PAUL: A FRIEND OF THE FAMILY
"IS there someplace I put this?" Paul asked indig the large parcel he held in his arms. "It is a hing I just fioday, still a little wet Im afraid." He wiped his hands which were covered with emulsions on his trousers. "Ill just lean it up against your wall for a moment." Paul leahe hing up against our wall for a moment. The hing, a dirty great banality in white, poor-white and off-white, leaned up against the wall. "Iing," we said. "Its poor," Snow White said. "Poor, poor." "Yes," Paul said, "one of my poorer things I think." "Not so poor of course as yesterdays, poorer oher hand than some," she said. "Yes," Paul said, "it has some of the qualities of poorness." "Especially poor in the lower left-hand er," she said. "Yes," Paul said, "I would go so far as to hurl it into the marketplace." "Theyre getting poorer," she said. "Poorer and poorer," Paul said with satisfa, "desding to unexplored depths of poorness where no human intelligence has ever been." "I find it extremely iing as a social phenomenon," Snow White said, "to hat during the height of what is variously called, abstract expressionism, a painting and so forth, when most artists were grouped together in a school, you have persisted in an image alohat, I find -- and I think it has been described as hard-edge painting, is an apt description, although it leaves out a lot, but I find it very iing that in the last few years there is a tremendous new surge of work being done in the hard-edge image. I dont know if you want to ent on that, but I find it extremely iing that you, who have always been sure of yourself and your image, were one of the earliest, almost founders of that school, if you even call it a school." "I have always been sure of myself and my image," Paul said. "Sublimely poor," she murmured. "aper," he said. They kissed. We trudged to bed then singing the to-bed song heigh-ho. She was lying there in her black vinyl pajamas. "He is certainly a well-ied personality, Paul," she said. "Yes," we said. "He makes tact, you must grant him that." "Yes," we said. "A beautiful human being." "Carrying the mace is a bit much, perhaps," we said. "We are fortuo have him in our try," she cluded.
THEN we went over to Pauls plad took the typewriter. Then the problem was to find somebody to sell it to. It was a fine Olivetti 22, that typewriter, and the typewriter girls put it uheir skirts. Then Gee wao write something on it while it was uheir skirts. I think he just wao get uhere, because he likes Amelias legs. He is always looking at them and patting them and thrusting his haween them. "What are you going to write uhere, Gee?" "I thought perhaps some automatic writing, because one t see so well under here with the light being strangled by the thick wool, and I touch-type well enough, but I t see to think, so I thought that. . ." "Well we t sell this typewriter if youre typing on it under Amelias legs, so e out of there. And bring the carbon paper too because the carbon paper makes black smudges on Amelias legs and she doesnt want that. Not now." We all had our hands oypewriter when it emerged because it had been in that pure grotto, Pauls place, and tomorrow we are going to go there again and take the elevate this time, so that he t e down into the street any more, with his pretensions.
"YES," Bill said, "I wao be great, once. But the moon for that was not in my sky, then. I had hoped to make a powerful statement. But there was no w