Entering Dennis

About the Book

About the Author

ACROBATS PERFORM STUNT ON THE EMPIRE STATE BUILDING This is their twisted version of “playing it safe”. There is no distinction to be made between the grimy Depression-laced air and the ledge they frolic on-- gravity is a joke. The atmosphere is solid as a rock. There is no time to think of death or danger or fear. These are the concerns of pedestrians down below. Look! Their naked skin glistens in the glow of some celestial spotlight. All is courage, concentration, stamina. Although death is not a laughing matter, these fellows spit in its eye: angels in ballet slippers. Finely muscled clowns, sex and love in the innocent guise of a circus trick. I completely understand their safety in the womb of daunting height, how gay and giddy they feel. Imagine: one is a neurotic mess on the ground. one never gets a second glance on earth. one would kill himself below sea level. But here, here, up here, life is good. Life is ceremony, a sweet celebration of the body and the reckless, soaring aspirations of the mind. CLICK! They are frozen in midair, in eternity: Young. Spirited. Frivolous. Beautiful. My nameless friend lies in a hospital room perhaps for the last time. He is making noises about hastening his departure, in partnership with morphine. “I have lost my looks,” he says. “My body is gone,” he says, “Even if I get out of here, I can never go to the gym again.” I bite my tongue. I excuse myself. I leave the room I want to scream at him What about all the fucking men who never had looks who never had a “body” who never turned a single fucking head yet somehow managed to figure out a reason to live.