[Her final appearance anywhere… except in the novel provisionally titled “Jenny”]
As Leslie and her sister Veronica leave the Ritz Five movie theater at 2nd and Walnut, Leslie is developing one of her piercing headaches. No doctor or ophthalmologist that Leslie’s mother has consulted could tell them what the problem is. Leslie wonders why there is no “f” in “ophthalmologist.”
The girls have come to watch Polar Express because it sounds like fun and stars Tom Hanks. The movie is showing on two of the Ritz Five screens. The other screens are dedicated to “art” films whose posters make Leslie nervous. She has never watched a movie in a foreign language.
Near the corner they are met by three young males with somewhat unsettling grins. The trio’s middle grin belongs to one of Leslie’s sometime boyfriends. She doesn’t know the other two. Veronica recognizes none of them.
“Hey,” says the sometime boyfriend.
“Hey,” Leslie echoes.
“Doin’ down here?”
“Watchin’ a movie.”
“Which one?”
“Polar Express.”
“Kids’ stuff, huh. Any good?”
“It’s all right.”
The quintet form a pentangle partially blocking the north-facing crosswalk. Evening jaunters mutter “excuse me” and brush past.
‘Ya wanna, I dunno, get somethin’ t’eat?”
“Could. But gotta get home by 10. My mom gets all upset.”
“Boy does she,” Veronica adds, her version of talkative.
“Jim’s Steaks, down South St.,” says the non-boyfriend on the left.
“That’s blocks, half a mile. Issit safe?”
“We’ll pertect ya,” says the non-boyfriend on the right. He giggles.
“I dunno,” says Leslie.
Veronica shakes her head and pulls her earlobe. “Not me. We’ll get late.”
A bulky young Black bulls his way through their obstruction, lightly bumping boyfriend’s arm.
“Watchit, you,” says boyfriend.
“Shove it, fratboy, you hoggin’ the whole fuckin’ sidewalk.”
“Talkin’ like that in front my girl?”
The Black looks back over his shoulder. “That what she is?”
Boyfriend takes a step forward, but Leslie pulls his sleeve. “No. Gotta get home, told ya.”
“Hey, ya know what we can do?” asks lefthand non-boyfriend. “Right here? We can sing.”
Leslie seeps into confusion, “Whaddaya mean? What sing?”
“A trio. Us three.”
“How?” asks the bewildered lab tech.
If you have listened to Alan Lomax’s capture of Genoese longshoremen bursting into sublime, controlled cacophony, what these three produce is not that. It is, instead, the edge of heaven tipping toward a tired, stumbling city, at the upper edge of South Philly.
Leslie listens, the trapdoor of her mind drops open and the headache relents as she tumbles into a state of superbity as sure as a smack of magic mushroom, an enlightenment that suffuses a part of her never before encountered, so completely and so into all the further days and years of her life that you have no need to hear more of Leslie.
* * * *
Those attempting to communicate during a bout of hacking and coughing can be said to be speaking Phlegmish.
* * * *
An interesting thing with the English language is that almost all words ending in “ump” have a negative connotation. So, from here on, when I find myself facing the misfortune of mentioning the latest president of the United Stoats, I will refer to Dump, Bump, Thump, Pump, Stump, Lump, Chump, Clump, Crumpet [a bit of leeway there], Frump, Hump, Jump, Rump, Slump and Sump. Probably missed a few, but these allow us a fine verbal smorgasbord.
I should also note that Lump is appealing all his convictions, which makes him simultaneously the most appealing president in history, and the least appealing human being on the planet.
* * * *
Confirmed fact: Nearly all companies involved in AI are already run by Artificial Intelligence, otherwise known as Crass Stupidity.
* * * *
Dream #11
I am having a conversation with Einstein at a gathering, He then comes to stay for a few days at my brother’s. Einstein is very old and being honored for something. He laughs a lot and seems to be enjoying himself, but we talk about nothing significant.
I think the conversation had mostly to do with apologizing to him for having to move his bedroom from one room to another. The physical details were clearer than usual for me.
* * * *
My favorite line by the Scottish rock band the Mekons: “Keep on hoppin’, oho, little stunted arms and legs out in the big wide world.”
More so every day.
* * * *
Noses are red, dear
Earlobes are blue,
Angles in heaven
Wish they could screw.
lickhaven 