Tripticks
I have many names. At the moment they are following Simon S. Fox Jr. The time is 14.4 hours, Central Standard Time. 73 degrees outside. Area 158,693 square miles, of which 1,890 square miles are water; ranks third. Golden eye of the automatic light rests between my fingers. Billboards and autopsies. Natural endowments are included in 20 million acres of public reservations. All outdoor sports are possible. Deep sea sleeping, and angling for small game are favourite pastimes. Eyes fall away to 282 feet below sea level. I am being hunted by bear, mountain lions, elk and deer. Duck, pheasant, rabbit, dove and quail. Meanwhile I eat a toasted cheese hamburger. My lips are frenchfries teasing cole slaw fingers. My belly is a Golden Poppy and the Motto is I have Found It. Or as posted to my three wives. Ranked according to
value
Vehicles
food
allied products
fabricated metal
machinery
stone
clay
glass
lumber and apparel.
White gold her face one of my names married. A bevy of stars, some now fallen. Originally a day’s journey apart. Reproductions. A gristmill, wine press and the reservoir with its undershot waterwheel. Are stored chapel and adjoining wing of seven rooms she lives in now with the fourth husband of my second wife. Under the roughhewn redwood roof timbers they are lashed together with rawhide. Open during daylight hours an unusual arrangement of garden pools. Hours subject to change in summer. No dogs, with the exception of seeing-eye dogs, are allowed. Cats are permitted to stay overnight provided they are on leash. A naturalist is on duty. As members of the 89-person party died, those remaining resorted to cannibalism. Only 47 were rescued. Picnicking. Campsites near the original area. Where I waited.
Cement
sand
gravel and stone
and a gun.
They knew I was there. They waited. It was a matter of impatience between them and me, between the sunken gardens, the colonnade and the workshop. They set up their own quarantine regulations. Frozen chickens and yoghourt were delivered from the nearest supermarket. She played the mechanical organ, he an old horse fiddle, and other games with other interesting relics. Most of their amusements can be accommodated. With or without the presence of Simon S. Fox Jr. So I emerged from an underground channel through different rock strata. It was when hitting Highway 101 I noticed I was being followed. I turned off into a winding road. Without campsites
rest areas
picnicking
trailer hookups
Naturalist program.
Only their faces, glass faces behind me, twisted into grotesque shapes by the Pacific winds. Surrounded by Himalayan cedars, illuminated with 8,000 coloured lights. I proceeded with lights extinguished for almost a mile, and began a futuristic transit system to the moon. An atomic submarine, scientifically authentic, to view mermaids, sea serpents, the face of my first wife. And her father. Pets may be left in the kennel at the main gate, he said. But the cat is dead, I replied. In that case we will arrange a funeral at once. But I didn’t want her buried just then, after all she was my first pet and liked me to do things with her poodle hair. However I told him that eventually a statue in her honour would be appropriate for erection in the town park, where visitors may choose to arrive by helicopters. He seemed genuinely pleased at this idea and showed me around the grounds. Crocodiles, hippopotami and snakes slipped through murky water. Along the shore, amid live, rare, tropical trees, shrubs and flowers, appeared elephants and other jungle animals. Visitors, he said, you know will find it hard to believe that none of the animals are alive. I knew he was renowned for his hospitality, wines and thoroughbred horses. I asked to be shown the champagne plant, wine cellars and bottling rooms. He showed me his study built in the shape of a wine barrel. And a photo of his daughter in graduation drag.
Other photos of his home town
pharmacy
ice cream parlor
bank
drugstore
dentist’s office
general store
an old oil rig
early locomotive
box-car
handcar and caboose
hotel
saloon and other enterprises.
Lucinda, my first wife to be, chewed chewing gum in the memorial garden of camellias, roses and flowering shrubs. That’s the orchard over there a fine sight to see you know, he said, the Cherry Picking Festival is held in June and the public is invited to pick their own fruit and over there well we have the Marine Corps Supply Depot—there we go you know my grandmother or was it my great grandfather was Celtic see that fireplace well it’s modeled after a Scottish war lord’s and this well it’s a miniature Railway an authentic replica of an oldtime coal-burning engine and that well that’s a photo of the world’s largest jet-missile-rocket test centers and has a 22-mile runway—not open to visitors of course.
I saw her petrified face imprinted on fossilized leaves. Later at a health resort under the hot-water geysers we made it for the first time in the mineral springs and mineralized mud baths. My mouth searching for hers by means of siphon pipes. Later that night I got a strange blow-job in a parking-lot, it was 35 degrees outside, by a weird woman. Two days later I was still weak at the knees and couldn’t think about it. Now I could try and ease my way out of this by saying I didn’t ask questions, just stated my attitudes
Read for pleasure
Consider myself informed
Education is important
Enjoy making decisions
Sense of humor is important
Enjoy discussing ideas
My best work is done alone
I am ambitious
Have travelled extensively
Spent most of my life in a city
Prefer to live in a large city
I make friends easily
I am dominant
Relationship with my family is fucked up
I am sophisticated
Considered attractive
Interested in marriage
Liberal regarding sex
I am politically interested
I often rebel at authority
I am more of a dove than a hawk
War is morally wrong
My date should be psychologically stronger
I am optimistic
Pot and pop-pills are morally right
I drink regularly
Fantasy Profile
Common Interests
My special interests
Living out other peoples’ fantasies.
Still what have I managed to say? That this is a performance of extraordinary charm and brilliant technique. And though there are dozens of qualities I value more, this production embodies its own vision as completely as any I have ever seen. Certainly Lucinda had some of these qualities, qualifications and I recognise now that serious, impulsive, talkative, trusting face following me round every bend. Along the northeastern edge of the city. Round the remains of the 11 feet in diameter valley oak, killed by miners digging around its roots for gold. Of course she failed to recognise me then as they both marvelled at the two pieces of tree preserved in the monument. But as soon as I got in the chevy they began the chase again.
A broad expanse of white sand beach, bordered by Monterey cypress trees. I had left the chevy in a prominent place outside the motel. When I went back I noticed they had changed their name in the register. I recognised his cramped handwriting. Through the keyhole I watched them doing Yoga together. Why had she never done that with me? Admittedly there had been some extraordinary positions we discovered on fossil beds. Extensive asbestos underlying the area. Through another keyhole I had watched my second beloved wife being whipped with kippers. Why had she never told me? I knew she liked me licking liquor out of her. The kippers were never, of course, mentioned in the divorce proceedings, her Attorney was an understanding guy, or so she informed me in the middle of one of our last fights. She also informed me that he liked fishing for
black bass
bluegill
crappie
and catfish
He came from a once booming mining town, complete with plaza and hanging tree. His father kept a saloon sporting batwing doors, housing firearms, coins, minerals and other documents, papers of historical interest. I always knew she had an interest in antiques. He was well-preserved. I guess, for his age. Maybe the dieting the Yoga helped. Certainly they managed to keep me awake half the night, why hadn’t she ever moaned like that with me?
I mapped out the next day’s route, making sure to supply myself with extra water. The thought of the three of us splitting into frantic parties, each striving wildly to get out of the barren valley finally made me have a peaceful sleep for four hours.
The weather Bureau reported it had been as high as 120 degrees for days in succession. At sunrise I turned off the main road and started crossing the valley. I could see they were hesitant, he hunched over the wheel, while she sat on a bench in the picnicking area, scraping off her already dry pancake makeup. Soon I couldn’t see them at all for the rising dust. Then dream shapes formed out of the desert, their buick floated a few miles behind me. I didn’t have the energy or patience to view the wealth of geological phenomena, but was well aware of every one of the geological divisions of time, of the space that widened, narrowed between them and myself. Memories held together by the thinnest of threads, nevertheless self-contained and delicious
sunny
boisterous
ironic
they melted, melded and interfused with swoops of greens, reds, oranges. Instead of a battle-field, the arena became a dance floor, which did not in any way alleviate or moderate the risks involved. Memories that used to communicate a violent anxiety in the valley created an airy sense of freedom, light and light-heartedness. Texture, trigger, all tonality pink, soft and glowing. At one point outside a ghost town I thought yes I could die here quite happily, no longer confuse the mainspring of the movement with the movement. And Lucinda would lie on top of me a tortured Earth Goddess with her magazine advertisement mouth closed forever. Smooth, resolved and beautiful. This simple remedy carried me through an hour or so. Now I enjoy violence as much as the next guy, but enough is enough. Five days is plenty for the most exciting series, and with the heat penetrating my brain wires, itching my balls, I decided to turn back. I passed them at 100 m.p.h. Not even having time to see their white sun sunken faces turn crimson. This is the sin of sins against an awkward power structure, I thought, the refusal really to take it seriously. However I still had the gun, though unloaded, in case of any unforeseen advantage on their side. They after all seemed to take the whole thing very seriously. That worried me. The fact that I could foresee them as a lost patrol chasing their chartered souls through endless deserts. But I would wave a flag, arrange for a brass band to play When Johnnie Comes Marching Home, bring extra noisemakers and confetti, drink beer, kiss girls. There’d be songs, dancing, music, flowers, hundreds of celebrities, like
Ho Chi Minh
Betty Grable
Lyndon Johnson
Regis Toomey
and John Wayne rising out of their ghost towns. A spiritual balance regained. Weren’t those the words she used once as we lay sunning ourselves on her daddy’s swimmingpool terrace? I didn’t believe in her soul-saving outfit, at least not until she undid her leather bikini No I don’t want to save your soul Simon I want to save your ass. She was on one of her amphetamine trips then, and possibly taking some now five miles behind, before sucking him off to keep his driving spirits up.
VISITORS SHOULD DRINK FROM CLEARLY MARKED SPRINGS.
I got out of the car and stood at the mouth of a creek. At the visitor center I noticed that daytime hourly slide shows were featured
Mountains
Canyons
Former centers of mining activities
Crystal-like salt formations
Salt pools with crystals forming on their surfaces
Sand dunes
Beehive charcoal kilns
Deteriorated mining towns
I slid through the air-conditioned dark into the blinding yellow. They must have passed by, possibly back on the main road, having an argument. I thought I could even then hear Lucinda’s hysterical voice, but it was a horse neighing. Her voice, her mother’s above the wedding march, The bride wore a traditional long-sleeved full-length white satin wedding dress and her seven bridesmaids were in white silk dresses trimmed with goya red velvet ribbons (subdued lest they clashed with the bridegroom’s resplendent full dress uniform). The makeup man had shaved the bride’s eyebrows, waxed her hairline to change the shape of her face. Raised and arched her eyebrows to open her eyes and used two and a half sets of eyelashes. Shaded her nose to make it look smaller and soften the lines around her mouth and shaded her cheeks. There was a six foot wedding cake and 5,000 dollars’ worth of champagne had been ordered. So the newspapers accounted for their wedding. The mother’s face a wreath of smiles, At last my daughter has decided to keep the good life rolling in high gear. Our elopement had never been even condescended to. Without emerging from our seven dollars a day cave on the ninth floor of a hotel we bribed them by call and collect. At least Lucinda did, Oh leave it to me honey daddy will come round. Fugitive lovers. She enjoyed it more. The phone calls, cables, letters. Demands. Commands. Finally after a week the chauffeured limousine arrived with a note All Is Forgiven Come Home. She went. I remained until another week went by and the limousine arrived with Lucinda between her parents, looking at though she’d come to pick up a corpse. I’m pregnant. She said, as I climbed in next to their negro chauffeur.
We were married at the nearest registry place that also catered for cremations. No five-tiered pound cake then topped by sugar-spun basket. No calligraphers, their labors done, studied their handiwork on 500 invitations and ‘carriage cards’ (for parking assignments). No aides clocked the ceremony in advance. Her father handed me the ring. Over in a few minutes. The divorce, a year later, took a little longer. About a day. I wasn’t present. Her father’s letter ended with the words No man need be our enemy, no one’s interests need be forgotten. Because ours is the strength, ours also must be the generosity. I didn’t cash the check but used it for other purposes and returned it to him. I pictured him appearing in the windowless second floor briefing room. Independence of expression has now become almost unthinkable. Determine what forces are required and procure and support them as economically as possible. The whole episode with Lucinda was fragmented into a honeycomb of separate actions. The mock histrionics where her father prostrated himself before me, dug his nose in the rug and moaned Look Si please do what I say give up Lucy and you’ll have an income of
Plot can diminish in a forest of effects and accidents. Motivations can be done away with, loose ends ignored, as the son-in-law, in effect, is invited to become the father-in-law’s collaborator, filling in the gaps he left out.
We lived in the annex, or tried to live. I took up
writing
painting
sculpture
photography
athletics
Zen
Judo
Karate
movie making
stocks and shares
while Lucinda knitted pink and blue baby outfits, and watched television. All night movies. Sleeping, complained of feeling sick, headachey during the day. I’d go for long car trips, check in at some obscure motel, get drunk for several days, until the limousine caught up with me, the chauffeur lifting me into the car, up to the briefing room, where the old man paced the walled room, lighting relighting huge cigars, offering me one, knowing I’d refuse. Refuse the terms, conditions, decisions. Look Si I think it’s about time you
The sweat ran down my spine, chest, between my legs. The extra water had run out. I started seeing
unmarked springs
avocado groves
fertile islands
a honeycomb of waterways
mammoth lakes
sheer walls of symmetrical blue-grey basaltic columns
crystal-clear hot springs
six packs of fridged beer
641,000 acres of lakestrewn land
sea life housing 13 large glass tanks
a 90-foot pool with perforated seals
Aquarium with prostrate mermaids
20 to 30 feet high snowdrifts
65 underground rooms
gardens
grottos
swimmingpools
white marble statuary
stained-glass windows under water
white, conical 115-foot towers
sanctuary of aquatic birds
I passed some tourists dune-buggying in their Bermuda gear. I noticed I was running out of gas. Perhaps they had also, maybe they hadn’t reached the main highway after all. I would pass them, wave cheerfully at Lucinda stretched out in semi-consciousness in the back seat, while he would be trudging through the desert. Want some help? I’d call out as my chevy churned up dust in his sweaty puffy red face. Later I’d visit her shrine. And all the rest the Wee Kirk o’ the Heather reproduction of the church where Annie Laurie worshipped.
Reproduction of the church where Gray wrote his Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard. And attend the hourly lecture on The Last Supper. The Hall of Crucifixion, measuring 45 by 195 feet. Note that visitors must remain during the showing, and passing out as the lecturer got to the 180th part of Christ’s body.
The gas gauge hovered over the E where my eyes constantly attached themselves. My mouth seemed made of sand. My whole body a sinking dune buggying itself back, forward from the steering wheel. Then I saw their car off to the right. They were nowhere to be seen. Hiding perhaps in the back, the gun loaded, waiting, ready to leap out. The bloody ending as inevitable as the climax of a Greek tragedy. Or so Lucinda would want. The episode could hardly be bettered: the vaporous, honey-coloured scene as my body would writhe to earth in a quarter-time choreography of death. The tone of the scene shifting in a split second from humor to horror as the bloodied victim attempted to aim his gun, forgetting it was unloaded. And after the affair had been discreetly seen to, they would trade in the buick one afternoon for the same model in another color, borrowing her father’s chauffeur to trundle it through the desert until it had accumulated the early mileage. She might come out in hives, her usual accessory to any crisis, and her mother applies glycerine furiously over her daughter’s body, collaborating that Men are Terrible just Beasts. And for several nights she’d be frigid in their king-sized bed.
Ah that bed, and others larger, smaller, narrow, wide around which we played our games. I the dwarf, she the Queen. She my sister. I was the President. She a slave
prostitute
movie star
nymphet
lesbian
And myself a Pimp
Judge
Flagellist
We arrived at a point when even words were unnecessary. A record collection when each piece of music fulfilled the appropriate background. Head full of musical organs. Feet scaled the walls, the strips of light placed between the toes. Her ears were sitars blown by my carved mouth. Sitting in the shower spinning fantasies on to her face, plucking at myself, the feathers of geese and quail from thigh to neck. Upsidedown. From right to left. Turning her over in the flat of my dreams. Her mother waved from a desert tower. Her father lay on a bundle of stocks and shares directing the family traffic through glass stairways. I stripped a banana thrust it up her cunt, half way, ate the rest, poured sour cream over her and buried my fingers in the remaining pink areas. Her feet followed the trail of foxes in snow. Markings of spiders along ridges memories slipped into.
More than 100 life-sized figures in 35 scenes. Hand and footprints imprinted in a coral-like crust deposited by the waters of an ancient sea. In my sophomore year I was considered a clean-cut boy, permitted by girls to go so far if I was on a leash, crated or otherwise physically restricted at all times. A thirty minute color slide show on the cultivation and history of dates. A riot of color. A series of leap-frog bridges. Blind closets, trapdoors and secret passageways. A huge overshot redwood wheel. An acre of grotesquely knotted thoughts, accessible only by foot or horseback; no roads had been cut into the wilderness not then in my sophomore year.
Thoughts now encounter shelves of ideals from these enormous arcs of nostalgia 50 feet in the arc. A large depression whose floor is scarred by numerous projections. It was about that time I guess, due to subnormal daily activities the content of dreams became so dense that the only life within them consisted of small briny shrimp and the pupae of the ephydrid fly, I began then to organise a free-form dimensional equipment in the shape of a bucket. Digging below the surface the continuous bucket line operated 24 hours a day, except on July 4th and December 25th, and I viewed the dredge, as I continue to do so, from a foreign land.