Crossing the Stockholm-New York border


Subject: Crossing the Stockholm-New York border
From: The Laughing Man (the_laughing_man@hotmail.com)
Date: Thu Mar 09 2000 - 09:59:03 EST


**Warning: A trifle off-topic**

Scene:
Stockholm. Early March.
Man and woman in bed. They have just finished talking about whether or not
his over-sized processus xiphoideus could be something deadly and a reason
to stop planning at all (his argument). They become silent, each occupied by
their own thoughts. The chest-bone he though one was supposed to have
feeling bigger and more cancerogenic than ever. Suddenly the woman asks, in
a voice too loud for our self-absorbed hypochondriac:

She: Well, have you?

He: Have I what? Made an appointment with a physician?

She (slowly, patiently): Have you asked the Salinger people if they have any
New York City apartment connections?

He (removing his hand from his chest): Well... I haven't had a good
opportunity.

She: Such as?

He: You know, I have hardly posted anything there for ages, people don't
even remember me there. I can't just ask them... It's a Salinger list, not a
rental column. You're supposed to write Salinger related stuff.

She: Supposed and supposed! From what I've heard hardly *anyone* writes
anything Salinger related: don't you mostly talk about Rilke and God and the
President election?

He: That's not true; most people post salinger-stuff. You can't just expect
us-

She: OK, OK. One question only: when was the last time *you* wrote anything
Salinger related?

There. She had him. Touché. He was a pathetic worm, didn't even put up a
fight. The truth IS a virus, a killing one, he and Christian Slater were in
total agreement there.

He: OK. I will. I'll goddamn ask them.

Worm. Worm.

She: Good. If they are anything like you they have more time for
internet-chatting than what is good for them, anyway, so they probably have
an apartment building each close to Columbia University, and plenty of
apartments for us to rent.

He: Hey - you cynic! These people are artists! Writers! Teachers! They
write because they have to, because they can't do anything else! Just
because you think every writer is a bored upper-class parasite with time to
kill, doesn't mean it's really so. The days of a writer - let alone a writer
wannabe - is full of hardships, full of Angst, full of... [Making gestures
in the air, like smoke-rings, looking for a suitable word.] Hey, are you
listening?

Silence. Annoyingly heavy breathing coming from the woman. Small, even more
annoying smile on her lips.
He takes some small revenge by grabbing two thirds of the bed. Wormlike.

----

Hiding behind a promise So. My fellow fishes. There is one thing I've been meaning to talk to you about. Me and my flower, a blonde little genius with easy access to Mr Sandman, are coming to New York City this autumn. She for a political science guest scholar fellowship, me for... well, I'm going there, too. We need someplace to stay from September first and five months on. We are thinking Manhattan. That is, I'm breathing Manhattan and she wants 2 rooms in New Jersey rather than being stuck with me in 20 square meters. But we are dreaming Manhattan. Does any of you have any connections to people that might want to rent an apartment to a nice, tax-paying couple, please let me know! The Laughing Man and his beaver-coated heroine would forever be grateful to you.

And if anyone is interested to spend half a year in downtown Stockholm: how about a swap?

Your friend in the rye-field, TLW ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com

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