Apr 14, 2014

Green Eyes (teaser) --- Germans playing Monopoly

Apologies, apologies, this has nothing to do with the Green Eyes, except that we played Monopoly once, with Sacha, the model for Jack Horn in the novel, and it ended in tears like this (I was Karl Marx)  (click to enlarge):

(find a few lines from the Jack Horn chapter underneath)

(From Chapter 43, "A surgical strike into semantic space"):

So I'm off to Jack again, who should be awake by now.

It's past noon on the fourth day or fifth day of this soap, I feel exhausted, dead tired. In parallel worlds I would be lying in Alex's arms, or Ben's arms, or the well-paying arms of an A-level escort client, but I'm not, and without any immediate checks and balances around me I'm practically dying of self-pity when driving up Jack's yard. He receives me with his trademark debonair momentum and offers a glass of whiskey. This won't be my last drink today, I think, erroneously.

Let's recall that Jack once took my tentative request for a partnership picture as an insult to his straight sexuality, so I will have to dance around the issues and explain my case as if this were a surgical strike into semantic space, a space devoid of any motives, reasons, or explanations, solely consisting of noncommittal visual gear pointing at my bed from various angles, everything invisible to the unsuspecting eye, and wired, wireless, of course.

"Uhh huuh," he says, sipping his whiskey."So you want a video installation?"
"In a sense."
"On your own premises."
"You won't have much traffic in your apartment."
"Should I?"
"Perhaps you should contact the MoMa for your work."
“You mean the Museum of Modern Art?”
“They have more traffic. In New York City.”
"I'm not famous enough," I say.
"I worked in Manhattan, once had sex with the secretary. Of the director. Twice. My-ooh-my. These people know what they are doing."
"Hiring secretaries?"
"Hiring secretaries. Three times." He smacks his lips, swipes his unruly black hair with his fingers. "A video installation, that could be challenging."
"You are the man."
"Thank you," he says and turns to the Startrek wall we've mentioned earlier. He ignites one of the screens with the remote control and is already surfing on the internet: "Video installations, invented by Nam June Paik from Korea, who also invented the Information Highway. Today ubiquitous and visible in a range of environments ... the only requirements are electricity and darkness…" he pensively quotes a Wikipedia page. "You have electricity in your apartment, don't you?"
"Yes," I say.
"And darkness, how much darkness do you have?"
"Enough enough, or just enough?"
He’s expecting an answer.

"Just enough," I say. He swirls the ice cubes in his tumbler, resumes control of the whiskey bottle, makes arrangements for topping up my glass. "Light isn't like booze, you know," he goes, and halts, as if he's waiting for something to click.
"Analogies break down all the time," I reply.
“Somebody should do something about analogies. You know, the bottle is half empty, it doesn't mean it's half-full." I will lose this, I know.
"My God, and you are a college professor. If you have enough darkness, baby, will you have enough light?"

You are still there? Then you may like the GREEN EYES, the novel, which is out now, and available under this link:

Night Owl Reviews

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