You've got your Kokoschka in my Wittgenstein! No, you've got your Wittgenstein in my Kokoschka!

Wir sooooo tired... all of us! What kann ich say, Jew, but that we'ver bin all micsed up with everything's that's gone on in the past few days... I'm sooo tired. It's like everything's suddenly turned schnitzel!

And, now I log in to give ou an update, and I find that you're away at some kind of Cootie symposium... Whos'e going to hear my complaints about how tragic life is without you areound?

But, I will proceed, because I have to get this all off my chest. But I must be quick about it, because I start work in two hours. I haven't slept in days. Yes, I finally came throug with that job as Night Porter at the Konig Von Ungarn. I think everything started going schnitzel when we wpke up in Petee's suite on Sunday morning after our huge Sachertorte binge and watching Carl Barat get mutilatted at the Hans of Austrian thugs. I don't know what ahppend but the four of us -- Heidi, Pete, Jenny (the waitress from the Schatz im Freud), and Yours Truly -- were all lying there naked, pased out, covered up by Pete's Union Jack! The wurst part of it is, I have no recollection of that night afetr Room Service brought up the two Magnums of Perrier Jouet, green apple mentos, and a plate of roast pig.

I wiped the sleepfrom my eeys and dashed to the bathroom -- suddenly the urge overcame me to dry heave into the bidet. Fortunately the thick towel s at the Konig von Ungarn helped me to wipe up the clear bile creeping down the wall sof the procelaine, like rivulets of tokaj down the sides of a wineglass. I stood at the meear, balefully looking at my drawn face -- barely recognizing the soullessness of my gaze, when Pete slams into me, knocking me bback in to the doorknob -- I hadn't shut the door behind me, so great was the urge to puke uout what remained of my guts. I took the seafoam ceramic knob full on in the kidney and doubled over in pain. Mwanwhile, Pete dumped his face in the toilet and his body convulsed violently as he emptied the night's dark memories into the renovated plumbing of the luxurious Konig von Ungarn. I regained my composure enough to reach out a fresh white towel to him, which he promptly wrapped around his dripping pasty head. Then, without saying a word, he stumbled over me and out into the room. I tried to santd up and follow him out, but the blood rushed from my head, and I passed uout.

ich later woke up undeer the placid blue gaze of Heidi, whose hand was stroking my stubbled chin. Her lips bore the marks os worry, chaffed sink peeling back like birch bark and the dried, yellowed leaves of a long neglected volume of Morike. The peace vanishe d abruptly, intruded upon by the cacophony of broken glass and the atonal thud of antiquated ornaments dropping on the luxurious plush carpeting of the Konig von Ungarn. I made my way back on my feet with the assistance of Heidi, and saw throught the fog of returnign consciousness, first Jenny cowerred in a corner, hands over her face and blong tressess spilling over her spread fingers. Then a blur of movement first revealed to me the origins of the noise: Pete had lifted one of the bed lamps from its credenza and was swinging it wildly, as if blingeded by some animal rage.

It appeared, if I udderstood correctly the story that Heid i related to me after we had subdued Pete with a mouthful of Sachertorte, that Pete had gone out to ick up some strudels for our breakfast and get his copy of Die Presse from teh newstand (as is the irrigtaging habit of these luxury European hotels like the Konig von Ungarn and Intercontinental blah blah ablah, to only offer copies of teh Herald-Tribune in the lobby) when he saw the cover of the Kurier's Freizeit supplement.... Kate Moss, and practically in her Geburtstag suit!!!!!!!Ll!!!!!!!!!!

He seriously threw an apoplectic schnitzel fit wehn he saw that! He couldn't stand seeing her, just a year ago, a warm, disintegrating presence in his arms, his muse, gracing now the cover of a popular Austrian newsweekly and in the full flush of Albion good health. I mean, how was he supposed to make his daily visit to the newsstand anymore when she would be there, reminding him of every fcuk-up he had ever made since fame had preyed up on his talent?

"Bloody 'ell," he later told us, as I swept up the shards of his tantrum, and Heidi held him tight against her bosom to calm him, "she were like my Sachertorte, y'understand wot I'm sayin? Blimey, per'aps I loved her be'er than my Sachertorte, din't I?"

And I said to him, "Buck up, Petey! Yu remember what happend to Carl, last night? Seriously it could be worse."

Somehow, he wasn't comforted by my tought love. So, at that point, I ddecided to do what every right-thinkinng man does in those circumstances. I walked him down to the sauna. And tehre we were, sharing the sight of our bare chests, our dignity maintained only by the thick, cream-colored towels, monogrammed with the letters KvU for Konig von Ungarn that were wrapped around our wastes. We sat against the hard woodd in silence, feeling the toxins evacuating our bodies through every one of our pores.

When we got back to the suite, some sense of order had been restored. The earthy instincts of womeanhood had regained the upperhand and Jenny and Heidi moved blithely the lenght of the kitchenette, like two kids discovering the joys of the movign walkways in the airport, crossing paths, going opposite directions. They were preparing the ultimatein comfort foods: Palatschinken filled with pork butter. They had filled the ice box with Zipfers, and I tossed one to Pete and popped one open for myselt, the beer went down cool and repalced all the liquid we had sweated out in the sauna.

As the Palatschinken sizzled in the pans, the phone rand. I answered.

"Herr Doherty?"

"No, this is Herr Monkey, would you like to speak to Herr Doherty?"

"Ach so," the voice continued, "You're the one I was looking for, Herr Monkey. This is Klaus from the executivatsburo, I wanted to let you know that you hat the job. Kann you start tomorow?"

I looked anxiously over at Heidi, but without consulting her, I decided to go ahead. It's what Pete needed from us, after all, a little bit of support.

"OK, be there at midnight promptely!"

I didn't know how hard that would happend to have to work out with our plans...

Ten minutes later, we wree literally snorting down teh palatschinken, and Jenny had opened up one of those magazines for women. Maybe it wasn't the best subject to be talking about aftyer wheat hasd happended earlier, and maybe tjust talking about it in front of Pete could only lead to trouble.

"Hmm..." Jenny started and turned the magazine around so we could see the announcment, "Fashion and Photography? Anybody interested?"

I guess that's when I should've known that things were gonna turn schnitzel... and how!

But for now, I gotta get my uniform on and maybe shave... you know, work.

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