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Oliver BenjaminAbyssiniaA NOVELOliv


Oliver Benjamin
Abyssinia
A NOVEL
Oliver Benjamin
abyssinia@oliverbenjamin.net
© 2004 Oliver Benjamin
3
P A R T 1
GROUNDS
I am going to put a wish of mine into the form of a
story. This is the effect of your wine—for wine is
a crazy thing. It sets the wisest man singing and
giggling like a girl; it lures him on to dance and it
makes him blurt out what were better left unsaid.
However, I’ve set my tongue wagging now and I
might as well go on.
HOMER
,
The Odyssey
ABYSSINIA
4
Oliver Benjamin
Benediction:
IN HIS
PURGATORIO
,
DANTE DESCRIBED TWO
rivers that branched from the earthly para-
dise, a high place somewhere south of civi-
lization. Drinking from one made you forget
your sins, the other helped you remember
your virtues.
So when Columbus sailed near
Venezuela two hundred years later and
found a flood of fresh water pouring from
the mouth of the Orinoco, he was convinced
he had found a way to paradise. Blind with
thirst, he was determined to find his Eden.
He did in a way, and his sins were promptly
forgotten, his immortality ensured.
The problem with paradise, of course, is
that everyone’s trying to get in. Yogi Berra
famously complained “Nobody goes there
anymore. It’s too crowded.” Word had
gotten out. And with paradise full of fools,
it’s no wonder the philosophers aren’t
allowed to enter.
So please raise your glass and toast to
wretched, enchanted places everywhere.
May you never be discovered, for your own
damned good. And join us for a drink to
remember, to forget.
5
CHAPTER 1
It is not down on any map; true places never are.
HERMAN MELVILLE
,
Moby Dick
1. A Hole
Undergrounds
was a watering hole in both senses of the
term: a place to drink, and a hole. It was a frayed coffee-
house, an easy abyss which catered primarily to the cast-
away and confused. This was not by design: it was so diffi-
cult to locate that only misguided souls might ever
stumble upon it. The only way to find it, if you didn’t
already know, was to follow the cat.
Roy’s tawny Abyssinian hunted regularly on the
Promenade, the popular walking street nearby
Undergrounds. Its busy shops generated enough waste to
ensure there was always plenty of game around. On this
day she caught and killed a giant rat, dragging it back to
the shop to be surveyed proudly (she must have imag-
ined) by Roy.
A drunken bag lady bent on following the animal back
to Roy’s shop, shuffled unsteadily behind it through the
narrow and winding alley. When she arrived at
Undergrounds she didn’t notice the unusual entrance and
bashed her head on the low frame: It was only four and a
half feet high. She lay dizzy in the doorway, half in, half
out.
Roy saw this happen and rushed out to tend to her
bruise. He offered words of encouragement and helped
ABYSSINIA
6
Oliver Benjamin
her inside for a cup of caffeine, the most popular medi-
cine in the world. She smiled in grateful, bewildered
appreciation.
The bag lady nursed the hot brew alone at a table. The
place was quite cozy, and though not an epicurean by any
stretch, she was sure this was the best coffee she had ever
tasted. There was a carved wooden mask above her head,
a cigar stuck in its mouth. The mask reeked faintly of
whiskey, and it was for her a comforting aroma. There
was also, she couldn’t help but notice, an enormous
woman seated in the corner, babbling in some bizarre
language.
The bag lady wrinkled her bruised forehead and
wondered a little too loudly, “Whaz this, a loony bin?”
Roy’s lover, Leona, was not loony, but meditating. The
syllables she recited, long-ago transcribed by Indian
priests, were said to be the babytalk of the universe.
It was easy for Leona to ignore the old woman’s cagey
stare and ceaseless muttering. After sitting and listening
to her own mind for many years she believed she had
mastered her moods to such a degree that she could actu-
ally select one as easily as some selected their daily coffee.
With the aid of a floral oil rubbed on her skin, Leona had
effectively managed to set her pineal gland to
whimsical,
yet full-bodied
. Despite her training, she could not deal
with what came next: a pile of rat guts dumped into her
lap. Agog, she began to tilt towards
nauseous and hyster-
ical
and then tumbled into
indignant and belligerent
.
“That fucking cat!” she roared, throwing the rat at
Sheba. It landed at the feet of the homeless woman, who
asked if she could keep it. Bennie, the resident shaman
and dishwasher, came out from the kitchen to clean up
the bloody mess.
7
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Oliver BenjaminAbyssiniaSEBUAH NOVELOliver BenjaminAbyssinia@oliverbenjamin.net© 2004 Oliver Benjamin3P R T 1TAMANAku akan menempatkan keinginan saya ke dalam bentukcerita. Ini adalah efek dari anggur-anggur adalahhal yang gila. Ini set yang paling bijaksana bernyanyi dancekikikan seperti gadis; itu umpan dia pada tari danmembuatnya menyemburkan apa yang lebih baik kiri tak terkatakan.Namun, saya telah membuat lidah bergoyang-goyang sekarang dan sayamungkin juga pergi.HOMER,OdysseyABYSSINIA4Oliver BenjaminDoa berkat:DALAMPURGATORIO,DANTE MENGGAMBARKAN DUAsungai yang bercabang dari para duniawi-dise, tempat tinggi di suatu tempat Selatan civi-lization. Minum dari satu membuat Anda lupadosa-dosa Anda, yang lain membantu Anda mengingatkebajikan Anda.Jadi ketika Columbus berlayar di dekatVenezuela dua ratus tahun kemudian danmenemukan banjir air tawar yang mengalir darimulut Orinoco, ia adalah yakinia menemukan sebuah cara untuk surga. Buta denganHaus, ia bertekad untuk menemukan Eden nya.Dia lakukan di jalan, dan dosa yang segeralupa, memastikan keabadianNya.Masalah dengan surga, tentu saja, adalahbahwa setiap orang mencoba untuk masuk. Yogi Berraterkenal mengeluh "tak seorang pun pergi ke sanalagi. Itu terlalu ramai." Kata telahmendapatkan. Dan dengan surga yang penuh dengan orang bodoh,tidak heran tidak para filsufdiizinkan masuk.Jadi silakan menaikkan gelas Anda dan bersulang untukcelaka, terpesona tempat di mana-mana.Mungkin Anda tidak pernah ditemukan, untuk Anda sendiriSangat baik. Dan bergabung dengan kami untuk menikmati sebuah minuman untukIngat, lupa.5BAB 1Hal ini tidak turun pada peta apapun; tempat-tempat yang benar tidak pernah ada.HERMAN MELVILLE,Moby Dick1. sebuah lubangKereta bawah tanahadalah sebuah lubang berair di kedua Indra dariistilah: tempat untuk minum dan lubang. Itu kopi berjumbai-House, sebuah jurang mudah yang melayani terutama untuk pemain-pergi dan bingung. Itu bukan oleh Desain: itu begitu sulit -kultus untuk menemukan bahwa hanya salah kaprah jiwa mungkin pernahtersandung itu. Satu-satunya cara untuk menemukan itu, jika Anda tidaksudah tahu, adalah untuk mengikuti kucing.Roy cokelat Abyssinian diburu secara teratur padaPromenade, jalan jalan dekatKereta bawah tanah. Toko-toko yang sibuk yang dihasilkan cukup sampah kememastikan selalu ada banyak permainan di sekitar. Inihari ia menangkap dan membunuh tikus raksasa, menariknya kembali keToko untuk disurvei bangga (dia harus memiliki terbakarined) oleh Roy.Mabuk tas wanita cenderung mengikuti hewan kembaliRoy berbelanja, berjalan tertatih-tatih di balik itu melaluigang yang sempit dan berliku. Ketika dia tiba diKereta bawah tanah yang dia tidak menyadari pintu masuk yang tidak biasa danmemukul kepalanya pada frame rendah: hanya empat itu dansetengah kaki tinggi. Dia berbaring pusing di pintu, setengah dalam, setengahkeluar.Roy melihat ini terjadi dan bergegas keluar untuk cenderung diamemar. Ia menawarkan kata-kata dorongan dan membantuABYSSINIA6Oliver BenjaminNya dalam secangkir kafein, medi paling populer-Cine di dunia. Dia tersenyum di bersyukur, bingungpenghargaan.Tas wanita merawat minuman panas sendiri di meja. Thetempat ini cukup nyaman, dan meskipun tidak epicurean olehperegangan, dia adalah yakin ini adalah kopi terbaik dia pernahmencicipi. Ada sebuah topeng kayu yang diukir di atas kepalanya,cerutu terjebak dalam mulutnya. Topeng reeked samar-samar dariwiski, dan itu adalah untuk aroma yang menghibur. Adajuga, dia tidak bisa membantu tetapi pemberitahuan, yang sangat besarWanita duduk di sudut, mengoceh dalam beberapa anehbahasa.Tas wanita berkerut dahi memar danbertanya-tanya sedikit terlalu keras, "Whaz ini, loony bin?"Roy kekasih, Leona, adalah tidak gila, tetapi bermeditasi. Thesuku kata yang dia membaca, lalu ditranskripsi oleh Indianimam, dikatakan babytalk alam semesta.Itu mudah untuk Leona untuk mengabaikan perempuan tua itu cageymenatap dan tak henti-hentinya bergumam. Setelah duduk dan mendengarkanpikiran sendiri selama bertahun-tahun, ia percaya iamenguasai suasana hatinya sedemikian rupa bahwa dia bisa actu-Pilih salah satu sekutu semudah beberapa dipilih kopi sehari-hari mereka.Dengan bantuan dari minyak bunga digosok pada kulit nya, Leona telahefektif berhasil mengatur kelenjar pineal nyaaneh,Namun penuh bertubuh. Meskipun pelatihan, dia tidak bisa berurusandengan apa yang datang berikutnya: tumpukan tikus nyali dibuang ke dalam dirinyapangkuan. Antusias, dia mulai miringkan terhadapmual dan hyster -iCaldan kemudian jatuh ke dalammarah dan bermusuhan."Kucing yang sialan!" dia raung, melempar tikus diSheba. Mendarat di kaki wanita tunawisma, yangbertanya jika ia bisa menyimpannya. Bennie, dukun pendudukdan mesin cuci piring, keluar dari dapur untuk membersihkankekacauan berdarah.7
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Oliver Benjamin
Abyssinia
A NOVEL
Oliver Benjamin
abyssinia@oliverbenjamin.net
© 2004 Oliver Benjamin
3
P A R T 1
GROUNDS
I am going to put a wish of mine into the form of a
story. This is the effect of your wine—for wine is
a crazy thing. It sets the wisest man singing and
giggling like a girl; it lures him on to dance and it
makes him blurt out what were better left unsaid.
However, I’ve set my tongue wagging now and I
might as well go on.
HOMER
,
The Odyssey
ABYSSINIA
4
Oliver Benjamin
Benediction:
IN HIS
PURGATORIO
,
DANTE DESCRIBED TWO
rivers that branched from the earthly para-
dise, a high place somewhere south of civi-
lization. Drinking from one made you forget
your sins, the other helped you remember
your virtues.
So when Columbus sailed near
Venezuela two hundred years later and
found a flood of fresh water pouring from
the mouth of the Orinoco, he was convinced
he had found a way to paradise. Blind with
thirst, he was determined to find his Eden.
He did in a way, and his sins were promptly
forgotten, his immortality ensured.
The problem with paradise, of course, is
that everyone’s trying to get in. Yogi Berra
famously complained “Nobody goes there
anymore. It’s too crowded.” Word had
gotten out. And with paradise full of fools,
it’s no wonder the philosophers aren’t
allowed to enter.
So please raise your glass and toast to
wretched, enchanted places everywhere.
May you never be discovered, for your own
damned good. And join us for a drink to
remember, to forget.
5
CHAPTER 1
It is not down on any map; true places never are.
HERMAN MELVILLE
,
Moby Dick
1. A Hole
Undergrounds
was a watering hole in both senses of the
term: a place to drink, and a hole. It was a frayed coffee-
house, an easy abyss which catered primarily to the cast-
away and confused. This was not by design: it was so diffi-
cult to locate that only misguided souls might ever
stumble upon it. The only way to find it, if you didn’t
already know, was to follow the cat.
Roy’s tawny Abyssinian hunted regularly on the
Promenade, the popular walking street nearby
Undergrounds. Its busy shops generated enough waste to
ensure there was always plenty of game around. On this
day she caught and killed a giant rat, dragging it back to
the shop to be surveyed proudly (she must have imag-
ined) by Roy.
A drunken bag lady bent on following the animal back
to Roy’s shop, shuffled unsteadily behind it through the
narrow and winding alley. When she arrived at
Undergrounds she didn’t notice the unusual entrance and
bashed her head on the low frame: It was only four and a
half feet high. She lay dizzy in the doorway, half in, half
out.
Roy saw this happen and rushed out to tend to her
bruise. He offered words of encouragement and helped
ABYSSINIA
6
Oliver Benjamin
her inside for a cup of caffeine, the most popular medi-
cine in the world. She smiled in grateful, bewildered
appreciation.
The bag lady nursed the hot brew alone at a table. The
place was quite cozy, and though not an epicurean by any
stretch, she was sure this was the best coffee she had ever
tasted. There was a carved wooden mask above her head,
a cigar stuck in its mouth. The mask reeked faintly of
whiskey, and it was for her a comforting aroma. There
was also, she couldn’t help but notice, an enormous
woman seated in the corner, babbling in some bizarre
language.
The bag lady wrinkled her bruised forehead and
wondered a little too loudly, “Whaz this, a loony bin?”
Roy’s lover, Leona, was not loony, but meditating. The
syllables she recited, long-ago transcribed by Indian
priests, were said to be the babytalk of the universe.
It was easy for Leona to ignore the old woman’s cagey
stare and ceaseless muttering. After sitting and listening
to her own mind for many years she believed she had
mastered her moods to such a degree that she could actu-
ally select one as easily as some selected their daily coffee.
With the aid of a floral oil rubbed on her skin, Leona had
effectively managed to set her pineal gland to
whimsical,
yet full-bodied
. Despite her training, she could not deal
with what came next: a pile of rat guts dumped into her
lap. Agog, she began to tilt towards
nauseous and hyster-
ical
and then tumbled into
indignant and belligerent
.
“That fucking cat!” she roared, throwing the rat at
Sheba. It landed at the feet of the homeless woman, who
asked if she could keep it. Bennie, the resident shaman
and dishwasher, came out from the kitchen to clean up
the bloody mess.
7
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