“Stop Binky, stop. I know you love it. But I’m on a fucking holiday. Don’t ruin the last vestige of my peace of mind before I even get on the plane.”
Schultz’s peace of mind. Ruined half way to the airport. By forgetting all his travellers cheques. Leaping up out of his seat and nearly going through his Lordship’s limousine ceiling.
“For god’s sake Schultz, you defy gravity. I have enough for both of us. Sit down. That’s a bump you’ve put in my roof.”
At last on the plane quaffing a beer. Over Belgium and Germany. The mountains, snaking rivers and valleys. And then Schultz with delight watching his Lordship be interrogated and then nearly arrested by Secret Police because of all the titles and strange names on his passport. In the busy lobby of the palatial hotel. Schultz with his guidebook map. Pulling his protesting Lordship by the sleeve.
“Come on, let’s get out of here and see something.”
“Schultz for god’s sake slow down, you’re like a caged lion at a Christmas sale of lambchops.”
Sun sinking blood red on this late afternoon. Through the medieval lamp lit gloom of streets. Schultz popping into buy toothpaste. His Lordship watching from the street. As Schultz, abandoning his rudimentary Serbo Croat made a brushing motion across his smiling teeth. The lady behind the counter bringing him a toothbrush. Schultz wagging his head no. Then making a series of undulating squeezing motions with his hand. And the lady slapping him across the face. His Lordship outside doubled over.
“That’s right laugh. At a genuine misunderstanding. You have a sick sense of humour, your Lordship. She nearly broke my jaw.”
“Ah Schultz it’s a miracle you haven’t yet broken your neck.”
This pair of tourists cross the bridge. One black head, one blond. Ladies turning to stare. Church bells. Calmly ringing. This is like a wonderland of the soul. Someone knew what they were talking about when they said this was the mother of cities. Jewel of cities. Wash hung out on lines like a masterpiece. The river. The statues hovering. Big silence in the middle of Europe. Hidden away. A city of thinking. And I’m thinking there are two kinds of women before they all become the same. One who sells herself many times over and regrets it. And one who sells themselves once and regrets it. I’ve met both kinds. It’s like you’re left with the question. Why are so many Jews called Murphy and Kelly. Last night I dreamt I socked Pricilla. Threw her to the ground for being unfaithful, getting pregnant with twins. I worried as the blows landed that I had hurt her. She shouted at me. Right while I went out the house for the last time. You’re full of shit. Your deals are full of shit. And the people you try to make them with are full of shit. Jesus, it would make you join losers anonymous. She found everything hid where I hid it. Still I might have loved her. If she didn’t give me a toothache as soon as she came into the room. Our marital bed was like a wasteland. Neither touching the other through the night. Like she was miles away over the tundra. When it was just fourteen inches across to her skin. Jesus I could come to love my children. I took to shouting at my mother at an early age. She said eat. You’re thin. The castle behind up there on the hill. Broods. Like it’s watching down. The courtyards. The alleys. The cobblestones. Holy Jesus. Come beauty to me come. Old Europe is so wise to people’s frailties. Guys exist to screw women and women exist to make them pay for it. Holy christ. There’s the new moon in the sky. A sliver. So clean. Over the thousands of rooftops. The gold glinting towers. Uncle Werb took a picture of me in my first football uniform. Somewhere to leave your memories. Preserved by the houses and streets. If someone comes and tears them down, they are putting part of you to death. This is the way it must have been, just like this when my grandfather was a little boy playing. Maybe the worst thing my father and mother did to me without doing anything, was to make me Jewish. The fucking way I’m tripping over these stones, you’d never know I was descended from some of the greatest philosophers.
Around a narrow alley, in and out the winding ways of shining cobblestones. Schultz stopping. Pointing to the steeply pitched roof of an ancient building sunk down lower than the street.
“Your Lordship my rabbi scholar and poet ancestors officiated right in that synagogue there. They told other fucking Jews here what to do for a thousand years. On the ceiling, the star of David was invented.”
“I’m sure it was Schultz. But I do wish you’d slow up. I must warn you. If indeed you do take up foxhunting and if you want to make an unpleasantly lasting impression in the field, you need only let your horse step on a hound while you are galloping past the master.”
“Your Lordship, I am not fucking well foxhunting just yet, so just let me gallop past you this minute. And I can assure you that my horse won’t step on a hound.”
Schultz dragged back by his Lordship from climbing the wall and fence into this cemetery. Led then around the corner to a lady who sold them two tickets. The lady at the gate thought his Lordship looked like her son as she told them to hurry, that they were closing soon. Heading through the entrance of this ancient graveyard. All I can say her son must have been one great Jewish looking guy. Then his Lordship nearly fainted when she said that I looked like his brother. Today blond and black is the same color. Holy Jesus are things in two seconds getting fast familiar. Walled in here hidden away in all its own tumbling thousands of shadows. The evening shafts of light coming through the trees. The symbol of the Cohens, hands extended in blessing. The Levites, a jug pouring water. Stop here at this grave. Loneliness is a step towards death. Utter hysteria hit Al when he was about to sneeze for he could also be about to slip a disc. So be careful as I lean to pick a pebble up. Add it to all the other pebbles stacked on top of this tomb. And the symbol of Schultz. Could now be a bird fallen over on its side with a broken neck. But I’m not finished yet. And just like you’d imagine. There’s nobody lying in here with a name like Al Duke. That imposter. I got to forget. Jesus, still in my head is a brain. Which could make good conclusions, rules and decisions yet. Every night I think of money. When I should be thinking of it in the morning. Criminality is the most efficient form of capitalism. But son of a bitch hell. Ask me. Loud as you fucking well can. Why did my stupid ancestors leave such a lovely place.
“Schultz, for god’s sakes. Slow up. That’s what I find most unacceptable in you, your total impatience concerning the more solemn things in life.”
“Shit your Lordship, come on. I got to get to the oracle. For some spiritual communion. Before they close the place up.”
“My god Schultz, you do have a soul after all.”
“Of course I do. I’m not flint hearted all the time like you guys think.”
Schultz followed by his lagging Lordship, rushing further along the narrow twisted gravel paths. The shifting serene shadows of light. Amid the tumbling askew gravestones. Jesus where is everything I need to discover. Before the lady shuts the gate. Holy Methuselah, hear my prayer. Lengthen my life. Which way to go. To find the rabbi. I’ll study the Torah every night. I’ll give to charity. Jesus what am I saying. In a second it could be I’ll promise to observe Mitzvah of family purity and get circumcised. So many god damn stones. Right here. Like Uncle Werb told me. This is the famous rabbi. Write your trouble or request on a piece of paper. Like I could be that geriatric Al here asking, as he does women, Madam I possess three things in this world. An ugly body, a beautiful mind and loads of money. And you can’t have the one you want of these without having the others as well. That is your problem, madam. But because you’re gorgeous I hope you can solve it soon. And they do, they tiptoe into your bedroom while you’re sleeping, and they take the money out of your pocket. Louella ratted on me. My wife kicked me in the balls. Roxana and Greta fell in love. Agnes went on the porno stage. Lady Lullabyebaby, in the sweetest way she could ever say goodbye, told me I had the kiss of death. Binky says masturbation is the supreme form of sexual pleasure. He’s right. Life at best is just a Jewish joke. Jesus I’d need a filing cabinet to contain the questions to be pushed into the hole. For this old pops metaphysician in there to read. Lying in death wide awake. Cooking up solutions under the slab in your ancient rabbi mind. Your spirit I beg. I’m going to be the father of twins. But please don’t tell me I’m guilty of fancy fucking. And don’t tell me to go screw myself now. You lie there knowing so much. With a reservoir of wisdom. In which the big questions in people’s lives get answered. If you can’t tell me why I went into showbizz instead of diamonds and lingerie. Then tell me what holds up the world. An elephant. What holds up the elephant. A turtle. What holds up the turtle. An elephant. Hey holy shit, what holds up the last elephant. My boy, my child, listen just a second I’ll tell you. It is another turtle. So don’t ask more silly questions. It is elephants and turtles. All the way down. But if you can balance on top. You can not only scratch your fanny but touch the moon. But don’t count on anything.