“People brutalise everything” (Thomas Bernhard)BY BIBLIOKLEPT
People brutalise everything. They get up noisily, go about noisily all day, and go to bed noisily. And they constantly talk far too noisily. They are so taken up with themselves that they don’t notice the distress they constantly cause to others, to those who are sick. Everything they do, everything they say causes distress to people like us. And in this way they force anyone who is sick more and more into the background until he’s no longer noticed. And the sick person withdraws into his background. But every life, every existence, belongs to one person and one person only, and no one else has the right to force this life and this existence to one side, to force it out of the way, to force it out of existence. We’ll go by ourselves, as we have the right to do. That’s part of the natural course.
From Thomas Bernhard’s novel Concrete.
The black mud speckled with piss clam tunnels.
Boys with flat sticks wiggling bare toes, a jab and thrust, clams in the air.
Jabbing and thrusting is what boys do, piss clams flying through the air.
Fiddler crabs peering out sideways from their hideouts.
The boys scurry sideways to mimic the crabs, throwing long ribbons of seaweed at one another, in their hair, slapping their faces, flying though the air.
The scent opened something hidden.
The deep inside them mixed with the fog and doors opened everywhere.
There are not always enough locks or keys to go around.
Some of the doors are closed forever. Some doors are hanging off their hinges.
Someone said once that everything has been thought of.
The boys think of these girls over and over again, they think of almost nothing else, they dart here and there after fiddler crabs as the bright light beats down on their bare skin and they think of girls.
To stand on the water, to stand in a boat in the water, the salt drying in white streaks on their skin, their skin that longs for the girls hidden in the sweet, dank mud of desire before they even know it.
Before they even know it they are thinking of girls again and again, even as they are covered in mud and seaweed and laughing sideways at each other they are still jabbing and thrusting though the sweet, sweet fog again and again and even, again.