Monday, August 31, 2009

On Giving the Lie

"...the fact that, to a certain extent, the head and the genitals are opposite poles to each other."
-A. Schopenhauer, World As Will & Representation

I am gratingly Simple. Tho' I wear the Crown of Learning, I am but Pretender to that noble Throne; tho' I have tasted up caviar, & the Oysters of Chesapeke Bay, I have a Purse as deep as the Grand Canyon, & as parch'd of Filling. I explore, simply, a Home-Colony - that is, a place so antiently inhabited & storied with Tradition as to be a Home; and a place so unfamiliar, so transiently Occupied as to be a Colony.

Eagerly I seek in writings & Incident the tales, Exempla, Wit & whimsy that so delight a Reader. And yet wherever I turn there is the Janus-Face of Virginia. Truth is a but a door, that only bars Entry, or hides its shamed Face from us. Some Modesty in Almighty's constitution has occluded the Nature of Things, or else why wou'd so many great philosophers chase after rocks and trees? Why wou'd Johnson, in a rage, kick a Rock, rather than kick up an argument?

"Things are only mannequins and even the great world-historical events are only costumes..."
-Walter Benjamin

But we cannot ask Benjamin why; things switch'd their garb and chased him to Spain.


Mounting a full 2-weeks past, I partook of a local Tavern's wares. Two gentlemen of Learning accompanied me, one an eminent Divine, as yet entering his Programme of study; the other a student of historical Philosophy, acquainted with the profounder history of this Noble State, VIRGINIA.

As we scrutinized the nachoes, burrittoes, & sundry Salsa-dip'd dishes, I noticed that my belov'd beer, the 32 oz Dos Equiz (XX; $4.50, 1/4 doubbloon) had been removed. A 20 oz Tecate (also a 1/4 doubbloon!) wd have to suffice, tho' it barely did. Grumblingly settling for this new Stab at my tender Purse, my scholarly company did jest at my Exploits - those committ'd while under the full Weight of Beer's gold-fizz'd River. Such did we pass Time, till waittress came.

This Serving-wench was a young lass of perhaps 22 or 23, with honeyish blonde hair & the brown eyes as one might see flitting thro' the woods, on a delicate, nymph-like Doe. Let us call her Olivia. That she had her charms is admitt'd, tho' none so strong as to win me entirely from Mme Bainton. Blondes hold only the rarest appeal to yr correspondent.

She began her eve with us by leaning 'gainst the Table, & thrusting her Breasts quite in our faces. Bent in that attitude, she flitted her Eyes most daringly. When I spoke my desire for a Siam Pea-nut Burrittoe, she smirked, remembering this to be my Favorite. She danced her eyes to the Divine, and again she found a Hero's form, with grace & wit commodiously blended. And in the Philosopher she had found a Love deserving her dowry. I shd say, this Olivia has tuned her voice to a desirous huskiness, the sort of Forest-rustle that discloses animal Lust. Thus did our table begin a Colloquium, as to the delirious & inflamed behavior of our Hostess.

Befitting the eternal Contest with my Liver, already I had dispensed with the foppishly inane Tecate, and desired more Drink. Spirits were high, and the keen taste of daring was fresh as salt on my tongue. I wished - a Margarita.

The Divine and I began to debate the divers merits of the congregated tequilas. Already we had comment'd & discuss'd the peculiar behavior of this Saucy bit of Mutton, for she seem'd to have those profligate Affections common to Kitchen-slatterns, and yet all the sincerities of the most devoted Amour. I was all at sea.

She returned. She express'd her distaste for indecision. "What is needed," she offered with glee, "is a round of tastes!"

So she recruit'd her friend, another bar-Harlot, and gave her six bottles of the finest Spirits behind the bar. She crawl'd on her Back, adjusted her various petties and nonesuches, and, squirting Lime on her bare Stomach, dripped Salt in circles round three shot-glasses. This, we were given to understand, was our sampling tray.

Thus began the richest & most profligate Debauch recorded by human Sense & understanding. There was a great tapping of Canes, which delighted the Strumpets past the gates of Delirium. They saw no end of Pleasure in examining our Hats, strain'd in their puritan formality, when compared to the Dandyish excesses surrounding. The Divine swung, monkeyish, from the stuff'd moose, and hung down to grope the bosoms of passing femmes. The Philosopher shook his head, and order'd another tup off the barley-faucet, passing the night in bewilder at the Bar. And when I struck at their electric candles with my Dagger, the Hussies laugh'd, fiendish & choral as the pipes of an infernal organ. All the while, Olivia dragged my hand off her thigh, & then wou'd whine and cavil at the Loss of my Affections. "O, I am so glad to have had you at table to-night!" she whisper'd.

Wou'd that I cd say, I took her thro' the Kitchen & roger'd thoroughly. Wou'd that I cd say her Hands clasped mine in the door, and we made quick to a secluded spot of Romauncing. Wou'd that I cd say, she lies indolent & warm, and at the sound of my scribbling, a sleepy soft grunt might sound: "Mn."


But I cannot. We made to leave, quite disorder'd in Costume & Understanding, Cravats all askew, the work done to my Boots taking two of my good Stubb's Sundays to repair. And as I turn'd to grasp my harlot's paw, her warm entangling fingers, Olivia turn'd up her face, and heaved a moldering bucket of bar-slop to the side-walk. "Take ye & yr curly-cued Friends away! And remember next time of the Tip!"


Perhaps, in the Great Lottery of Souls, I shd have won a Precious scholar, a Dunce well-practised in Logic-chopping, or a bean-eating Philosopher, such as Pythagoras, or that high-flown saint, who, refusing Woman because of her sundry Charms, turned away even his mother. But I have not, and struggle & tumble yet with my liver, and my studying brains muddle with the incessant coquettries of serving wenches. I am worldly enough to recognize kisses for hire, but not yet lamprey enough to disdain them.


"...the final cause of the beard is...the rapid change in the features of the face which betrays every hidden movement of the mind...visible mainly in the mouth and vicinity. Therefore...nature gave man the beard. Woman, on the other hand could dispense with it, for her dissimulation and self-control are inborn."
-A. Schopenhauer, World as Will & Representation



For the curious: a brief filmic representation & True History of the Debauch, earlier alluded to but passed over in consideration of lewdness and time:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gYK4Z7jNs8I

2 comments:

Decisions and Revisions said...

Vis. Bainton,

A descriptive and informative recounting of events, as always. Though, ye did miss the opportunity to utilize 'fortnight' and 'mammaries'. Perhaps these words could be added to future retellings?
Yours, most humbly,

Epaphroditus Bainton said...

"Fortnight" is a barbarism thrust upon us by the darkest ages of man. And "mammary," like all Latinate Circumlocutions, wd suck dry the Spring of affections with its arid Detachment. I doubt that servile wench entertains any notion of child-rearing.



But perhaps you have given the lie, to my True & Faithful history?