“Do you love her?” “Oh yes quite so I’m afraid” “Surely you jest?” “Have you known me to be anything but serious my dear?” “Oh be serious for once my friend!” “I shall try and you shall see me fail in the attempt. But I shan’t fail without gaily laughing at the lunacy of it all.” “You are much too cute, much too sweet for your own good, you friend of mine.” “But what is a friend, another self … another I?” “Please be truthful.” “Does it behoove me to be?” “But of course, otherwise what are we to do?” “I haven’t the foggiest idea.” “Well I’ll be jiggered! That’s a first.”

Aside: My name is so foul and I soil it every time I utter it for anything that comes from my mouth is as a matter of a fact, soiled! Defiled! Corrupted!

“I do lover her.” “Why?” “Fuck! You play me silly. You might as well and ask me what is the meaning of life … alas don’t, otherwise I shall bore you with the answer … quite long, quite pedantic … I might be a bit flippant.” “And you expect me to be surprised?” “Ah you know me quite …. not enough I’m afraid. You are not much patient.” “I too have my defects.”

Aside: Yes I do love, it is a filthy Habit I have developed in the last few months … they are more than a few … I mustn’t count them though otherwise I’ll find it maddening.

“Do you love her?” “I love him.” “Oh” “Oh?” “You are much too sensitive for that lot.” “Oh.” “I am sorry my friend.” “Don’t be. I have renounced so much already that this stab at my liver shall not matter.” “Ease the pain … lock him in a jar.” “Oh how I’ve tried. Sweet nectar.”

Aside: We ride alone, on horses rushing through the countryside. We cross rivers over-ladened with water of the color chocolate. I hold on tightly, my arms wrapped around your waist.

Gad! God is that you? Mon Dieu c’est vous? Oh Dieu perdonez-moi … j’avais oublié ton visage … ton perfection. Gad, est-ce que je peux vous tutoyer? Ah!

So I’ve fallen off the horse, I saw this intense bright light. I am dead.

“Friend!” “Friend!” “You have fallen.” “I am afraid that I’ve done more than that.” “Tell me.” “I’ve seen God. By Jove!” “Juan. I am sorry. You have not seen God.” “What?” “You are dead. You are alone. You are filthy.” “Oh. Yet it does not worry me.”

“Do you love her.” “Arrête!”

Aside: People look at me rather queer when I say I don’t know how to drive. Sorry. I am a city person. Such provincial demeanor … such disgust. I fly on the subway. My worries and needs are far beyond your simple mind! Your lack of comprehension at the fact that I do not know how to drive shocks me, but not as much as other things. What shocks me is the fact that you don’t aspire to learn all the Romance languages! Well! For me that is what is important! Funny eih! While you struggle to feed your belly, I am much too preoccupied with tongues!

But you live in a provincial town now, adjust! you say. ¡Ay, ay de puta madre! I shall when you are able to take everything you read and see the underlying thread, when you are able to synthesize and conceptualized.

“Why do I feel such emptiness? It’s true eih. It’s got me knickers in a twist.” “It would seem so.” “I am smart.” “I know. But at least you know it and don’t feign it.” “Yet I am … vulnerable to.” “Say no more, as your friend I suggest you never say his name.” “Shall I erase him?” “I suggest you do.” “I don’t want to, I care too much for him.” “Then you shall go mad.” “Ho. Am I not there already?”

Aside: echo and silence.