For Sure (50 page)

“Wot's dis den?”

Étienne didn't dare touch what he saw. He had an innate respect for the formalities due all collections, regardless what they were.

“Dat's sawdust.”

Chico had answered nonchalantly, as though there was nothing odd about collecting sawdust in bottles.

“Awh.”

. . .

“An' wot're you goin' to do wid it?”

Chico shrugged:

“It's a collection, right? You don't do nuttin' wid it.”

Chico picked up one of the bottles, shook it gently and held it up to examine its contents in the light from the room's window.

“Dis 'ere was a wee bit damp when I gathered it up. 'Twas rainin' an' de folks next door was puttin' up a fence.”

Étienne cast an eye over the other bottles lined up in the box, finally daring to pick one up.

“Dat one's de cupboards up in de attic. Go ahead and take a sniff, why don't ya.”

Chico unscrewed the cap and placed the bottle under Étienne's nose. And yes, it did smell slightly of something.

In other words, I conceal, therefore I am.

The customers came in and out of the Babar at a regular rhythm.

“Awh, geez, not 'er.”

Zed and Terry glanced discretely in the direction Pomme was looking, and saw a young woman they didn't know.

“She's after buyin' a loft. Must be fifteen times she's asked me 'bout it. She contact you yet?”

Zed wasn't sure, but he didn't think so.

“Geez, I hopes she don't see me.”

Zed watched the woman make her way across the room.

“She's sittin' down wid Zipper an' dem. Where she longs at?”

Pomme spoke without enthusiasm:

“She's Okey-Dokey's sister, only just come back from some years in Montréal.”

. . .

. . .

“An wot about Okey-Dokey? She still in Toronto, den?”

There is no direct way.

Looking for something else in his cupboard, Chico moved a glass jug containing twisted wires.

Étienne cried out:

“Wot's dat?!”

Chico almost fell over.

“It's only some old busted guitar strings. Every time me dad busted one he'd give it to me. Ee said ee'd be famous one day.”

Conflicting ideas jostled for position in Étienne's mind.

“Grandad give me de jug. Ee was usin' it fer gas fer de lawnmower.”

Étienne couldn't tear his gaze away from the jug full of broken guitar strings. He'd never seen anything like it.

“Der's twenty-seven of dem. I hasn't put none in since he's in jail.”

This detail brought Étienne back to reality:

“Was he breakin' dem on purpose?”

Chico laughed:

“Course not! Dey breaks all on der own!”

“Awh.”

Regarding Zed's expression “Where she longs at?,” the original French “
D'yoùsqu'a d'vient
?” leaves open the question of whether Zed was asking whence she came or where she was from, or where she'd been. The author apologizes for this brief lack of vigilance. The translator, who has fallen back on the Newfoundlandese expression “Where she longs at?,” has no excuse.

When Chico raised the cover on the box he'd dug out of the back of the cupboard, Étienne was agreably surprised at the diversity of its contents.

“Dis 'ere's stuff I doesn't know wot to do wid.”

Étienne contemplated the bric-a-brac, but was unable to identify anything.

“Why den do you keep dem?”

“Dunno.”

Chico picked up an object, examining it from different angles, then put it back and did the same with another.

“Wot's dat?”

“Comes from a door knob dat me grandad took apart.”

The steel square shaft threaded at each end was unquestionably attractive.

“I knows where everyting 'ere's from.”

And Chico closed and replaced the box in the same place, at the very back of the cupboard. Étienne had never imagined it could be useful or interesting to know the provenance of the slightest trifle.

“I put it all de way back in 'ere, on account of Granny almost trew 'er in de trash last year.”

Recapitulation. All things considered, the unavowable is the real. The unavowable kills. Hence the relative importance of the confession. To admit to someone or to oneself is equally difficult. The paradox is that, even to admit something to oneself, one must go through the Other. Because the real is the Other. Is that to say that the ego is not part of the real? Simple answer: The ego is to the real what clothing is to the body: appearance, surface. The ego covers, protects, hides, and the ego's language does the same. Language conceals more than it reveals. And this is what makes the confession so difficult, and objectivity impossible. In other words, I conceal therefore I am. There is no direct way.

“Hallo, Pomme! How's you gettin' on?”

“Awh, hallo! . . .”

Ginette “Okey-Dokey” LeBlanc's sister looked over the other guys at the table. Terry and Zed nodded a polite greeting. Pomme did the introductions.

“Terry . . . Zed . . . um . . . Sorry, I knows yer Ginette's sister, only I's fergot yer name.”

“Simonne, only folks calls me Sam.”

Again, Terry and Zed nodded.

“I'm Terry.”

“Zed.”

A slightly embarassed silence followed, and Pomme felt obliged to revive the conversation:

“Sam's tinking she'd like to be buyin' a loft 'ere.”

Terry took the bait:

“Sure, dis 'ere's a fine place. Only I expect de waitin' list's awful long, eh Zed?”

Zed nodded but, as he was not partial to brutality:

“Still, sometimes folks gets tired o' waitin' an' dey buys someting else instead. So even doh de waitin' list is someting long, she's still movin'.”

Pomme added:

“'Twould be good to 'ave more buildings like dis one 'ere in Moncton.”

But Sam said:

“'Tisn't only de building, doh. 'Tis de folks around as well. All de artists an dat. Me, I designs clothes. Wot I'd like is to have me own store.”

Pomme's curiousity was tweaked:

“Wot sort of clothes?”

The young woman opened her coat, did a slow pirouette. The three guys agreed that her outfit was sharp:

“Dat looks alright.”

She put her hand on the back of an empty chair:

“Mind if I sit meself down?”

12. Who would you most like to meet in a copse of trees on a golf course?

a) The Dalai-Lama

b) Queen Latifa

c) A rabbit

d) Nobody

e) Other: _______________

“An' wot about Riopelle in all dat?”

“Well, ee was more part of de
Art
Informel
dat got started in France after de war. Wasn't a real tight group. Dey had a whole lot o' different styles, wid Soulages an' a couple of udders; still dey was apart from de udders, de Italians an' de Spanish for sure, an' from de Abstract Expressionists an Cobra an' de like.”

“An' what about Pollock, den?”

“Pollock, De Kooning, Rothko, Motherwell, Reinhardt . . . dose were de Abstract Expressionists. All dat was pretty much goin' in New York in de '40s. Dat's wot led to de Action Painting in de '50s.”

“So where does Zablonski fit in all dat, I'd like to know?”

“Der's a group in France, in de late '60s, dey's called Support-Surface. De name tells ya wot was eatin' at dem. Zablonski hails from der, only now ee's gone way far beyond. Ee started by bustin' de surface, den ee busted de support.”

?

!

“I don't see 'im ever comin' back from der.”

!!

Marianne is dreaming. Marianne dreams that she's lying on her back and Carmen is coming toward her, coming to change her diaper. And then it's not Carmen, but Zablonski who's there. He's tickling her with onion sprouts. It's funny. It's warm. It tickles. The tickling is coming from all sides, overflowing. Flowing over. Warm. Everywhere. Marianne made peepee.

Carmen looked in fine form.

“Geez, you're lookin' not a bad bit nice!”

“Tanks!”

We'd agreed to meet at the Roux, the Fox Creek golf course restaurant.

“Dat was a right smart idea you ‘ad to give us each a day off like dat. It's done us a world o' good.”

The waitress brought the menu, asked us if we wanted a drink.

“Were you wantin' to eat?”

“I only want de fries. Dey're supposed to be good 'ere. Dey do 'em wid
yams
.”

“Is dat so?”

“'Tis, and good ting Terry can't hear me sayin'
yams
. Seems I let meself go wid de English words when ee's not around.”

“Well, you sometimes use English words when he's around as well.”

“I knows it, and each time I'm afeared I'm just encouragin' him to do de same.”

“Is ee all dat fragile? Linguistically, I mean . . .”

“I don't always comprehend wot's goin' on in 'is 'ead. Nor in 'is mout'. Days go by an' 'is French is just fine, den all of a sudden, it's as doh English was lyin' in wait down de road to trip 'im up.”

“Lying in wait. I like that.”

“Yer de one taught it to me!”

The waitress brought us our glasses. And our fries. Carmen liked what she knew of
For Sure
; she felt as though she were collaborating in working out the plot:

“'Ave ya decided wot we'll be doin' wid de diamond yet?”

“No. I often think about the diamond thing, but never when I'm actually writing.”

She seemed disconcerted by my reply. Was she disappointed?

“I've got other ideas. I don't think it's necessary to
backtrack
on everything.”

List of post-WWII to early-1970s artistic movements: Abstract Expressionism (New York School), 1940–55; Art informel, France, 1945–60; Lettrism, France, 1946; Madi, Buenos Aires, 1946; Art Brut (called Lumpen Art in New York and rebaptized Outsider Art by Roger Cardinal in 1972); Spatialism, Italy (Milan), 1947–52; COBRA, COpenhagen, BRussels, and Amsterdam, 1948–51; Dau al Set, Barcelona, 1948–53; Subjects of the Artists, U.S.A., 1948–55; Kinetic Art, 1950; Funk Art, San Francisco Bay Area, 1950; Concrete Poetry, 1950; Sound Poetry, 1950; Happenings, U.S.A., 1950; Action Painting, U.S.A., 1951; Exat 51, Yugoslavia, 1951; Independent Group, London, 1952–57; Neo-dada, U.S.A., 1953–55; Gutai, Japan, 1955–72; Pop' Art, U.K. and U.S.A., 1955; Zero Group, Federal Republic of Germany (Dusseldorf), 1957–60; El Paso, Spain (Madrid), 1957–60; Situationist International, France, Italy, and Scandinavia, 1957–72; Hard Edge, New York, late 1950s; Gruppo T, Italy (Milan), 1959–66; Shaped Canvas, U.S.A., 1960; Minimal Art, U.S.A., 1960; Video Art, U.S.A., Europe, 1960; Computer Art, U.S.A., Europe, 1960; New Realism, France, 1960–63; Gruppo Enne (or N), Italy (Padua), 1960–64; G.R.A.V., France, 1960–68; New Figuration, France, 1960–79; Nul Groep, Netherlands, 1961; Fluxus, U.S.A., 1961; Panic, France, 1962; Colorfield, U.S.A., 1962; Copy Art, U.S.A., 1962; Mail Art, 1962; Eat Art, 1963; Zebra Group, Federal Republic of Germany, 1964; Body Art, 1964; Post Painterly Abstraction, U.S.A., 1964; Equipo Cronica, Spain (Valencia), 1964–81; Conceptual Art, U.S.A., Europe, 1965; Op Art, U.S.A., 1965; Mec' Art, Europe, 1965–69; Superealism, U.S.A., 1965–70; E.A.T. (Experiments in Art and Technology), USA (New York), 1966; B.M.P.T. (Buren, Mosset, Parmentier, and Toroni), France, 1966–67; Arte Povera (Poor Art), Italy, late 1960s; Sky Art, U.S.A., 1969; Mono Ha (Thing School), Japan, 1969–70; Support-Surface, France, 1969–72; Land Art, late 1960s in the U.S.A., early 1970s in Europe.

“Some words're spelled de way dey are purely fer technical reasons.”

. . .

“Take, fer example, de word fer “oyster”:
huître
. In de beginnin' it came from de Greek, den it went into de Latin, an' afterwards into French spelled
uistre
,
u-i-s-t-r-e
, wid no
h.
”

. . .

“De
h
was only put der on account of folks was confusin' de
u
wid a
v
, so dat dey was reading
vistre
— which is almost
vitre
or “glass” — instead of
uitre
. Could be printing was too . . . like . . . primitive at de time, so de letters was not so clear. Anyhow, bottom line, de spelling wid an
h
was invented so folks wouldn't confuse an oyster wid a piece o' glass. Dat's wot I means by technical, wot's got nuttin' to do wid the roots of de word.”

. . .

“I hope I isn't borin' you too much?”

. . .

. . .

“Let's just say dat I doesn't figure I'll be playin' wid you all dat often once I gets better at de game.”

“Hahaha! Dat's wot I likes about you, a person always knows where you stand.”

For example, possible ways to write and say the verb
to see
:
ouère, ouaire, wère, wouère, vouère, ouare, ware,
and
voir
. And for
sees
as in “he sees”:
oua, wa, woua, oueille, woueille, weille, ouèye, wouèye, wèye, voueille, vouèye, vouaille
,
and
voit
.