346
SAUL BELLOW
twelve. Childhood pleasure has no place in my father's scheme.
He
is hacking away at the pleasure
prinzip.
Converting
lust
into
unlust.
MaTT:
Where you been, loafer?
BUMMIDGE:
He used to hit me under the nose with his forefinger.
MaTT:
Six o'clock, you can't come home?)
(Strikes
BUMMIDGE
under
nose)
BUMMIDGE:
Ow! Ow!
(He has a nosebleed)
You stupid bastard. I'm
bleeding.
(He limps about stage holding nose)
IMOGEN:
Bummy, you're hurt. Shall I get a compress?
BUMMIDGE :
Stay away.
WINKLEMAN:
Tip your head back.
MaTT:
Should I read them a little till it stops?
BUMMIDGE
makes frightful faces at
MaTT,
back to camera.
MaTT
reads.
Such brutality often results in homosexuality, if the son idolizes the
father's strength. That luckily did not happen. My father didn't want
me to have a childhood, however.
(To
BUMMIDGE)
Be a man!-My
father also had the Bummidge Syndrome.
BUMMIDGE:
(Pushing Louie aside)
I had a wild, yearning, crude love
for him.
(Imitates a small boy, weeping)
Papa, I love you. Don't
hurt me. I love Mama. I do anything. Look how my throat is hurt–
ing from the lump. Please don't hit my nose anymore. Please don't
pull off my ears.
(Himself)
Pleading against the castration.
MOTT:
Shut up! In the street with bums and trombeniks. Then you
come home-ess and fress. I kill you dead!
BUMMIDGE:
Oh, Papa, don't show your teeth. Don't eat your little
boy. You brought me into the world. I wish I had never been born.
(In normal tone)
My parents always wanted me to be about
thirty
years old. I was obstinate. I remained a child. Every Christmas to
this day I still buy myself toys.
WINKLEMAN
telling
IMOGEN.
(fIt's the truth"
No, I won't, you dassn't.
(Stamps his foot, etc.)-Well,
I learned a
lot this way.... But what I learned mostly was how I could pounce
on the deepest secrets of my life. This came about through my
orientation method.
(Kneels on the couch-a trance-like moment)
I'm establishing my center, establishing my center. Who am I? Bum–
midge. And what is Bummidge? A crumb of the cosmos-almost
nothing. Male. Contemporary. Age fifty-four. Fifty-five years ago
I was nothing. I was merely possible. When I was conceived, I
became inevitable. When I die, I'll become impossible. Meanwhile,
(
