Fucky Film Review!

* * * The Rosy Crucifixion II * * *

Posted by Web Manager on May 19, 2011

Suddenly he realized that he had collected an audience. “Go home!” he shouted, raising both arms to shoo the crowd away. “Are we selling shoelaces here? What is it with you? Must I rent a hall to speak a few words in private to a friend? This is not Russia. Go home . . . shoo!” And again he brandished his arms.

No one budged. They simply smiled indulgently. Apparently they knew him well, this Nahoum Yood. One of them spoke up in Yiddish. Nahoum Yood gave us a sad complacent sort of smile and looked at us helplessly.

“They want that I should recite to them something in Yiddish.”

“Fine, I said, “why don’t you.”

He smiled again, sheepishly this time. “they are like children,” he said.  “Wait, I will tell them a fable. You know what is a fable, don’t you? This is a fable about a green horse with three legs. I can only tell it in Yiddish . . . you will excuse me.”

The moment he began talking Yiddish his whole countenance changed.  He put on such a serious, mournful look that I thought he would burst into tears any moment. But when I looked at his audience I saw that they were chuckling and giggling.  The more serious and mournful his expression, the more jovial his listeners grew. Finally they were doubled up with laughter.  Nahoum Yood never so much as cracked a smile. He finished with a dead-pan look in the midst of gales of laughter.

“Now,” he said, turning his back on his audience and grasping us each by the arm, “now we will go somewhere and hear some music. I know a little place on Hester Street, in a cellar. Roumanian gypsies.  We will have a little wine and some Mysterium, yes? You have money? I have only twenty three cents.” He smiled again, this time like a huge cranberry pie.

– from Plexus, by Henry Miller


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