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NEW AUTHORS SHOWCASE
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22-10-09 6M p2 |
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What Is This Thing Called Love (Adventures on the planet Earth) by Roger Pelegrino |
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Synopsis The only sort of love that can hold for keeps is the one coined in the French adage: Aimer sa bourgeoise, love your missus. Why X and not Y? I am afraid that there is no simple answer to that one. Mere coincidence, plus a certain something. Part of the latter is plain getting used to. Actually, that is the core of the conversion one seems to undergo. Think of the bewitching South American Guarani tune The hablaron de mi todos los camiρos: All pathways will remind you of me. A useful trick can be to make you scarce. That may generate a magic Nostalgia, Saudade. This entails that with love many may be led to suffer, but that living without it, or, worse still, without having known it, we are bound to just wither away. Is that the way things are in the entire Universe? When the Samba rings out there, (there is bound to be the Samba in other places as well,) does resistance to its lure stand for badness, madness or a pain in the leg? Because on Earth, when it calls, all will dance, the old men will, the rich men will, the young men will. Life is wonderfully simple again, the way it had been in childhood.
Difficulty in starting Some say that, with his new friends, he dived straight into the brothels of Brussels and was not to be found when visiting royalty and politicians touched down at the international airport of Zaventem expressly to meet him. According to this version, he eventually turned up in a clinic for the treatment of a variety of ailments, all connected with his sacrifice to Venus both the planet and the goddess being meant. Such people will tell you that, in devotion to his task and his King, he laid himself out beyond the call of duty; and with a nice judgment of priorities, quite properly preferred the pleasures of down town, to the niceties of the upper part of the city, where dignitaries were queuing in the royal palaces of he capital for an audience with him. To others, however, this version of events seems crude and inadequate. They have it from reliable sources, or have deducted it from the known character of Mr.Vuz, that, soon tiring of the coarseness of mankind, he had retired to a monastery in the neighbour-hood of Brussels. As usual, truth is often both stranger and more prosaic than the fancies of overexcited opinion. In fact, Jotl was, at this time, living the ordinary life of a rather unhappy young man. His mood is perhaps best illustrated by a conversation he had with his also not too happy friends, shortly after occupying the handsome flat in the Grand Place. Rizzi, the valet, had just entered, bringing whiskies and soda. Tom, buried in a deep armchair, joined together the points of his fingers and initiated the discussion. Gentlemen, he said, clearing his throat, I think the moment has come to talk of serious things. Jotl has been with us some seventy-two hours and has not yet clapped eyes on one decent woman. I deliberately exclude those hysterical hags who, for an autograph or a date, would have torn him to bits had it not been for the plain-clothes men. We might as well start as we mean to go on. Eric put in. Now, Jotl, is it true you are feeling off colour? I mean, that you are not interested in women? Yes. No urge whatsoever? None at all. The friends looked stumped. Come, come. said Eric, giving it another try, Lets not get dispirited, mon vieux. I understand him. Tom said. That mob downstairs was enough to put anyone off. Besides, there are moments when all this sort of things does leave us cold isnt that so, Jotl? Most certainly so. Jotl remarked, with some emphasis. Of course, with middle-aged people it is understandable; nature itself is probably advising them to slow down a bit. When, for instance, the mistress of the house says to her husband: Isnt time for bed, John? and John, behind his newspaper, sees that certain glint in her eye, it becomes an effort for him to drag himself out of his armchair. There is no rapture, there, yet many young men would give their teeth to stand in Johns slippers, however middle-aged Johns wife may be. Be that as it may, you, Jotl, are not one of those, if I understand you correctly at least not yet. But, tell me, have you ever longed madly for someone, up there on Venus? Jotl shook his head. We get our wives at a brokers. He prepared everything for us; all we have to do is choose. Thats all very well, Tom spluttered, very much Jotls official- companion-on-Earth, but dont you feel anything, I mean for another person? After all, youre going to spend many years, perhaps your whole life together! Even if you are not acquainted with the passion we call love, you must experience some emotion? Jotl thought this over. Yes, he said slowly, we know that sort of feeling. But somehow, we play it down, while you people seem to play it up. Am I right? And dont forget, the broker holds a very important place in our lives. He is a sort of family doctor, lawyer, priest, all rolled into one. If we were really to lose our companion, we would go to him and he would be sure to help us. Soon he would find us someone else .
A visit to the Shrink .. Chi Chi Van der Meulen glanced out of the window into the Grand Place with a satisfied air, then turned back to face the three friends lounging in easy chairs behind him. Jotl was nowhere to be seen. Mes enfants, I compliment you on your little nest. The government is treating you royally. Now back to business. And a complex business it is, by the sound of it. He scratched his chin and looked quizzically at the young men. Eric felt rather proud of his uncle. He looked well in his polo-necked jumper and grey flannels. He was a baldish, middle sized man with curved lips and a dent in his chin. It has always been my experience, the major continued with half closed eyes, that wherever you go, when there is a demand, there is also a supply. Mankind is mercenary. If that were all there was to it, the problem would be solved in a jiffy. But here we have a different matter. Monsieur Vuz does not care for women. So there you are. Where do we go from here? The demand has to be created! Extraordinaire mais vrai. That is the wish of the King of Venus, and thats what the government wants. Tom said, pharisaical. Ours is not to reason why, as the English say. put in Eric. Our friend Vuz just has to start feeling things like a man, whether he likes it or not. Sex cant be turned on just like that, Major. said Tom, joining the tips of his fingers. You know as well as I do that the urge comes and goes I remember only a couple of days ago in a supermarket, a perfectly ordinary woman in slacks and jumper was leaning over a crate of empty bottles, counting them Yes, Tom. Eric said, sardonically. You shut up! Tom replied. A part of her lower back was bare, and there were some little blond hairs. I nearly went mad! Another time I was lying dead tired on a springy hotel bed, the temperature was nearly 40 degrees centigrade and all of a sudden, to my amazement, I felt this tremendous erection coming on . The others roared at that. Come on, Tom, have a heart, will you! The major wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. To order, boys, he said. I think it was Plato who described mens organs as disobedient and self-willed, wanting to dominate their owners but, Tom, we are not here to discuss your sexual life. It is rather that of Jotl which interests us, or more correctly, its conspicuous absence. Let me put it like this, Chi Chi continued. Carlo Levi says in his Christ stopped at Eboli that the mere physical proximity of man and woman in a confined space is sufficient for a third party to know that sex has taken place. The power is stronger that ourselves; we are drawn inexorably to each other like positive and negative metal poles. Now, in Jotls case, to continue the analysis, his magnet is malfunctioning. He is in need of professional help .
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