The Last Analects of Jasper James Kaufmann

3. Abelard

Jasper entered the front door of the apartment, carried his bicycle up the six flights of stairs, and locked it. He unlocked his door, and found himself in his apartment. The place consisted of one room that doubled as a living room and kitchen, and then his bedroom and his roommate's. Abelard was standing in the kitchen, pouring whiskey and liqueur into a small glass filled with ice.

"Hey, man," he said. "Where have you been?"

"I went to meet Petra for lunch. You know, that... girl. You know what I mean."

"The most recent girl?"

"Yes," Jasper said with frustration. "You know me, the stud, banging chicks at every opportunity." This last statement was made with some sarcasm.

"Why did you follow up with her? Usually you just forget about whatever girl... or, you know, guy, that you fool around with."

"That was the plan this time too. But she called me up this morning. I forgot I even gave her my number."

"Then why did you accept?"

"I don't know. There's something about her, Abelard. She's actually all right. I just saw her superficially when we were together yesterday, like usual. But she's got a brain, that girl. She's intriguing. Pardon me, I've got to get my legal pad; I need to write something down."

He quickly went into his room and came back with the pad. He wrote out quickly, in English, "The irony is striking that our deepest instincts turn out to be our greatest follies."

"Hey, I've been meaning to ask you about that," said Abelard. "What do you write in that thing?" He grabbed it from Jasper and flipped to the front page. There was one word, written in large capital letters across the top of the page. "Analects," he read. "Analekten, in the German, right? My God, that's pretentious. Who do you think you are, fucking Confucius?" He laughed and took a sip of his drink.

"I don't know. It's for when I get into a certain state in the nighttime. When the sun has set, I get into this state sometimes... I feel ambushed by the grand curse of all my memories. I know it's mad, but it's how I feel. I guess I write madness at night."

"Well, it's intended to be art, right? It takes a certain amount of madness to be a great artist. Is it not a little mad to think in the state of mind wherein you unearth truths, or, as you would say, analects, that have been previously hidden?"

"See, you get me, Abelard," said Jasper. "That's why I like you."

"No problem, dude," he said. "Hey, can you bum me a cancer stick?"

"Sure, one second," Jasper said, and ran into his room to get a cigarette. He came back and handed one to Abelard, and took for himself the one he had started the previous night. He reached into his coat, which he was still wearing, for the lighter. He lit Abelard up and then himself.

"May as well take this thing off," he said, and hung up his coat by the door.

As they smoked, Abelard said between puffs, "So are you going to see this Petra again? You could use a friend, besides me, I mean. You're a rather lonely type."

"I guess. I still don't even have her number. I bet she'll call me again, though. Hey, can I put on Surrealistic Pillow?"

"Go right ahead, man."

Jasper lifted the lid of the little record player in the corner of the room. From the pile of records standing against the wall, he picked up the album, put it on the couch, and removed the vinyl disc. He put it on and lifted the needle down onto the second track.

"Let me guess," said Abelard. "'Somebody to Love' and 'White Rabbit.'"

"Well, you know my feelings on Grace Slick."

"Janis Joplin," was the simple reply. "Janis Joplin."

"We could argue this ad nauseum," said Jasper, "but it's apples and oranges. I maintain that Grace Slick was the best female rock vocalist. Just in terms of the sheer power of her voice."

The first song ended and Jasper picked up the needle, setting it down on the penultimate track. When that was done, Abelard said, "Some kind of ritual, this is becoming."

"Well," said Jasper, "it's good smoking music. So you know what Petra said? She said I look like Robert De Niro."

Abelard furrowed his brow and stared at Jasper's face. "I dunno. I don't really see it."

"I know, right? And my hair's a lot longer than his was."

"Oh well." Abelard shrugged, then sighed deeply. "I have to go study a little. We're doing some study on rats at the university that I'm helping to work on. I don't even remember what it's about. But it's getting going this week." He disappeared into his bedroom.

Jasper took Surrealistic Pillow off the turntable and replaced it with Magical Mystery Tour. It was an American copy of the LP, which consisted of original material from the short film on side A and singles from the same period on side B. He sat on the couch and finished his cigarette. He felt a calmness that had eluded him for some time. Eventually, a strong creative spirit came upon him. He grabbed the legal pad and wrote.

"It dumbfounds me every morning that I am alive, absolutely strikes me dumb. Most folks reestablish consciousness, and, taking silent note of their newfound awareness, throw themselves into the machine that is Earth. But those are the fools. I portend no superiority to them other than that I am acutely aware of the cold stare of infinity, having looked it face to face, and realize just how improbable my lifeblood is. There are six billion humans on this planet, but there could equally well be six trillion and I would still be just as nonplussed, for the cosmos knows no bounds and the probability of my existence would be equally slim. So I like instead in my bedchamber, mustering up the will and the courage to live this infinitesimal life and to do what I can to vindicate it."

He felt a certain catharsis. Momentarily, the record came to an end and as the needle traces the outside rim of the vinyl a periodic "thump" could be heard. Instead of picking up the needle, he sat on the couch and smoked another cigarette. Every time the record protested its end with this periodic "thump," Jasper felt like it was some kind of echo of the revolution of the earth itself. Eventually he got up and took the record off, putting it back carefully into its slipcase.

The rest of the day wasn't very exciting for him. He relaxed and completed some homework that was due the next day, and then ate some raw almonds. He didn't really have the appetite for a full dinner after the lunch with Petra. Eventually he turned in, on the early side, as he had a class the next morning at 9 o'clock.