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The Tough Talk - 5.4 |
Risa Tharpe - 11/17/99 20:08:38
The Heat You Pack? Alpha males
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The boy dogs have been turning it on lately. I want to hear more from Mongollis Khan, the funk-riding horseman of the steppes.
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According to the long, lean, Libyan woman in the bunk beside me, the radiant will be centered in the skylight above us.
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Benedict Arnold kicked ass. And Money Man, I got your Alexander Hamilton rite here.
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I always liked Aaron Burr. The treason charge came from a scheme of his to set up an empire in the Southwest, in the Louisiana Territory and Mexico. And Benedict Arnold. I like him too.
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The plan for later tonight is to get the beach chairs and pile on the blankets about 10:30 or 11:00. Look to the southeast, 30 degrees from the horizon, down and to the left of Orion, Gemini, and Sirius. It will go on for hours, appearing to emanate
from a radiant, but really shooting along parallel paths.
This is better than New Year's Eve, 1999.
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Aaron Burr rose to fame and fell from grace. He was indicted for murder after killing Hamilton in a fair fight, and later he was tried for treason but found innocent. Hamilton wavered and waffled all through the pre-duel challenges, then, at
dawn in Weehauken, got his from the first bullet fired by
Aaron Burr. Hamilton's shot hit a tree at least 10 yards
to Burr's left.
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Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr were both aides to George Washington during the Revolutionary War. Over time Hamilton came to believe that it was his religious duty to oppose and thwart Aaron Burr whenever possible. For life. Non-stop.
It went on and on. Hamilton had contempt for him as someone motivated only by self-interest. Burr and Jefferson tied for President in 1800, and because of Hamilton's lobbying efforts, the House elected Jefferson.
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Money Man, Thomas Jefferson was intimidated by nothing. Aaron Burr took care of your man, Alexander Hamilton, who didn't handle his gun very well on that morning across the river in Jersey.
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You're welcome to try me, Mr. Insider. Let's see if you're more than just a mouth.
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Mr. Noir, if you think two payoffs, of any amount of cash, to a couple of fat functionaries at City Hall can protect you from investigation, then you are the dumbest lounge man on Birdland Street. Or any other street.
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Doctah Headshrinkah: perhaps this would be better resolved with a simple two-out-of-three armwrestling match.
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Bobby Sugarbaker: I was raised in Westchester County, currently reside in Manhattan and work on Wall Street. If your hero Jefferson had had his way, there would be no New York City. Hamilton supported the building of the Erie Canal;
Jefferson, frightened by internal improvements and intimidated by the power of nature, balked. Hamilton helped create the greatest city in the world.
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There once was a beauty named Tamara,
Who preferred the brush to the camera,
and like Anais and June,
she made the girls swoon,
among them a coy Alexandra.
circa 1928
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Thomas Jefferson had it all over Alexander Hamilton.
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No other nation lives closer to the horse or makes more of the horse than Mongolians. We live the horse life.
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Li-Yung-Li, your diagnosis of Sex Kitten leads me to believe it is you who is in need of analysis.
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Whole lotta shakin' goin' on.
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Shrinks down to three sentences. Three sentences only. Got that, shrinks?
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Ex-Kitten has a sharp and fast tongue, indicating an excitable nature and a ripe interior life with edges. Maybe she should just stay where she is. I've changed my mind. She needs no analysis.
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Johnny.
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I wear those dresses, the sun come shinin' through.
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Anyone can pack heat, takes a tough Johnston to pull or use heat!
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I'm ready for my analysis, ma'am.
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First, Sex Kitten, you must change your name. It is too eager. Then maybe some analysis for you. The need appears to be strong.
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Dr. HShrinker - Unfortunately, doctah, at $200 an hour, this pussycat would have to dip into her Prada fund, and she believes she would be better off uber-chic than well-adjusted. Count the compulsions, one by one...
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Honeygirl, it's good to have no memory.
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I want some hot stuff baby this evenin'.
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Those Pakistanis think you crazy, Lee Roy.
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They cheat you. They get out and run. It doesn't happen often, but why take a chance? Rudy Guiliani makes us drive slow, benefitting noone, and now he wants to tell us who to select as fares. Someone ought to take care of this man.
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I'm lookin' real good, dapper, and I wave my money in the
air, dancin', cuttin' a figure, a bella figura, but the cabs takin' a long time to stop for me. Can't get no taxi in The City.
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Listen, MarieMarionette Unbound, Johnny's isn't for children. Things climbing like children can appear elsewhere. Rilke is outta this joint forever. Got that, chick?
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"Now step after step into you I thrust all / and my semen climbs gladly like a child"
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Paris Rainer Maria Rilke died after the prick of a rose thorn failed to heal and revealed leukemia.
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sexkitten: I know a cry for help when I hear one. Talk to me.
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Let's take it to the gutter then, rico.
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Look. Fucka buncha philosophers and fucka buncha poets. And fucka buncha shrinks too.
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PSK: We work at our own pace.
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Six hours, at best, before deletion.
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(Dies ist das schweigende Steigen der Phallen.)
"see, I want to surround you with yourself / and the faded expectation lift / from the edges of your eyebrows"
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Road Man's drunk. Drunk driver.
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Riding across the long savannahs of the blue on a strong horse.
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Biblical hound.
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To all swift things for swiftness did I sue; / Clung to the whistling mane of every wind. / But whether they swept,
smoothly fleet, / The long savannahs of the blue / . . .
Plashy with flying lightnings round the spurn o' their
feet -- / Fear wist not to evade as love wist to pursue. /
Still with unhurrying chase, / and unperturbed pace, / Deliberate speed, majestic instancy, / Came on the
following Feet . . .
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Bring back the head doctors. Discuss.
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You got a problem, Claudia?
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No.
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Be still my heart!
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Whip me, beat me, delete me.
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Repetition will be deleted within six hours if not justified.
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Secret addictions, secret compulsions.
I like the blonde in the elevator.
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Secret addictions, secret compulsions.
I like the blonde in the elevator.
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I see the monkeys were out earlier.
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That's what I heard, William Wallace. This is to Secret Addiction ---- So why don't you blow him off and come in here tonight? Here in Johnny's.
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Johnny Hartman was a flaming fag like Little Richard.
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Johnny Hartman kills me. In the hush of night when you're in my arms.
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I am playing Johnny Hartman too. Now he's singing "My One and Only Love" and I am fixing a drink.
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Tonight it's deep ennui. Nothing really new. Just came into the bedroom from a long bath, with candles. Johnny Hartman
CD. I'm going out at 8:00 with a man I've seen off and on for two years. The sex is mechanical and flat, but I do it. I'm thinking of how we can live deluded. Sometimes it's a construct, like the ones Li Yung-Li mentions.
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I got the Jacques Lacan. Jack Lacan this, chick.
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I secretly lust for ms. yokohama's dragon tattoo.
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Chaka Khan and Jacques Lacan mirror one another.
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This is wonderful.
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Tell me something good, CongoRiverDrums. I'm singing in the jungle tonight.
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They've got their love torches burning when they should be playin' it cool.
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Up the river tonight for unspeakable acts.
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Press me with your hands, rub me, kiss me to sleep.
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You sound like Road Man, Sleepy/Lazy.
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Samurai Bushido Blade.
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nice move, goin' over the Falls and all ---- i like that .... listen, dude ---- i like yr style and tho i don't know ya real well i trust you enuf to say when and if the time comes, yr the partner i'd want for the armored-car job .... think about it.
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Bright, clear, sunny, mild, breezy. A day for a cruise in the country to look for apples, wild animals, and an American red neon motel after dark. Windows down, moonroof back, heater on low. I say let's get lost on the back roads of America.
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Johnny's a brave man.
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What a jerk you are, Johnny. You should have drowned after being crushed on the rocks.
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Water reflections make the best lovers. Johnny went over the falls, I hear.
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This Narcissus sounds like some fag.
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Narcissus refused all love, including Echo's. As punishment
for his indifference, he was made to fall in love with his
own image in a pool, pine away, and then turn into a flower. Echo was a mountain nymph who incurred Hera's wrath with
her chatter, and as punishment, could only repeat the last words said by others. She too pined away, for Narcissus,
until her voice alone remained.
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Bring back the Ms. MDPhD and the Head Doctor on the topic of collapsing selves. Johnny is going over the falls.
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jahneee wynnt ovrrr nyaggra falzz inna barrl.
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Mainstream medicine has failed us all, Sarah. Please send me
a photograph and a time and number where I can reach you for
a five-minute phone consultation. I may agree to become personally involved in your therapy.
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Johnny's story moves at the pace of a drugged sloth, and it often sleeps.
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Dude. Johnny. What happened at Niagara Falls? Where are you, dude? What happened on the train? Dude.
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I have been looking for a holistic wellness center which offers Pulsating Jet-Fired Throb Release of Toxin Therapy and haven't been able to locate one here in NYC. Please recommend.
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They need psychiatrists of your calibre in Nebraska, Dr. HdShrnkr. Try Nebraska. For the rest of you: Things will
soon be altered beyond recognition. For the moment, I
recommend SAMe for depression, Chi Kung (five-organ breathing), and a reflexology balm of beeswax and honey, since our feet
are maps of our entire bodies. I also recommend G. Enderlein's pleomorphism and isopathic homeopathy with Pleo Pef and Pleo Ex, ear candling, and oxidized, pulsating, jet-fired, throb-release of toxins.
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Ms. Bauer: I would say that if you're still concerned about
your reaction to the OJ Simpson Trial after all this time,
you need to talk. Your first session is on the house. To Honeygirl and the others: there is no need to perpetuate superstition. The Northeastern Coast is not cursed, nor was the "Bermuda Triangle." All coincidence, nothing more.
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FinDeK, I got your millenial force rite here.
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Millenial forces have been gathering upon this triangle for the past 50 years, Honeygirl.
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Darkness. In the bunk above me, an Egyptian is talking about the crash of Flight 990 and JKF Jr. and Flight 800 and the Andrea Doria. The triangle of NYC to Nantucket and straight south.
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There is no good candidate if the Senate race is between
Hillary and Rudy Guiliani. She is completely calculating
and unnatural and smug. Rudy Guiliani must return to the suburbs or the exurbs, far from Manhattan. I'm voting for
him. Send him to Washington.
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I had an intense reaction to the decision of the O. J. Simpson jury and it changed me. What would a shrink say about this?
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Fires along the dark river tonight, and drums in the distance.
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The power of The Root, not the DSM.
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Johnny honey, you gotta get rid of these psycho-babble artists. We all know this is your place Johnny and you run it like you like it. Surely you agree with me. You gotta do something about this.
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We are part-scientists, and to be truly good we must also
be intuitive artists. HdShrnkr appears third-rate.
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The DSM is a highly evolved and evolving treatise that is an invaluable tool for those in our profession--a profession
which is, after all, a science. We are scientists, Dr.
Yung-Li, not artists. If your imagination impairs your scientific acumen, then I believe you would benefit from a session. My fee is $185/hr.
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Sleepy/Lazy -- that and top down, windows down, sunglasses, engine roar.
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Bright, warm, red and yellow American afternoon. Apple cider, music, and contraband.
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Mondo teflonno, mondo neuro, mondo rokero, mondo pulso, mondo compulso, mondo addicto, mondo congo, mondo megalo, mondo constructo, mondo grandio, mondo prophetto, mondo belto,
mondo stylo, mondo bello, mondo niagro, mondo boswello,
mondo luno, mondo watsonno, mondo aero, mondo perfumo,
mondo opio, mondo barahono, mondo vood-o, mondo napalmo.
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Nothing's bad or or wrong in 1999, Narcissa. We have disorders. We seek help. Or we don't.
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Most of us, Dr.Shrnkr, are able to look beyond the DSM, which is little more than a billing guide for the pedestrian, draw-by-the-dots mediocrities of our profession. Those who accept it as holy scripture have imagination deficits.
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That was right on cue, JeanPaul.
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You make us sound like we're bad or something.
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From Niagara Falls: These shrinks are takin' up way too much space. Blathering shrinks now limited to 5 lines, max. Shrinks will be cut off after 5 lines. Tighten it up, shrinks, or get lost.
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Dr. Li Yung-Li: Allow me to refresh your memory on the characteristics of the Narcissistic Personality Disorder,
as defined in the DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual
of Mental Disorders, Volume IV) as it was revised by the
American Psychiatric Association in 1994 from the 1977,
Volume III, edition. I believe this basic information
should be useful to you in the treatment of your patients.
Narcissism:
A pervasive pattern of grandiosity (in fantasy or behaviour), need for admiration, and lack of empathy, beginning by early adulthood and present in a variety of contexts, as indicated by five (or more) of the following:
(1) has a grandiose sense of self-importance (e.g., exaggerates achievements and talents, expects to be recognized as superior without commensurate achievements)
(2) is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love
(3) believes that he or she is "special" and unique and can
only be understood by, or should associate with, other special
or high-status people (or institutions)
(4) requires excessive admiration
(5) has a sense of entitlement, i.e., unreasonable expectations of especially favourable treatment or automatic compliance with his or her expectations
(6) is interpersonally exploitative, i.e., takes advantage of others to achieve his or her own ends
(7) lacks empathy: is unwilling to recognize or identify with
the feelings and needs of others
(8) is often envious of others or believes that others are envious of him or her
(9) shows arrogant, haughty behaviours or attitudes.
Soon I will discuss the "Zu Leicht – Zu Schwer" syndrome prevalent in most Narcissistic patients.
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We got real witch doktahs heah in the real jungle.
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The battling psychiatrists can megalo this.
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"I am now treating three patients for terminal narcissism."
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As you surely know, Dr. Shrnkr, there is little agreement
among mental health professionals on the subject of narcissism and several of the other currently prominent disorders. You
are describing what most of us would call "megalomania," not narcissism, and therefore I must conclude that you are either
a fringe shrink or one who does not keep up with the research.
The patients I think of as narcissists have usually suffered traumatic losses which they believe are unjust, they usually harbor strong, deep resentments toward one or both parents
(which they usually deny vigorously early in therapy), and
they maintain fantasy constructs which are off the charts in complexity and which they guard with ferocity. To allow a construct to be seriously threatened could mean the collapse
of a self -- so in a sense they are fighting for their
lives when they resist (elaborately and even irrationally) the intrusion of conflicting ideas. They lie quickly and naturally, and most are sexually promiscuous. They have several selves
and select for a veneer that self which they believe is most socially acceptable. Over time, as they master the arts of evasion and concealment, this surface becomes polished, but
the narcissist knows it is fragile and remains fearful of its collapse. I am now treating three patients for terminal narcissism.
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Many writers about Narcissism (Heinz Kohut, Andrew P.
Morrison, and Helen Block Lewis, among others) have suggested that narcissism (grandiosity) is, essentially, a defense
against shame--with shame defined as a sense that the self
is deeply flawed or deficient.
Comments:
Andy Pettitte's got too much nose, and tonight Atlanta will win Game 3 in Yankee Stadium by at least three runs and then go on
to win the Series.
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Critical Woman: You can debate the truth with Prophet Levi Glover of the Black Hebrew Nation. He's your man. And you can do it somewhere else. You're outta here. Got that, broad?
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You send your cronies to do you dirty work for you, Mr. Noir. All you are is another male. Big difference between a male and
a Man. It's obvious that you have no clue as to what a real man
is. Neanderthal, is questioning me on what? Are you kidding?
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That's right, SweetGirl, and dangerous too. This is no place for you.
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You people are scary.
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Mrs. Watson and Suzie Kurosawa Yokohama and Johnny and I are taking the train to Niagara Falls. I bought the tickets this afternoon, one deluxe sleeping compartment, and we're leaving at dawn tomorrow morning. The weatherman says clear and bright.
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You talkin' to me, Oprah fan? How about you, Critical Woman?
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i haven't seen any intimidation or force yet. lemme know when it happens because i wouldn't want to miss out on something like that.
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It's almost 3:00 on Sunday afternoon, and I'm back in my apartment for the first time since I left for work Thursday morning. Where is the line between fantasy and obsession?
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Shalom. We are not Americans or Africans. We are the true Hebrews, the people of Abraham. We are from the land of
Canaan, the promised land. Our Holy Father's name is Yahweh, Allaheem. Our language was taken away, and it was replaced
with American. It is easy for our lips to say "schmuck" but hard for our lips to say Tanganyika. God taught us to read backwards, and it's not dyslexia. It has been hard-wired
into our nervous system. Catholics are Romans. They are Romans, and Romans killed the Prophets.
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Grrls go crazy for a sharp-dressed, brute force, intimidating, alligator-belt-wearing man.
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CW is right, of course. Insecure men try to control women with brute force and intimidation. They're Neanderthals. Secure men want partners, not slaves.
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CW, you sound like a rote-talking Oprah fan reading from a self help book.
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I have a question that needs to be addressed by the owner of this joint. Must you use intimidation and force to gain control? What you gotta say bout this, Mr. Noir?
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Rockin' the house, Film Noir Johnny. Your house too.
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Kid, you and Johnny Rocker and this Perfect Gentleman can make your move. Others have had the same bad idea.
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johnny: you gonna take that kinda talk from those two clowns? johnny rocker and the gentleman both need a lesson, johnny. maybe that fever took your edge away. maybe you gone soft.
maybe it's time for me to come up there and take over for
good. maybe johnny's will be my next venture.
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I think LuLu has a point.
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Look Lulu, my lounge is open to the public, and if you don't
like the tone of things, then you can drift on down the street to that club where the wits and the literati gather. Got that, broad?
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Instead of this 5.2, 5.3 techo-talk, why don't you just have the "Tough Talk Classics" or the "Best of Tough Talk". Along with all the usual esoteric jibberish that fills this space, there have actually been some exchanges worth revisiting.
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I've been coming to Johnny's for over a year now. I quietly enjoy a single-malt scotch and the best music in town at
my favorite booth in the corner. Sometimes I bring a
lady-friend. I tip well and respect the establishment. But
I have to say that Film Noir Johnny is a braggart, a loudmouth and showoff.
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You're a chump, Film Noir Johnny. I am the Johnny of Johnnys.
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Sleepy/Lazy is Italian.
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70 degrees, sunny and warm and dolce. Luxurio and Mae West, I think this place is about the weather.
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Where the whole world meets at seventy feet, 42nd Street.
On the avenue, I'm takin' you to, 42nd Street. (Trumpet
man break). In the middle, it's a part of little old New
York, runs into old Times Square. Lotta lotta rhythm, no
one seems to care. I wanta take you there. Rough and tough guys, Park Avenue guys, all a-walkin' up and down the street. Where the whole world meets at seventy feet, 42nd Street. And this too ---- Gonna wear my high hat, honey, you wear your
Paris gown. I'll be down to get you in a taxi honey, better
be ready bout half past eight. Now darlin' don't be late, I wanta be there when that band starts playin'. Gonna dance
off both my shoes, when they play the heebie-jeebie blues, tomorrow night at The Darktown Strutters Ball.
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I can see that moon through the skylight, Li Yung-Li. I've been looking at it without pause since it appeared there.
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Clear sweet night with crescent moon.
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hey nau, putcha lyytzann. karlos santanna supah-natchrll cd.
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Katarina, back away from Congachita. You don't know what you're getting into. Give us something new, tramp. Get on it, Johnny. And Luxurio asks a good question. What's the story here?
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So what's the story here?
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Yes, Johnny. And what about the girl who called herself Barahona Trouble? What about her? The one at the port town
on the Caribbean.
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Dude. What about the houngan, dude? What about him?
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Congachita has an exaggerated sense of self. She sounds like fifth-rate Mae West to me.
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Croc MME, getcho own name. You an imposter.
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I dressed today. I rummaged through my things till I found
my silk underthings and my new silk slip. I sat on the bench outside the tent to put on my silk thigh-high stockings,
pulled them up slowly, carefully, to be sure the line ran straight up the back. It seemed a silly thing to do, but it somehow made me feel better to slip my feet into my
high-heeled shoes again. I chose a taupe linen dress,
simply cut, sleeveless, tailored at the waist to accentuate
the curves of my body. I brushed and brushed my hair,
letting it fall wild around my face. I could swear I heard
him calling to me, not in an audible voice, but calling all
the same. I walked to the river. A fish jumped and startled me. I turned back, intending to enter my tent, but something pulled me, compelled me to continue on. My heart started to pound as I took a few tentative steps into the thick growth. I cannot
deny it...I wished to encounter him.
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I love the smell of napalm in the morning. It smells like...victory.
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Come to me Congachita!
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An early rain poured down today, but only as a tease. I stood under the sheets of water, wearing nothing but my slip, but it ended too soon to quench my need. It left me only wanting more, so I threw all caution to the wind. I pulled the wet silk over
my head and sought relief in the river. I swam against the
swift current, then folded my body and dove deep into its dangerous depths, almost hoping to encounter the jaws that
would bring my misery to an end. I didn't even care that I felt the crocodile mau mau eyes watching me from the thick foliage. Sometimes, I wish he would come, I wish he would see me. I turned onto my back and floated there like that for a few
moments, but it was pure exhibitionism so I dropped below the surface to hide in the murky water. I emerged from the river and hurried to my tent but didn't dress. I lay there longing for the one who saw me in the river.
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Look Stella, lawyers are the only thing between you and a
police state, and sometimes, on a more personal level, the
only thing between you and jail. Johnny says no esoterica.
It's enforced. He says you get another chance if, in some private way, you honor the death of the greatest American general of all time, Robert E. Lee, 127 years ago today.
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Money has always been a part of politics, but we now have a situation where nearly all of our lawmakers are for sale. And
we live governed by laws made by these monkeys on a chain.
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Hey now, all you sinners. Put your lights on. Hey now, all you lovers. Put your lights on. Hey now, all you killers. Put your lights on.
