Trust Me

The Romans never conquered the world.

Okay? Okay. Court adjourned.

What? Listen, I don’t know why. Look, maybe they were lazy. Or the wolf-mother had little milk, and Rome was weak and frail. Or, maybe, Pyrrhus never lost the war. Yeah, let’s roll with this one. Even better: Pyrrhus lost that one battle (and executed the oracle afterwards), but lo and behold! he lost at such little cost that it allowed him to reassemble his troops and crush the Romans - an occasion which now is known as Pyrrhic defeat. Lost the battle, won the war.

Judeia, the promised land, was granted to Moses’ people at once, because the Egyptian civilisation succumbed to… hmm. Let’s say, a terrible drought. The Nile ceased to exist. It’s a desert now. Subsequently, there was no Holy Jerusalem, and Jesus was yet another preacher whose following turned meagre in the wake of strong-willed Judaism.

The Tower of Babylon never fell. There. You have three empires already. The Jewish Empire, the Greek Confederation, and the Eastern Halifat. Oh, and, just so you know, the Normans never left their iron islands. Their civilisation, up to this day, is an isolated Nordic version of communism. Ah, yes, and the idea of communism never existed because Marx lived in the Greek commune of Prague, and never needed a better example of equality.

And what else? Oh, for one, the Picts conquered the whole Islands. No Romans, and definitely no Saxons here. A mighty Scottish kingdom under the rule of a benevolent High King of Eire and Scot. The Celtic Empire. The first land to shrug off slavery.

Oh, and slavery, from now on, was never limited to the black race. African Negroes fell under the rule of the Jews, who, after a long afterthought, gave them equal rights so long as they worked well and never rebelled. Jazz never originated. Imagine that.

I can go on. Japan and Australia, Ireland and Cuba - everything was affected. The Russian Empire took up the whole of the Soviet Union and also China and Japan. The largest Empire, and, ironically, Pagan at its core.

The Greek Confederation was bound to fall and crumble down, and now we witness parts of it reassemble into strange countries with funny names: Poland, Germany, France, the Czech Republic… Can you believe that a country would be called “The Czech Republic”?!

Imagine that. Mind reels, doesn’t it?

Well, here’s the good news: none of the aforementioned ever existed that way. It all existed, and exists, the way you know. You can take a deep breath now. It’s all right. Everything is the way it is today. The countries are the same. The religions are the same. The ideologies are the same. Take a breath now. Shh. It’s all right.

But, if one event - Pyrrhus’s tantalising defeat, then victory - could, hypothetically, change history’s course like that, can’t a single event, say, a cellist going insane, a brother gone insane, a friend crushed by guilt, a protagonist weeping with sorrow (okay, more than a single event, I have to admit) - be changed by one such event? Like, oh, I dunno, rain? Yeah, let’s roll with rain. I like rain. Everybody likes rain.

So, okay, there’s rain, and then what? Then - here, a homage - Octavia lifts up her head, to feel the drops of sacred water wetten her chin, and closes her eyes. Her heartbeat returns to normal, and she realises everything. She drops the knife from a cliff, into the sea (it’s southern Italy, no one gives a damn), and cries.

Vinyl looks outside from the ward and sees droplets of rain on the window. Neon sees them too, and, while the haunting thoughts are still with him, it’s a little OCD, not critical. He can regain control on reality. A little. Sometimes. He sees that, and he knows he can lift that stone. He comes up and hugs his sister. She is scared, and surprised, and kisses him, showers him with tiny pecks of relief and affection. Together, they sit before the window and watch the rain.

Frederic, tearing himself up over the sin he’d committed, goes to the church, where Father Projewsky soothes his aching soul with a confession and a mass. Renewed, Frederic leaves the church, inspired to do good, more good than he’d done before.

Thus, the brother gets reunited with his sister, the friend gets reunited with his faith, and the cellist gets reunited with her sanity. All of this because of Pyrrhus. And rain.

***

Of course Vinyl knew Octavia had left her. Of course she could not get through to her on the phone or find her at her apartment. Of course she felt this was over. But here, okay; let’s play a little Q&A game here.

Q: Why did Vinyl shout at Octavia back there at the ward?

A: She was scared, and we can’t forget the fragile state of her mind, spoilt by years of abuse and distrust. A remark, no matter how innocent, somehow aimed at the idol of her eye, her brother, would ignite a flammable reaction. And so it did.

Q: Why did Octavia go to the bar with Frederic?

A: She was offended; she was envious. She, for a long time, had considered Vinyl hers and, with another player entering the game, her shell crumbled. She just had to blow off some steam.

Q: By having sex with Frederic, no less? How convenient!

A: Frederic didn’t want it, any of it. He honestly was there to show Octavia the wrong of her ways, and maybe try to help her, just as he’d helped her many times before.

Q: But they did have sex. Didn’t they?

A: Why, yes, sure, they did, right after the excessive drinking. Don’t tell me excessive drinking leaves a clean mind.

Q: Why did Octavia do that?

A: Listen, I told you. She was drunk.

Q: That is never an excuse. She wanted it, didn’t she?

A: …

Q: She wanted it.

A: ...

A: Yes, fuck, Jesus Christ, she wanted it! Yes, she wanted it with every inch of her body! Yes, yes, yes, she did it deliberately and she would have done it again and again, even if she were sober!

Q: Why?

A: Shut up.

Q: Why?

A: Shut up shut up shut up.

Q: Why?

A: Because she is a whore, okay? Because her life was ruined at its beginning and she wants, she, every minute of her life, she craves someone to love, and yes, yes, fuck you, it involves sex, it’s not just some higher love, with Vinyl no longer dancing all around her, she needed someone else to dance around with and that was Frederic he was so convenient and she loved him yes she still she loved him she could swear she loved him would forever love him he said he said he was the one who maybe cured her but then again she was never would never be fully and dammit she would always return to him but not after that night that changed it maybe yes that was needed yes that was definitely needed for her to feel it that he would never replace Vinyl that way he would never replace her anyway it was needed it was needed IT WAS NEEDED.

Q: …

A: I told you to shut up. You didn’t listen.

Q: They… did that while Vinyl?..

A: Yes, they did it all night, while Vinyl was sitting saintly next to her brother. She left the ward in the morning and - here, follow closely the timeline - Octavia left for Italy. Here’s the sequence of events: Octavia and Vinyl arrive at the ward - Octavia and Frederic go to the bar (Vinyl is with her brother) - Octavia and Frederic spend a night together (Vinyl is still with her brother) - Octavia leaves for Italy (Vinyl goes home, only to realise Octavia is gone). What next? Right now, Octavia is mounting a plane back home, and Vinyl - she is going off to bed in her flat, exhausted after a night of no sleep.

While she is doing that, Nigel, her brother, leaves hospital through the window, after an unpleasant encounter with his fiancee (it happened, all happened, but it happened at about ten in the morning and there was no singing; Vinyl had just arrived home and started calling Octavia), laughing, drops by his flat, takes surprising amounts of cash and all his credit cards, mounts his bike and leaves for the airport. Octavia buys a plane ticket. It was a crammed, eventful day for her.

Q: What’s next?

A: Next, Vinyl is going to fall asleep, Octavia is going to come back home, gather up the courage to return to Vinyl, they are going to watch a beautiful landscape together, then they will return to Vinyl’s flat, only to find out that Neon is gone. Vinyl is going to go insane with fear, then Neon will call her, and then Vinyl will have her first drink. Then - even though it will not be shown - she and Octavia will lead a very miserable existence, drinking till faintness, for a few months. Then they will enter a rehab programme and open up a cafe.

Q: And then?

A: Read the story, for hellsake.

Q: Why do you have to be such a dick?

A: Because it all happened, more or less. The father-guests rape-thing. And here’s a heads-up: it didn’t happen in Italy, may it burn to hell. And the beating and the fight-making and music and business and Montenegro - and- and- it all SO HAPPENED. Because life is a bitch and, if you feel the same way, you don’t need an explanation. If you think life is great and you have a happy life, I hate you because I am bitterly jealous of you. Now shut up.

Q: … ...That timeline - it has a few faults. If-

A: Just shut up already.

Q: …

A: …

Q: ...What about music?

A: Heh. You really are a gullible little fucker, aren’t you. There will be no music. They will not finish up the album. Your music is in another castle.

Q: The story started out so bright…

A: Life starts out pretty bright too, most of the time. Do you have any real questions here or not? I have a very difficult steam-of-consciousness piece to write out.

Q: Why did you switch so suddenly to this weird style?

A: It’s not weird. As for why, there is another reader (not you) who knows that. His name is Michael. Ask him. Now-

Q: Will you translate the Russian gibberish from Chapter Two?

A: No. Learn the damn language already.

Q: Why did you call this part-

A: Listen here. Listen closely because I’m not going to repeat myself. The first part is titled Accept Me. It is about acceptance. It might as well have been called Embrace Me. For reasons Michael knows, I don’t remember why I chose that name. And yet, it is obvious that the style there is a descriptive A-major. Part Two - Hold Me - is an orchestral part. It is about feelings and dialogue. Note the appearance of devils and angels. Part Three - Love Me - is, intendedly, the base of the story. It is an interlude. It is what a common story should be. It is what this whole story should have been. Part Four - Save Me - is muddled, scared, crazy, confused. It resembles the state of a person that needs to be saved. This part, I partly wrote as myself. This is why it gets some integrity eventually. These words, I write fully as myself. It gives me a sense of integrity. Integrity is good.

Q: I don’t get it. Are you talking about yourself as the, the, meta-level? As the real writer? As the fourth-wall-breaker?

A: Next question, please.

Q: Where is the whole story set?

A: Do I need to paint a dot for you?

Q: Those… Those ‘guests’ - those bastards; did they get punished for what they did? In the story? In real life?

A: They did not get punished in real life. It was, if I recall correctly, a single ‘guest’, even. In this story, there was a certain punishment - one of the guests will have a severe headache on the day he would receive a Nobel Prize in Literature. He would receive the prize “for being sad, and painful, and true”. He would barely be able to give the speech. The other guests led their fine lives and died wealthy and old.

Q: Why?..

A: Because that’s life. And, in life, bad people win and good people lose. Way too often. And there is no way to change that. If you honestly believe there is a way, you are a gullible fool and you should not be talking to me.

Q: Who are you?

***

I could make millions with this one. Mil-li-ons. Tough dough. I could sell this so hard. So. hard. But copyright. Okay, sheesh, what’s of the copyright here? What’s left of the original? What’s tocopy? Names? Occupations? You can’t copyright occupations. Names. In Nomine.

Here you go. The original.

There’s the Cellogirl. She plays the cello and has extraordinary nasal skill. There’s the Wubgirl. She composes music and has extraordinary hearing. They meet and fall in love. Then they have a falling-out. Oranges are the only fruit, after all. Then what?

Then, Cellogirl woke up to the scent of Colombian coffee…

The cycle of life as perceived through the text. Is the text real? Eh. It’s fiction. Look. It’s on the cover. Fiction. Is life real? Yup. Does it make the text worse than life? Hell no. Life is much worse. Does it make the text better? If it does, it’s not my fault. I’m wearing my tongue on the sleeve. I’m not hiding anything. Here, it’s the text. I’m telling you it outright. None of this is true. It has roots in reality, in real life, but it’s a text. I’m deliberately trying to stop your involvement with it here, just to see what happens. I’m telling you all of this because I am honest. No? No. Okay, you got me.

That’s that other book.

This one’s ordinary. See, I forgot it was supposed to be ordinary. Now, I remember again. No more funny stuff. No deviations. Oranges, strictly oranges. And all that comes with it. What comes? Who comes?

HCE.

***

Vinyl closed her eyes.

Without the fragile bounds of experience, we. That is, I. If I knew how to fix it. If I knew how to fix the whole catastrophe. O Dies Irae, Neoni, Octaviae. That’s kinda like He said? But Greek. He spoke, among others. And gave the Mount in Hebrew, or what. Samarit… Samar… Saamarit? Arameic? Aramic?

Sermons. On the mount, and on the mouth. When we, I mean, I, will, sure. Someday. When I’ve learnt the basics of the Divine Language. The Tongue of -ere and -o. We’ll go there and pray a little, then all the happiness, like I guess endorphins that’s what the church makes off us? we make it off them, more. But say, the sermon daily is followed by daily bread. and what to say of Neon, and those like? No, not like. Not like. Noone like him. But if. If.

Porlly iffin. Iffin lion be a griffin, he be wary of the giffin’. If the griffin be a lion, he be wary of the lions. [Should read: ‘liars’.] Once he has a mighty sting, and a mane, and leather wings. Flies like shiny little star and consumes it where she are.

But then again. She is. Unutterable, the name. Not now. Now, the sleep pattern arises. No: approaches. Delirium, this is what scary word. One scary word indeed. The dreams lingering a little, and then you see the ending on the wall. Just when wake up. Creepy, a little insane.

And He, unutterable too. Insanity unappliable. Is he? When we want progress, we invent progress? We make it up? We what exactly?

Crawling like the moleworms radiated tainted by pollution we make, and a golden age is dawning - just keep yourself at distance. Not to. Keep at that, that is. Not crossing like [should read: ‘lines’], but, like. That’s the whole, what, dancing thing, maybe. And the. The. Uh. The ritualistic ritualiser ritualistically rituals ritualled, in ritual chambers of retreat. Chamberous chambers chambered chamberously over the chamberesque chamberine of Chamberlone. And the dukes and knights played rocknroll and all was good. that’s what God said. Let there be rock, and there was rock. And upon that rock He- that is, the gates of hell would never crush it.

Very blasphemy. Must get the Bible rewritten. Eine Shade you can’t get the, the. Indulgencies. Indulgent papers. The forgiveness, ought and bought. At bay. At bay. Hold it. No sinning.

Let’s go sinning, it’s so good for you, let’s go sinning, where the skies are blue, with the sin, piligrim, feel as free and happy as you’ve never been. But say, he has seen [should read: ’sin’] too. The point of his journey is. Then maybe journey is what we. Neon and I that is. We can go sinning on a journey, and. Maybe that’s why Octavia. Yeah. That.

And she’ll be. But what sin? And many, many. The one we share? Does not dare or that’s that other radio station. With the inventive curse we sin and it’s. It’s. It is. Librarians, dusting off the history to make space and make way and sin sin sin.

Shelf by shelf. We are, then. The glasses first. with the dots for the eyes so that     reading good they say; little light. And the. Then they invented the phone. Albert Leopold Graham Bramm. No, Bell. Alexander Bell. Sir. KCE. Rumour   no not really    has it he maybe  .   maybe.    Maybe. Maybe had a mistress, a black mistress. If Octavia were black, we’d really…  Maybe some diversity with the. Nigger sex. Some tender nigger lovin. Why cant we i mean. I think that. We can think that why not. Italians are niggers too. whitemen ever nigger-er, and the, the scands the niggerest of all. hehe. heh.  and they call it racism. it is maybe, ike that. Sheer grammaticallistic approach. But no, here, apology. not saying that. All rectified. Apology sad [should read: ‘said’], and then our Byzantine lords forgive us. Allow us. Maybe. No we do. We do really. Allow me ay maybe us allow us to be sane enough                    to              to. work and                     play    dulllllllllllllllll…

...

..

I serve three masters, the Italian, the Octavian, and the Penal  Code. The tax reform they had for us this whole the. the. What    so  maybe they                            When the [should read: ‘they’] invented this they alocute always talk about tell us dynamite and the what you call. The syncho. Synchophaso. Throne. No, not that. The collider? The earlier, when. With the dynamite. They always quote it along. No matter. The powder? The pirate thing?

In cycles. Ahoy the the seas and humdumdum yarr yarr ahoy ho ho yahoy we be trav’lin’ them seas and me perrot mateys maities in the early early eighties and then [should read: ‘they’] still maybe have the penalty for it like in japan where they hang em high for a single kill every year it s an annual event some slower some faster some wait on the row years and god bless whatever it is that it not us and not us and not us and never us just some other place where bad accumulates and us we we us never came never come to that place ever and avoid it bless it thrice

With the…

Dynamite-

.                           .

They invented the things to make life easier like the but the state it is the reason usually bit not [should read: ‘but now’] the marker and market is the marker sometimes and tech when they invented radio to communicate broad glo-bal. Woody and you.

This wooden fascination with the radiotech.  As if the trippy layers can absorb the signal and do the right sound, without the shh of the white noise. No, here: Caucasian noise. The irony is, that. They are actually dark-tinted, the real Caucasians. The fallacy of political  correctness and. And. Politcorrectness. That’s the what do you call it, concasion. No, like constitution, only more along with the consistency. Constinence. No. Collision. Collaboration. Tip of my t. Collocation. There, we got it, Mr Darcy. Always wondered why his name is not French enough. Guess that’s how the, Dad called him. Both Catholics, no. When this church, in Wisconsin, no, Winchester, the seat of Arthur, the Scot-king, it was the Lutheran? No, that’s Swedes. The Swedish pastry, that in the tint [should read: ‘tin’] and piano. The, can’t remember, I think. So dizzy. [Not trying to do a Molly Bloom here, revise.]

When they came the church, I think, it was the Anglican. And he stopped on that lawn, sitting like a Buddhist monk with precise clarity on the East of the Bells, the Meccha Moccachino, in those tender cartonboard cups. Talked to me Catholic religion while Dad “culturally invested”. Talked about urinals and politics. Female urinals, he called them, with what like the, the. Female condoms. Like, inside you put them? For the oltic. [‘Political correctness’.] and maybe me and octavia can. no  not really.

only if we   try.     Talked to at the. The coffeecupsboards. About the. On political anarchism. No, philosophical. No, that was that other guy. Tim the time philoso. ph. the music guy later    met him funny at the    at the       when a year later met him.   he was so. like anything maybe perhap not talks to you vin……

he used to jolly oh along the lawns and called me italian scarccezzo. whats scarccezzo i wonder not like i really. [Deviate.] Italian I’ll learn someday methinks. We Romans. In Latin we pray, et Dei. Altare. Ad. The hells, they say, something like that. The sound of it. With the horns, we’re used to it. But: I am Alpha and Omega. Aleph, bull. They write it like because. the horns. we not the                       language   not or our      not our own        but they maybe not speak it i never       he     ard       it.      and our own too it changed. so.   much.   m

And now [should read: ‘down’] along with Oscar Wilde we’ll down the wine and share the wild.

need to really this      write this down                        some paper in the wards he give   s

To free association and whatever they do with the patients, you need paper. Paper. But if roll now i will i think about it not enough too tired i think. too. too.

it’s the     seo                   secxx                       sexond                                  heh

when yousmileand              chuckle its time not just to                not to remember how fall asleep fell no

thats not the

i

Vinyl fell asleep.