Oomaharumooma - Part 3 of 4

This is Part III of a 23-movement piece based on text from Henry Miller's "Tropic of Cancer".

It is a strange, inexplicable medley of feelings which assails me now as Nanantatee prattles on about the sister who died in childbirth. There she is on the wall, a frail, timid thing of twelve or thirteen clinging to the arm of a dotard. At ten years of age she was given in wedlock to this old roué who had already buried five wives. She had seven children, only one of whom survived her. She was given to the aged gorilla in order to keep the pearls in the family. As she was passing away, so Nanantatee puts it, she whispered to the doctor: "I am tired of this fucking.... I don't want to fuck any more, doctor." As he relates this to me he scratches his head solemnly with his withered arm. "The fucking business is bad, Endree," he says. "But I will give you a word that will always make you lucky; you must say it every day, over and over, a million times you must say it. It is the best word there is, Endree... say it now... OOMAHARUMOOMA!"

"OOMARABOO...."

"No, Endree... like this... OOMAHARUMOOMA!"

"OOMAMABOOMBA...."

"No, Endree... like this..."

But what with the murky light, the botchy print, the tattered cover, the jigjagged page, the fumbling fingers, the fox-trotting fleas, the lie-a-bed lice, the scum on his tongue, the drop in his eye, the lump in his throat, the drink in his bottle, the itch in his palm, the wail of his wind, the grief from his breath, the fog of his brainfag, the tic of his conscience, the height of his rage, the gush of his fundament, the fire in his gorge, the tickle of his rail, the rats in his garret, the hullabaloo and the dust in his ears, since it took him a month to steal a march he was hard-set to memorize more than a word a week.

Category:

Music

Tags:

• Steve
• Butters
• Oomaharumooma
• Henry
• Miller
• Tropic
• of
• Cancer
• multiple
• percussion
• solo