Back in No Time by Weiss Jason Gysin Brion

Author:Weiss, Jason, Gysin, Brion
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wesleyan University Press
Published: 2015-07-16T16:00:00+00:00

7

/ She /

She just took her money and went away, didn’t she … not one word out of her, did you notice? Typical … isn’t it? That old Berber witch … or whatever she is … seems to think this is her cave and I’m paying her rent for it. Well, never mind … one pays for being an American, I suppose … and we do screw them in so many other ways … all the time, don’t we? Calypso’s Cave! You can feel this really is Calypso’s old cave, can’t you? To Homer this was the end of the world where his little wine-dark sea ran away through these straits into nothingness … the Maelstrom … America! That fabulous coastline of southern Spain, strung out over there through the blue, must have looked just about the same … except for the lights, I suppose, that frame it … and this same big yellow balloon of a moon sailed up there between Gibraltar and Ceuta, the Pillars of Hercules. Funny, isn’t it, to think that our dollar sign comes from a snake wound around those two pillars … the serpent Baby Hercules strangled in his cradle. That’s a really mad image for money … now, isn’t it? What does it mean, Hassan … or don’t you care, really?

What do you care about, Hassan-Ulysses … only your keef and young dancing boys? Well, don’t fret … we have more and better of all that down in “Malamut” than even the Old Man of the Mountain ever dreamed a hashishdream about. Why, all this cool green and blue country north of the Tropic of Cancer is nothing compared with what I’ve got going down south. You know it, yourself … the Sahara’s pure gold! You’ve heard of a people called the Foulba, of course … the Peuls … the most beautiful boys in the world, bar none. You must, at least, have seen books of photographs of their ritual beauty contests for which the young men begin preparing at puberty … when they’re first allowed to wear makeup and start earning their jewelry. Along with huge Floradora Girl ostrich-feather hats and a little leather apron they take off for the contest … that’s all they do wear … their jewels. Well, they’ll be holding their finals this month … and guess where! … in the courtyard of my castle down there. You see, Cape Noon is their capital rock and on that rock I built my house: “Malamut” … where the Tropic of Cancer cuts out across the Atlantic on the map. The Foulba first got there about the time anyone’s worm-white ancestors … and I’m afraid we’ve both got them Hassan … by the time those whites were first grubbing their way up out of the caves, the Foulba had written their own lengthy literature on several hundred long miles of mountain before the Sahara began to dry up all around them. Driving their lyre-horned cattle ahead of them, the Foulba went west … and wandered on out of history.

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