Gymnopédie Set
by Scott Garson
garson c. 80 words
Houston Gymnopédie
The streets have terrible breath, it's said, and everyone hides but the young, who have slick, naked shoulders and fragrant tobacco shreds in the linings of their empty pockets. Had we lived there, I'd have thrown beer bottles, end over end, at the shadows of rats. I'd have shined apples with spit. I'd have offered my blood-puffed hands and taken hold of your shoes, the tapering soles of your heels, if you needed to see over fences.
garson c. 90 words
D.C. Gymnopédie
Take the surveyor's view, heading south on 16th, and you'll generate a nice illusion: the dome of the Jefferson Memorial setting like a sun behind the president's house. I don't know what to recommend, beyond that. I used to look for parking spaces close to Lafayette Park, then lace up my blades while sitting in the open bed of the truck. Pennsylvania Avenue ran on the other side of the park and was closed to traffic. A field of thoroughfare, unpurposed. In winter, in the early blues of dusk, you could do flying infinity signs.
garson c. 80 words
Kansas City Gymnopédie
Who keeps throwing papers on our driveways? No one subscribes! I've half a mind to let the sun and rain make clotted porridge of them, then pick the green rubber bands free. The squirrels might like it. Who knows knows but there's nourishment. I remember swinging the butt of a barroom pool cue into glib teeth. Say what you like about my saying so. I think I have a good idea of who's framed in the shaving mirror light.
garson c. 100 words
Baltimore Gymnopédie
Our church wanted people to host members of the touring choir that would perform for us Sunday. We took on two boys, Evan and Borealis (I don't believe that was his given name). In the spare bedroom with the dark wooden paneling, downstairs, they smoked pot and listened to grimly soulful music on equipment they'd brought. Then they took a walk. A day later, I replicated it. I saw rowhouses, faded and narrow as gills. Above them the stain of a three-quarter moon lifted the bars of a waltz. I adjusted my rhythm. In places where drum beats should be I heard whips. I heard clinking bottles.
Houston Gymnopédie
The streets have terrible breath, it's said, and everyone hides but the young, who have slick, naked shoulders and fragrant tobacco shreds in the linings of their empty pockets. Had we lived there, I'd have thrown beer bottles, end over end, at the shadows of rats. I'd have shined apples with spit. I'd have offered my blood-puffed hands and taken hold of your shoes, the tapering soles of your heels, if you needed to see over fences.
garson c. 90 words
D.C. Gymnopédie
Take the surveyor's view, heading south on 16th, and you'll generate a nice illusion: the dome of the Jefferson Memorial setting like a sun behind the president's house. I don't know what to recommend, beyond that. I used to look for parking spaces close to Lafayette Park, then lace up my blades while sitting in the open bed of the truck. Pennsylvania Avenue ran on the other side of the park and was closed to traffic. A field of thoroughfare, unpurposed. In winter, in the early blues of dusk, you could do flying infinity signs.
garson c. 80 words
Kansas City Gymnopédie
Who keeps throwing papers on our driveways? No one subscribes! I've half a mind to let the sun and rain make clotted porridge of them, then pick the green rubber bands free. The squirrels might like it. Who knows knows but there's nourishment. I remember swinging the butt of a barroom pool cue into glib teeth. Say what you like about my saying so. I think I have a good idea of who's framed in the shaving mirror light.
garson c. 100 words
Baltimore Gymnopédie
Our church wanted people to host members of the touring choir that would perform for us Sunday. We took on two boys, Evan and Borealis (I don't believe that was his given name). In the spare bedroom with the dark wooden paneling, downstairs, they smoked pot and listened to grimly soulful music on equipment they'd brought. Then they took a walk. A day later, I replicated it. I saw rowhouses, faded and narrow as gills. Above them the stain of a three-quarter moon lifted the bars of a waltz. I adjusted my rhythm. In places where drum beats should be I heard whips. I heard clinking bottles.
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Author's Note
I'm going to take these off in a while but I've been doing a bunch of them lately and wanted to give people a look. The term (you probably know this) comes from Erik Satie. As I was saying on my blog last wk, one reason I started naming them after American cities was to combat the strong association of rainy Parisian scenes.
(update: "Houston" and "D.C." are in the new issue of Sojourn: A Journal of the Arts. "K.C." and "Baltimore" appeared in Keyhole 7.)
Other stories by Scott Garson
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Loved this, scott. Satie's Gymnopedie is lovely -- might be a thought to read this while I'm listening to that! :-)
Jamming on some language here. Me like.
S
I don't think I knew about Gymnopédie, at least, I don't think I'd heard of it. These are atmospheric, pretty wonderful short pieces. Now I'm going to find Gymnopédie, listen, and see if I remember it. These work beautifully, I think the Houston is my favorite.
coming from you 3, these are day-making words! thnx!
"The streets have terrible breath ..." Love. It.
More, please.
I tried to comment on this last night, but couldn't, for some reason. These are great though-- I actually came back to fictionaut just to read them again. Great work, man.
thank you lauren and matt. take your seats in my ventricles.
I love how they're all obviously atmospheric, but in very palpably different ways. With a structure like this it's easy to fall into the trap of doing something over and over again, but you avoid it.
thanks erin -- that's actually something i've been thinking a lot about, so i'm glad you see it
the KC one reminds me--your outraged or hotheaded characters are always so poignant.
wow. The language and imagery are fabulous in this one. LOVE it!
Gorgeous. Spare, precise, curious. More, please.
Leave them up! Leave them up!
If you haven't encountered it, you might like Italo Calvino's INVISIBLE CITIES.
thanks all!
john--you caught me out! love that book.
laura: i'm trying not to come to any understanding of what this says about me.
Scott, am absolutely in love with what you've done here. YEAH!
I agree. More. I want a whole book.
Scott, I'm with everybody else: These are fantastic. I'd never heard of Satie or his Gymnopedie, but I started listening last night and am going to buy something soon. Any recommendations?
Also, I'm with Tim: If not a whole book, we need a chapbook of these. Get to work.
thanks m, t and c!
chad: he did other stuff and a long time ago I heard some of it, but all I have on iTunes are the three Gymnos -- something like ten minutes of music.
"I saw rowhouses, faded and narrow as gills." Just one of the lines that blew me away. The poetry in this is stunning. What a treat!
P.S. I was also wondering how you knew what my house looked like?
Wow. Keep going with these.
No, I didn't know the term came from Satie, but I'm happy to think of his piano music and the absence of his piano music and these wonderful pieces in the same space of synapse. These are great.
Seconding the "Invisible Cities" comment. How many of these do you have, Scott?
thanks meg, ravi, gail, and dave!
dave: today's number: 17
Scott, I think I told you this outside of here, but I just read it again and I'll say, again, it's phenomenal. Great work.
Like riding in a car and out the window catching glimpses of the lives being lived where there being lived. Except these are leaps from American place to American place, very close and very fast.
'Who knows knows but there's nourishment.'
Oh, yes, there's nourishment.
Man oh man. I'm loving these, Scott. You had me at "The street have terrible breath." Damn.
Satie is one of my favorites. As a teenager, I would listen to Gymnopedie on a loop. I could read these on a loop too and never tire of them.
ty so much Kathy, Stephen and Katrina!
Love the Baltimore one, most of all. Having spent a lot of time there over the years, I have to say you nailed it. Meg quoted the "rowhouses" line I loved the most.
thnx D! you're helping to ensure that i'll never be able to keep my promise w/ these.....
ha, glad to help!
The language is wonderful. These are great pieces. Marvelous - each one.
I love the density of language here, the way the words accumulate along with the images. I said this about some of your other pieces, but I'll say it again: they are devastating, in a very quiet way.
Sam and Suzanne--thanks!
"I've half a mind to let the sun and rain make clotted porridge"
so many wonderful and original images. these are amazing!
Fave.
Fun, gritty collection. Love Houston.
"...everyone hides but the young, who have slick, naked shoulders and fragrant tobacco shreds in the linings of their empty pockets."
Beautiful line...
Great work, love the images and reference to Satie's work.
Great work, love the images and reference to Satie's work.