How It Is (8 page)

BOM scored by finger-nail athwart the arse the vowel in the hole I would say in a
scene from my life he would oblige me to have had a life the Boms sir you don’t know
the Boms sir you can shit on a Bom sir you can’t humiliate him a Bom sir the Boms
sir

but first have done with this part two with Pim life in common how it was leaving
only part three and last when I hear among other extravagances that he is coming ten
yards fifteen yards who for me for whom I what I for Pim Pim for me

other extravagances including the use of speech it will come back to me that much
is true it has come back to me here it is I listen I speak brief movements of the
lower face with sound in the mud a murmur all sorts one Pim a life I’m said to have
had before him with him after him a life I’m said to have

training early days or heroic prior to the script the refinements difficult to describe
just the broad lines on stop that family beyond my strength he floundered I floundered
but little by little by little

between sessions sometimes a sprat a prawn that could happen it goes on in the past
ah if only all past all in the past Bom come I gone and Bom on our life in common
we had good moments they were good moments drivel drivel no matter a sprat a prawn

not burst Pim’s sack not burst there’s no justice or else just one of those things
that pass understanding there are some

older than mine and not burst perhaps better quality jute and with that still half-full
or else something that escapes me

sacks that void and burst others never is it possible the old business of grace in
this sewer why want us all alike some vanish others never

all I hear leave out more leave out all hear no more lie there in my arms the ancient
without end me we’re talking of me without end that buries all mankind to the last
cunt they’d be good moments in the dark the mud hearing nothing saying nothing capable
of nothing nothing

then of a sudden like all that starts starts again no knowing set forth forth again
ten yards fifteen yards right leg right arm push pull a few images patches of blue
a few words no sound cling to species a few sardines yawn of mud burst the sack drivel
on drone on in a word the old road

from the next mortal to the next leading nowhere and saving correction no other goal
than the next mortal cleave to him give him a name train him up bloody him all over
with Roman
capitals
gorge on his fables unite for life in stoic love to the last shrimp and a little
longer

till the fine day when flip he vanishes leaving me his effects and the sooth comes
true the new life no more journeys no more blue a murmur in the mud that’s true all
must be true and the other on his way ten yards fifteen yards what I for Pim Pim for
me

all I hear hear no more lie there the same as before Pim after Pim the same as before
in my arms with my sack then of a sudden the old road towards my next mortal ten yards
fifteen yards push pull season after season my only season towards my first mortal
drivel drivel happily brief

first lesson theme song I dig my nails into his armpit right hand right pit he cries
I withdraw them thump with fist on skull his face sinks in the mud his cries cease
end of first lesson

second lesson same theme nails in armpit cries thump on skull silence end of second
lesson all that beyond my strength

but this man is no fool he must say to himself I would if I were he what does he require
of me or better still what is required of me that I am tormented thus and the answer
sparsim little by little vast tracts of time

not that I should cry that is evident since when I do I am punished instanter

sadism pure and simple no since I may not cry

something perhaps beyond my powers assuredly not this
creature
is no fool one senses that

what is not beyond my powers known not to be beyond them song it is required therefore
that I sing

what if I were he I would have said it seems to me in the end to myself but I may
be mistaken and God knows I’m not
intelligent
otherwise I’d be dead

that or something else the day comes that word again we come to the day at the end
of how long no figures vast stretch of time when clawed in the armpit long since an
open sore for try a new place one is tempted desperation more sensitive the eye the
glans no only confuse him fatal thing avoid at all costs

the day then when clawed in the armpit instead of crying he sings his song the song
ascends in the present it’s off again in the present

I withdraw my nails he continues the same air it seems to me I am rather musical this
time I have that in my life this time and this time on the wing a word or two eyes
skies the or thee cheers we use the same idiom what a blessing

that’s not all he stops nails in armpit he resumes cheers done it armpit song and
this music as sure as if I pressed a button I can indulge in it any time henceforward

that’s not all he continues thump on skull he stops and stop it likewise the thump
on skull signifying stop at all times and that come to think of it almost mechanically
at least where words involved

why mechanically why simply because it has the effect the thump on skull we’re talking
of the thump on skull the effect of plunging the face in the mud the mouth the nose
and even the eyes and what but words could be involved in the case of Pim a few words
what he can now and then I am not a monster

I am not going to kill myself demanding something beyond his powers that he stand
on his head for example or on his feet or kneel most certainly not

or turn over on his back or side no rancour in me any more no wish any more for anyone
to have to do without ceasing and without ceasing not be able huge cymbals giant arms
outspread two hundred degrees and clang clang miracle miracle the impossible do the
impossible suffer the impossible most certainly not

merely that he sing or speak and not even this rather than that in the early stages
merely speak what he will what he can now and then a few words nothing more

first lesson then second series but first take away his sack he resists I claw his
left hand to the bone it’s not far he cries but won’t let go the blood he must have
lost by this time vast stretch of time I am not a brute as I may have said before
access to the sack that I have my left hand enters gropes for the opener here a parenthesis

no minutiae no problems but all this time we’ve been together many is the couple would
be content with it see each other die without a murmur having had their fill

and Pim all this time vast stretch of time not a movement apart from the lips and
thereabouts the lower face to sing cry and convulsive now and again the right hand
for pale green the hour to turn that he’ll never see and those willy-nilly to be sure
by me imparted Pim has not eaten

I yes without its being said all is not said almost nothing and far too much I have
eaten offered him to eat crushed against his mouth lost in the hairs the mud my palm
dripping with cod’s liver or suchlike rubbed it in labour lost if he’s still nourished
it’s on mud if that’s what it is I always said so this mud by osmosis long run fullness
of time by capillarity

by the tongue when it sticks out the mouth when the lips part the nostrils the eyes
when the lids part the anus no it’s high and dry the ears no

the urethra perhaps after piss the last drop the bladder sucking in a second after
all the pumping out certain pores too the urethra perhaps a certain number of pores

this mud I always said so it keeps a man going and he clings to the sack that was
the point to be made I say it as I hear it does it as much as serve to pillow his
head no he clutches it at arm’s length as he the window-sill who falls out of the
window

no the truth is this sack I always said so this sack for us here is something more
than a larder than a pillow for the head than a friend to turn to a thing to embrace
a surface to cover with kisses something far more we don’t profit by it in any way
any more and we cling to it I owed it this tribute

now at rest my left hand part two second half what is it doing grasping the sack beside
Pim’s no more about this sack the opener the opener soon Pim will speak

so many tins still remaining something there that escapes me I take them out left
hand one by one in the mud till at last the opener put it in my mouth put back the
tins I don’t say all and my right arm all this time

all this time vast stretch of time all that beyond my strength truly with Pim my strength
is ebbing it’s inevitable we’re a pair my right arm presses him against me love fear
of being
abandoned
a little of each no knowing not said and then

then with my right leg thrown crosswise imprison his two one can see the movement
take the opener in my right hand move it down along the spine and drive it into the
arse not the hole not such a fool the cheek a cheek he cries I withdraw it thump on
skull the cries cease it’s mechanical end of first lesson second series rest and here
parenthesis

this opener where put it when not needed put it back in the sack with the tins certainly
not hold it in the hand in the mouth certainly not the muscles relax the mud engulfs
where then

between the cheeks of his arse not very elastic but still sufficiently there it’s
in safety saying to myself I say it as I hear it that with someone to keep me company
I would have been a different man more universal

no not there lower down between the thighs it’s preferable the point downward and
only the little bulb protruding of the
piriform
handle there it’s out of danger saying to myself too late a companion too late

second lesson then second series same principle same
procedure
third fourth so on vast stretch of time till the day that word again when stabbed
in the arse instead of crying he sings his song what a cunt this Pim damn it all confuse
arse and armpit horn and steel the thump he gets then I give you my word happily he
is no fool he must have said to himself what is required of me now what is the meaning
of this new torment

that I should cry no sing no that’s the armpit lubricious
ferocity
no we have seen it is not that really I can’t imagine

it is not aimless that is evident this creature is too intelligent to demand what
is beyond my powers what then is not beyond my powers to sing to weep what else what
else can I do could I do if I were put to the pin of my collar

think perhaps at a pinch it’s possible what else am I doing at this moment and bless
my soul there it comes again howls thump on skull silence rest

no that’s not it either a possible thing no really I can’t imagine perhaps I should
ask I’ll ask some day if I can

no fool merely slow and the day comes we come to the day when stabbed in the arse
now an open wound instead of the cry a brief murmur done it at last

with the handle of the opener as with a pestle bang on the right kidney handier than
the other from where I lie cry thump on skull silence brief rest jab in arse unintelligible
murmur bang on kidney signifying louder once and for all cry thump on skull silence
brief rest

so on with now and then lest he get rusty return to the armpit the song ascends that’s
working thump doused on the spot all this is killing me I’m about to give up when
banged on the kidney one day at last he’s no fool merely slow instead of crying he
articulates hey you me what don’t hey you me what don’t that’s enough I’ve got it
thump on skull done it at last it’s not yet second nature but it will be something
there that escapes me

I put away the tool between his thighs take my right leg from off his two imprison
his shoulders with my right arm he can’t leave me but I don’t trust him long rest
saying to myself the words are there that too late too late indisputably but none
the less what an improvement already how I’ve improved

orgy of false being life in common brief shames I am not dead to inexistence not irretrievably
time will tell it’s telling but what a hog’s wallow pah not even not even pah brief
movements of the lower face profit while ye may silence gather while ye may deathly
silence patience patience

training continued no point skip

table of basic stimuli one sing nails in armpit two speak blade in arse three stop
thump on skull four louder pestle on kidney

five softer index in anus six bravo clap athwart arse seven lousy same as three eight
encore same as one or two as may be

all with the right hand I’ve said this and the left all this time vast stretch of
time it holds the sack I’ve said this heard it said now in me that was without quaqua
on all sides murmured it in the mud it holds the sack beside Pim’s left hand my thumb
has crept between his palm and folded fingers

script and then Pim’s voice till he vanishes end of part two leaving only part three
and last

with the nail then of the right index I carve and when it breaks or falls until it
grows again with another on Pim’s back intact at the outset from left to right and
top to bottom as in our
civilisation
I carve my Roman capitals

arduous beginnings then less he is no fool merely slow in the end he understands all
almost all I have nothing to say almost nothing even God that old favourite my rain
and shine brief allusions not infrequent as in the tender years it’s vague he almost
understands

a moment of the tender years the lamb black with the world’s sins the world cleansed
the three persons yes I assure you and that belief the feeling since then ten eleven
that belief said to have been mine the feeling since then vast stretch of time that
I’d find it again the blue cloak the pigeon the miracles he
understood

that childhood said to have been mine the difficulty of believing in it the feeling
rather of having been born octogenarian at the age when one dies in the dark the mud
upwards born upwards floating up like the drowned and tattle tattle four full backs
of close characters the childhood the belief the blue the miracles all lost never
was