From: mtaranto@panix.com (Mark Taranto)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.books
Subject: The Whitehorse Odyssey
Keywords: Joyce, ale, soap, secret handshakes, puns
Date: 24 Dec 92 15:15:27 GMT
Organization: The Inner Clique






Stately, bald Mark Taranto came through the door of the Whitehorse 
Tavern, bearing a satchel with books.  Moments later, he held a 
Bass Ale aloft, and intoned:

-- *Introibo ad altere liber*.

Halted, he peered into the next room, and called up:

-- I have reserved a room for 10-15 people.

-- I'm afraid, sir, that we have double booked the room.  But we can 
make room for you in the back.

-- That will be fine.

An empty table, too small for all, but good enough for now.  Seated, 
he noticed the bar of soap in his coat pocket, and shifted it to his 
satchel.

***

Ineluctable modality of the visible: at least that i no more thought 
through my eyes.  Signatures of all things here I am thought to read.  
Signatures, and telephone numbers, signs telling the help to wash, 
promises of sexual favour.  Mark closed his eyes, and listened to his 
stream splash upon the ice.  A very short space of time through short 
times of space.

Now, no handkerchief.  Did I not take it up?  The door opened.  He laid 
the dry snot picked from his nostril on the ledge of the urinal, 
carefully.  For the rest, let look who will.

Behind, perhaps there is someone.

***

The superior, and very intelligent, Gordon Fitch reset his smooth watch 
on his left wrist as he entered the tavern door.  Ten minutes after seven.  
Seeing no one he knew, he asked some drinking men if they were the book 
people.  They laughed, and he left, walking down Hudson Street, only to 
return in ten minutes.

---------

Mark Taranto closed the Men's room door, looked around the tavern, and 
returned to his table to await the others.  A look at his pocket watch.  
Twelve after seven.  He looked, anxiously at each new arrivant, and sipped 
his pint of ale.

---------

Thick haired Howard Gershen walked across eleventh street from the 
East Village, past the street musicians, past the kissing men.  As 
he entered the Whitehorse, he noticed the lonely figure of Gordon 
Fitch walking away.  The waitress directed him to Mark Taranto.

---------



A yellow taxi driven by a crazed Iranian, containing the fair-haired, 
blue-eyed Mike Godwin came careening up Hudson Street, past the 
walking Gordon Fitch.  Throwing money at the cab-driver, he threw 
himself violently out the cab door and into the Whitehorse.  Upon 
seeing Mark Taranto, he screamed:

-- Ale, I need an Ale.

---------

Two carfuls of tourists passed slowly, their women sitting fore, 
grasping frankly the handrests.  Kate and Don Zirilli waited, and 
then followed into the Holland Tunnel.  The electronic clock on the
dashboard flashed 7:20.

---------

Steve NY, carrying pamphlets about poetry readings, reached the front 
door of the Whitehorse as Gordon Fitch returned.  Together, they came 
in as Mark Taranto was moving the gathering to the larger table.

---------

Jim Kasprzak, with friend Maureen, made their way from an Indian 
restaurant to the Whitehorse.  As they entered the Whitehorse, a 
small car carrying the Zirillis passed.

***



		IN THE HEART OF THE NORTH AMERICAN METROPOLIS

North of the financial district, west of the village, south of the 
mountains of midtown, the rabble called for beer and menus.


			THE ALE AND THE PEN

A picture of Dylan Thomas, beer in hand, at the bar of the White horse.

-- The shot that killed Dylan Thomas.
-- He went not gentle into that good night.


			ONLY ONCE MORE THAT SOAP

He reached into the satchel to retrieve a book containing pictures.  
The soap, had he forgotten it?  Never mind, move it aside.


				ENTER POSTHUMOUS

Don Zirilli entered the room.  He looked incisively at their faces 
for a moment.

-- Ah, good that you are here.  I'll get Kate.


				GODWIN'S PUN

-- And it said that lesbians should use a dental dam.  For Christ's
sake, lesbians are the lowest risk group that there is.  Besides, 
you don't need a dam when you've got a dyke.



				CLEVER, VERY

-- Clever, Taranto said, Very.


***

Gordon Fitch ate with relish his sandwich.  Mike Godwin spoke of 
exploding mustard gas, demonstrating as he spoke.  Did someone say 
that the Swiss Burghers will catch up?

A MacIntosh sat in the corner, observed by no one.  The earliest 
trademarked symbol, he thought as he gazed upon the red triangle of Bass.

***


What parallel courses did Jim and Taranto follow?

Each drank with the other, ale for ale.  Each had french fries.


Of what did the duumvirate deliberate during their itinerary?

Books, ale, New York, Troy, friendship (net and otherwise).


Did Taranto discover common factors of similarity between their 
respective like and unlike reaction to experience?

Both preferred an ale with flavor, a liberal education and a 
skepticism of the Roman Church.


Were their views on some points divergent?

Jim was more interested in science fiction, while Taranto preferred 
early twentieth classics.  Taranto preferred English ales, while Jim 
saw the advantage to the local brew.


Had Taranto discussed such subjects during nocturnal meetings 
in the past?

In May with Joe Green, and in late June with Annette Bergmann 
and her fiancee.


Did Taranto ask Godwin to show the secret rabble handshake?

Yes.


Did Godwin show this handshake?

Yes


Did Taranto ask out of scorn or a feeling of superiority?

No.


Why did he ask?

As a self-deprecating form of humor, intended to impart a sense 
of oneness and community.


Did this succeed?

Yes.

How did the evening end?


Mike Godwin left money, and left the tavern.  The others talked about 
him for a few minutes, finished their ales and left.


How was the bill rectified?

Each person left cash for what he had consumed.


Was there cash left over?

Yes, a generous tip was left for the help.

Who was the first of the remaining group to leave?

Mark Taranto, who grabbed the first cab that he saw.


Were there others in the party?

Yes.

***

Yes the evening went well I particularly liked the people who came 
interesting conversation what is this yes yes the black sheep 
baaaa baaaa most romantic evening it was it was there that I told her
I loved her but now we are on west street west is best the air shafts 
to the Holland Tunnell always fascinate me this cab driver is going 
quickly but they are always like that Jamaican he is yes yes I like 
the music almost home I shall remember this evening always 
yes I said yes I will yes.




Mark Taranto December 1992 and
James Joyce 1914-1921