really good, had to do taste checks, and then lost my appetite.)
But this is about dejà vu....my former boss's youngest son checked into the hotel.
He is the youngest offspring of the woman who owns the hotel. When I first began working, he was seven. And my boss would park him with me in the reception area, and he would just Look at me....
... and is soon going to be thirty eight.
Well, turns out he is a nice person. Turns out there is 'no room at the inn' for him and his girlfriend at home, the latter fact was surprising. So they get to stay at the hotel. And he joked, 'you got to wean yourself away from the family sometime....' He sure did that a long time ago...) And he knew it from memory that when I gave him the key, it was the best room in the house
He is going bald, which he jokes about disparagingly. He has the family eyes from his father, like the rest of his sibs, but the only brown ones I have ever seen where 'like' shines out. He was genuinely disappointed when he learned I would only be there on the last day of his visit.
Only, something happened, and I have to do a shift that wasn't planned, and so I get to see him twice again. Of all my boss' children, M is the only one who has come by now and again, and told me what he achieved, and so I get to know who that kid was, who grew up. The little child who used to take his blankey and go to sleep next to the safe in the office.
Became a nice personable grown-up.
Well hey, what more could you wish for?
And THAT is something very nice indeed.
And this is the first year I ran out of food. Since I burned the pizza into charcoal...
C'est la vie....
Will go to bed hungry. Won't be the first time...
Scraping the Barrel, and Sundry Accusations
I said I’d seen the May Queen on my way here,
And I laughed about the Church Mouse in the park.
You angrily assume that something’s ‘happened’,
Although I just went through there for a lark.
And so I can confess no indiscretion---
I guess our sense of humour’s miles apart.
And then you looked me in the eye and told me
That the people there are filth and none too smart!
Did you forget the famous night we met there?
It was raining; you were slumming in the dark.
What did you take me for?
And why did you ask for more?
If it’s me you’re out to hurt, you’ve hit the mark.
But now that you’ve decided I’m unworthy
Of your respect or further understanding,
I may as well remind you of the nights when
We lay apart, and you were---undemanding.
And like a fool I told you that I loved you;
A thing I’ve rarely thought would come to be.
But you just smiled and shook your head and lay there.
You couldn’t find such simple words for me.
I guess you had a right not to believe me.
Although you must have seen that I was green.
Well, why don’t you slam that door?
I’m not about to take much more.
You’re gentle when we’re all alone,
But in a crowd, I’m on my own.
Did you expect I’d play king to your queen?
And one more thing, while we’re still on the subject:
At times I can not understand at all,
How when we are alone you are so quiet,
But in the bars, one hears you wall-to-wall.
You always play the life of every party
In your need for admiration and applause,
Ignore me till my eyes begin to wander,
Then play the jealous spouse and show your claws.
Are you afraid you’ll lose me to another?
I might just find a better man than you.
So what am I staying for?
I think it’s time to slam that door!
You say that it’s been good so far?
What could bad be? Stop the car!
I’m sorry if this hurts you, but we’re through.
Graz 1980
South of the Belt-Line at Dixie's
A salsa….
Down in the street, where students meet,
There you can find a dark café.
Don’t wait around,. Go in and sit down!
They’ve beer and long-drinks and games to play.
The bar in the rear is quite dingy.
In the cigarette qualm you can see
A sign on the wall shining dimly reads:
‘You’re sure of a welcome at
Shadowy forms! Something like swarms
Of nightmarish figures here hold sway.
The music is lout. Cut through that crowd!
You’ll find the young men there won’t fade away.
A few even dress up in leather,
And cigarettes hang on their lips.
One or two sport a small earring
Or bunches of keys at their hips.
The bartender’s leer may strike you as queer.
Don’t mind him, he’s still got lots to learn.
He’s just seventeen, and still so green,
He thinks that his looks will make you burn.
And most men in here are near minors-
Just barely come of age.
They pose and they strut and take stand, for
Need some fresh air? Take a place where
Travoltas adorn the entryway.
They titter and clown, their hands moving down,
And south of their partners’ belt-line play.
Sitting across from some girlfriend
Who smilingly understands,
This man is for her just a dead-end
Who won’t make some crude demand.
Back through the smoke, so thick that you choke,
You’ll find someone who’s right for you.
He will agree to go home and see
That new waterbed which vibrates, too!
He’s certain that you will agree to
The terms he has asked you to pay.
It’s not that he’s hard up for money.
It’s just that one pays to get laid.
You say you aren’t sure. He has the cure;
Leans forward and moves against your side.
You feel with your hand, he’s more than a man.
Then he’s moved back. You heave a sigh.
And soon you are back in your own rooms,
He’s given you satisfaction.
You know that you soon will go back there
To sample some more of the action.
Down in the street, where students meet,
There you will find a dark café.
And there the gang play a game with one hand
Called ‘South of the belt-line my partner’s gay.’
So go right inside. You’ll be surprised!
You’re sure of a welcome at
Waldsterben
Come, walk with me, my love.
As the dusk gathers, like a fist tight about us,
And the mists rise
Sulph’rously from the tarmac,
We will search for a single breeze
That does not remind us
Of a waiting-room in Hell.
It is nine o’clock, and all is not well;
For the trees are quietly dying,
Almost unnoticed, certainly unmourned.
On every horizon we see
Denuded branches stretched in rigor mortis
As in an outcry against the very heaven
Which sent its’ acids down.
One-hundred-year-old giants
Are balding at the crown;
And below, skeletal boughs point accusatory fingers.
Autumnal yellows dapple the foliage in July:
The woods are jaundiced.
And the night drops by,
Gate-crasher at a frenzied fète.
And as the swallow’s song grows silent,
Mankind is yet
Subliminating fears,
Attending to the trivial
With the industry of ants,
And reckoning in years.
Politicians propose piffling antidotes,
The same to be effected---well, later on.
We will get what we deserve.
Come, embrace me under this elm
While its’ leaves are still abundant.
Two seconds more of cosmic time,
And our Borgia work will have become redundant,
Sending us on the downward curve
Of evolution’s scale.
And will Nature have the last laugh,
After we are gone?
Will she re-do all
That we’ve undone
As willing accomplices to those few
Who profited so greatly
From this end of season sale?
Kiss me while the good-night song
Of the lark sounds sweet on the fetid air.
Whisper me tales of today’s travails,
While I’m still dark, and you’re still fair.
Make me laugh, make me sigh and simper;
Make me forget Macleish’s line,
That: ‘Not with a bang, but a whimper.’
July, 1983
Living the Lie
for Mr. Craig---and I wouldn't have believed it necessary to publish this after two decades...
Comes a time when one needs must be married,
For that is society's rule.
But for people like us, it's a falsehood,
Although we are nobody's fool.
We are pros when it comes to acting
As though we fit into that role
Which the straight world deigns to bequeath us.
We fake it, and find it all droll
It is not any life I would ask for.
But why must I listen to you?
You tell me I must lead a life which
For me, is all false and untrue.
I don't give a shit for pretension.
But I have to live on this earth.
So I've played your game,
And have felt quite ashamed,
That these lies have diminished self-worth.
And in circles where one must make progress,
We tend to then find some poor girl
Who is blind to our true inclinations---
We thus gain the key to your world.
It is hard to maintain such relations.
(It is preferable to be on one's own)
For sooner or later they notice
No passion between us has grown.
But what do you know of such matters?
For you it is all in the game.
At least they can give you some pleasure?
I'm sorry I can't say the same.
I have tried my best to live up to
What you all so cruelly demand.
I'm tired of this game,
It's ugly, gives pain.
I'd rather be free with some man.
And I think it is right to inform you
We're not what you make us to be.
We don't have to seduce anybody,
For plenty of men are like me....
There are men who still live outside of
Your tight-assed society's rules.
Their extremeness is what your're afraid of.
Think! Everywhere one can find fools.
Yet most of us manage to love where
Our hearts and our minds tell us to.
So don't talk to me of perversion!
Who knows what you one day might do?
Yet predjudiced people will hate us,
When they see we are not like you,
or we play our own game,
Still in bed, all's the same.
So from now on I'll make my own rules!
Café au Lait im Theater Café
For Freddy from Peru
One night--- it was after two, I didn't feel like sleeping.
That night, I discovered a café, thought I was dreaming!
Inside, there was every sort of night-owl late hours keeping.
And like me they'd had too much to drink,
But still they couldn't sleep a wink.
They would drink until the break of day:
Café au lait in the Theater Café.
Well then, I went inside and found a place to sit where
A man was badly playing old-time show tunes on the keys there.
And I..... thought he bore a close resemblance to Fred Astaire....
Well, at least they nearly sing alike and after all, he's got no mike!
When the waiter comes I think I'll say:
Café au lait du Theater Café.
'May I?' asked a student from Peru who wanted a seat.
'Why not?', I replied while thinking that he surely looked neat.
'Thank you.' He sat down and turned around to watch the people.
And I wanted so to ask him now
If he were passing through and how
He knew that he should order a
Café au lait in the Theater Café.
'Who's that?', he asked and pointed to some local literati.
'Authors', I replied and added 'must have been some party.'
'Which books?' 'They're the kind you only read if you are arty.'
He opined that he had never seen
Such a crazy mixed-up scene.
And he slowly sipped his drink away, that
Café au lait in the Theater Café
'Oh my!' I said, 'I think I see some people that I know here.'
'Which, then?' he asked as Karl and Johann slowly came and sat near
Where we were sitting, the next table. I said, 'Oh dear.
It seems that I have been stood up
For him, that stupid little pup!'
And now they sit across the way, drink
Café au lait in the Theater Café.
Just then, there was a fight that broke out over in the corner.
Two men were trying vainly to impress some prima donna.
And while everyone's attention to that fracas wandered,
Karl had managed to attract my eye.
He shrugged and smiled. I wondered why
He'd gone and stood me up that day for
Café au lait in the Theater Café.
Smiling, I returned his shrug and tried to act quite civil.
Then I---talked a bit with my companion---mostly drivel.
That's when he said 'there isn't any ground for us to quibble.'
And he said that if I felt it right
With me he'd like to spend the night.
and he drained a demi-tasse away, that
Café au lait in the Theater Café.
So then, it was nearly four, and we prepared for going.
When Karl, who saw that I was for the Andes stated growing
Angry, and he came and told me he would be throwing
Me and him right out the door.
Instead we went and made it four!
And we never left until they closed,
And that, my friends, just goes to show
There's nothing quite so civil nowadays ....as
Café au Lait in the Theater Café.
Last Night I Loved You
for C.
A face full of light and of shadow.
A face slightly blurred in the rain.
That look of yours cut to the marrow.
I felt I'd been branded like Cain.
I knew right away that I'd want you.
I knew it would last just one night.
You knew I'd do anything for you.
We both knew the timing was right.
And last night I loved you
And you were so kind.
I never thought I would
Find that state of mind,
But you were so kind....
And gleaming in moon-lit reflection,
That outline of tangled blonde hair!
Your features were blended perfection;
A creature of fire, light and air.
The lines of your torso glowed dimly,
Like statues in sites half-exposed.
Exploring, I wandered them slowly,
Like Schliemann in Troy long ago.
And last night you loved me
Until it was dawn.
I hoped you'd still want me,
But now you are gone,
For then came the dawn.
Toward day-break we lay there so sated,
You held me and murmered a song.
Our passion had not quite abated;
Your hands on my skin played along.
As hot night became a cool morning,
You dressed and you slipped out the door.
I loved you. It's over. No mourning.
So why do I wish there'd been more?
And last night I loved you
And you were so kind,
I'll try to forget, but
You're still on my mind,
For you were so kind......
Graz, 1981
The Night of the Rockers
Oratorio for Oskar in S/M andante con brio
On a night of no moon, I went down to the park.
And under the fir trees it was so inky dark!
In the stillness I then heard an owl's 'hoot' so clear
That I suddenly knew I had something to fear!
Look out! There are Rockers about!
So look out! 'Cause they might find you out!
Oh! Look out!
Where the statue of Mozart stared blind as a bat,
Twas there I saw Harry, who knows where it's at.
He said he had just met a man dressed in leather,
Who gave him the eye and then talked of the weather.
His belt was 'this' wide and was studded with brass.
They went into the brush, the man belted his ass!
Look out! There are crazies about!
So look out! They might give you a clout!
Oh! Look out!
In a car down the lane, I could see Tommy Tic.
He drives down there each evening and looks for a trick.
The boys, they all know him, avoid him with ease.
Most nights he goes home to his friend in defeat.
The last time he tried a 'Duett zu Dritt'
Was two years ago, and the John took a fit!
Look out! There are weak hearts about!
So look out! That you can do without!
Oh! Look out!
Then up near the fountain where pheasants are housed,
I ran into Mario, who'd just been de-loused.
He smiled when he saw me and then came quite near,
And whispered 'Drop Trou' and I'll blow you, my dear.'
I did and he did and the feeling was grand,
Till I was aware of a third pair of hands!
Look out! There are Peepers about!
So look out! They might join in your bout!
OH! Look out!
Well, then I walked down to the round weather station
To check on the time and the trade situation.
And there Phiny said, 'It'll cost you some money.'
I said, 'Fine for you, but not for me, honey.
His arm slipped around me. 'I'm good, never fear.'
A girl's voice behind us screamed, 'Look at those queers!'
Look out! There are BREEDERS about!
So look out! I said, 'hey, must you SHOUT?'
Oh! Look out!
The last stars were fading, I was thinking of bed.
When up came a young thing, said, 'Hi, my name's Fred.'
I asked, 'How's it going?' He said, 'Not too bad.'
I said, 'How about it?' He said he'd be glad.
We'd hardly got started, came an Indian's whoop,
And in crashed ten Rockers, all in a group!
Look out! There are Rockers about!
So look out! Now which way is out?
Oh! Look out!
'Hi guys, what's happening?' I asked them at ease.
'You looking to have a good time 'neath the trees?'
They stood there confused, and so I grabbed Fred,
And told him, 'Keep still, while I give you some head!'
The Rockers looked on, and seemed very perplexed.......
And then they got horny! I just love group sex!
Look out! There are Rockers about!
So look out! Show no fear, they'll flip out!
Oh! Look out!
Graz 1981
So What Did You Expect, Professor Higgins?
Breaking Stride
for the late H.W.
Near the gas-lit starter's gate,
