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Delk – The Aftermath

I’m afraid this post may be a bit anti-climactic for some. After all, I myself did not realize the significance of these events until very recently.

I rushed back to our flat, knocking over fruit stands and passers-by. When I reached our apartment, only Nigel sat in our living room, flipping through a rather large novel.

“Oh hello, P. Don’t worry about not showing up. We went ahead without you, but the delk turned out to be a big dud. Neither Amy nor I felt any effects. Poor Ritchie felt a bit nauseous and Persephone became a bit … er, … amorous”, Nigel blushed. Regaining his composure, he continued, “I guess that rock star sold you bill of goods.” He chuckled heartily although there was nothing particularly funny about his remark.

And that was that. Or so we thought. However, over the course of the next year, the four of them went through a number of startling changes. I thought nothing of it at the time. After all, we were all in our late teens-early twenties. Who doesn’t go through drastic transformations at that age?

Amy began calling herself Anenome.* Passing through the hallway, one used to hear strains of Lorena McKennitt and Tori Amos, but now she only listened to the French Spectralists.** She stopped writing poetry*** and began her solitary research into the occult.

Persephone soon broke up with Nigel.**** She stopped being a sullen goth and became sickly-sweet mannered and obsequious. Her ‘little Bo Peep’ outfits gradually entered her wardrobe until she wore nothing else. Even though it was Persephone who broke up with Nigel, she became insanely jealous and became increasingly suspicious of all of Nigel’s aquaintences. If Nigel began seeing anyone, she would ‘befriend’ the young lady, serenading them with her trademark ballad “Have you seen but a whyte lilie grow?” on a nightly basis until they would become sufficiently creeped out to leave town.

Poor Ritchie Sauces suffered the most obvious transformation. He legally changed his name to ‘Rich Sauces’ and embarked on a quest for the utmost limits of depravity. He was soon arrested for what he did at the art museum. And the planetarium. And the musuem of natural history. His entire manner had changed and he began to exude an odor resembling that of dandruff shampoo.***** Then he sought to include others in his ‘art films’, with or without their knowledge.

And then there was Nigel. Nigel was always … eccentric, shall we say? I have to admit I never noticed any real change in his behaviour. Our friendship remind solid for several years until a certain incident caused us to go our seperate ways. No need to get into that now.

The next week, I did join Sol and Pepper for the university production of Hamlet where I first beheld the charming Harriet starring as Ophelia. This production was to lead to the formation of the wretched ‘Ghoul Squad’ by Nigel. But I get ahead of myself.

When Anenome & I met the other night, she informed me that in her research of the unusual and unsettling, she uncovered an old book called The Delk and its Effects on the Young by Nazzereno Pagliughi. After reading this lengthy tome, she believes that the personality changes they all experience are due to their experimentation. She feels that Nigel’s recent strange behavior is due to a recent 2nd encounter with delk. We need to investigate further.

* Again?
** Her poor roommate Göta could not stand any of Amy/Anenome’s musical tastes, pre- or post-delk.
*** Or perhaps she just stopped sharing it with others.
**** He claimed it was ‘mutual’.
***** It took me years to identify this scent.

Delk – Part III

I have been posting quite a bit lately, but writing is the only way to get rid of these thoughts, as Nietzsche wrote.

Getting back to the story, we were to experiment with the delk on Sunday night. I was to act as an observer, performing rigorous calisthenics and algebraic equations.

I spent that Sunday in the same way I spend most Sundays if I have the opportunity. At the art museum. The art museum came to represent something special in my life. Not because of the later Ghoul Squad meetings in the coffee/gift shop and not because it was the location of Rich’s first of many brushes with Johnny Law. No, it is special because it was there that on that fateful Sunday I first met Sol & Pepper.

I was staring raptly at the portraits of Richard Gerstl, part of a traveling exhibit, wishing the museum had provided some biographical information on the artist. Usually, I find such trivialities to be distracting and it annoys me that many visitors spend more time looking at the placards on the wall than they do studying the art itself! But, I was so struck by these enigmatic paintings that I had to know more. My reverie was interrupted by a sweet voice that would become increasingly familiar in the weeks to follow.

“And after his affair with Mathilde, he was so overcome with guilt that he burnt all of his letters, all of his artwork, hung AND stabbed himself! I mean, how do you do that? How can you stab yourself while hanging from a rope! Obviously very talented. Or did he stab himself and then hang himself? How does that work? Jeepers!”

A male voice grunted in reply.

This kind of tawdry artist gossip was exactly the kind of information I had been seeking. I whirled around to see who commenting on these remarkable painting. I must have overdone the whirling a bit since the young woman let out a loud yelp of surprise. I overcame my great embarrasment and introduced myself to the pair. The striking young lady with long, jet black hair was named Pepper. Her hulking musclebound brother, Sol, had hair that was equally dark, but quite short and wirey.

“Sol and Pepper!” I chuckled. “You must …” My jocuse witticism was stopped dead in its tracks by a glare from Sol. “You must … know quite a bit about art”, I recovered.

“Oh,” Pepper blushed. “Well, I’m a painting student at the university and I have an interest in the expressionists.”

“You must know my good friend Ritchie Sauces then”, I said, happy to have someone in common.

“Oh yes, he’s quite a good artist! Very conservative, which the teachers hate, but he’s really good with heartwarming family scenes and tasteful nude portraits. What artists are you interested in?” This started a spirited discussion that lasted through the exhibition continuing on through the rest of the museum and on to Ms. Yi’s Chinese buffet.

Sol was characteristically quiet. I will admit that I initially made the same mistake that most people make upon meeting Sol. Because of his size and his reticent manner, people assume that he is not very bright. This could not be further from the truth. Not only is Sol the smartest person I know, he is the smartest person I know OF. At first, I didn’t think he was paying much attention to the conversation, but every once in a while he would throw out a terse observation that showed that not only was he keeping up, but he probably knew more about the subject than most experts. What a remarkable individual that I am proud to call Friend.

As the conversation proceeded, it became clear that Pepper and I had so much in common. We both loved Giacometti. We didn’t care for Bukowski. Neither one of us could see the influence of Giacinto Scelsi on the work of Gerard Grisey and Tristan Murail. Oh, how Sol mocked us for weeks about that!

The conversation turned to Shakespeare and Pepper asked “Did you know about the university production of Hamlet next week!? You have to come along! We have an extra ticket since my boyfriend Renaldo can’t make it.” Boyfriend?! My heart sank. I hoped that my expression did not betray my feelings.

“Oh”, I ventured, not as nonchalantly as I had hoped. “Why didn’t he join you at the museum today? Did he have to work?”

“Oh no”, said Pepper. “He just doesn’t care for art.”

Doesn’t care for art! My world made no sense.

I fumbled for my calendar to see if I was available the night of the play when I happened to glance at the clock above Ms. Yi at the bar. I was late! I had completely lost track of time! Nigel and the others had taken the delk nearly an hour ago! I hastily excused myself and ran out into the night hoping I was not too late.

Re: Delk

I saw myself
a ring of bone
in the clear stream
of all of it

–Lew Welch

Delk – Part II

When last we left our hero (me), he had just received a packet of delk from a well-known pop artist.

The next day, I, along with Nigel, pored over the instructions that came with the delk. Before we could get started in earnest, Persephone strolled out of Nigel’s bedroom (I had no idea she had been there!) wearing only a Souxie and the Banshees T-shirt of Nigel’s. While she was, admittedly, quite attractive, there was something about her that made me uncomfortable. The doorbell rang. It was Amy (Anenome) and Ritchie with danish and coffee. *

In my foolish need to impress my new friends, I told them of the delk. They were naturally curious and we examined the note together. It was printed on a high quality paper in Fraktur, although it was in English. It smelled of stale tobacco, burnt sugar and sweat.

The instructions specified that the delk was best taken as a suppository or in food, preferably in a bechamel sauce. Persephone brightened up. “This is the perfect chance to finally put that suppository making class from high school to use!”** After an uncomfortable silence, Ritchie offered, “Or we could just put it in the sauce and eat it.” He said this slowly and deliberately. After another moment of silence, we all jumped in and agreed. Persephone sulked. I don’t know if she was embarrassed or disappointed. She was always difficult to read.

Nigel suddenly burst from his chair with great enthusiasm. “Bechamel sauce! Bechamel sauce! We must discover it’s secrets!” He ran to the bookshelf, grabbing reference books at random, consulting the index, then throwing the volume over his shoulder, hitting Ritchie at least once.

These reference books included the Encyclopedia Judaica vol. 8, Musik in Geschichte und Gegenwart, bd. 21, the 2nd Encyclopedia of Comic Books Heroes,*** World Book Encyclopedia, vol. 1, The Snoopy Cyclopedia, vol. 1 and a Spanish reference on biology that I am not familiar with. He became increasingly frantic.

“Nigel!” cried Amy. “Nigel! Nigel! Calm down! Flour, butter and milk! It’s flour, butter and milk! I know how to make it!” Immediately, Nigel composed himself and returned to his easy chair. “Come to think of it,” Amy continued, “You taught me how to make it, Persephone. Why didn’t you say anything?” Persephone merely shrugged.

We returned to the instructions. “During the ritual, there must be one individual who does not participate. He or she must engage in vigorous physical exercise, alternating this activity with the performance of quadratic equations. The equations need not be solved correctly as long as the proper effort is made,” Nigel read.

“We must draw straws!” Nigel ran to the cupboard, grabbing a handful of bendy straws. He pulled a giant cleaver from a bottom drawer and chopped the top off of a single straw. This sickening thud reverberated throughout the flat.

He brought the straws into the room obscuring their lengths. We all chose straws and you can imagine who chose the shorter one. “But P.,” Amy said, “You were the one who found the delk! This isn’t fair. We’ll draw again.”

“No, no, Amy. It’s all in good fun. Fair’s fair.” To be honest, I was a bit relieved. So it was settled. We decided on a mutually convenient time. That Sunday at 6 PM. If only we knew had lay ahead.

* I should mention that Anenome’s recollections of that morning differ from my own, but not in any significant way.

** No, I’m not sure where she went to high school.

*** Borrowed from Ritchie. To the best of my knowledge, never returned.

Delk – Part I.

I was young and stupid. But weren’t we all? I was a shy and introverted young man desperately wanting to impress my new friends.

My Cousin Z. is aquainted with a well-known rock star whose name I will not mention. I’ll just say that this individual’s songs have become part of our cultural heritage. If I asked you if you knew the lyrics to his top five hits, you might say no, but if the songs were played on the radio, you could sing along without missing a single word. While his music doesn’t speak to me particularly, I certainly appreciate his great craftmanship, both lyrically and melodically and jumped at the chance to meet him when Z. arrived in town with backstage passes for the big show at the Thunderdome.

After the concert (a wonderful show), when we arrived backstage, the musicians were partaking of a substance I would later learn was called cocaine. We were offered some, but Z. is what the young people call ’straight edge’ and I must admit I’ve never had much interest in narcotics. Z. mentioned that I was a poet and I had a rather enlightening discussion with this musician on Robert Browning, whose work I had never considered significant. He certainly changed my mind!

Then he said something that changed my life forever, although I only realized it recently. He said, “You need to try some delk. It’ll really open your perceptions to the possibilities within the forest of the call of ideas beneath the surface.* You’ll need to follow the instructions precisely, though.” He then rummaged through a pocket in a soft gig bag, pulling out a packet covered in a black silk scarf wrapped in twine. “Take it,” he offered. “But follow the instructions precisely. The elder gods can be a bitch.” Then a trio of the most unpleasant-looking women I’ve seen in my life were ushered in wearing Japanese schoolgirl uniforms.

This was our cue to leave.

More later,

P.

*Actual quote. He was, you will remember, on drugs.

E.T. Nationalism & Ramen

Met with Anemone last night. I’m still trying to sort out what she’s told me.

My God.

If what’s she says is correct, then it explains everything. Nigel’s odd behaviour, Amy’s psychic investigations, even the perversions of Rich Sauces.

And it’s all my fault.