Somewhere around 1987-88, the U.S. Supreme Court struck down a ban on gays in the military. With Cocteau and Breton as guiding lights, scandal the ultimate goal, the highway scribe prepared this episode of "The Liquid Life" for the lit-zine he and Antonio Mendoza were editing at the time called "READ"
“High Court Strikes Down Army Ban on Gays,” Elendele reads from the paper by a morning light, too bright, for those of us just losing the graytime of our magic crystals.
“Fucking great,” she profanes, “what a victory for decadent revolutionists everywhere who like it every way. Faggots in the army, khaki green worm eaten from within…the death of war everywhere! Gun and fun finally meet and it’s only a matter of time before one of them has won…You know that whole thing about gun lovers are really faggots, but they just don’t know? Oh excuse me,” she covers her mouth, “Did I say faggot. Excuse me gay. Gay ’ol time hey! Wait until Lafayette hears we are here, that now they’re over there…All of them…what an army. The heroic pink brigades. Can’t you just see it? The hookers out of business by all the forts and army bases, rampant buttfucking throughout the American south. Squeal like a pig indeed…And spreading to the Navy, now a Hollywood musical, “Sodomy on the High Seas,” starring Elendele, taking it right there, “spreading her pink-pantied self for those interested, “if she could, if some sailor boy would, but the high court has just struck the butt bang ban down…what a frown from the Republican ranks and fascist cranks finally throwing in the towel on morality. It may be embarrassing, but now the law says it’s so. So let’s go all you television electronic evangelists, into the sack you odd fans of God.
“Oh God!!!” standing and spinning around the kitchen now, ridiculous, begging for
attention, holding the paper to her breast and yelling quite loud, “‘by fuck let’s fuck’ de Sade did say, and he’s finally had his day, exonerated by the highest court in the world…He should hear, sodomy without fear. Like the church rules about hell or fish on Friday…now it’s a thank God it’s high day, when everyone gets rocked on whatever it is that rocks them, and makes them forget. Do the apostles regret? No!!! Jesus was a guy who could go for some good head in a more promiscuous time, like now, were he not dead.”
“Elendele,” Trevor groans down from out of his otherworld, “Please shut up.”
Then she goes back to smoking her Maria and reading the grains in her coffee. “Like I said,” she matter-of-facts us, “crystal makes me very horny.”
ELENDELE AND SATURN RUN HOT AND COLD WHEN IT COMES TO OUT-OF-BED ACTIVITIES
All knowledge and historical technique in bed, the girls lacked maturity and consistency of character in the world beyond the room filled with books they locked themselves in, after a run through the daily soap operas.
For a while, Elendele was inside out, off-colored for days at a time. Always highlighting and taking notice of a marvelous coincidences that weren’t really there, she fell into long periods of unproductive depression, out of which no one could find the tools to pry her. The writers’ strike was really tolling her hell bell.
Then having one day lost her birth controls, Saturn razed Elendele’s purse in search of her anti-baby to borrow, and came up instead, with the evil roots of the spiritual swirling.
“She’s overwhelmed by Westernism,” Saturn moaned, flinging two books across the room as if they carried a contagious disease. One was by Elendele’s hero Breton, and the other, “God forbid,” she says, Louis Ferdinand Celine.
Saturn, for her part, had fallen under the unreasonable sway of Chopin’s traumatic snowfalls and babbling brooks, and in general, spent way too much time lamenting what a beautiful world it had been in years passed.
Only me and my 7:00 o’clock news, my Sunday mornings stacked with gray senators, secretaries of doom and of transportation, could serve as brake on the two candleburners – as a shake from their musty ivory towers.