Chapters It's Always Snowy in Manehattan
“Не желаю я с Вами спорить. В спорах рождается Истина, будь она проклята.”
Писатель, из “Сталкера” Андрея Тарковского *
* ”I don’t want to argue with you. Arguments give birth to the Truth, may it be damned.” The Writer, from “Stalker” by Andrew Tarkovsky
“It’s not about commitment,” Vinyl spoke, cradling her glass under the blinking light of the above-the-counter lamps. She rotated on the stool sideways, so as to face her interlocutor more directly. “It’s not like I cannot have a relationship. It’s not like I cannot hold one.” She took a very small sip of the whisky that she hated, but could do with after three glasses or so. “Thing is, there’s the trust, okay?” She nodded, while her drinking companion remained silent, his head bobbing slightly to the hectic music of the establishment, a trippy electronica which Vinyl could rate - and she could, for she prided on being somewhat expert in EDM - his fingers playing on top of his ice cold gin-tonic. “A relationship is something, I dunno?, fiduciary. It’s something that goes I-trust-you and you-trust-me. And when I’ve had, what?, a dozen of those, and all of it goes I-don’t-trust-you, I-don’t-believe-you, fuck-you, go-away, sleep-on-the-couch, what should I do? Run for another one?” She chuckled, finishing off the glass, and rotated back to face the bartender. “Nope, not for me. Let me be alone; alone and content, with friends who trust me. Right, Nini?”
The man next to her nodded a few times before he finally spoke. “Sis, you are going on about relationships. Again.” Relaxed, he stretched his broad, muscular body. “This shirt is killing me. So is your usual talk. Find someone already or I’ll be forced to browse my connections to find you someone myself.”
“Your connections,” Vinyl said with a laugh, “only include hot girls and old men.”
“Oh, I know you’re totally not into girls,” the man replied the same way, “but I can find an old man or two for you. Now stop lamenting over spilled milk. You get laid twice as much as I do, and that just makes me sad and envious.”
“Yeah, well, that’s just, like, your opinion, man,” Vinyl replied, lazily motioning for another drink.
“Stop quoting movies,” the man said. “It’s not even Thursday.” He kept on sipping on his gin-tonic, as if in a surprised mood. “You know what,” he said after a comfortable pause. “This gin is making me drunk.” He looked at the glass attentively. “Yep,” he confirmed. “My head is getting light. I’m drunk.” With that, he smiled victoriously.
“I guess we’ve achieved what we’ve come for,” Vinyl replied, looking at the whisky she’d ordered. “Your head is light, and I’m rambling about girls again. We can safely go home now.” She decided not to partake in the disgusting drink.
“Yeah, with the exception that I drove us here,” the man said pointedly. “For some reason,” he mumbled. The music in the club was obviously making him both giddy and tired, and he yawned amidst the dancing crowd. They were far enough not to touch him at the counter with their sweaty bodies, and he didn’t mind observing the girls on the dancefloor; not that his sister minded doing the same.
“We can take the underground,” Vinyl suggested to no avail.
“I am afraid of the-” the man began, but she interrupted him:
“I know, Neon, I know.” She sighed, inserting her hand in her handbag and searching there. “I hate those. These are for frilly puff-puff girls, not manly lesbians.” She tried with another hand. “Where is my bloody phone? Nini, did you take my phone?” she addressed her brother, who merely shrugged.
“If I had your phone, I’d be calling for a taxi now,” Neon replied, finishing the gin-tonic. “Hey,” he said suddenly, “do you even know what ‘frilly’ means?”
“Yeah, because you totally don’t have a phone with a free pass to make worldwide calls,” Vinyl replied in irritation, disregarding the second part. “Why don’t you call for a taxi?”
“Because,” Neon said calmly, cradling the empty glass, the little drops of the liquid sliding down its glassy walls, “I have a corporate phone. Because every single call I make is paid for by the label. And if I call for a taxi at two in the morning in the city centre, they’re totally gonna ask what the hell just happened. And how would I tell them that I just used the corporate phone to call for a taxi in the middle of the night because I took my sister to listen to some music and we got beastly drunk?”
Vinyl rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Now that you mention it like this…”
“I swear I’ll get a phone of my own,” Neon added. “Someday. Now, just ask someone for their phone. We’re not the only ones in the bloody bar.”
“It’s a bulletproof plan, Neon,” Vinyl said sternly. “Fucking ingenious, if I understand it correctly. It’s a Swiss fu-”
“No, you don’t !” Neon physically pressed his palm against Vinyl’s mouth, effectively shutting her up. “A, it’s not Thursday, B, you don’t get to quote that movie. It’s my favourite.”
“Fuffm maff,” Vinyl finished, just before the hand withdrew. She smacked her lips a few times and sighed, eyeing the waiting whisky. “I guess I’ll need this if I have to-” She downed the whisky in one gulp, feeling the pleasant burn slide down her throat and materialise in her stomach soon thereafter. “So…” She turned left on the stool, only to see a slim, slightly pale young woman in a suit, who was pointedly looking at her glass of what seemed to be whisky. “Oh! Hey. Uh. You.”
The woman turned her head slightly, her long charcoal hair following prompt behind, eyeing Vinyl curiously, as if in disbelief that this wild-haired, blue-haired chick in a blindingly white suit would address her. “Huh?”
“You, I mean. Damn.” Vinyl thought for a moment. “I’m Vinyl Scratch.” She extended her hand with a smile.
The woman looked at the head attentively, but made no move to shake it. “I am Octavia Philarmonica. Now that we’ve dispensed with the pleasantries, can I get down to drinking my whisky?” She flashed her eyes at the offender, and Vinyl couldn’t help but gulp at the fear-inducing gaze of the woman next to her.
“I-I…” Vinyl stammered. “Could I have your phone, please?” she said goofily, blushing a little and blaming herself at once for submitting to such force.
“A,” Octavia said, “I barely know you. B, why would I give you my number? Your drunken tirade clearly paints you as a desperate lesbian, which is definitely not my type of person even to talk to , not to mention actually call .” Octavia drank her whisky with evident disgust. “And C, please don’t call me by my first name. I don’t know you that well. And thank the gods for that.”
“I didn’t mean your number ,” Vinyl tried, “I meant your phone … I need a phone to call-” A realisation struck her, which made her insides ignite - though, maybe, it was mostly the whisky. “Wait, who did you call desperate?!”
“You,” Octavia replied calmly, her calm damaging Vinyl’s. “At least, that’s the impression you’ve given due to your laments.”
“What do you have against lesbians?” Vinyl asked crossly, showing her character as well. She pressed her right hand into a fist just to fix the approaching rage.
“Everything,” Octavia replied in a whisper. “I went to a girls-only school, you know. You wouldn’t believe how many filthy lesbians tried to claim me.” Indignantly and primly, she tossed her hair. “They didn’t.”
“Well, you know what?!” Vinyl raised her voice. “If I wanted to, I could have your sexy ass in my bed ten minutes ago!” She grinned victoriously.
Octavia’s eye twitched, and in a split-second, with a “How dare you!”, she slapped Vinyl across the cheek and rose, breathing heavily. She opened her mouth to say something else, but just huffed and walked away from the bar counter in swift, abruptly-paced steps.
The whole counter was silent for a few moments, but the music kept blaring, and the people kept dancing, so the patrons safely returned to their drinking and talking routine.
“And that,” Neon said after a short pause, “is why you don’t have a relationship.”
“Shut the fuck up, Neon,” Vinyl replied grumpily.
Neon did have the good sense not to correct her.
***
All the way home in the taxi, shifting uneasily in the backseat, and when her brother bid her goodbye at the doorstep, and in the long hot bath that she took to get into a sleepy mode of existence, and after that, in bed, thanking the gods that it was not summer when the sun rose at half to four, enjoying the scary darkness and solitude, for we are always alone at night, unless we share a bed, which she did not - she thought about the encounter, she thought about how she was slapped, she thought about that damn woman.
On one hand, she was extremely angry at Octavia Philarmonica: how dare she slap her like that and talk like that and just be so fucking posh and prim all the time! On the other hand, she could sense some unwanted envy within: she was easy-going, and often mistaken for light-hearted, and she could never be that posh and prim - not that she wanted to! On the third, virtual and mutated hand, she felt that this was, as many times before, a challenge. How many women - presumably straight women - had come through her, walked into her trap, inevitably succumbed her, lost themselves in her embrace, cried her name, and were conquered.
Vinyl the Conqueror smiled evilly and stood up for a glass of water. Yes, this one was just a challenge. She won’t search for her, sure; she will never fall so low. But if she were to meet this Octavia Philarmonica again, she would definitely sweep her off her feet, both metaphorically and literally, have her, own her for a night, show her the wonders of the world, and then dump her, leave her like the stupid bitch deserves!
The water didn’t cool Vinyl’s temper, so she opened the small kitchen window, feeling the freeze of winter rush into her flat, seize her like she had seized so many. Vinyl the proprietress. Vinyl the conqueress. Yes, she would do just that. That’s what she always does, isn’t that? That is, a one-night stand, whether a compliment or a punishment, that’s all that woman deserves. It’s even more than she deserves.
But she’s pretty, isn’t she? No, let’s be honest here. Vinyl closed the window, lest she catch a cold. She has the… all the necessary... elements. Uniting them, she is a decent specimen. Speciwoman, that is. I wonder…
Vinyl walked the familiar walk back to bed and closed her eyes, imagining in vivid detail how she would seize the prize and seduce her with her skilful tongue, and then show her just what else that skilful tongue of hers can do… She would forget all about the all-girls school and see only her before her, and then she’ll just say, “Sorry, babe, but you’re not my type. It was a one-night stand.” Yes! And she would break her heart, and feast on it, yes, she would make her lose orientation, and then leave, leave her disoriented… Like so many before her.
And with pleasure like that, Vinyl thought, who the hell needs a relationship?
It's Always Snowy in Manehattan
“So I was just sitting in the bar, enjoying my drink,” Octavia spoke, huffing as she paced the room, “when this, this woman - I don’t know if I can call her that - just turns on to me and asks me for my phone. Naturally, I think she’s asking me for a phone number,” Octavia pushed her hands against the wall in irritation, doing a bizarre sort of vertical push-ups, “and I say no, because hell, she’s been talking for hours about how her poor lesbian life is devoid of relationships, and you know how I feel about those , and, uh, she says something so, uh, disgusting, something something so tactless-”
“That she could have you in her bed, like, ten minutes ago?” Beatrice supplied, rummaging through the drawer in search for lipstick. “Where do you even hide the stuff? It’s impossible to find.”
“You know,” Octavia said seriously, “I think the problem is that, in some cities, including Manehattan, lesbians have just a tad too many rights. It’s like the neg-”
“Black people,” Beatrice quickly supplied. “What you wanted to say was ‘black people’.”
Octavia’s eye twitched. “This is what I’m talking about. If I’m to be shunned because I turned down some dyke! Well! If it were a man I’d turned down, it’d be all fine and dandy, but- uh! Why am I even thinking about her?” She turned towards her interlocutor suddenly, blinking her eyes in dismay. “I shouldn’t even be- ugh.”
“Maybe you should move to Stalliongrad,” Beatrice joked. “I hear they outlawed gay propaganda there.” She took up lipstick and a small mirror lying by her side.
“Oh no,” Octavia laughed, “I hear winters are dreadful there. I’m having enough cold here this winter. Fifteen below zero! Seriously, what the hell?” She looked out of the window onto the slate-grey, sunless city. “And that snow. When the hell will the bloody snow end?” She paused, looking at her friend, who looked attentively into the mirror, pressing the lipstick against her lips softly. “Well, so I slapped her across the face.”
“You did what?” Beatrice looked up in disbelief, holding the lipstick near her face.
Octavia shrugged with a tiny smile. “I slapped her across the face. Seriously, Bea, do you even know me?” She sat onto the bed next to her friend and, suddenly, hugged her tight. “Little silly Bea, can’t believe I can be firm when necessary.”
“Well,” the blushing woman replied, placing the lipstick onto the bed and returning the hug, “a bitchslap is certainly something I wouldn’t expect from you, Octavia.”
“Well, my dear Bea…” Octavia kissed the woman’s forehead with a jingling laugh. “I’m full of surprises. Now.” She stood up, regaining control, once again the prim, stately solo cellist, once again the face of the Conservatoire, once again the leader. “I’ll go make us some tea.”
“You would make an interesting lesbian, Octavia,” Beatrice called out as the host left the bedroom. She sighed, looking at herself in the mirror and picking up the lipstick again. Quietly, almost silently, she said to herself, wistfully, “If only…”
***
Vinyl Scratch woke up in a terrible mood. First of all, she woke up at half past two, a little before the sun was going to set, as it always did in such winters; secondly, she woke up thirsty and hungover; and last but not least, she woke up thinking about the woman that had haunted her dreams, that horrible, horrible sexy Octavia Philarmonica, that temptess, that, that…
Vinyl Scratch stood up, shaking off the remains of sleep, and looked at the old watch that was boasting half past four, always two hours off.
What to do? When hungover, read. That’s what they told me. The letters, hard to decipher. Brave them, and the headache fades away. That’s the way to do it. That’s the way. It will be fine, the beginning of The Lighthouse tells her. But it won’t. Ugh. Two pages. Four pages.
The solid, panoramic bookshelves. Why don’t I? A separate bookcase, sure. For other books. For my favourites, shelves within a large what do you call it? A case, a cupboard? Seven bookshelves, together, unglassed; two shelves for glasses, glassed; and separate drawers for cutlery. And books. And the old clock that was showing five, that is, three.
Vinyl closed the book and put it back onto the shelf. So many books, so few of them finished. Why can’t I finish a bad book? Why do I reread the good ones so much? To prolong the joy. Extend? She proceeded, out of the bedroom and past the corridor with the proper bookcases, into the kitchen. Water, water. The tap. Gulp gulp. Ah. Ah!
The waters of life! And maybe some beer? No, no. What t is it? Ah, cold, cold. Fifteen below. Gods blast this winter and everything it stands for! Always cold in Manehattan. Always snowy in Manehattan. Blasted city.
Blasted Octavia Philarmonica. If I were to meet her-! Hm. But how then… Ah, what if I just look her up and… Just, you know, maybe to see if there’s something to it… Something like a web page? Places she frequents? A way to contact her? To come, to conquer. To see. Shark shark shark towards the computer. Come on, load, you piece of. There.
Oc-ta-vi-a Phi-lar-mo-ni-ca.
Hmm. A cellist? Interesting! Plays Vivaldi in an orchestra. A soloist! Plays in the chamber orchestra. Hm! Hmm! Interesting.
Scratch scratch. That ass itches like mad. Ugh. Scratch scr- No contact info, then? Huh. Okay. Maybe I’ll visit one of your concerts, Octavia Philarmonica. Oh yes, you will play your cello and I will come up after the concert and give you that look and you will blush and I will ravish you there and then and never give you a rose as a goodbye. And you will remember. Oh! You will lament!
I’ve got a mixture of feelings for you, baby, right here in my back pocket. Just you come and get it.
***
Dusk had long fallen over Manehattan, and night was closing in on the majestic city, but Octavia Philarmonica was struggling to fall asleep in her large, comfortable bed, struggling with a white, red, screaming rage that was commanding her body at the moment. She had beaten her fists into a bloody red before she went to bed, she had done her breathing exercises, now her knuckles were hurting, and she was breathing laboriously, sweating under the blankets.
That Vinyl Scratch! How grand we are! Ha! Talking to me like that! Yesterday a day has passed already but a day isn’t that much to think about it yes only a day had passed and definitely what I mean is it is difficult to let go of such things especially since it happened just a day ago I shouldn’t have done that my poor knuckles but what can I do sometimes I just lose control I cannot deal with it anyhow well sure those pills help but sometimes you just keep it all inside you and then it just comes pouring out sure it’s not normal anger issues fury even but what can I do when the stimuli are there you cannot ignore the stimuli oh gods why be normal when you can be happy that stimulus that bloody-!
She would show her! She would show her just what she, Octavia Philarmonica, was like. Ice-cold. Unabated. Unconquered. No man had ever come close to claiming her, and definitely no woman!
Flushed, she remembered the advances made on her in school. How it had scared her, disgusted her, pushed her away. She remembered how she had punched one of the girls who’d kissed her. How she ran when four of the strongest girls on campus wanted to deflower her… Octavia stood up, tall and stately, and her eyes flashed at the mirror. No. She would not be conquered, less by such a disgusting, quaint, tactless woman as… what was her name? Vinyl Scratch. What a stupid, stupid name. Befitting such a stupid woman.
Nothing would give her such joy as putting her back in place. Nothing would give her such delight as seeing that Vinyl Scratch stammer, turned down, unable to comprehend what’s going on, let down, yes, terminated, laughed at, yes, made a full of!, yes!, she’ll do that, she’d give up her place in the orchestra just to see her fail. And fall.
Octavia, agitated, grinned, cracking her knuckles. Yes! That’s what she would do. If she is ever to meet that disgusting Vinyl Scratch again, she’ll show her, yes!, she doesn’t know how yet, but she will, by the gods, she will!
Why, in fact, she would just love to meet that terrible, terrible woman and just give her a piece of her mind! Oh yes, she would! Why, she would… Where would she, presumably, even meet her, just to give her a piece of her mind and lead her on and make her suffer maybe just a little but definitely not more than she deserved…
Oh yes she maybe could maybe check I mean maybe could just search her name up in the net see if she has a webpage or some of some sort and of course I’ll do it the first thing tomorrow it’s getting late already yesterday ha yesterday I met her seems like eternity no of course not an eternity it’s merely been a day and what I am trying to say I just gonna take this quick nap and then I’ll…
It's Always Snowy in Manehattan
They say that coincidences don’t happen.
To the contrary, some claim that every happening, every occasion, be it joyful or full of sadness, is a coincidence of some sort. Without advocating either point of view, we can only say that yes, indeed, Octavia Philarmonica did look up Vinyl’s name, and yes, indeed, she was surprised to learn that the woman in question was a DJ of some renown, but that did not help her find a way to connect with her, not that she really wanted it, but then again she thought that it would be a good idea to finish that conversation and let her rage simmer and burst and then finally leave her so it wouldn’t be weird that she decided, a day and what?, a half, more?, after the occasion, let us say two days after the occasion, she decided, two days, decided, after the occasion, to, decided to visit the same bar which she definitely did not frequent as such.
Vinyl Scratch, on the other hand, in the other half of the city, waking up after a gig, filled with thoughts of that hot, deliberately disgusting devil of a woman, deviously decided to dispose of her dissonant longing, lashing out to let fate do the math and decided to visit the very same bar where she had initially met the offending woman, only without her brother to make fun of her.
The fine drinking establishment was situated in the very centre of the old and majestic city of Manehattan, its proprietor a hero strong and mighty, and wittier than any sage of those olden times when the establishment was initially established, if the fair reader would pardon the repetition. Our hero, then, Octavia of the house Philarmonico, the deft cellist maid, rode a long, steely horse all the way to the Central station, where she embarked on a long journey on foot across the barren wilderness, through the forests mighty and thick, and the ruins of antient origin, sought by many an archaeologist…
Tick tock. The clock goes ticking. The underground is never on time. Well, I meant to drink, of course. That’s why. Would’ve taken the car otherwise. A taxi? Maybe back. Why do the best ideas strike me so late?
Vinyl emerged from the underground station, unto the light she emerged, towards the nightlight of the lampposts, towards the unspoken beauty of falling snow. Something like snow in winter- something like that- something like this will never get enough description. Winter snow reflecting in the dim light of the orange-yellow lampposts. It is a beautiful blanket of pure, sinless essence, blanketing the earth. Under the snow Vinyl walked, through the maze of houses, to the middle of the labyrinth, where the bar awaited her…
Knock knock. Who’s there? A cellist, presumably. Ha. Like that chocolate cello I had. Ate it with ice cream. Not a bad chocolate, by the way. Evening to you too. Vinyl took off her overcoat and hat. Brr. So warm here. So homely. Just seven steps, and such a homely basement bar. There she is! It’s she! It’s her! She’s- the cellist- Octavia Philarmonica! At the bar counter! I knew it! I knew that it would be so when I just wanted to drop by this exact bar and she must have been thinking the same because she wants me to fuck her and leave her like a chewed-on toy that she is! Vinyl pranced in agitation.
“Heeey,” Vinyl drawled, drawing the dame’s attention. “If this isn’t Octavia Philarmonica the lesbian-hater.”
Octavia rolled her eyes and, sipping of her drink, demanded at once, trying to suppress the eager feeling in her chest (She came!), “What. Do you want.”
So powerfully Octavia flashed her eyes, so stern was her gaze, so mesmerising was her face as she frowned, that Vinyl’s insults died on her lips, that any bravado that she had mustered died with them, and she buried those, knowing forever that, as long as there were those eyes to glare at her, she would be meek and obey, if only to see those eyes a moment longer. There was nothing in the world that could compare with those eyes. “I… I…” Vinyl stammered - something she had never done before. She opened her mouth, but there were only the eyes. “You have very beautiful eyes…” she whispered to the cellist, who frowned even more.
“Excuse me,” Octavia countered, eager to return to her drink, but even more eager to reprimand the offending lesbian, “I thought we have established that I am not. Interested.” She waited for the rage to simmer, she waited for the usual fury to conquer her and fly her on its wings, but as she looked at the lost, searching face of the DJ, as she took in the subtle hints of a blush on her cheeks, somehow she didn’t feel angry - even though it was anger that was her main emotion through life - she didn’t feel furious - even though fury was her mistress - she just felt… at ease. She wanted to smile and laugh and tell that nervous girl it would be okay. But nothing more than okay. No, how could she think about her that way of course it wasn’t a sign of attraction and yet she initially wanted to slap her and reprimand her why wasn’t she slapping her right now why wasn’t she reprimanding her well for a desperate lesbian she was rather cute maybe that’s why in a total platonic way she had friends so why not just allow this nonfriend to imagine herself as a friend and nothing more and just have a drink? “All right,” Octavia sighed finally. “You can sit here and have a drink. So long as you don’t make attempts to flirt with me.”
Vinyl finally managed a smile. “You have my word.”
***
Vinyl’s word didn’t stand a chance against eight shots of rum.
“If you were a lessssbian,” Vinyl pontificated, her arm across Octavia’s neck, “I would kissss you sssso good you’d be in love with me right now.”
Octavia, who had ingested seven shots of gin, without the soothing tonic, argued, “But I’ll just ssslap ye acrossss the faccce! I’m *hic* nae lesssbi! I am Octaaaa-viii-aa!” she sang drunkenly, pressing her forehead against Vinyl’s forehead. “‘ere, I’ve talked with ye and I c’n sssssay ye’s a great woman, Vinyl!” She reached out for another shot, which was non-existent, for the able bartender had stopped serving the two drunk women and was at the other side of the bar counter, talking to more coherent patrons.
“You’re a homophobe, and an angry bitch,” Vinyl summarised, feeling the heat of Octavia’s face against her. “But that makess me wanna kisss you even more. It’s sssso hot, you know.” She licked her boozy lips. “You could, you know?, punisssssh me. You’d be a good… missstresss…” She tried to reach for Octavia’s lips with hers, but instead faceplanted into the bar counter. “Ow.”
“Vinyl,” Octavia demanded, “What are ye doing. Vinyl. Stahp.” She took the woman by the shoulders. “Come on, we should get home. I’ll take ye home because I’m benevvvvv… grand like that. Come on.”
Sleepily, Vinyl obeyed, trying to regain her balance on the unusually wobbly legs. “Bloody rum,” she swore as Octavia, holding her like a heavy sack, made her way towards the exit. “It’sss jusssst sssso goood!”
“Vinyl, shut ye face,” Octavia suggested, half-carrying the woman outside. “What’s ye addresss.”
“Me adress,” Vinyl mimicked Octavia’s drunken accent, “issss…” For a moment, she almost snoozed on the strong, gentle shoulder. “Uh. Me don’t remember,” she confessed defeatedly. “Can’t I jus?”
“Of course,” Octavia grumbled to herself. “Taking a lessbian home. Doessn’t ssseeem too conspi… consp… muddly.”
The night, yawning with soft snow, sheltered the women on their walk towards the underground. Vinyl, on her side, was somewhat happy that a beautiful woman was taking her home, but, on the other hand, she realised that in no manner would she seduce her and leave her and whatever she had planned for her, because one look from those magenta eyes would kill any notion of dominance. It was her, Vinyl, unspeakably drawn to those eyes, it was her who would not attempt anything with that woman, because with such eyes, she could only wait and hope and pray that Octavia would allow a crumb off her plate, that is, to become merely friends. And that would be enough for her, Vinyl, knowing that she would get to see those eyes ever so often. Did that mean… Vinyl took a breath of sobering air… Does that mean I’m falling in love with her? Does that mean I’m falling in love? Is that what love means? Her drunken mind decided not to dwell on the subject.
Octavia, on her side, felt that she couldn’t get angry with this woman - and that was, probably, the reason why she felt so drawn to her. Yes, she was a lesbian, a lesbian with views on her, but she somehow felt that she, Octavia Philarmonica, would always be in charge if the two were to become friends, that she would always be the strong, the dominant one - and she liked this role. Besides, Vinyl Scratch was making her feel something that psychotherapy couldn’t make her feel: serene and at peace with herself. Not angry. Not furious. Tranquil and mild, like fine wine. She could appreciate that and, maybe, it was a good idea to keep this Vinyl around if not for true friendship then at least for talking - for she was a fine conversationalist, as he drunken mind recognised - and for keeping her fury at bay.
As the drunk women made their way through the city, riding the steel train that would take them home - that is, to Octavia’s home - they felt that yes, maybe such a strange meeting borne of mutual hatred could, maybe, just as well, could turn into a beautiful friendship.
It's Always Snowy in Manehattan
“What the fuck are you doing in my flat?!”
Vinyl blinked, holding the tray in her hands, a slight frown on her face. “What do you mean?” she asked of Octavia, who was full to her neck in blankets, demanding on the bed. “You brought me here last night. I thought we made friends.”
“A,” Octavia listed angrily, thinking about how she could reach for her clothes without being seen, “drunken attempts at friendmaking don’t count, and B…” She pointed her finger at the offending DJ. “What the fuck are you doing in my flat, naked ?!”
“Ah, this.” Vinyl placed the tray on a little cupboard next to the bed. “I just like to sleep naked, is all.” She tried to make an indulgent gesture, but Octavia flashed at her with those mesmerising eyes and, at once, Vinyl felt like a guilty puppy. “Um. I. I’ll get dressed. I. Uh. I made you breakfast.”
“I see that,” Octavia retorted, eyeing the woman a little more than curiously, much like a wild beast in her natural form, a beast that was so easy to tame, with a simple gaze. “What a coincidence.”
“What?” Vinyl blinked back.
“I like to sleep naked too,” Octavia explained with a sigh. “So if you could leave now, that would be really appreciated.”
As much as Vinyl wanted to stay and watch the sexy cellist get dressed, she obeyed that commanding gaze, and, leaving breakfast, left the room.
Octavia threw off the covers. Hm. Breakfast she made me. Toast, jelly, orange juice and coffee. Never could understand how they drink juice and coffee. Hm. She looks so brave all the time, until I give her the Stare. And then she’s all meek and nice like that. I can roll with that. As a friend. I think that has taught her a lesson already. She’s not coming on to me. She, the dominant, is submissive when I’m around. Huh. The character! Well, if this isn’t what I wanted, at least I wanted something else. Haha. Hehe. Something else. Well, here’s what I’ve got. Let’s roll with that, and let’s see if I can have an interesting friend. Never too many, and, frankly, I’m getting tired of that Bea.
At least, an acquaintance.
So, what have we here? She wanted to somehow make Vinyl Scratch feel bad. Now, she somehow didn’t want it any more. So what? Why not, that’s what. Ah, to hell with that. Time to get dressed, lest Vinyl enter her humble abode while she was still naked and create an uneasy scene.
Meanwhile, Vinyl was estimating the stance of her ranks, having dressed up rather swiftly. What was the initial military goal? To seize Octavia Philarmonica, to make her beg for sex with her, Vinyl Scratch, to have sex with Octavia Philarmonica, and to leave Octavia Philarmonica, making her sad and broken. What was the harsh reality on the battlefield? The enemy, that is, Octavia Philarmonica, possessed a look of terrible power that made the troops, that is, Vinyl Scratch, freeze in place and obey her every command and feel inferior and humble and love her with a childish love, like a child would love an especially beautiful flower, like a child would love a benevolent older sister. With the exception that Vinyl also felt much arousal when she was around Octavia and not thinking about that now better check on her and see how she was enjoying her breakfast and-
Oh, hello there!
“VINYL SCRATCH! Get out of here THIS MOMENT!”
However, Vinyl felt frozen in place, looking at the half-dressed form of Octavia Philarmonica, seeing the small, yet very firm-looking breasts, the tiny belly that she wanted to kiss into oblivion, looking at the curves that were even more mesmerising than the Gaze.
Octavia opened her mouth to shout again, she waited for the usual fury to blind her, she waited for the psychotic rage to take hold of her body, the shameful, yet so usual, feeling, the feeling that made her cry at night and take pills in hope of… but, for some reason, her anger vanished as she saw the blushing face of Vinyl Scratch, the lesbian DJ, and she merely sighed, feeling all agitation flee. Instead, an unwanted smile tugged at her lips. Smiling, unwantedly, she explained calmly, “Vinyl, I am still getting dressed. Would you mind-?”
“You have very nice boobs,” Vinyl pointed out, staring. Very very nice indeed.
“Vinyl, would you mind?”
“Yes, of course!” Vinyl woke up from her stupor and, reluctantly, left the room. Her freezing mind unfreezed. She blinked. How beautiful her upper body was! And those eyes, telling her what to do. And I obeyed them. How could I not? Those eyes! I would go a million miles just to see them again. The magenta. I love you, magenta. I want to be yours. I want you to be mine. How hard it is! And I wanted her to… to… be left, broken? How could I? And how can I now, now that I’ve seen those eyes? The magenta. They are the only gods I’ll pray for. If my plight is to forever be friendzoned with her and never make a move on her and never… but to see those eyes, every day, then I want such a life. Such a life is the only life possible, now that I’ve seen those eyes.
“Vinyl, you may come in!”
Immediately, Vinyl entered the room, eyeing the cellist, dressed in pants and T-shirt and smiling. Smiling! “Hiii,” Vinyl managed, all her courage and style running away a marathon into nothingness. Only calm humility was left, her only option before those eyes and that smile. “You look very beautiful.”
Octavia tossed her hair. “Vinyl, I think we have established that I am not a lesbian, and that I am not interested.” She walked towards the mirror and enjoyed her young, slender form. The diet’s been making miracles.
“I am not coming on to you,” Vinyl said, vocally admitting her swift defeat. “I am just making compliments because I think you are beautiful.” Careful, Vinyl! Not breaking borders here. Stepping stones are sloppy and the road is steep. And where’s your warface? Didn’t you wish to conquer this little bitch - don’t speak of her like that! - didn’t you want to have her and leave her NEVER! I would never do such a thing, not with her, not with those eyes, and that shirt and those pants and that hair the ravenblack hair and that smile and those eyes the magenta the magenta the magenta.
“Any plans for today?” Octavia asked casually. Why did I ask her? Stupid! She’ll think that I’m into her. Why am I even hanging out with a lesbian? But look, she’s nice and easy once I glare at her enough. I can turn her into a calm, humble… Why do I need to? Why am I hanging around with her? I can just count this as my victory and let her go… but she’s the cure. In its purest form. How? She makes me feel… She makes my fury melt away. She’s the antidote. Why not? She’s meek now, I can use that antidote, I can…
“Are you asking me out on a date?” Is she? I want her to. Why? She fought me with those eyes, she defeated me. I am empty before her. I can take my leave now. A bow, and off the stage. A stage dive. But those eyes. She’s keeping me on a leash. Not allowing me too close, like a… But why don’t I mind it?
“Vinyl, I am trying to make friends. Besides, I’m somewhat hungry.” Octavia tossed her hair again, observing the result in the mirror. “I thought we could go for a bite.”
Vinyl touched her temple. “Do you never feel hungover?”
“No,” Octavia replied, “and I know that a good meal won’t hurt, only help. Though…” She paused, looking over the DJ critically. “If I were you, I’d watch the figure.” She snickered, suddenly feeling warm and happy in the middle of the strong, stern winter.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that you’re chubby.”
“I am what?”
“Chubby chubby fatty dee-jaaay!”
“Argh!”
“Poke poke the chubby tummy, Vinyl!”
“Come over here so I can kill you!”
“Nope!”
Run around the clock! Skip, hop and jump. Tiddly-diddly-doo!
“Vinyl, stop with your antics, this instant!”
Tiddly-doo!
“Nope!”
Tiddly-glare!
“Okay, okay, Octavia, we’re good.” Pant pant. “But I’m not. Chubby.”
“A little big-boned?”
“All right, all right. I’ll stop making fun at your expense. How about a Japanese restaurant?”
It's Always Snowy in Manehattan
“Vinyl, are you sure I’ll blend in?”
Vinyl took a critical glance at Octavia, taking in the coat, and beneath it picturing the shirt, the suit, and the bow tie. Ugh. No, you won’t. But how can I say something like that to your magenta? “Of course, Octavia. I’ll lead you to the VIP lounge, and you can chill there while I spin disks.” She laughed at the crispy air. “Ah, you should’ve seen me with Neon. We make a killer duo.” Catching Octavia’s glance, she explained, “Neon, my brother.”
Nigel Staccato, alias Neon Lights, was a fine male specimen of Homo Sapiens , with a strong, muscular build, and a pleasant singing voice. His skills included, but were not limited to, gardening, iron welding, car driving, chopper flying, working out, picking up specimen of the opposite sex, reading poetry, writing poetry, having sex with the opposite sex and making electronic music, in addition to playing the piano and mandolin.
Whose wild Christmas fantasy is this? A building, a normal building, rather, that froze in New Year’s eve, with tinsel tinseling everywhere, with spangle spangling all about, and a tree outside the club, of course, next to the long, estimated queue. Past the queue they walked. I wonder. Why don’t they make a separate entrance for deejays? Why should we stand oh hello there yes I’m with her boy you’re scary mr security, glad I’m on the right side of the barricades inside we go!
Well, could expect more. What’s this? A round bar. A round table! Your drinks, me lords! My lords, the correct. And music blaring. What’s the difference then. Why the need for a deejay if they are drunk on music already? What’s the difference if someone stands up and clicks the thing manually? They just make-believe with those spins of theirs. They might as well just click and turn it on. And yet they make so much money! How can they…
“There’s the VIP lounge, Octavia,” Vinyl introduced the cellist to the empty booth, on the balcony looming over the stage, on which an expensive setup stood. Well, at least that’s what she assumed. The booth consisted of two leather divans and two armchairs. Octavia sat in an armchair facing the stage. “You can order whatever you like,” Vinyl added with a smile. “It’s all on the house, that is, on me.”
Octavia raised her head. “Is it your club?”
“No,” Vinyl admitted, “but it’s Neon’s. He also works for a label. He’s wonderful.” She wanted to add, You’re gonna like him , but, frankly, introducing Octavia to her brother seemed like an unwise gesture. “So you can drink as much as you can.” She smiled uneasily.
“Is this,” Octavia asked seriously, “an attempt to get me drunk and seduce me?” She fluttered her eyelashes, or at least so it seemed to Vinyl. Yeah, definitely seemed. Just seemed. A mirage.
Yes, it is. And when you’re drunk enough, I’ll-! I’ll take you home and not touch a hair on your head. Because you have charmed me with your eyes, you magenta… “No, of course not. All right, I have to go get to the set.”
Octavia nodded, and watched Vinyl depart. A waiter materialised out of nowhere, a young man, presumably a master’s student. Though, what a master’s would be doing… Ah, to hell with that. One drink, not too much. “Gin-tonic.”
Whisky and gin. They’re gonna make me… drunk. Ah. Rum rum rumdadam. That beat is something of a… but it isn’t exactly. Ha! Nope. Not that much. Because once you turn it on, you cannot. Ramdadam. Hehe.
“ARE YOU READY TO PARTY?!”
Octavia blinked, sipping on the just-arrived drink, and looked at the stage. There, Vinyl Scratch in a ridiculous white suit and T-shirt was trying to get the audience going. Hm. Wasn’t hard, though. The thing was, such an audience, already drunk, and since they came here on their own volition… I mean, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to get those drones to party. Hm. Vinyl does it with style, though, you gotta admit.
“I SAID, ARE YOU READY TO PARTY?!”
The crowd roared. Octavia smiled. Let’s see what Vinyl has in store.
***
Only five drinks - and such fun! I don’t know what they put in those ginandtonics, they make me woo! Octavia descended from her holy booth into the roaring crowd of dancers, here I come! Woo, ouch, what’re you looking at?! Ha, dancing is so fun! Oh, that’s Vinyl on the stage! Viiiiinyll! She doesn’t hear me! Did I say it out loud? Everything’s so loud! Unts unts! Yeehee! Teehee! It’s so fun, this dancing thing. I guess Vinyl really has her groovy thing going on. Why, she’s kinda fun, I guess. When she’s not hitting on me. But that’s cute. She doesn’t make me feel angry, and that’s good. Few things never make me feel angry. Things! She’s not a thing! She’s a thinking, living, bea- ahem! Woman! Ugh! Cleanse.
“Heeeey, wanna dance with me?”
“Sorry, I’m-”
“No, cutie, I think you wanna dance with me!”
“No, I don’t!”
“I think you bloody well do!”
“Ah! Let go of me!”
“Hehe, kitty’s got claws!”
“What are you doing!”
“Rawr!”
“Stop! Security!”
“And the snake is out!”
“No! Security! VINYL!”
“What do you think you’re doing?!”
“Who the hell are you ?!”
“I am the DJ of this bloody club, and I am her girlfriend!”
“Vinyl?”
“Oh, so-”
“Get out of this club this moment, or my brother will have you fined for damaging club property!”
“Oh, this beauty here is the club pro- What the hell are you doing?!”
SMASH.
“Breaking your head against the counter. Now you’ve damaged club property.”
Heavy breathing. Two women. And no one noticed?
After the long and tiresome battle, our forces retreated to the initial position. The reinforcements arrived on time, which allowed the main army to be diverted from the enemy’s massacre. Glory be to our noble pikemen who roared and slammed into the enemy’s forces! Glory be to the ingenious commander who led her forces on her white horse. Glory be to the gods who…
“Octavia, are you all right?”
“Yes… That man… He… Ugh.”
“He didn’t hurt you?”
“No. Um…”
“Yes?”
“Thank you. That was noble of you.”
“Slamming his head into the bar counter?”
“No, saving me. But… Hehe. That too.”
“I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“Um. Yeah.”
“Something wrong?”
“Vinyl, you said I was your?”
“Oh! I’m really sorry, Octavia, I just…”
“No, I understand. It was to help me.”
“Yes. To help you.”
“Phew. How about we call it a night?”
“Japanese?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
It's Always Snowy in Manehattan
“This suit itches.”
Octavia sighed, casting an estimating glance over her friend. “Vinyl, stop making up stuff. And it isn’t a suit; it’s a tuxedo.” The two women slapped slished sloshed through the winter puddles towards the building, towards the building building building they sloshed.
Where did they slosh towards?
The building, they sloshed towards the building.
What was the building?
Oh, the building, rattle-dattle, the building was the old concert hall.
The concert hall?
Yeah, baby, the old, tatta-ta, the old concert hall it was, the old concert hall of Manehattan.
“It still itches.” Vinyl, disgruntledly, tugged at her bow tie beneath the scarf. “Should I wear this tie? My neck feels like it’s getting strangled by a bajilion nightmare puppies.”
“Nightmare puppies?”
“Don’t cling to words, Octavia.”
“Listen, do you want to attend my concert or not?”
“Of course I do!”
“Then calm down your nightmare puppies, you’re gonna stay in those clothes for a few more hours.”
“Then you’ll undress me real slow and gentle?”
“Vinyl, don’t press it. I’ll hit your lesbian face with my fist with a straight hook.”
“Haha. ‘Straight’ hook.”
To the building they went, two fair maidens, to the golden gates of the holy church of Roam, before the golden gates they knelt, and the guarding angel speaketh unto them:
“Who’s this one?”
“She’s with me,” quoth the godly maid Octavia, and lo and behold!, pass the maidens into the holy abode of the gods of Music, and greeted by all, and on to the storage room Octavia goes, and Vinyl behind her, taking in the majesty of this mysterious church.
“Do you classy musicians keep all your instruments here?” Vinyl asked and remarked to herself that, if she were to play in the concert hall, which was unlikely, she would not leave her turntables, just as her whole set-up, in the storage room.
“Uhuh,” Octavia mumbled, picking up a cello case. Here, they undressed, the hot, stuffy atmosphere of the concert hall getting to them. “Okay, Vinyl. I have to rehearse. Go to the chamber room, here’s your ticket. Wait for the show.”
Vinyl grabbed the piece of paper eagerly. “I thought you’d be soloing an orchestra tonight…” she drawled, much like a kid whose dream-bike didn’t turn out exactly the way it was pictured in dreams.
“Some other time,” Octavia assured her. “Now go. Mingle with the audience. Make small talk. Be polite and pleasant.” The two women left the room, and Octavia took a sharp left, disappearing behind a door.
“Polite and pleasant,” Vinyl repeated to herself. She smirked. Now that the Gaze wasn’t present, she felt more like herself. If being bawdy and bold was herself. Recently, she’d been considering whether her new self, calm and servient, was really her inner self that had been sleeping within her, barely dormant, when Octavia’s eyes awoke it. “Oh, you don’t know how pleasant I can be, Octavia…”
“Good evening!” Vinyl greeted an especially fat, ugly-looking black woman in an equally black dress that held her folds barely, the woman who was sitting next to an especially lean, muscular black man, bald and handsome, the man who held the woman by the hand, and, judging by the rings on their fingers, the couple was happily married, even though how such an A-grade man would marry such a woman escaped Vinyl completely.
“Why, good evening!” the woman said with a posh show of hand that was clearly meant to symbolise something but was utterly lost on the DJ. “A lovely show this is going to be!” She snorted approvingly. “I hear the cellist is a great professional.”
“Oh, I know her,” Vinyl blurted out, checking her ridiculous bow tie.
“Oh, really?” the woman questioned in polite disbelief.
“Yeah,” Vinyl relaxed, a grin tugging at her lips, “in fact, she’s my girlfriend. A real beast, I gotta tell you. Wears me out every night,” she lied, seeing with pleasure the look on the woman’s face. Her man was pleasantly talking to another gentleman next to him. “Oh, and after the concert, she likes to take her bow and put it-”
“I-I think my husband is calling me!”
Vinyl smiled. Even though she could not have Octavia in reality, she was content to have her like that in public’s eye. Though, she felt something new tugging at her insides. She felt that, maybe, it wasn’t a good idea to set Octavia up like that. She felt that, maybe, there was a reason why Octavia hated lesbians so much… She felt that, maybe…
Octavia entered the stage, along with two men, one of whom was carrying a double bass, while another paced towards the grand piano. Whispers pierced the chamber hall: Horshopin. Frederic Horshopin. Maestro!
Vinyl didn’t give a damn about Maestro or Horshopin or anyone but Octavia Philarmonica, the beautiful Octavia Philarmonica, who took her sit and eyed the audience, meeting Vinyl’s eyes for a moment. She smiled at the humbled DJ, and that smile nearly drove the ecstatic woman to an orgasm.
The little ensemble played some classical tune, but Vinyl could only look at Her. She could only take in the scent of the black woman’s perfume and sweat and replace it in her mind with Octavia’s faint natural smell. She could only see the prim cellist in her classical shell and see her naked, in bed, waiting for her to c… not to claim her, but to… to love her? She realised why she didn’t want Octavia to fall anymore; she realised why she wanted her all the best in life; she realised why she wanted to be with her, every day, even without hope of reciprocation. It was simple, really.
Vinyl Scratch realised that she was in love.
It's Always Snowy in Manehattan
“And that’s how you stuff a fridge with an elephant!” Vinyl exclaimed victoriously.
Octavia laughed, she jingled with laughter, it set Vinyl’s heart on fire, it pained her to see this woman laughing, it pained her because she knew that, no matter how funny she was, no matter how gentle and unlike her usual self she was, she would still never get her, she would never attain her, like a title, hell, like anything more than a friend. she wanted this, she really did, she no longer wanted to command and conquer, she just wanted to be let in, to lie with her, to kiss her, to be with her forever and beyond.
“Aren’t you scared that someone may steal your cello?” Vinyl asked, calming herself, calm. “It’s a pretty expensive cello, from what I gather,” calm Vinyl calmly said, calmly.
“Ah, don’t worry, Vinyl,” dismissive Octavia dismissed dismissively. “Everyone leaves their instruments in the store room, it’s normal practice.” She laughed, remembering an antic. “Did I tell you about that one time-”
“Give me your money!”
Vinyl and Octavia froze. There was a man, in the dark, a man before them, not an imposing man, not a tall man, not a huge man, but a man with a knife nevertheless, a man swishing his knife through the air. “Money, quick!”
Octavia felt faint, staggering back, while Vinyl, deftly, without breaking eye contact, took a stack of bank notes, handing them slowly to the robber. “It’s all we have,” she said seriously, calmly, pointedly.
The man grabbed the money and ran away.
“Oh my gods.” Octavia shivered, shaking in place like a fizzy drink, her eyes shut, tears leaving them in slow rivulets. “Oh my gods. He had a knife. He could- Oh my gods.” She kept shaking, and shaking, until Vinyl, with nothing better to offer her, took off her coat and wrapped it around the woman.
“Hey, uh, Octavia,” she tried to calm her down, “it’s, you know?, okay. He didn’t take much, and it’s-”
Without words, Octavia threw her arms around her saviour and sobbed deeply, pressing her face into Vinyl’s shoulder. Only now did Vinyl notice how vulnerable this woman was, and how… how actually short she was. Vinyl couldn't help but let out a nervous giggle. Then she giggled again, trying to suppress her mirth, even pressing a palm against her mouth, but the whole situation led to a breakdown, and while Octavia was having hers in crying, Vinyl was having hers in laughter.
“What- sob- what are you doing?” Octavia demanded, raising her face from Vinyl’s shoulder, her eyes red and puffy from crying. “Why are you laughing?!” she demanded, while Vinyl just took one look at the raven-haired woman, definitely shorter than her, and kept on giggling. “I-I’ll- shut up!”
Neither could say when exactly that happened, neither was sure that it was happening at all, and maybe, just maybe, it was a simple way for Octavia - let’s even say, it was the only way her stressed brain could deal with the situation - or, just maybe, it was a simple way for Octavia to shut up the woman with her; and neither was sure how long it lasted, only that Vinyl barely registered Octavia’s lips against hers, for a moment, or maybe several moments, or a minute; she wasn’t sure; but Octavia did it, and, breaking the kiss, she looked in horror at the woman before her, no longer giggling, sure, slightly taller, not completely silent.
Slowly, Octavia raised her hand and touched her lips with the tips of her fingers. Then her eyes widened and she staggered several steps back, breaking the embrace. It was, of course, just the nerves, she would never do such a thing why was she even here she shouldn’t be here it is a good time as good as any to escape yes just leave and never come back again never see her face again oh gods she kissed her how could she she was not a bloody lesbian was she no no of course not all she needed now was some solitude to get her thoughts straight and-
“Octavia?” Vinyl asked carefully, the touch of the woman’s lips still present on hers, her exhausted nerves registering the feeling after it was long past gone. “Did you just-?”
Octavia turned, and ran away.
***
“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” Vinyl kicked her shoe against the corner of the building. The night covered her little deed, as it covered the whole majestic city. “How could I let her go? When she finally-!”
It wasn’t hard to admit that she did not want Octavia to suffer any harm. It wasn’t hard to admit that, for a while now, she had wanted Octavia to be happy. It wasn’t hard to admit that she wanted Octavia to be happy with her. It wasn’t hard to admit that, in time, she realised that Octavia was seeing a good friend in her, and it wasn’t equally hard to admit that she was hoping for something more. What was hard to admit that, once Octavia had shown her that she liked her, once Octavia had acted upon her feelings, once that ice-cold girl finally broke her homophobic shell, Vinyl didn’t stop her, she didn’t call for her to come back, she didn’t run after her. She just stood there and waited, waited for something, under the falling snow.
Hecticly, she searched for her phone, when she remembered that she still didn’t have Octavia’s number. Cursing herself, she decided on the only thing she could do at the moment:
Run to her.
***
“That bloody bitch!”
The old, trusty mobile phone soared across the room and collided with the wall, sadly dropping onto the bed, its screen grinning with a mighty crack.
“That fucking lesbian whore!”
Octavia gritted her teeth, breathing heavily through the nose. “She used me!” She threw a pillow against the wall. “She seduced me and made me want her and made me kiss her!” She let out a primeval scream, a half-roar that pierced the silence of the flat. “Bloody fucking bleeding cunt!” She kicked the armchair, feeling white pain blinding her as she took in the stabbing gravity in her toe. “She meant to do this all along, and she fucking bleeding did it!” Furious, she punched the wall, hearing an unpleasant crack. Pain soared within her hand, and yet she persisted. “Those fucking faggots, they have the fucking media, they talk about their fucking marriage like it’s the most fucking important fucking thing I wanna set you on fucking fire till you cannot sit or stand I wanna murder you till you cannot scream anymore why do I want to why do I want to I am sick and tired of seein ye fooking pride everywhere I hate ye Vinyl ye can’t imagine how much I hate ye fer making me fer making me ugh cant ye jes all shuddup about all of this jes shudup vinyl ye i cant imagine how much how much when i was just a when i was and they all came on me and they all wanted to they wanted to and why did ye why did ye WHY DID YE MAKE ME WANT YOU?!”
Vinyl blinked at her from the doorway. Octavia opened her mouth, then her palm quickly made its way to her mouth. She used the other side to kill the scream and tasted copper. Her knuckles were a bloody mess. So it wasn’t the wall that crunched so satisfactorily, then. Not the wall. A sniff escaped her throat. Another one. Finally, she cried, cried deeply as the dam within her broke, her anger dissolving into nothingness, her shell crumbling somewhere on the floor. She staggered, but Vinyl was there to catch her. She melted into Vinyl’s embrace and cried and cried while Vinyl kissed her, kissed her all over the face with tiny pecks but somehow she didn’t mind that was… and if… while that certainly… but on… okay.
“How did you-?”
“The door was open.”
“I forgot to close it.”
“That’s all right.”
“Vinyl, I. I hate this.”
“Hate what, Octavia?”
“All this carnival around lesbianism and, and.”
“We don’t need it, Octavia. We can have a private carnival here, you and I.”
“I just. All around. The whole city turns rainbow, and, I, I. I don’t want to turn rainbow.”
“You’re not rainbow, love. You’re magenta. You can always be magenta. Everyone just thinks their city is the city. It’s not true.”
“W-what did you call me?”
“Love. I called you love. I love you, Octavia.”
“I. Please! I… I am not…”
“I love you.”
“I am not…”
“I love you.”
“I am…”
“I love you.”
“I am yours.”
“Show me your hand, love.”
“It’s bleeding.”
“Shh. I’ll kiss it to make it go away.”
“I don’t want to be lesbian, Vinyl.”
“Why?”
“I… I don’t want to. I don’t want to be part of their community.”
“You can eat ice cream and not be part of ice cream community.”
“I want to be yours. Just yours.”
“You are mine, Octavia.”
“She hurt me, Vinyl. She’s still hurting me.”
“Who’s she, love?”
“She’s… her.”
“Tell me everything, love, while I bandage your hand.”
“Don’t. It might be broken.”
“Here. Does it hurt?”
“Ow!”
“It’s not broken. Maybe cracked. We’ll see a doctor.”
“I want to confess, Vinyl.”
“Confess what, love?”
“I want to confess everything. I want you to be my priest.”
“All right, love. I can be your priest.”
“But I also want you.”
“I want you too, love.”
“Can we?”
“What?”
“Can we do it after I confess?”
“Sure. We can do everything.”
“Can you kiss me? Like, on the lips?”
“Of course. Come here.”
“That was good, Vinyl. I don’t… I don’t want to be a lesbian, Vinyl.”
“You can be my lover. Do you want to be my lover, Octavia?”
“Yes. Yes, Vinyl, I… I want to be your lover.”
“Come over here. There, the bed.”
“Mmh.”
“Take it easy. There. Are you good?”
“I’m good.”
“Tell me everything, love.”
***
Once upon a time, and a very good time, there lived a little girl called Octavia Philarmonica. Octavia liked to play with her little dollies and horsies, and liked to see the cherries grow on the cherry trees in the little garden in the backyard of the little home where her Mommy raised her, because her Daddy decided to go take a hike in the woods and never returned.
Little Octavia liked nothing more than playing with her dollies and horsies in their little house, but when she turned just seven her Mommy decided that little Octavia was grown-up enough to attend a boarding school. Little Octavia passed all the silly tests that were given to her, and her Mommy and The Rector were really pleased with the results, so her Mommy packed up the dollies and horsies and sent little Octavia to boarding school.
At first Octavia liked the studies, and the other girls in school. She made friends, and even a best friend, another girl called Margaret. Margaret and Octavia shared meals in the canteen, talked about boys - something that seemed really weird to both of them, for the boarding school was girls-only - and played with dollies and horsies.
Time passed, and little Octavia blossomed into a prim, beautiful young woman of sixteen, and the other girls matured with her. One way or another, other girls started going out with other girls, which seemed more than a little weird to Octavia. But then again, there were no boys in the school, so it was only to be expected. Octavia didn’t want such unwanted company, so she turned down every girl that wanted to date her, and sometimes she had to escape from some of the more… dedicated ones. But she had her friend, Margaret, and she no longer played dolls and horsies with her, but discussed how they were going to graduate and marry handsome boys, and they laughed at the girls’ lesbic antics, claiming understandingly that it would all pass when they graduated, that it was a phase.
Just a phase, right?
One day Margaret was in a somewhat sombre mood, and Octavia couldn’t get it out of her. She didn’t want to talk about boys or studies, she didn’t wear lipstick, so Octavia decided to invite her to her room for a sleepover. So Margaret came, and Octavia tried to sparkle a talk, but somehow all the talk Margaret shared with her referred to her, and… one way or another, Margaret leaned in and kissed her, right there on the bed, and, of course, Octavia freaked out what could she do she didn’t do that on purpose she didn’t mean to do it of course she punched her what did she expect how else could she react to such such a…
They never talked about it, ever again.
Octavia soon graduated, and entered university, and finally there were a lot of young men, smart, handsome young men… but for some reason, Octavia never went out with a single one of them. Soon they just left her alone, and she became what she became: a proud, stately classical musician, the soloist of the Orchestra in the great Conservatoire of Manehattan.
***
Side by side, in that raspy, dirty city, side by side, in the sodom of our times, in the lair of lust and fake love, cradled in love, side by side, under the falling snow, side by side, cleansed, side by side, under the watchful gaze of the carnival of rust, side by side, running from that carnival, side by side, submitting, side by side, rebellious, side by side, they slept, side by side, they lay in the sacred bed, side by side, they wept, yea they wept, side by side, when they remembered that carnival, side by side, how shall they sing their song in that strange land?, side by side, they lay, side by side, they slept, side by side, in that raspy, dirty carnival of a city that was proud, gay-proud, worker-proud, parent-proud, disgustingly proud, side by side they lay, they slept in the city that called itself Manehattan.
It's Always Snowy in Manehattan
The Snow Is Falling
It's Always Snowy in Manehattan
“Равенство, брат, исключает братство.”
Иосиф Бродский, “Речь о пролитом молоке” *
* “Equality, brother, excludes brotherhood.”
Joseph Brodsky, A Speech Over Spilled Milk
“I made you breakfast.”
Waking up from a bad dream, Vinyl barely opened her eyes, yawning, and almost decided on going back to sleep, when she saw the bare, naked form of Octavia Philarmonica, looming over her. Hungrily, Vinyl grabbed the naked woman and drew her close, leaning into a lusty kiss. Breaking the kiss, she smiled at the flustered cellist. “Are you the breakfast?” she wondered jokingly.
“No,” Octavia purred, “but I can be the dessert.” She lay on top of Vinyl, feeling her lover’s hot, breathing skin. Vinyl embraced her, nuzzling her on the neck, then kissing the spot. Critically, she eyed the cellist’s bandaged hand. No music for her for a while.
“Can I have the dessert right now?” Vinyl pleaded, reaching with her arm for Octavia’s behind.
The hand was deftly interjected. “No,” Octavia said firmly. “Too much sweetness is bad for your figure.” She poked Vinyl’s belly. “You chubby girl.”
“I’m not chubby!” Vinyl protested weakly, pinching Octavia’s shoulder playfully. “You are just very lean.”
As if to prove her leanness, Octavia arched her back, her breasts pressing against Vinyl’s breasts. “Oh, so someone just doesn’t want her dessert?” she cooed, looking innocently, too innocently into Vinyl’s eyes.
“And to think,” Vinyl said, kissing the woman lustily, taking in that new feeling of euphoria, “that yesterday you weren’t a lesbian.”
Octavia softened her embrace and looked aside. Vinyl mentally cursed herself for stepping on that minefield. “Too soon?” she asked sheepishly.
“I…” Octavia gulped. “I don’t want to think in defining terms. I am your lover. Is that not enough for you?” she asked, while Vinyl grabbed her and pressed hard against herself.
“It is,” Vinyl said, “the only thing that will always be enough for me.” Lightly, she slapped Octavia’s behind, eliciting a yelp from the cellist. “Now bring me that breakfast, woman!”
“Are you practicing domestic violence on me?” Octavia wondered with a grin, standing up tall and prim, her eyes speaking, oh really?
Vinyl felt heat rise to her cheeks as she saw the magenta of her lover’s eyes. “I… I just wanted to give it a try, is all.”
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Will you eat the breakfast I prepared for you or not?”
“Oh, with pleasure!”
“...”
“What’s wrong, Vinyl?”
“Um.”
“Don’t you like it?”
“Uh. What is it supposed to be again?”
“What? Can’t you see - it’s an omelette with ham and cheese!”
“Ah, that ’s what it was all along.”
“Stop jesting and eat!”
“...”
Vinyl looked, pained, at what was supposed to be an omelette. She was pretty sure omelettes didn’t look that way. Moreover, she was pretty sure food in general wasn’t supposed to look that way. She looked at Octavia’s gleeful face. Then she looked at the “food.” Then at Octavia again. Oh, for fuck’s sake. She closed her eyes and took a bite.
“Sooo?” Octavia asked hopefully, with a broad smile.
Vinyl chewed on the “omelette” painfully, then swallowed it, forcing herself not to vomit. “Octavia, my love,” she said carefully, not meeting the cellist’s eyes. “Promise me one thing.”
“Yes, Vinyl?”
“Never. Ever . Cook anything. Ever again.”
Octavia huffed, clearly wanting to give Vinyl a piece of her mind, but instead just sighed. “Is it that bad?”
Vinyl scrunched her face and nodded. Twice.
How could this prevailing silence be broken?
By the miracle of speech, given to mankind by the gods, in whom Octavia and Vinyl believed not.
Why was the prevailing silence not broken?
Somehow, despite the earlier commotion, the silence grew easy and neither person felt the need to break it.
What commotion?
The bold calling-out of the insufferable meal the Staremistress had prepared for her newfound lover.
What actions were taken, subsequently, by the Staremistress who had prepared the insufferable meal for her newfound lover?
She huffed, she laughed, she lay, naked, onto the bed next to her newfound lover.
What actions were taken, subsequently, by the newfound lover, for whom the Staremistress had prepared the insufferable meal?
She frowned, she smiled, she embraced the naked form of her lover.
What thoughts commanded Octavia’s mind?
The undesirable label of lesbianism; the need to come out; how she would tell Bea about her orientation.
What thoughts commanded Vinyl’s mind?
How could she have succumbed to Octavia’s charms; the warmth of the body next to her; are we alone in the Universe?
Why was the label of lesbianism undesirable?
Octavia Philarmonica, 23, was undoubtedly perturbed by the very notion of labelling herself a lesbian, for she truly and honestly despised the lesbian community, more so than the male homosexual or any other deviant community.
Deviant?
In some form.
The need?
There was no need to come out yet.
Bea?
Beatrice.
How could Vinyl Scratch, 25, have succumbed to Octavia’s charms?
She fell in love with the majestic eyes, the magenta of her eyes, the eyes.
Why was the body next to her warm?
Despite the freezing cold that reigned outside, the flat was quite stuffy, and, full of youthful vigour, Octavia’s body was a fine 36’6 Celsius, as a normal, healthy, living body should be.
Are we alone in the universe?
The answer to that question depends on how broad the universe is, how many planets it entails, and the chances of there being life on one of the planets of our universe.
What event followed the silent contemplation?
Octavia Philarmonica leant in to the beautiful face and kissed the lips of her lover.
Did she enjoy it?
Yes, she enjoyed it immensely.
Upon breaking the kiss, what did she say?
She expressed joy at just lying like that, next to her lover in this wonderful spacious bed, in her bed, that is to say, they bed, maybe now, yes, what she meant to say, was to suggest, why not make this bed of hers their shared bed?
Why did Vinyl claim that she had to think about it instead of rejecting straightaway?
Because, despite her lack of desire to have a relationship, she did not want to hurt the young, wide-eyed, happy Octavia Philarmonica.
Was Octavia Philarmonica truly happy?
Yes, she was truly, blissfully happy.
Why was Octavia Philarmonica happy?
She wasn’t sure, but it entailed having the naked form of Vinyl Scratch next to her naked form.
How did Octavia Philarmonica deal with the situation that ensued therein?
Define “the situation that ensued therein.”
The doorbell chiming, jingling, piercing the air with sound.
She freaked out.
Define “freaked out.”
She cried, “Fuck, it’s Bea!”, rose from the bed swiftly, tried to find her clothes, failed to do so, the bell chimed again, tried to find Vinyl’s clothes, failed to do so, the bell chimed again, what was she to do?!
What was she to do?
She was to, swiftly, conceal Vinyl’s presence and, getting dressed, open the door and greet Beatrice, wondering why she hadn’t called in advance and getting her to the kitchen swiftly, while Vinyl could get dressed and escape the flat unnoticed.
How?
“Get in the wardrobe!” Octavia hissed, nudging the naked form of the DJ towards the large, ancient wardrobe made of fine, strong redwood. She picked up a pair of socks, putting them on - a pitiful and laughable sight in the wake of both women still staying naked.
“What?” Vinyl blinked. “Octavia, are you serious?!”
“I cannot just come out yet .” Octavia nudged Vinyl towards the wardrobe. “So far, it’s the only possible solution.” Receiving a shake of disbelief, Octavia managed to persuade her lover to enter the wardrobe and closed the doors. “Fine! It’s fine! Just wait till we get to the kitchen, then you can get dressed and slip out! I’ll call you!”
“A, I don’t know your number,” Vinyl mumbled from inside the wardrobe, “and B, I don’t know where my clothes are! Things got kinda… heated.”
“Great!” Octavia said, without listening, and ran out of the bedroom, having lost all hope of finding her clothes. She slipped into the bathroom and grabbed a robe, wrapping it around herself with haste. The bell was chiming insistently.
“I’m coming!” Octavia called out, blushing as she remembered the circumstances in which she had called out the same phrase, albeit with a different meaning.
So, uh, she kinda greeted Bea at the doors, right, and they exchanged something like I mean they talked, sure, and Octavia led them to the kitchen, somewhat, and they sat and they talked and they drank tea. Is that a valid description? Can I go now?
“Octavia, may I ask you something?” Beatrice asked cautiously, putting down her tea.
“Of course!” Octavia smiled a little broader than was necessary.
“Why are you naked beneath that robe of yours?”
“Ah, um. You know, I like to sleep naked, is all.”
“Ah. And why are you so sweaty?”
“Oh, you know, Bea, it’s so hot in my flat…”
“I feel kinda cold.”
“Uh. Well, the blankets were too heavy.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah…”
“Um. Octavia, who was the half-naked woman who tiptoed past the kitchen and waved her hand at me?”
“...”
“I mean.”
“...”
Octavia was sure that at this moment, she could let the earth swallow her and call it a day. To think that Vinyl would be so careless as to… But of course. The only way to leave the flat was to pass by the kitchen. And she doubted Vinyl’s ability to have found all her clothing.
“Octavia?”
Beatrice’s gaze wasn’t judging, it wasn’t sly, it wasn’t angry. It was just curious and… hopeful?
Octavia couldn’t believe it was her words coming out of her mouth, that it was her voice speaking them. “It was… Vinyl. Vinyl Scratch. She. She. She’s my… lover.”
Octavia shut her eyes tight. She expected Bea to shout at her, to accept her silently, to stand up and leave. But she did not expect a powerful, mean slap on the cheek that she received. Her eyes opened, and she looked at the heavily breathing woman, now standing. “Your… lover. Your lover ?!” Bea shouted, while Octavia just sat there, like a puppy who’s being scolded. “You were… All the time, and! I agreed with you! I, I was meant to be your lover! You never even noticed me! And now you’re lesbian, and you have a lover, and I am out of your league ?!” Another slap. Another cheek. She didn’t say anything more. She turned, and walked away.
Octavia sipped on her tea. In a while, she felt the familiar presence materialise behind her. “Yes, Vinyl?” she said in a plain, normal tone.
“Is now a good time, Octavia?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure ever is a good time.”
“I may have overheard your argument.”
“You aren’t sorry.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Good. I don’t want you to be sorry. … I didn’t know.”
“Wasn’t she obvious?”
“No, never. She always played along.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know she loved you. A friend.”
“I don’t love her.”
“Do you love me, Octavia?”
“I don’t know, Vinyl. I want to love you.”
So Vinyl sighed, uh, and, you know, it was just nearing afternoon, what I mean is, it was a good day, right?, as good as any, and the snow was falling, again, I guess, so white, woo, and the people were swish swish swishing around in the streets, and especially in one cafe, a nice cafe, there sat Frederic Horshopin, the famous pianist, you guessed it, and he drank, um, I guess, coffee?, and it was good, it was real good, and so he drank coffee, and the snow was falling, and all was good and right.
Amen.
It's Always Snowy in Manehattan
Recipe for banana split:
Take a banana. Peel. Cut along in two halves. Take vanilla ice cream. Place two scoops on each side of the banana. Repeat.
Recipe for strawberry lemonade:
Take five strawberries. Cut. Take a lemon. Peel. Cut. Take mint. Place ice in two glasses. Place syrup/flavouring in the glasses. Place the strawberries, the mint, and the lemon into the glasses. Fill with sparkling water.
Recipe for love:
Take two lovers. Make banana split and strawberry lemonade. Make tea. Take a plaid. Turn off the lights. Wait till the evening. Make sure the windows are closed. Put the snacks and the drinks on the table by the sofa. Turn on a sappy film. Enjoy.
Octavia Philarmonica certainly enjoyed her lemonade, staying next to Vinyl under the plaid. The only thing that would make this better would be if Vinyl were to undress her really softly and gently and kiss her where she liked to be kissed. But she was way too confused to suggest something like that. Evidently, Vinyl wasn’t about to suggest it herself.
Octavia: Mmm, Vinyl, fuck me.
Vinyl: Shh, the film.
Octavia: Vinyl, come on, fuck me.
Vinyl: Go wash that mouth of yours!
Octavia , in a jester’s suit, is in a bathhouse. She brushes her teeth eagerly and puts a cake of soap in her mouth.
Octavia: Brush brush mhmm mhhm!
Done!
Octavia: Vinyl, will you fuck me now?
Vinyl: When pigs fly.
The scientist: This phenomenon, lately named Porcos Aeolus , consists of a pig suddenly growing wings, soon after a rain that took place on a Thursday, in particular, the first Thursday of every month. It entails the pig growing wings and taking flight, thereafter, as soon as…
Octavia: Vinyl, come on, I’m burning.
A singer: Oh, I saw a city burning!
The fire brigade arrives on the site of the fire. They work towards fighting the rapidly spreading force of nature. A band of criminalists arrives on site. They speak in forensic terms, suspecting arson. The scared nation prays to the gods that there were no deaths.
Octavia: (Gets undressed.) Vinyl, take me now, take me hard.
Vinyl: (Chews popcorn.) Mmhm, get started without me, I’ll come along.
Octavia: Vinyl!
So, having spent about half an hour in complete silence, Octavia felt it necessary to nudge Vinyl on the righteous path. That is, on the path that she felt was righteous. At the moment. Ugh. She nudged Vinyl gently, but the deejay merely shrugnodded, keeping her eyes on the film. Octavia kissed the kind shoulder of the kind deejay kindly. Kindly, the kind deejay nodshrugged kindly, with kindness. Slowly, slow Octavia kissed the slow neck slower slower…
“Mm?” Vinyl asked, finally throwing her attention at her lover.
“Vinyl? Maybe we could?..”
“Could what, love?”
“We could, you know?”
“Um. Are you cold? Do you want a blanket?”
“No, I mean, you and me, we could together?”
“Ah! No, I don’t think I’m in a mood to dine out. It’s late and-”
Sighing at her lover’s stupidity, Octavia rose from the sofa and, standing in the light from the screen, took off her robe in one swift motion, remaining naked before the blushing deejay.
“Aah. We could do that .”
“That,” my fair and gentle reader, no doubt entailed what has come to be known as a “sexual encounter.” A “sexual encounter,” to be precise, is a happening between, originally, a man and a woman, but, given the recent trends in some parts of the world, a woman and a woman, or a man and a man, or, sometimes, among numerous men and women - a noble tradition carried from the times of Antiquity - that is, a happening where a coitus happens, that is, is evoked as a matter of fact, in order to… One way or another, a sexual encounter is, usually, quite a pleasant and time-consuming way of spending time.
The nature of a sexual encounter should not make us stray from the initial procreative function. For quite a long time, it has been believed that the aforementioned procreative function is the essence of a S.E., whereas modern science believes that the main point of the coitus is pleasure derived from the aforementioned act by the participants. While the act in itself is a stimulator, sometimes people will seek more extreme ways of committing a S.E., often including the employment of such traits of our psyche as sadism (see p. 45) and masochism (see pp. 46-47).
A S.E. is considered a very private act, committed in the privacy of one’s home, but adventurous types have gained the notion of performing such acts in public, which, in many countries, is an offence, ranging from minor to major. In Manehattan, it is merely a misdemeanour, which is punished by a fine and up to five days of imprisonment-in-custody, as well as obligatory public notice that the aforementioned persons are exhibitionists, and that such traits… [далее неразборчиво ]
“So they were going to mark their love,” the Narrator narrated, “with the act of pure lust, of mad desire. For want of a horseshoe a city fell, but for want of such deep, forbidden knowledge, the city lived, lived within the two women, marked by their lust, tainted by joy, by appreciation, by expectation and the anticipation of pleasure and ecstasy.”
“So we must come to the understanding,” the Lawyer pontificated, “that they were about to put their signatures on the contract, all without contacting the able public notary, which, as all contracts pertaining to such matters concluded without the verification of a public notary, was voidable, that is, possible to be nullified in a court of law.”
“Our sammeltation around the bushing of the crackenpower of lust that commanded the visiory and the visarre,” the Writer wrote, “excsumed the exemplary notion of mismeldenness, which is to say, the ratoficarren of recipiousness, given the recent dastenbalden tropf of their love.”
Vinyl grabbed her lover by the back, dragging her into a kiss. Octavia lay on top of her, smiling into the kiss, her nose rubbing against the tender skin as she pressed into her lover’s face.
I swear, my good men, what I seen next, I never seen before! I mean, what, I’m a plain window cleaner, and I telling ya, what I haven’t seen when I’m cleaning windows- but that, my men, I never seen something like that. Two sirens, mark my words, two sirens at lust with each other. Barney, where’s that pint? Ah, there you go! … Aaah. I swear, me tum was aching without this here pint. But what was I? Ah! Two sirens! Sure, I done seen lesbians before and you know, mates, that nothing gives you a boner more than two women going at it, that’s why the gods invented lesbians, I tells you. But those two! Ah, that pint, I’d give a bit or two to have another. There you go, Barney. What I says, I was cleaning that window real good there and sure they didn’t have no curtains to shield, and you know what?, I guess they didn’t need it, they kinda saw that it was all right for everyone to see it, and so I witnessed, my lords, a mighty commotion of light and splendour, and shielded my eyes lest they be blinded, and fell I on my knees before them and cried, “Goddesses! I hear thee!” - and oh that goddamn pint was just the thing I needed. Thanks, Barney.
It's Always Snowy in Manehattan
It Was Snowing Yesterday
It's Always Snowy in Manehattan
No i wouldnt really say that thats it but then again here i am lying with her side by side and i guess thats my life now oh gods why what have i done to myself wasnt i the one who was so against all relationships do remind why is that ah you see thats cause they always fail first ladies and gents i am against commitment why is that oh you see fair fuckers thats cause when i start to feel attached to some girl she always breaks my heart like snap and thats it and were no longer an item well what do you think i am i am still an item with you how could you et cetera et cetera second or rather secondly because i want my freedom i dont want to be circumscribed circumcised i guess like they do that ha i wonder how many in manehattan so many communities and ours but no this one she likes commitment and doesnt like community does that make her what interesting i guess at least interesting so let me get my facts straight hehe straight now thats a good one needed to tell octavia that maybe now but i think its about one or maybe half one shes fast asleep my baby oh my baby didnt i never see mah baby get home tadam tadam i wanted to conquer her and shes conquered me and why the fuck dont i mind that i wouldve minded if it were otherwise but she with her magenta i just feel like i love her you know like a real love maybe thats finally how i get commitment i wonder who the hell am i even talking to i dont really believe in gods do i that one time when dad took me and nini to the temple it was so damp and everyone was so silent i wanted a rainbow in that place maybe then ah i guess those shrinks are right and it all comes from the childhood i wasnt that much of a child to think about it rather i brrp oh gods that ice cream i ate not that good for the stomach she look at her shes snoozing so peacefully ah how why is my heart melting when i look at her but shes not like a cute kitten kitty got claws like that parody i watched really was it really like that in the sixties oh gods yeah she can a tale unfold if you catch my drink why did i hehe drink oh i know what a good idea to bring in neon and introduce them not exactly knew each other just that one time in the bar and we could all get wasted and then octavia and i could go for what shes so proficient at shes a real pro at making me scream that sexy beast who wouldve thought and the funny thing is she really doesnt like lesbians why what the fuck octavia here you are having sex with a woman that is me and you still dont i need to dig deeper into that madeline business was her name madeline no madeline was neons bride ahhaa we had so much fun moving here so he could ditch her best decision ever margaret bingo thats the one bingo on telly telly tummy chubby poke the chubby tummy vinyl heh i love her i love her so much why cant i because they always put remixes on vinyl thats why i am an old worn out remix meant to be played once in a while in a busy club wow so poetic much wow every old show has holds that one place in your heart like that scifi show that got cancelled after the first season now that was a shame really i loved it and now i love her life who can understand a little moment of it how did he answer that ah its okay just pretend you understand everything how can i pretend even that with her around my tadam tadam didnt never see mah baby get home thats what because in a dirty bar like that meeting such a chance one in a million i guess and again meeting her there such a chance too and they perchance were playing thats why the association the free i guess thats why i then when she asked me asked of me and the gods asked of me to be there and i wasnt what a what an oathbreaker an oatsbreaker and oatsputter and milkpourer a healthy breakfast and a healthy diet thats what you need to stay tuned always stay tuned and heres dj vinyl with all the new programme and several other programmes that may not be so fresh but the bestbefore did you see what was that ah its a visual representation of the exaltation of the exgumication of fication of flexation of… when she asked me of course i didnt exactly agree we played a little game now i see it even clearly even though she didnt quite realise it i guess back then but still she doesnt agree that she is a lesbian i guess its like you call yourself right like the off the top the way you identify thats the way it actually is but you also have to believe in the right gods didnt you you doooo while she asked me yea she asked of me and i said what else could i say i mean here she is the girl that i seem to like for some reason the eyes duh and she asks not to hit on her well what else could i say of course no i said no i wont No.
***
I wonder. That banana split. Mmmhm. And to think that she. What I mean is. If without, I’d never make such yummy yum. And she’s yummy indeed. My chubby deejay. Poke the chubby tummy. No. She must be fast asleep. Her breathing, so calm. I love it. Why do I? Dancing around, I’ll never come to terms with. Or?
So let’s imagine I’m a. Okay. What does that leave me? All my life, I’ve lived the only way that I had known. And now I see it ain’t worth shit. Now I see it was all wrong. Because of her. Oh her. Murder? Take a long, sharp knife. Hackin’, and whackin’, and smackin’. No, no. Not even mad. Huh. So, imaginarily, did I fall in love with her because she melts me anger away? Nae, I don’t think… Love, huh. Vinyl, ye silly… My love. Huh. Love.
Why didn’t I love you, Margaret? Oh gods, and Matt the shrink will ask me for sure. Anything new, Octavia? Yes, Matt, why, doc, you see, I kinda became lesbian and I’m sleeping with a stranger whom I met like a week ago. Oh, is that so, Octavia? Yes, doc, that is so, and you know what, I, for some reason, I, what I mean is, I, I don’t like lesbians still. Fuck me, right? Oh, is that so, Octavia? Yes, doc, and, and, I think I’ve always been a lesbian. Even when… you know.
Margaret.
I wonder where you are now? I gotta thank you. (For what?) For showing me myself. (Yourself?) Yeah, what I mean is, it isn’t exactly Vinyl who- (Oh, isn’t it her?) Ah, shut up.
And Bea too. Damn! Hot damn! Who would have thought? All these years… Not much, though. Two? Three? And we’ll go out drinking on coronation day. She invited them. Singers, actors, homosexuals. Ugh! I don’t want to be one of them. No, I won’t. And yet I am. Irony? Irony sucks! Ha, irony. Do the doubletapdance. Doubletapdance for the pleasure of the rain. And fire gods.
Everything changed when the fire Vinyl attacked. Two months, marking March. Didn’t touch the cello for what, half a year since then? Do the musics, she urged me. Funny nose. I wanted to boop that nose like a kid. Boop the nosey nose! Poke the chubby tummy!
Ugh!
All because we’re in love… E minor. A major? E minor. Doesn’t have that skip in the gap. The guitarist bohooed, the whiner. Sh. It’s meant for a piano, don’t you get it. Donnn you? Donn you cry donn you weep. That touched me strings when dad would sing it… And what would he say now? Sleeping with a woman!
Careful there. Tender. Don’t wake her up. Donn wake her up. Donn Philarmonica, donness. I’d sign with a Parker any day. Or any other pen of the calibre, good sirs and ladies. Ha! Now that’s a joke. What was it. No promotion for equality. To make terms equal, no promotion. Hehee!
Breaking the pages, with and within. Without? Crazy creation, quoted along with… dynamiiiite… Chock the rooftops. Tried to snort sugar. Haa. Bring your own bottles. Rolling down the steep funny hill. On heels at that! Whee! The rocket, they called it, like a new drug, like a new epidemic, I didn’t join in, why would I. Spin round and round? Ah, you could sit in my lap and spin, that’s what I say.
Bloody blanket. Too tired to… Searched with metal detectors. Was pretty heavy with rain, what did I say. When I was afraid to give them the life. Just got the license, guys! Ah, nevermind, Octavia, give us the life. Life? Life… Us, when one. So strange. Not so strange where I come from, babe. Maybe not now. But then. Then there wasn’t much of. No lesbian community for sure. Now or then? Now! Hate Stalliongrad, the posh fuckers, hate Los Pegasus and their communities. Manehattan, my one and only love, my anarchy, my democracy. Cradle me in your everpresent blanket of long forgotten starts and broken dreams. Every street you line your you like line up with some. Line up with. Line. Line up.
Line…
They always know what to say. That seems to be the problem. They try to find it out and them theirs the third… he comes and goes and she stays. With me. With me! With me! My arms upon her, my head in her armpit, yea, I guess I’m a shorty, sure, babe, what a stupid word for lesbians to use, and I am not one not one I still hate all of you. And I will. If I guess. I get chanceees.... No! Just her lover, I am.
Cradle me, Vinyl, and cradle me, the crazy city, the merciful city, the ugly, the best city in the world, cradle me with your skyscrapers, and cradle me with your snow, cradle me with your blues clubs and jazz bars, cradle me with the Mane street and cradle me with the Sixth, cradle me with your boutiques and your towers, and cradle, cradle me with your loneliness, Manehattan, for only here, only here, all the time, every moment, only here, you are always, always, always, always alone.
***
My fair and gentle reader!
By now you are certainly wondering what is going on, why you cannot see what has to be a consistent story with a consistent style and crystal-clear plot. I feel it my duty to embrace your confusion and help you get rid of it, via calm, careful explanation, an explanation of the facts that are in need of being explained. That is.
At the moment which is prevailing in the story, both main characters, Vinyl Scratch the deejay and Octavia Philarmonica the cellist, are asleep in Octavia Philarmonica’s bed in Octavia Philarmonica’s bedroom in Octavia Philarmonica’s flat, in Manehattan, Equestria, The Universe.
At the very same moment, Vinyl Scratch is trying to come to terms with having a relationship, for - we should point out for the fair and gentle reader who is not keen on detail - she has trouble with any relationship that is more or lasts longer than a one-night stand. To be fair and to give homage to the Truth, may it be damned, it should be pointed out that it is already a two-night stand at best.
Exactly at that moment, Octavia Philarmonica was contemplating certain values of her, that is, traditional values that she thought she was the holder of, that is, she thought she adhered to the values of man-and-woman, and though, here she was, yet, with a naked woman next to her, a little after making love to the aforementioned lover, that is, woman, who was no one other than Vinyl Scratch the deejay, who was trying to come to terms with having a relationship, for…
The fair and gentle reader must forgive us, for Chapter Eleven is meant to represent the time after eleven p.m., and, since this is the chapter’s end, it is midnight, and we are delving, you and I, we are delving deep into what is, essentially, the subconscious, nocturnal mind of the characters. You, my fair and gentle reader, are privileged to witness the characters’ natural cycle, as they slowly roll into slumber deeper deeper…
In short, my fair and gentle reader: the narration is skipping that way because I CAN. Thank you and goodnight. Psh.
It's Always Snowy in Manehattan
Morning!
Each time we wake up, we are resurrected, rejuveniled, restored to our senses. Aren’t we? Nocturnal gives way to sunrisish. Scary gives way to simple. Distortion gives way to clarity. Doesn’t it?
“That stupid fucking cunt!”
A dish flew right into the wall. Frederic didn’t even wince, sipping on his Earl Grey calmly.
“That whore, that bloody kurwa !”
Frederic did wince at the word spoken in his native language - or, rather, because the tea was a tad hot. “Bea, calm down.”
“Calm down? Calm down ?!” Another dish smacked against the wall. “I will not calm down! Freddie, she bloody fucking played me!” And the tea cup flew with it. “I loved her, all this time, and she- she, the bloody bitch, she is fucking some other girl!”
“Don’t you love me?” Frederic asked, blowing on the tea.
Beatrice sighed. “I love you, Freddie.” As if to prove her words, she approached the man and kissed him on the cheek. “I love you as a friend with whom I have sex occasionally. But with her it was… different.” She sighed again. “Ah. Sorry that you had to listen to my laments. Say,” she asked, “how about we go for a roll later today?”
Frederic took a look at his watch. “I have a rehearsal at twelve. At two, I’m playing chess till four. After that, I’m free.” He raised his head calmly.
“Oh!” Beatrice exclaimed angrily. “By gods, Freddie, I understand that you’re super-organised and stuff, but I am frustrated here! Can’t we, you know, now ?, now that you and me are here anyway?”
“All right.” Frederic sighed and looked at the watch again. “Let me finish my tea.”
***
“Yes, but do you like bananas?”
Octavia furrowed her brow, taking in the scent of her coffee. “Vinyl, something tells me this is a trick question.”
Vinyl took a sip of her tea. “Nah, it’s just, you know? Do you like bananas?”
Octavia frowned, eyeing her poker-faced lover cautiously. “I guess… I guess I can eat a banana now and then, yes.” She reached over the table to lightly stroke Vinyl’s cheek.
The DJ put her hand on the finger. “Mmm. Getting bolder, Octavia?” She tickled the back of the cellist’s soft, small hand.
Octavia blushed, taking a look around. It wasn’t like the coffee shop was empty, but no one seemed to notice the little gesture of affection. Or, maybe, they did notice, but didn’t pay attention. Because , Octavia assumed, women are allowed a little frivolity. After all, we haven’t done anything that just two close female friends won’t do, so I’m safe. ...Apart from sex, that is. “Shut ye mouth, Vinyl,” she dropped light-heartedly.
Vinyl looked boldly into Octavia’s eyes and leant in over the table. “You liked my mouth wide open last night.” With a laugh, she let go of the cellist’s hand.
Words could not describe Octavia’s embarrassment. “Ack, ye little-!”
“Why do you have a Scotch accent?” Vinyl asked suddenly.
Octavia averted her eyes. “It’s not something I’d like to talk about.” She cast a glance at her lover’s plate. “Vinyl. I think you should cut down on the cake.”
“Mmhm?” Vinyl asked, her mouth full.
“You’re chubby,” Octavia explained with a grin. “A very chubby deejay. Your tummy is the softest thing ever.”
“Har, har.” Vinyl gulped down the sweetness. “Look at the little miss cellist who’s here to educate me.”
“I’m older than you,” Octavia remarked. “I have all the rights to educate you.”
“Bullshit,” Vinyl replied good-heartedly. “You’re twenty-three, tops.”
“I’m twenty-seven.” Octavia looked hurt.
“You are what ?” Vinyl almost did a spit-take on her tea.
“Twenty-seven,” Octavia confirmed. She smiled. “What’s wrong, Vinyl?”
“Damn.” Vinyl looked at the half-eaten cake in contemplation. “Damn. I’ve been sleeping with an antiquity.”
Octavia opened her mouth and took a deep breath, contemplating whether to unleash her righteous fury at the stupid woman; but calmed down, looking at the corners of Vinyl’s lips that were slowly rising, and offered a smile herself. “Ha. Ha ha. You are ever so funny, miss chubby deejay.”
“I’m not chubby,” Vinyl protested weakly, looking at the cake longingly.
“Yes, you are,” Octavia replied, sipping on her coffee. “Very chubby, in fact. When you were, uhm.” She took a brief look around. “When you were on top of me last night,” she whispered, “you almost squished me into a thin pancake.”
“Did not!”
“Did too!”
“You want to start an argument?” Vinyl’s eyes shone with excitement. Our first argument as lovers! “Peter Capaldi is the best Doctor.”
“What?!” Octavia felt ready to throw the coffee cup at the offending lover. “David Tennant is obviously the best Doctor.”
“That,” Vinyl countered, “is just because you want to get in his pants.”
“I only want to get in your pants!”
“…”
Vinyl blinked. Octavia was breathing heavily. The patrons took quick glances at the pair and returned to their coffee and tea. Vinyl felt her cheeks rosing. Octavia’s cheeks were already pink. “Octavia… You. You did mean what you-”
“Yes.” Octavia exhaled and hung her head. “Yes, Vinyl, I. I meant what I said. I guess I just… I just want to love you, and only you. No other wo… person.”
Vinyl fell silent for a moment. “Octavia,” she said finally. “Can I kiss you? Right now?”
“No,” Octavia turned her down softly. “Not here. Not in public.”
Vinyl leant in again, with a grin this time. “Tell me something dirty.”
“What?” Octavia raised her brow at the surprising request. “You mean, like…”
“I mean,” Vinyl said, licking her lips, “tell me something dirty . Something you would like me to do to you once we get to your flat.”
“Why don’t we go to your flat this time?” Octavia suggested, not exactly believing what her lover had just asked of her, or, rather, contemplating whether to follow her plea or not.
“There’s Nini there,” Vinyl explained. “Neon, my brother. He’ll be there so we can’t have sex.”
Octavia looked around again at the loud mentioning of the unspeakable. “Uhm. You think he-?”
“He’s a simple man.” Vinyl shrugged. “He sees two women having sex, he masturbates.”
“Eww.” Octavia sighed. “All right then. My place it is.”
“So,” Vinyl didn’t give up, “what would you like to do to me at your place, mmm?” She licked her lips suggestively. “Come on, Octavia, don’t you wanna do something dirty, mmm?”
“Oh yes.” Octavia looked boldly into Vinyl’s eyes, making the deejay flinch for a moment under the Gaze she loved and feared so much. “In fact, I do…” The cellist dropped her voice to a whisper, partly to be cautious, partly to sound sultry. “I want to drag you home…” She took the strawberry off the cake and put it into her mouth, sucking on it. Vinyl gulped. “I want to get you into the shower…” She bit on the strawberry slightly. Vinyl’s mouth opened slightly. “I want to turn off the warm water and enter the cubicle with you…” Vinyl drooled a little. Octavia raised her voice. “And I want to wash you. With soap. Gods, you are smelly.” With that, she jingled with laughter victoriously.
Vinyl gritted her teeth and facepalmed. “I knew. I knew that you would do something like…” She sighed. “That’s why I have trust issues.” The DJ looked out of the window and sighed. “When will the damn snow end? It seems like it’s been snowing for weeks already.” A few moments were spent in silence.
The fine coffee establishment was located in an old building situated on the Mane, second floor. Respectfully, the architect must have been sleeping off in university, for the solution to place the coffee shop on the second floor of the building that had no first floor in the first place seems to us rather unreasonable. If the esteemed guests would care to follow us to…
“Would you like to know what I’d do to you ?” Vinyl wiggled her eyebrow. “Mmm? Would my naughty Octy like to know what I’d love to do to her, mm?”
“Naughty… What did you call me?” Octavia blinked. Octavia blushed. Blushy Octavia blink blinked.
“Octy,” confident Vinyl confirmed confidently, with confidence. “When you’re feeling naughty, I’ll be calling you ‘Octy’. Isn’t that neat?”
“That’s…” Not neat. “I am not… naughty.” At the moment.
“Yes you are. I can see it in your eyes. You wanna know what I’m gonna do to you, Octy?”
“Don’t call me that…”
“I’m gonna drag you to the toilet, Octy, right to this toilet over there…”
“Vinyl, not so lo-”
“I’m gonna drag you there, Octy, and I’m gonna lock the door. And you wanna know what I’m gonna do when we’re there?”
“Vinyl, don’t test my patience…”
“Oh, baby, I know you just can’t get angry at me. Lemme tell you what I’m gonna do to you there. I’m gonna **** you there and **** you and then I’ll **** your **** till you scream my name so loud that all the patrons in this cafe will hear it.”
“Vinyl!” Glare.
“Octy…” Gulp. “Uh. Sorry. I forgot that you’re… afraid of… public… stuff.”
“...”
“Sorry, Octavia.”
“I am appalled by your language, Vinyl.”
“Sorry, Octavia…”
“However…”
“Yes?”
“I never said no.”
It's Always Snowy in Manehattan
The Snow Starts Falling
It's Always Snowy in Manehattan
Vinyl’s Dream
a play in one act
Dramatis Personae:
Octavia Philarmonica (O), a lesbic cellist, the soloist in the Orchestra of the Conservatoire of Manehattan;
and
Vinyl Scratch (V), a lesbic DJ, a composer of EDM music, having certain renown in the narrower circles of club-goers
Act I
(The stage is set in an urban flat; it somewhat resembles O’s flat, with the exception of a fireplace in the corner of the living room and a chimney that leads nowhere. It is late evening; O is sitting on the sofa, cradling a mug of warm cocoa in her hands. She is curled into a plaid. The door opens.)
V: Honey, I’m home!
O: The joy! The joy!
V: How have you been all day?
O: Oh, I have missed you so much, my love! Come here so I can kiss you.
(V enters the living room in a grey suit, taking off her hat and scarf, throwing them aside, knowing that O would pick them up. She proceeds to the sofa and kisses O on the lips.)
O: Mmm, I’m so happy you’re home. Home’s not home without you.
V: Of course, my love. (Puts on slippers and goes to check on the fireplace.) Going hot and good.
O: Of course it is. How has your day been?
V: Just another boring day at the office. Nothing special. (Yawns and curls into the plaid, taking off her jacket.) Mmm, so warm.
O: I’ve been warming up this place for you. I love you.
V: I love you too. What’s for dinner?
O: Roast beef and a lettuce salad.
V: (Kisses O on the forehead.) My favourite. What’s in the news?
O: Nothing special. Stalliongrad imposing ban on gay adoption. Los Pegasus enjoying a thirty-above-zero winter.
V: Those bastards. (Yawns and stretches.) Good to live in Manehattan, where the winters are always snowy.
O: Of course. (Kisses V on the neck.) With your love by your side. (Stands up, stretching, while V admires her slender form.) I’ll be in the bedroom. Don’t let the dinner get cold.
V: Of course. (Ponders.) Say.
O: Hmm?
V: You think we maybe could-?
O: Oh, sorry, love. Not today. I’ve a nasty headache.
V: Of course. Of course.
(O leaves. V curls up in the plaid and watches the fires die in the fireplace. Laughs, then raises her eyes to the ceiling.)
V: How is this my life?
Finita!
***
Octavia’s Dream
a nightmare in one act
Dramatis Personae:
Octavia Philarmonica (O);
Vinyl Scratch (V);
and other minor contributions
Act I
(The stage is set in a penthouse in an expensive apartment block in Manehattan downtown. O is getting dressed in front of a mirror, while V is trying to cuddle her.)
V: Mm, come here, babe.
O: Not here, not now. Look at this. (Produces a long black dress.) Do you think it’ll fit?
V: Mmhm. (Grabs O’s behind.) Come here, baby, I think we still have time for a-
O: (Frees herself.) Vinyl! Come off it this instant. We have a performance to attend.
(V and O are walking down the night street.)
The mugger: Stand and deliver!
V: Oh! Oh! What to do?
O: (Panicks.) Breathe in, breathe out.
The mugger: Imma cut you!
The referee: Please, provide the hero with a sword.
(Angels descend from the sky, bringing O a shining cello.)
O: (Grabs the cello.) What am I to do?!
V: Octavia, save me!
The Choir: The hero! She’s the hero!
O: I ain’t no fucking hero! I’m just living day by day, trying to find meaning in this meaningless world!
The referee: The hero has spoken. Fight!
The mugger: (Stabs V.)
V: Ah! (Dies.)
O: Nooo! No, Vinyl, my love! (Grabs her.) Vinyl!
Margaret: (Bleeding.) Hey, Octavia…
O: Margaret, my one and only love! What do I do now?
Margaret: Kiss me…
The mugger: (Stabs O.)
O: Ah! The light! It’s going away… So dark… Father? Are you there?
The mugger: I’m here, sweetie.
O: (Screams and wakes up.)
Finita la comedia!
