Status Updates From The Lemon Table

'I go out by myself to dine alone and reflect upon mortality. Or I go to the Kämp, the Societetshuset, the König to discuss the subject with others. The strange business of Man lebt nur einmal. I join the lemon table at the Kämp. Here, it is permissible—indeed, obligatory—to talk about death. It is most companionable. A. does not approve.'

An unfinished Eighth symphony, a government pension, "my music had been used in the The Jazz Singer," a letter from K. worried about tempo markings—I believe the narrator in "The Silence" is Jean Sibelius.

'Now, dear Barnes, alas! The only book of yours you told me not to read was the only one available at the library. "Before She Met Me" has been taken out eleven times since January, you will be fascinated to know, and one reader has heavily scored through the word "fuck" whenever it occurs. However, he has condescended to read it all the way to the last "fuck" on p. 178.'

'...Delacour continued, "Every man should have three lives. This is my third."
  Bachelorhood, marriage, widowerhood, Lagrange supposed. Or perhaps gambling, gourmandism, the tontine. But Lagrange had been contemplative for long enough to recognize that men were often provoked to universal statement by some everyday event whose significance was being exaggerated.
  "And her name?" he asked.'

'He despised himself for the way he'd pretended with that tart. Do you still want what you've come for? Oh yes, he still wanted what he'd come for, but that wasn't anything she could possibly know about. He and Babs hadn't done it for, what, five, six years? ... He liked her to put on that mumsie nightie he was always teasing her about, climb into bed with him, turn out the light and talk about the old days.'

'This didn't seem right either, so she added, "That's what Bill used to say." Bill hadn't said anything of the kind, as far as she could remember, but his posthumous corroboration was useful when she got flustered.'

'He didn't like not being allowed to be afraid. It was simpler at the dentist's: your mother always came with you, the dentist always hurt you, but afterwards he gave you a boiled sweet for being a good boy, and then back in the waiting room you pretended in front of other patients that you were made of stern stuff.'

Saio sozinho para jantar só e reflectir sobre a mortalidade.(.)Junto-me aos da mesa limão, no Kämp. Aqui é lícito - obrigatório, aliás - falar da morte.(.)
Para os chineses, o limão é o símbolo da morte. Aquele poema de Anna Maria Lengren: "Enterrado com um limão na mão."(.)
Hoje em dia, quando os meus amigos me abandonam, já não sei se é por causa do meu sucesso ou por causa do meu fracasso. É assim a velhice.

Silêncio

"Por vezes a ignorância dos jovens apaixona-me. Essa ignorância é uma espécie de silêncio."