The Gospel of Thom Smit
* * *
Genesis
Adam was a short beast, with a thin line of hair down his
back, like a mane. Eve had a thin
line of hair down her back; it was like a mane.
In those days, when you came into town, a stranger, you
could always recognize Adam and Eve, because they were the only ones without
navels.
The first writing was by Cain, who started
by drawing funny pictures on his parents' bellies. Their bellies were smooth, and had no navels. Cain would ask them to lie back by the
fire, and close their eyes, and he would draw. When he was done, they would open their eyes and look at
what he had drawn.
Once Cain drew an unheard of thing. It was such a thing, that when God saw
it, he let it stay on Eve's belly as a punishment. God punished Eve for the evil sport she had fallen
into. It could not be washed away,
but stayed on Eve's belly. For
they had fallen into an evil sport.
It was during
the years in the wilderness. Moses
came down from Sinai and saw what Aaron had done in his absence.
And Moses
said: "What is this you have done!"
Aaron said:
"You know yourself what this people is like. They said to me: 'Make us something to glitter in our
heads. This God who led us up from
Egypt--we don't know what's become of him.' So I said to them: 'Who of you is still shapely and comely?' And they came to me and showed me, and
I filmed them all. Then I gathered
the film and threw it into the fire.
And after awhile out came this calf."
Yahweh did not plant a garden in the plot
behind DV-8, for nothing was planted there. And the land of that plot stretched forth in mud and
occasional sprouting weeds, and cigarette butts did scatter over the land. And one could see the plot from the
window by the urinal, and the plot did stretch forth under the dull glow of the
streetlight. And Yahweh saw that
it was barren, and good for nothing.
In DV-8 did the Jebusites, the Amorites, the Girgashites,
the Hivites, Arkites, Sinites, and Arvadites come to drink their beer. There did they gather to drink.
And Cathy and Niall did serve the
Jebusites, the Amorites, the Girgashites, the Hivites, Arkites, Sinites and
Arvadites. Them did they serve the
beer that they drank. And the
Arkites, Amorites, Jebusites and Sinites did tip the bar. But the Girgashites, Hivites and
Arvadites did not tip her.
And Cathy did complain to Yahweh of the Girgashites, Hivites
and Arvadites.
And Cathy
said: "Whence do they all come to me, to buy my drink and slobber on the
wood, but never do they put a dollar in the glass? How long shall I suffer the Girgashites, Hivites and
Arvadites to buy my drink? And
when will they return to their lands?"
And she said: "The Arkites, Amorites, Jebusites, and
Sinites do show right proportion.
For they spend freely on drink, and occasionally do they tip us who
serve them the drink."
And Yahweh heard Cathy's complaint. And Yahweh did bless the Arkites,
Amorites, Jebusites, and Sinites.
But the others he did not bless.
And they did suffer grievous hangovers.
And John the Hittite did play the best music in DV-8. And Wednesday night would he bring
forth from his own collection, and he would play. And the heavy notes of blues and deep solid guitar licks did
fill the place. And nowhere was to
be heard the light dribbling piss of pop.
And none dared rebuke John the Hittite for the music he did
play. For if one should rebuke
him, John the Hittite would smite him.
For John the Hittite smote many a whiner in his youth. And thus it is said: Many a whiner
was smote by John, but rarely a man was smitten by the women in DV-8.
And the Hivites and Arvadites did play billiards in the basement
of DV-8. And the urinal did have a
screen that pulled shut for the modesty of the Amorites. But the Jebusites, Girgashites,
Hivites, Arkites, Sinites and Arvadites did have no modesty; and they did show
forth their members freely to all who would look.
And one day it happened that Daniel the Arkite was found in
the plot of barren land. And he
was upside down and sorely drunk.
And he did say: "Who hath put me thus in the plot of land, to be
thus upside down and sorely drunk?
And to have thus mud and a cigarette butt on the side of my face. Who hath done this deed to
me?" And no man did admit it,
but all said that he had put himself in the plot of land, and was himself
upside down there, having been put there by no man.
And Daniel the Arkite did curse the men of DV-8, saying:
"The Arkites and Amorites and Sinites and Arvadites are gobshites. How long shall I listen to their
slobber over the wood, before I piss off from this place?"
And the men of DV-8 did openly mock at Daniel the
Arkite. For he did curse the
Arkites among the others; but he himself was of the Arkites.
And one day did Niall the Sinite stride across the plot of
barren land. And under his foot
did he tread the cigarette butts and the mud. And the sprouting tufts did not set his heart mourning; but
he did stride forth.
And Niall the Sinite did set forth from his homeland in
DV-8. And Yahweh considered it
righteousness in him. And Niall
the Sinite with his brother Jason the Sinite did establish their seed in a new
land, and the seed did flourish, and Yahweh considered it righteousness in
them.
And the Flood did come.
And few were the heads of those that did peep above the water; but many
were the heads of those that sank.
And mud was all over the place, and the Girgashites, Hivites, Gobshites
and Arvadites did wail grievously unto Yahweh, but He paid them no heed. As to the Arkites, Amorites, Jebusites,
and Sinites, when the Flood did come they found themselves living in fifth
floor apartments or higher, for Yahweh had seen to it that they should stay
dry.
And Cathy did venture forth on the waters of the Flood. And she did find herself adrift over
the place of six ploughshares. And
lo, when the waters did recede, a pub was brought forth. And Cathy did name that pub Bob Wun
Daye, which being interpreted means No problem.
And the walls of that place were not hung with tattered banners, and the
air there did not smell of locker rooms; neither did the Arkites, Amorites,
Jebusites and Sinites slobber on the wood; but Yahweh did bless that place.
The Gospel of Thom Smit
I.
Once upon a
time was the Word. And the Word was without form, and void.
In short, the Word was many words, and sometimes even
things.
One could not tell the difference in any place, for all
words and things were different; they were all different from each other, and
they were even more different from the Word. And the Word, in its turn, was different according to whom
you asked, and in what words you asked.
What's more, all was such that one could not fix one's eyes
on any thing, or fix one's ears on any word, and expect it even to stay the
same as itself.
In short, all words were different from themselves, and all
things were different from any words, and also from each other, and also from
themselves.
Even one's eyes were different, the left one from the right,
and either eye was certainly different, very different, from either ear; and
the ears protruded from each side of the head: in short, they were very
different.
Then Thom Smit was born.
II.
And Thom Smit did grow to be a youth of fourteen years, and
his virtue did show forth in many ways.
And the people were astonished by his words, for he spoke as
one with wisdom, and not as one who watched TV.
Said he: "Just as our elders,
weakened by years of compromise, submit to the presence of those they loathe,
so do our melons soak the fouled waters of the plain, till they poison both
themselves and those that partake of them."
And: "Submit not to both these poisons. Though you eat the melons to the skin, yet leave the elders
to chew their own bitter rinds."
And Thom Smit did take ceramics class at the Pottery Barn of
the strip mall as you drive into town from Monona.
And he did throw him many a mean pot. And he did paint upon his pots designs
and symbols, and the people did look at what he painted, and did say,
"What hath this youth?"
For they said: "This youth is not like others, but hath
him a perversion of the head."
And the owner of the Pottery Barn in those days was named
Chuck, and Chuck did keep the pots of Thom Smit in the back, lest other youths
should see them, and lest they should speak of them unto their parents. For on the pots were many things that
youths should not see.
And some of Thom Smit's pots did the owner break outright,
pretending they had cracked in the kiln.
"For this one," sayeth Chuck unto his assistant, "this
one is surely too much; I will not even fire this one."
And Thom Smit did suspect Chuck of thus breaking his pots,
and spoke sorely unto him.
And Thom Smit did take him a can of maroon glaze, and did
pour it into the drawer of Chuck's desk.
And the can was a large can, and did foul the books and
papers in that desk, dripping even unto the floor.
And Thom Smit did break seventeen ceramic owls made by the
ladies of St. James Lutheran. And
Chuck did see him do it, and did hear him speak bitter words as he did it.
And Thom Smit was no longer welcome at the Pottery Barn, but did take
up tennis.
Said he: "Our world is all preprocessed, and full of
fakes; fakes upon fakes. The
boredom of Formica covers all things here, even unto death."
And all of these things were when Thom Smit was still but a
youth of fourteen years.
III.
And it came to pass as Thom Smit was a young man that he
went forth like many of his generation to work as a barista.
And this work was as he was a student at the university in
the town of Madison; and the cafŽ in the which he did work was near upon the
university, and was often filled with people.
And the people of the cafŽ were of many sorts.
And Thom Smit did work next to the scribe of that place, and
he did serve forth the drinks unto the people.
And the prophet of that place in those days was named Cosmo
di Madison. And Cosmo di Madison
did preach the word of the Lord unto the people there. But the people heeded him not.
And Cosmo di Madison did resent the presence of Thom Smit at
the espresso machine, and did make him out to be a servant of Belial.
And Cosmo di Madison complained sorely to the scribe of that
place, and spoke many bitter words.
And the scribe of that place recorded the words of Cosmo di
Madison, for in those days did he note down all his words.
And it came to pass when Thom Smit heard the words against
him, that he did say unto Comso di Madison, and he said it unto his face:
"A prophet art thou not, but art rather a paranoid
schizophrenic."
And: "The symptoms are obvious upon you, O Cosmo di
Madison, and all do know it. Thou
art one who barkest at the moon.
Woof woof!"
And Cosmo di Madison did not suffer the words of Thom Smit
in silence, but did rail against him to all that would hear.
And Cosmo di Madison would drink no drink made by his hands,
but did speak of such drinks as having a poison in them.
And one day Thom Smit did say unto Cosmo di Madison:
"Today it seemeth you have not taken your medicine, O great prophet, and
so it is that you speak forth loudly your prophecies, and the people heed you
not."
And: "Today I have a hangover, O
prophet, and care not to hear you.
So get you hence through the door, or pay for your coffee like the
others. If you cannot pay, so must
you go hence to the street. For
today I have a hangover, O prophet, and care not to hear your prophecies."
And upon hearing these words a rage did come upon Cosmo di
Madison, and he did complain ever more sorely of Thom Smit, and did attribute
to him many conspiracies and sundry larcenies.
And the scribe did write down all his words, for in those
days did he write down all the words that the prophet did say.
IV.
From the Scribe's Journals:
Thom Smit--to think he is a student of engineering! He's blonde and small, of muscular
build. He's a great reader of
Gilles Deleuze, and considers himself a Nietzschean. It's lucky for me he's at the cafŽ. He's proving an excellent foil for
Cosmo di Madison. I've recently
got him reading Rabelais. --May, 1992
Cosmo di Madison now recognizes in Thom Smit a nemesis
worthy of the swiftest action. That I'm responsible for his being hired at the
cafŽ is generally known, and I confess it openly. I should have seen the man's character for what it was. Needless to say, Cosmo di Madison has
forgiven this lapse on my part, pointing out that Pseudo-Sergeant Major Smit is
obviously a professional and had been trained by Kissinger's people
specifically to pull the wool over my eyes. Cosmo di Madison himself was almost taken in. "At first I thought he was just a
loser like all the other losers.
But it's worse than that. He's a fucking imposter--ya hear me?" --July, 1992
Remarks of Cosmo di Madison on Thom Smit:
1. "That useless fucking bastard calls himself a
fucking lieutenant major, but he's just a fucking high school dropout drug
addict who couldn't tell his ass from a hole in the ground if his life depended
on it."
2. "How many customers do you think that fucking punk
is gonna short change before Mark [the owner] wises up and fires him?"
3. "You know he's got his finger in the till and he's
supplying all the barbiturates to Craig and Monkey Butt. Kissinger's got him working the joint
to make sure they do their job and try to drug me every fucking chance they
get. I wasn't born yesterday what
do you think! Pssh! That fucking Craig has been selling the barbiturates on the
side too.... Oh, don't act so surprised!
You know it goes on."
4. "Mark needs to spend more time in his shop. I got enough stuff to do keeping the
customers clean. If Kissinger buys
out your staff, this place is finished, ya hear me? I won't come back.
Ya hear me? You just see
what'll go down then. Mark will
wish he never even heard of this town.
Ya hear me?"
[The scribe's writing of the deeds and sayings of Cosmo d
Madison is at:
http://www.necessaryprose.com ]
V.
And soon after these things had come to pass, behold it did
happen that the spirit of the Lord came upon Thom Smit, and he began to speak
in parables.
And all at the cafŽ did wonder upon it, and did say, "What
hath Thom Smit, that he speakest thusly?"
And he did leave his work at the cafŽ, and ceased from his
study at the university.
And Thom Smit went forth to preach unto
the people like Cosmo di Madison, for the spirit of the Lord had moved him.
And Thom Smit
did wander the streets on the west side of Madison, whereas Cosmo di Madison
did preach in the downtown.
And Thom Smit preached the word unto the people of the west
side, as you head out of town toward Monona. And the people heeded him not.
And thus it was that the people said amongst themselves:
"Is Thom Smit also one of the prophets?" And these words are as a proverb even unto this day.
VI.
And Thom Smit built his house on sandy ground, and sowed his
seed upon the rocky wayside, and combed his hair with a goblet.
And he took a fox for a mango, and made of it a hairy puree.
And many did laugh at him, and said: "Thom Smit does
not know his ass from a hole in the ground."
And they said: "Thom Smit could not find his ass with
both hands."
But verily it was said unto them, and it was said by Thom
Smit: "A day shall come to pass when none shall be able to tell their ass
from a hole in the ground. And
then shall a great wailing be heard."
And he said: "Only those who from the very beginning
could not tell their asses from holes in the ground--only such as these shall
enter the Kingdom of Heaven. All
others shall be cast out, and their asses shall be grass, and they will know
not if they have been turned into a golf course, or what. Boy, will there be wailing then."
And he said:
"Those who mistake their asses for a wheelbarrow shall inherit the
earth."
And he said: "Blessed are they who try to catch flies in
their mouth. Blessed are they who would rather hang out in a juice bar than
flay the fox with the big boys."
And he said: "My father is a colonel and I am a
sergeant major. My father could
thrash all your male relatives with his left hand if he wanted. My father has forty-seven
Cadillacs."
But the people heard him not, and they sent him packing from
their patio parties; and their daughters did tend to throw garbage at the back
of his head.
But verily, reader, can you tell your ass from a hole in the
ground even now?
I.
The eggs are white and have a yellow center.
I am white and have a black center.
My wife is ivory with an unknown center, perhaps red.
Our guest is light yellow, or olive, with a center of pure white.
Christ said: "My yolk is light."
Yes, but light what?
Valentinus: "Of a very light color indeed! Like a shimmering peach."
II.
The first egg I crack has two yolks connected by a bloody umbilical to the
clear mucous membrane surrounding them.
The crystal sphere.
I.
Original sin, the fruit of the Fall, is
not passed on through blood or the soul, but through language.
The fallen world is the object of
language.
It follows that our being in language is our
being in sin. This does not mean
that we can live other than in language, but rather means that we must live in
language so as least to miss the mark.
The poet comes before the scribe.
The poet's work is revelation of the divine. The poet allows us to live in language so that we may least
miss the mark. The poet forms
language so that it is the closest to nonlanguage.
The poet makes use of, and perfects,
those elements in language that are not of language.
There
is a possible accumulation in language, a materiality, a hard rhythm at the
heart of language heard best by the poet.
The poet follows this rhythm until language breaks and cracks, having
reached the top or bottom, the left or right, the backwards or forwards, the
inside or outside, the temple or frontier of its range.
II.
The scribe loves all that is getting out
of hand. He loves such because he
knows, given the tininess of his own hands, that everything has already gotten
out of hand.
"Everything has gotten out of
hand!" says the scribe with pleasure.
And being that everything is thus
begotten, the scribe knows it to be most recognizable in its thus-begottenness
when it is not merely known to have gotten out of hand, but is felt to be
always and ever becoming out of hand.
"Hell! Best for it to be gloriously becoming so!"--that is what the
scribe says.
In fact the scribe knows his hands to be
so tiny that the only thing they can really grasp is the stylus. And the scribe grasps this stylus scriptively,
which is to say in a manner that pays homage to the getting there of all that
is way out of hand, but not only in a manner that pays homage, but in a manner
also that is no manner,
but is instead way out of hand.
The scribe, then, holds the stylus in his
tiny hand, but knows that what the stylus leaves, the marks the stylus leaves,
are already out of hand the moment they are left, are left as it were in homage
to the loveliness of their getting out of hand, and are also in their very
leaving left out of hand.
From this you can see that the scribe is
in no man's hand. He is hardly a
hired hand. That he kept grain
accounts--don't believe it. Rather
heaped he grain round Pharaohs conscripted. And will!
The scribe loves all that is getting out
of hand.
III.
God formed man of the clay of the ground and then breathed
into him the breath of life. The
clay of the ground as material and the breathing in of the breath of life:
these have been the focus of most concern in our literature and
speculation. And the question of
what the breath of life may be has been recurrent. But the question of the forming, the verb forming, hasn't raised our attention in the
right way. And yet everyone
knows--the Sumerians and Babylonians knew--that the pressing of marks into the
clay was the crucial part of this forming. It was the pressing of marks, the right marks, that gave the
clay the dignity needed for its reception of the breath of life.
The clay as result of this writing is clay that may receive
the breath of life if only this breath be given it.
---------
---------
Email: inthemargins03@hotmail.com
---------
This page is at
http://www.necessaryprose.com/
---------