#immaculate conceptions

I mean, how else did I have my kids without getting dicked on a regular basis?

Immaculate Conceptions (GEMINI KILLER VOL.12)

(Übersetzung von Elke Radicke und Wilfried Sczepan)

When we play gay bars, she and her priest look like a coupla nifty drag queens, but in this dismal rock club, they look small and lonely - out of place. It’s sad that this is their big Friday night out on the town. There are probably better things for an old lady and her priest to do on a Friday night.

O relógio-armário parado nas três horas. O pai, o gesto mais lento e medido do que nunca, as mãos trêmulas, parou o pêndulo, os ponteiros direitinho em 3 e 12. Logo depois o enterro saiu, mamãe se indo pra sempre. Depois ela ia repetir o gesto, feito uma missa. O relógio de ouro no prego da parede, do lado daquele outro de prata, que foi o primeiro. Queria uma coisa bem definida, bem decisiva, que todos vissem. Tremia, as mãos tremiam, todo o corpo tremia num rumor surdo, cuidou desmaiar. Tinha de se mostrar dura e fria, sem nenhuma emoção, feito o pai com o relógio-armário, três horas.

There were two voices that were louder than the others. At night when the red light was out in the hall and there was someone sitting in a chair in front of the door clearing her throat at intervals there would be the voices far down the hall mingling with sobs and shouts and the drones of those beginning to sleep. It was cold and she shivered under the blankets. She cried out that she was cold and the woman came in and took a blanket and warmed it for her.

(from The Universe of Things)

MEMORY believes before knowing remembers. Believes longer than recollects, longer than knowing even wonders. Knows remembers believes a corridor in a big long garbled cold echoing building of dark red brick sootbleakened by more chimneys than its own, set in a grassless cinderstrewnpacked compound surrounded by smoking factory purlieus and enclosed by a ten foot steel-and-wire fence like a penitentiary or a zoo, where in random erratic surges, with sparrowlike childtrebling, orphans in identical and uniform blue denim in and out of remembering but in knowing constant as the bleak walls, the bleak windows where in rain soot from the yearly adjacenting chimneys streaked like black tears.