Mimi (33 page)

Authors: Lucy Ellmann

BOOK: Mimi

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There’s light, shadow, color, the dank smells of women and cigars, the babbling of children, buzzings of insects, popcorn popping, drunken guffaws. Wild garlic, coffee, basil, mimosa, moldy autumn leaves, and the brand-new air of winter.

There are little girls who skip fearlessly down hospital corridors to unknown fates, wearing their favorite sandals (I’ve seen them!). There are porches and rocking chairs, figs and fig leaves and lilies of the valley. Come on, life is worth living just because there are
cardinals.
What could be better than a red bird?

It’s worth living just because there are horses’ manes, and clouds. Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, Puccini, Verdi, and Casals. Mist, mint, honey, and bourbon. Saffron and sage. Eggs and nests. Hooves and paws. Snouts, tails, wings, feathers. Swimming and fucking and eating and drinking and just lying down. Pomegranates, monkeys, movies, cilantro, and jam! Matzo ball soup, pastrami, and Amatriciana. Clothes hanging on a line. Giotto, Giorgione, Masaccio, Rembrandt, Matisse, and Bee Hanafan. Starlings forming one big melting thrilling trilling ball at the end of each day. And all the other rustlings and scamperings and flutterings and weeping in the night. And all delight.

Cleave, you jerk! CLEAVE.

Love is a fact, neither tenuous nor debatable. You can hold yourself back from a woman and never be possessed. But if she can’t possess you, she’ll never be happy. And the world has got to start making women happy.

It saddens me sometimes that we met so late. And we both mourn our painful period apart. Mimi also wishes she’d met Bee. But what’s love without a little melancholy?

What I like most in
Deception
is that there’s never any question that they’ll shack up together, once they find each other again at the Haydn concert. What’s hers is his—Bette even carries his cello for him. She takes him straight home to her apartment, where the closet is instantly shared with him (the truest test of love: is there closet space?). She finds him a huge armchair by the fireplace, promises to get him a big cup for his coffee tomorrow, does the whole housewife act (with ironic sophistication), mopping his brow, bringing him a sandwich, kneeling at his feet. Come on, it’s the sexiest reunion in the movies!

But what is with that priest-like collar she’s got on, its prim white trim soon to be crushed by Paul’s mighty cellist’s hands when he tries to strangle her? Not his most heroic moment, but the guy’s confused. It’s not easy adjusting to all this love and comfort, all this
coziness,
after years in a concentration camp. It’s not easy adjusting to bette davis, even if she
can
play the
Appassionata
. And she keeps changing her story about Claude Rains.

Oh, for god’s sake, man, why do you think she’s got that gold telephone? She ain’t no priest. She’s a ho!

THE END

APPENDIX

ATTACKS ON ODALISQUE MAN

Two men were apprehended in midtown Manhattan yesterday on suspicion of attempted assassination. Both are alleged to have threatened or attacked the outspoken Harrison Hanafan, a notable plastic surgeon who recently excited comment with his controversial views on the emancipation of women.

In two apparently separate incidents, Hanafan was first confronted by a man armed with a knife, whom he had admitted to his apartment. No one was hurt. Not long afterward, Hanafan was approached outside the building by a man with a gun. One shot was fired. No injuries have been reported. Both assailants are now in police custody.

Harrison Hanafan, 51, is best known for his far-fetched plans for the redistribution of wealth. He has suggested, in many public forums and online, that men should gradually transfer all cash, property, and other financial assets to women. Hanafan appears to believe that this would somehow reduce violent crimes against women, and lead to other benefits for society at large. Most bizarrely, he has also suggested that the scheme would enhance sexual satisfaction for both sexes, though especially for women.

His most vociferous opponents include Dick Cheney, Donald Trump, Vladimir Putin, and O. J. Simpson. The machismo expert and cult philosopher, Richard Sly, has publicly challenged Hanafan to a duel, calling him “a lily-livered mommy’s boy who has failed to grasp the real meaning of masculinity.”

Hanafan’s sister, the sculptor Bridget Hanafan, was fatally injured in May, a victim of a gun rampage in England. Since then, Harrison Hanafan has become a familiar figure, expounding his outlandish views at numerous small gatherings. A video clip on YouTube shows him inciting a riot at a high-school graduation in June.

Nationwide outrage grew in response to the publication on Independence Day of Harrison Hanafan’s political pamphlet, the “
Manifesto of the Odalisque Revolution
,” a confused and eccentric document that has sold well worldwide.

Along with numerous death threats, Hanafan has been the subject of an FBI investigation, in accordance with Homeland Security measures. His notorious assertion that “All men are terrorists” has been denounced by Dick Cheney as a violation of the Patriot Act. Hanafan’s female supporters, however, are said to be growing in number.

RECIPES

MY EGGNOG

– 1
whole entire lb. confectioner’s sugar (always Gertrude’s “last box”)

– 1 whole doz. eggs (big deal!)

– 40 fl. oz. booze or more (depending on your level of festive dismay): brandy and/or Scotch

– 3 quarts heavy cream

– nutmeg

Day One
: Amass your ingredients (this may involve a trip or two to a town at least twenty-five miles away).

Day Two
: Beat the sugar into the liquor. (Zone out on the smell.) Leave mixture overnight.

Day Three
: Separate the eggs, saving the yolks of our oppression. (Permit the egg whites to be assigned some much more noble function.) Beat the liquor mixture into the egg yolks (zoning out again). Leave overnight.

Day Four
: Beat cream until stiff. Fold cream into egg-and-liquor mixture. Taste frequently for flavor. Relish these moments of privacy! Honor the opportunity to get soused! Then spoon the Eggnog into wine glasses, sprinkle nutmeg on top and serve to the cognoscenti.

Repeat whole process in time for New Year’s Eve.

MOM
’
S JAM

Equal amounts sugar and fruit. Cook to thick stage. (Or, extract fruit after initial boiling stage and continue boiling juice until ball stage. Useful trick with pears and plums.) Pour boiling water in jars and swish around. Cool jam slightly. Fill jars. Pour melted beeswax on top, to seal. Apricots—leave whole. Strawberries—break up a bit. And other long lost secrets.

MIMI
’
S AMATRICIANA

Kiss me. Chop two-inch hunk of
guanciale
(smoked) into large half-inch-thick pieces. Kiss me again. Put chopped
guanciale
and good amount of diced chili into frying pan with plenty of olive oil. Fry until almost burning. Don’t distract me. Throw whole glass white wine into pan, and let it bubble away. Now kiss me! Strain big can tomatoes through sieve (optional step). When
guanciale
’s almost dry again, add tomatoes. Leave to simmer for twenty mins., until smooth and velvety. Kiss me. Cook fusilli, spiraled in honor of serpentine energy (the spiral is a goddess-cult symbol). Grate fine one cup pecorino cheese, and kiss me.

Five mins. before pasta is done, add the cheese to the tomato sauce, along with some black pepper. Stir until smooth. Strain pasta and add it to the sauce in the frying pan. Stir thoroughly. Cook further five mins. Kiss and eat.