Whiz article

[Cleve Barrit]

  This from the Winter 93 edition of a downtown magazine in NYC called
"Smooth Whiz" I figured Pynchon-l readers would enjoy this article;

        "The hostess of the party was a self-styled cutting edge type who
had just finished a year long run playing one of the Brady sisters in the
Off Broadway production of "The Brady Bunch". Friday's party was one of
those thematic costume gigs so in vogue with people who need a little
excitement in their lives. Each guest was to come dressed as *two* people,
Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr. for example.
        A cute idea, I thought, but not being the lemming type myself I
showed up dressed in my everyday clothing, jeans, t-shirt, sneaks. When I
arrived, the hostess (I'll call her "Jan") swung open the door and spread
her arms out in a grandiose "welcome" gesture.
        "Who do you think I am?" she said.
        She was wearing a rhinestone vest, black leather pants and her
normally light brown hair had been dyed a muted yet husky red.
        "Well. . ." I tried, "umm. . . "
        Her impatience got the best of her and she blurted out "I'm Ann
Margaret and Elvis from 'Viva Las Vegas'" and then performed a little
shimmy.
        "Who are you?" she questioned.
        "Ah. . ." I thought quickly "I'm Rod Stewart (because of my big
nose) and. . .and . . .Thomas Pynchon."
        "Ooo, nice one" she opined.
        Later in the evening as the party was getting loose "Jan" cum Ann
Margaret/Elvis came over to me with a rather somber looking fellow dressed
in black with a shaved head and a small wire pair of specs.
        "You two simply have to meet, you have a lot in common"
        The fellow's name was Dion and in the course of our increasingly
inebriated coversation he let slip the fact that he chaired a little
"discussion group", as he called it, in his apartment on E. 5th street. The
conversation centered around the works of Thomas Pynchon and seeing as how
I was partially Thomas Pynchon at that moment he invited me to come the
next day.
        I got his address and we drifted apart, the party got increasingly
roudy and I didn't get home until 5 in the morning. That afternoon I woke
up, dragged myself out of bed, went down to the Odessa restaurant to have
some breakfast/dinner. Then I drifted down the street to Lucy's where I had
a beer and played some pool with my buddy Rabbi. Before I knew it I was
heading off to Dions with a copy of Gravity's Rainbow in hand.
        It had already gotten dark and there was a crowd at Sophie's bar as
a I passed by it to Dion's apartment which was directly across the street
in a blindingly white row of buildings. I pushed the button and was buzzed
up, I walked the 5 flights to the top and was greeted at the door by a
young woman wearing a very filmy white dress. She was wearing a headband
with a blue bead stuck smack dab in the middle. "Hi! Wanna gumdrop?" she
said.
        "Sure", I took the gumdrop and popped it in my mouth.
        I walked into the apartment and could barely make out six or seven
people sitting in a circle in a dim, dilapidated room. I sat down next to a
scruffy looking fellow who had his eyes closed and was humming to himself
and the white dressed woman placed herself next to me on the left.
        "Welcome!" intoned the reclining Dion 'Shall we begin?"
        "As we know" he continued " adherents of Thomas Pynchon's
conception of Sado-anarchism are aware of the massive guilt the Structure
wants people to feel when it comes to sex. As he so aptly put it Submission
and Dominance are resources the Structure needs for its survival. They are
not to be wasted in private sex or *any* kind of sex. It needs our lusts
after dominace so that it can co-opt us into its power game. Well we
shouldn't buy into the game!"
        Needless to say as Dion was talking I began to feel a small sour
ball of muscletwinge forming in the pit of my stomach. As my eyes began to
adjust to the light I noticed the other inhabitants of the room were uh. .
.uniquely dressed in various creations of leather and artfully revealing
clothing.
        I felt a tiny wave of fear ripple across my body and I realized
that perhaps that gumdrop was not what it seemed. My face began to grow
flush and my palms began to sweat and I was about to get up and run out the
door. As Dion began talking about the "optimum penetration" and "tender
crevices" a young man with a dark olive complexion stood up, pulled back
his loincloth and revealed his stiff, smooth cock, it was trembling there
like a rocket getting ready to launch.
        "Shut up bitch" he yelled and walked over to Dion and placed his
cock in the orator's mouth. The room began to shiver and warp like a finely
crafted, perfectly detailed Jello rendition of reality. Feeling a hand on
my shoulder, I turned my ponderous head to face the woman in white who was
fondling her tit and mouthing the phrase "Hurt me" over and over again- the
silence which came from her lips reminded me of the no-sound of the sun
when it ceases to roar and as she placed a hand on my chest and straddled
my lap I looked over at my copy of "Gravity's Rainbow" and watched in
horror as the sun on the cover began to sink below the horizon."


----------------------------------------------------------------------------
To find out more about the anon service, send mail to help at anon.penet.fi.
If you reply to this message, your message WILL be *automatically* anonymized
and you are allocated an anon id. Read the help file to prevent this.
Please report any problems, inappropriate use etc. to admin at anon.penet.fi.