by Peter Handke
BERGNER
(As though she had learned a few questions by heart) Do I talk too much for you? Are my knees too bony? Am I too heavy for you? Is my nose too big? Am I too sensible for you? Do you find me too loud? Are my breasts too small? Do you think I’m too fat? Am I too fast for you? Am I too skinny for you? Was I good?
JANNINGS
You see, she herself uses the categories in which one thinks of her. (To PORTEN) Hey! (She comes back and settles on his knees.) When I used to be called, to begin with I only said “yes!” After all, it was possible that they only wanted to know whether I was still there. Where were we? (GEORGE puts his hand to the back of his head, lowers the hand again.) Stop! Repeat that gesture! (GEORGE repeats it.) It reminds me of something. More slowly! (GEORGE repeats the gesture.) The hat! Do you know the song “Me Hat, It Has Three Corners”? It’s a folk song. (He recites it seriously.)
Me hat, it has three corners
Three corners has me hat
And if it hadn’t three corners
It wouldn’t be me hat.
Ever since I’ve known that song I am incapable of imagining a hat with it. A three-cornered hat: an impossible idea! A hat: an impossible, a forbidden idea! Once I ordered (or permitted?) a cake to be cut. “Where?” I was asked. Ever since then I’ve been unable to imagine a cake. You try drawing a circle in your mind but don’t know where to begin. Finally there’s a noise in the brain as if a boiling egg were popping. Quiet! Shut up! I can imagine what you want to say! The circle! I become dizzy when I’m supposed to imagine it! And when I become dizzy, I become furious. For example, someone asks me what time it is. Can you imagine that there’s someone who has no watch? I certainly can’t. Dizziness and anger! Or: a person looks “desperate,” starts all sorts of jobs but stops them all again at once. Can you imagine anyone still being seriously desperate? Dizziness! Dizziness and anger! Or someone is ashamed? Dizziness and anger, dizziness and anger! Then the contrary: someone is ashamed for someone else? I for you? At once! You cannot imagine that I’m ashamed for you? (He pushes the cigar box off the table so that all the cigars fall out, puts PORTEN in her fauteuil, stands in front of GEORGE, and claps his hands before GEORGE’s face, pretending to slap him, and sits down again.) Like chocolate and soap—yes, like chocolate that lies next to a piece of soap. I, at any event, have never felt ashamed—except for that time when I compared two feelings I had for someone to chocolate and soap. And then once more. (Pause.) And then the story about the maggot on the palm of the hand. (Pause.) And then once when I was asked: “Who is that?” and answered: “That one? Yes, she’s very touching, isn’t she?” (Pause.) Yes, and then one more time. (He laughs shamefully, remembering.) And then once when I said: “Present company excepted, naturally!” And another time when I heard someone say, “She’s ugly!” and replied: “But she has pretty eyes.” (Pause.) And then just the one more time when I put the matchbook on the counter and the salesman asked me: “Is that you?” (Pause; puzzled) Actually, I’ve been ashamed quite frequently. (Pause, to VON STROHEIM) Should I make him feel ashamed?
VON STROHEIM
(Strikes the body of the guitar and spreads his fingers.) Just so you aren’t put to shame by him!
JANNINGS
(Turns to GEORGE.) Look over here! (Successively he takes several objects from the table or out of his pocket and shows them to GEORGE. GEORGE looks helplessly at each of them. Finally JANNINGS shows him some paper money, waves it, and GEORGE quickly tries to grab it. JANNINGS laughs.) This language he understands! This language he understands! (He laughs again. Pause. They both bow their heads. JANNINGS scratches himself once vigorously. Suddenly he points angrily at the cigars.) What’s that?
GEORGE
Cigars.
JANNINGS
And what’s that supposed to mean? Pick them up! (GEORGE bends down. JANNINGS giggles. ) Can you still imagine doing anything but what I tell you to? (GEORGE tries to imagine it. Finally he also starts giggling, but stops again and tries to think once more.) Imagine you’re sitting in my place. (GEORGE looks up at him. He begins to giggle. JANNINGS giggles too, but differently; he looks around himself. PORTEN is also giggling. VON STROHEIM is smiling. BERGNER is absentminded. GEORGE collects the cigars and puts them carefully back in the box. JANNINGS, while watching him, tells a story.) Once—(To PORTEN) Why are you grinning?
PORTEN
I’m not grinning, I’m smiling.
JANNINGS
Stop fidgeting!
PORTEN
I’m not fidgeting, I’m making myself comfortable.
JANNINGS
Shut your trap!
PORTEN
I don’t have a trap.
JANNINGS
(Has already turned back to his story.) … I had a bad day, you know how that is. (GEORGE nods.) I burned my tongue on the coffee; as I was tying my shoelaces, I suddenly had two pieces in my hand, you know what that’s like. (GEORGE nods.) Just as suddenly—why “just as suddenly”? What’s the difference! In any case, as I’m writing down what I plan to do, the tip of the pencil breaks off. I look for another pencil—no, not what you’re thinking: the pencil does write; however, all at once I noticed that overnight I’ve begun to write one letter differently from the way I used to, with a curlicue where I never before made a curlicue during my entire life! You know what that’s like. (GEORGE nods, but only after JANNINGS has looked at him.) To top it all, I suddenly see before me a woman trampling furiously on eggshells. I tear her away by the hair, you know what that’s like. But it turns out that she is purposely breaking up the shells for the birds. Dazed, I walked on and notice another madman. He’s running back and forth on a piece of land, and a crowd has already formed around him. Then it turns out that he isn’t mad at all but the owner of the land trying to keep people from trespassing. Even more dazed, I walk on and am thinking about a goose I’m in the process of carving up, very fastidiously, you know what I’m like, not to get any grease stains on my suit, when someone grabs me by the arm from behind. Despite, or just because of, my dazed state—(He smirks.) Whenever I say despite, I also must say, just because of—I swiveled around and gave this someone a box on the ear. My hand slipped; you know what that’s like: I thought someone with greasy fingers had grabbed me. Suddenly—yes, again suddenly, that day passed in leaps and bounds—I stood before a dog that squatted with quivering behind at the curb—quivering: I’ve never used that word before!—and wanted to do his business, you know what that’s like. I, no lazybones myself—(To GEORGE, who hesitates) Don’t let me stop you from your work—gave him a kick …
PORTEN
Don’t go on, please! I don’t want to have to dream about it.
GEORGE
Once my mind was on a child and a hot iron, and when I suddenly saw someone reaching for the door handle, I shouted at him: Don’t touch!
JANNINGS
You can talk and stack cigars evenly at one and the same time? (GEORGE continues to work in silence, JANNINGS goes on talking.) … and went home. Luckily the sun set very rapidly, as it always does in the tropics—that’s how it is described in all narratives, isn’t it?—and as I slowly open the door, there is a soft rustling behind it. (Slowly and softly generally belong together.) I immediately fired through the panel—and I myself had spread the papers on the floor to frighten the burglars when they’d open the door. A bad day! Later in my rocking chair I dozed off. Suddenly I awake and see the dog running past me. A quick slap with the riding crop—you know what that’s like? (GEORGE nods.) But it was my own feet: when I jerked awake, I took my black socks for the dog. (Pause.) You have nothing to say?
GEORGE
I feel no need to say anything.
JANNINGS
It’s enough that I feel the need to hear something from you.
GEORGE
But what if I feel the need to remain silent?
JANNINGS
Then you must say to yourself that in regard to your needs, what matters for you is t
o learn to need to do what you must do in any case. (Pause.) Say something!
(Pause.)
GEORGE
But what did you want to prove with the story? You didn’t tell the story just to tell a story?
JANNINGS
I told it so you would know what it is like when a whole day passes and one feels out of sorts.
GEORGE
Out of sorts with what?
JANNINGS
With one’s work.
GEORGE
You weren’t working at the time?
JANNINGS
I was working, but I felt out of sorts with my work.
GEORGE
And what is it like if one feels out of sorts with one’s work while one is working?
JANNINGS
I told you: a swift sunset, a rustling behind the door, strange dogs in the room.
GEORGE
And what is it like if one does not feel out of sorts with one’s work while one is working?
JANNINGS
It becomes a game.
GEORGE
And how do you manage not to feel out of sorts while you work?
JANNINGS
One must imagine that it’s a game.
GEORGE
And who determines the rules of the game?
JANNINGS
The one who plays it: the one who works.
GEORGE
Is it like that or does one have to imagine it?
JANNINGS
If you’re not out of sorts, it’s like that.
GEORGE
But if I feel out of sorts, then I first have to imagine it?
JANNINGS
If you feel out of sorts, you cannot imagine it. Instead: a swift sunset, a rustling behind the door …
GEORGE
But I feel out of sorts.
JANNINGS
I’ll show you. (He gets up and puts a cigar in the box with playful little movements, a finger dance. Then he sits down.) For me work is a game.
GEORGE
Well, it isn’t your work. But it is your thing. And it’s up to you to tell me how my work with your thing can be called a game. I who feel out of sorts—you’re right—cannot imagine it.
(Pause.)
JANNINGS
You must regard work like a bet: whoever is faster, more elegant, more thorough—then there are winners and losers.
GEORGE
But with whom am I supposed to bet when I’m by myself?
JANNINGS
With yourself.
GEORGE
Whether I’m faster than myself?
JANNINGS
No smart talk! You can’t allow yourself to be ironical until you’ve finished your work … Don’t you have two hands?
GEORGE
Obviously.
JANNINGS
Which hand is more nimble?
GEORGE
The right one, I suppose.
JANNINGS
Then make a bet with yourself and give it a try. (Pause. GEORGE starts putting cigars back in the box first with his left, then with his right hand. He becomes increasingly faster, gets into a frenzy. He has finished and puts the box on the table. ) Which hand won?
GEORGE
(Remains silent. Speaks suddenly.) Let’s bet on something else.
JANNINGS
Fine, let’s make a bet.
GEORGE
(Points to PORTEN.) You turn her over your knee and spank her.
JANNINGS
And what’s the bet?
GEORGE
First turn her over your knee. (JANNINGS puts PORTEN over his knee.) You hit her with the riding crop as fast as you can for one minute. While doing so you keep your mouth shut. If you open it, you’ve lost.
JANNINGS
It’s a bet. (Pause. He starts beating her vigorously, but already after a few slaps his lips part. Startled, he lets go of her and sits down, pinches his lips tight. He wipes his forehead. GEORGE also sits down. Pause. VON STROHEIM touches the guitar as if by chance. A very gentle sound. He laughs. JANNINGS opens his mouth as if to roar and wants to hit the table. He shuts his mouth again instantly and lets his fist sink, opens his fingers.) I believe—(He breaks off; he wants to reach for something but stops in midair and lets his hand drop.)
GEORGE
(To PORTEN) You’d better imagine it all once more right now; then you won’t need to dream of it later on—
PORTEN
(Smiles.) Of water and of madness, of …
VON STROHEIM
(At the other end, wanted to say something at the same time.) I was so very …
(They both break off. Pause.)
PORTEN
(Turns again to GEORGE.) Of water and of madness, of ships of fools on great rivers where …
VON STROHEIM
(Again at the same time, to BERGNER) I was so very much afraid. I was so very much afraid for …
(Pause.)
JANNINGS
(Points to VON STROHEIM while looking at PORTEN.) It’s his turn.
(Pause.)
VON STROHEIM
(As in a game, to BERGNER) I was so very much afraid for you that I suddenly burst out laughing. You were sitting there and didn’t move. Only your jugular vein throbbed.
BERGNER
I haven’t been listening. (He bends over her, but so that she has to see his face upside down. She opens her eyes, a small cry of horror; he turns his head so that she sees his face normally again, and she calms down instantly and looks at the guitar.) Is that for me? ( VON STROHEIM hesitates, hands it to her.) And what do I have to do for that? (She turns the guitar around as if it were a present, then hands it back. VON STROHEIM puts the guitar on the table. He strokes BERGNER’s neck with his finger. Pause. BERGNER slaps his hand. ) Don’t touch me!
JANNINGS
(Prompts.) Why?
VON STROHEIM
Why don’t you want to be touched? You used to let people touch you.
BERGNER
Don’t look at me!
VON STROHEIM
A little while ago you looked at me tenderly.
BERGNER
Does that mean that I should “look at you tenderly” now, too? ( VON STROHEIM posts himself in front of her. She looks away. ) Every time you men begin to speak, it is as if a beggar is trying to talk to me.
VON STROHEIM
All of us men?
BERGNER
Yes, you too.
VON STROHEIM
Give me your hand.
BERGNER
Why? (He takes her hand.) Are you a palm reader? (VON STROHEIM strokes her hair.) I know that my hair is a mess.
