czech notes.
I’m usually pretty disciplined about managing my jet lag, but a short nap turned into a long, nightmarish sprawl and I woke up to the imagined sound of a shrieking cat. I’ve been in a semi-sleep state ever since, and my memory’s a motion blur of architecture and art nouveau typography.
Prague’s a great city. My legs are sore from walking up and down cobble-stone hills, from standing lock-kneed in front of paintings, and from wandering in and out and through labyrinthine streets, mostly dodging the tour groups that fill the squares. It reminds me of when I lived in Venice, that need to duck into side-streets every time I see someone raise an unopened umbrella.
Fucking hell, those tour groups are obnoxious.
I’ve been subsisting on palačinky, a kind of thick crepe with a sturdy, satisfying texture, usually folded with Nutella or jam. And I’ve also been reading the memoir of Václav Havel, a playwright who played a role in the non-violent Velvet Revolution in 1989 that led to the overthrow of the Communist government in Czechoslovakia. He went on to become president, and while politicians don’t usually interest me, non-violent dissidents always do.
When I was walking with a friend last night, we were approached by someone encouraging us to enter a cabaret featuring a “banana show.” I wasn’t sure what a “banana show” was, so I asked, thinking it involved a lot of cock. The guy’s response: “Japanese midgets! And the monkey fucks the midgets!” Convinced he was just making shit up at random, I had to go in (you get in for free!, he said), but my friend shook his head and said, “I’ll wait for you out here.”
I decided I would go in on my own later, at least until I got back to the hotel and looked up “banana show” on the internet. Now I’m pretty glad I didn’t go in. I like weird shit, but I also like fruit. That show would’ve put me off of bananas forever.
I instantly thought of Spalding Gray’s “Swimming To Cambodia” account of the banana show in Bangkok— “and it slid slowly down the wall…”
I want to see it.
Though my opinion on the utility/futility of bananas pretty much mirror the old Jerry Seinfeld schtick (by the time you get them home from the store, they’re already rotten), this post put me in mind of something that drew my degenerate interests back in the day*: fucking banana peels, a delicate…and ultimately fruitless**…pursuit open only to men involving first ever-so delicately removing the banana itself from the peel, equally delicately inserting one’s penis inside the evacuated skin and banging away. I think I tried it twice (unsuccessfully) before finally admitting that, for me, at least, fruit does not equal love.
*the still experimental, food wasting, perpetually horny days.
**unavoidable pun intended
Wondering if they peel the bananas before using them. Just thinkin’
I eat a banana a day at least, and I won’t even Google the term now.
Have you been to Darlings?
I already hate bananas, but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have gone in just because of the bestiality. The palačinky sound delightful, though!
I’m pretty sure even my twisted curiosity wouldn’t have gotten the best of me.
I already hate bananas (it’s the texture.. how can anyone stand the slimy, gritty texture?), so no great loss. I’d end up retching at the sight of monkeys instead. Trips to the zoo are damaging enough as it is.
I discovered your blog just month ago…and now you were to prague, the city i live.. funny, i must say. Have you found some place you really enjoyed? I’m curious about your thoughts of prague. I suppose you are already gone to another city…so…come back someday ;o) (and…i’ve been living in prague for a while but, come on, japanese midgets with monkeys? :-D give me the address i must check this!)