Uit: American Psycho
“He had, like, this monkey. And I would have to watch this monkey in… his apartment.” She stops, starts, continues in monotone, occasionally gulping. “I’d want to watch TV all day, ‘cause there was nothing else to do while the guy was out… and while I tried to keep an eye on the monkey. But there was… something wrong with this monkey.” She stops and takes a deep breath. “The monkey would only watch…” Again she stops, takes in the room, a quizzical expression creasing her face as if she’s not sure she should be telling us this story; if we, me and the other bitch, should be privy to this information. And I brace myself for something shocking, something revelatory, a connection. “It would only watch…” She sighs, then in a sudden rush admits, “The Opnah Winfrey Show and that’s all it would watch. The guy had tapes and tapes of it and he had made all of them for this monkey” – now she looks over at me, imploringly, as if she’s losing her mind here, right now, in Owen’s apartment and wants me to, what, verify it? – “with the commercials edited out. One time I tried to… turn the channel, turn one of the tapes off… if I wanted to watch a soap instead or something… but” – she finishes her drink and rolling her eyes, obviously upset by this story, continues bravely – “the monkey would s-s-screech at me and it would only calm down when Oprah was on.” She swallows, clears her throat, looks like she’s going to cry but doesn’t. “And you know, you try to turn the channel and that d-damn monkey would try to scratch you,” she concludes bitterly and hugs herself, shivering, uselessly trying to warm herself.
Silence. Arctic, frigid, utter silence. The light burning over us in the apartment is cold and electric. Standing there, I look at Torri then at the other girl, Tiffany, who looks queasy.”
Acht gedichten voor Ninetto
Die Freud die je graag leest verduidelijkt niet
wat ik verlang. Jij kwam hier,
en ik herhaal: Niets bindt jou aan mij.
Toch besluit je te blijven.
De man die bidt en geen schaamte voelt, die verlangt
naar zijn moeders nest voor troost, zal een vals leven leiden.
Een verlaten leven. Je zult dit ontkennen.
Maar onthoud: zijn kreet is niet om jou.
Die is om zijn eigen kont.
Je leerde me dingen die ik nog niet eerder kende,
maar de engel verschijnt en je bent weer stil.
Hij is snel weg. En toch ben je angstig.
Plezier schort mijn angst op.
Maar ik weet dat spijt achteraf onze fragiele vrede zal verbrijzelen.
Vertaald door Frans Roumen