jam-packed with the highest-quality gray matter full of whorls and squiggles, just like Edisonâs, oh Edison, the man who invented the machine that made it possible for us to sit at home in our slippers and enjoy the glories of the concert hall, that is, the man who invented the phonograph, which had never existed before, think of him sitting there for three days, poor man, thinking of nothing but earphones, no, young ladies, not even the most beautiful woman can rival a famous man like that, a woman doctor in Cracow ordered me to take off all my clothes, climbed on top of me, and, pressing her cold ear against my heart, she said, Why is your heart pounding so? so I told her about the European Renaissance and how a real man trembles like a frog about to leap whenever he sees a beautiful woman, which is why art drives so many writers mad, especially when they want to improve on it, their brains turn to sawdust and no one can do a thing about it, a composer by the name of Isvtán once tore a chandelier out of the ceiling in his grief, and when Edisonâs bride came for him she found him sitting there, thinking away, with a little glass stool under his feet to keep the earthâs gravity from disturbing him, yes, thatâs right, and after his death they opened up his brain and found it jam-packed with the highest-quality gray matter, a fortune-teller once read my cards and said that if it wasnât for a tiny black cloud hanging over me I could do great things and not only for my country but for all mankind, then she reached over to me and I fell off the rocking chair and overturned the aquarium, and when Iâd told all that to the Polish doctor who was lying on top of me she asked, Where are you going to take me tonight? and I quoted her Anna Nováková, Dreaming of a gold-finch in a cage means your lascivious ways will bring you to a bad end, but the doctor stood up and said, Couldnât you find something better? so I said, Dreaming of an anniversary celebration means unquenchable passion, and she said, A good beginning at least, and she made Turkish eyes at me, because most menâs minds go straight to hanky-panky, but I take a different tack, I want to be a hero, when Marion the magician and hypnotist came to town he had to stamp his own documents, the officials were afraid heâd hypnotize them so they flew the coop the minute they saw him, I was on the stage too at the time, in The Balalaika, I wore a guardsmanâs uniform, the set was all doors with keyholes and I sang Many a Maiden Fair Iâve Kissed and then a purple spot-light came on and I sang, Sing, balalaika, the sweetest melody on earth, The one that gives me second birth, The song called I Love You, and I was a hero, I hit high C, not like your garden-variety yodelers who low like cows calving, no, I was a real tenor, another Járinek PospÃÅ¡il, I could wow the ladies as much as Marion the magician and hypnotist, if you like we can put on the play here and now, weâll cast one of you as the great tsarina, but weâll have to find some falsies, you there, youâll do, not all tsarinas were beautiful, Iâll play the high priest, which means I carry a chalice, the chandelier gets shot down in the finale, no, Iâd rather play the baron, though how can we get his horse on stage? what if we wind rags around its hoofs, then it wonât harm the stairs, but more important, we donât want it shying when the music plays, it might fall into the orchestra, the swine dealer can be played by Ruda Turek, the first lieutenant, heâs got a neck like a Swiss steer, I once tried to do splits with a beauty in the Catholic House and gave myself a hernia, which isnât so bad for a man, a man makes anything look good, but when a maiden wears a truss and a lovesick swain comes up against that cold belt, those nickel springs, his ideals start to falter and his desire to flag, Christ our Lord was once invited to a
Learning to Kill: Stories