ELEPHANT HOTEL: Chapter 1
A novella in progress - chapters will be posted as they come. Subscribe to follow along.
The Elephant teetered against the peaking dawn. The wind lushed the brittle weeds.
Within all but the proprietor were asleep.
Stieg Froschen – a gray young man - lay still and upright in bed. The room was darker than light, cooler than warm, and “her arm lays like a broken object on my chest”. This morning, same as the last. A stillness composed of mere repetitions of moment - a pitiless stillness - overstaying its welcome again. The space surrounding his doublewide bed seemed endless, laid with the dark cedar he hustled from the floors of an aged Albany mansion, their humble dimensions in these milky hours more that of the infinities. To step upon them with his feet, his bare, warm feet against their cold, vacuous surface – this would be a horror. No, he thought, he must stay warmly under. At least for a little while longer. But twenty minutes, maybe more, went by since he opened his eyes, since he felt her dead paw slung round his chest. Besides, he didn’t want to wake her. Not for the sake of her rest, no – he was not yet ready to suffer her boundless affection.
He dared not move – his bladder pushed at him but he dared not stir, lest he wake her - the long-haired black Briard named Addi who lay next to him.
Stieg turned from his bladder and its more fundamental expressions back to the gabbling mind that had already been well at work for some time, had already put quite a fear in him for the day, racing and pacing from thing to thing and then back to thing again:
She is my dog (I am aware of the insanity in the possessive nature of the notion - she is not my dog, she is her dog…) (how thoroughly enfeebled by the Institution of Ownership I have become) and so I am, admittedly, uncertain whether she is a good dog or bad dog (look at her sleeping, her face scrunched into tiny folds of warm skin…). Nevertheless she asks me, of course, if I believe she is a good dog or a bad dog. She asked me just last night…
LAST NIGHT:
“First of all”, Stieg told her “I try not to believe in anything, but only to know.”
Addi, the big black Briard, seemed to give this some real thought… “If you don’t believe things, den whot fun is life, whot meaning is dere in living?”
“Meaning?” he replied, with that know-it-all tone his acquaintances openly mocked, “Meaning? Do you find it all so cryptic? If you witness a squirrel go from this tree to that do you wonder what that means? And if I told you that it means he went from this tree to that would that suffice?”
Addi did something like a moan and then said “No, Izz want to know whot da squirrel’s movements meeeaan! In macro sensella… whot it meeaaanzzz.”
“Make something up.”
“Whot?”
“Something funny, I say, something entertaining.”
“But I’ll know it’s not true because I made it up!”
Stieg thought… “Then I shall make it up for you”, he said.
“Fine”, Addi relented.
“Fine…the meaning of life is ABDUDOJWE”
“Whot’s daht?”
“It’s a word.”
“Whot’s it mean?”
“Ugh”, he scoffed, “you want THAT to have a meaning too?”
Addi pawsed and perhaps even thought. “ABUDOJWE..” she said to herself… “I like it, it sound foonny.”
“Good, use it”, he said, “but don’t BELIEVE in it, just use it.”
BACK IN BED:
Stieg continued to write.
Dogs are funny things. She lies sleeping, so loving. A day and a half ago, I would have answered her first question flat out – “You’re a good dog.”
But today, now, everything’s different, or, I should say, everything seems different. Today, right now, I think she’s a bad dog…well, not a bad dog, I just don’t like her – there that’s it... Of course I do like her, generally, you see, of course…it’s just right now, well not JUST right now, (I get other moments like these too) but, you know, on the whole she’s rather a good dog, that is to say, I generally like her.
I suppose, if I were to be totally honest about it though, I’m rather biased and incapable of making a clear judgment as to the good or bad nature of her. She is loyal. This, of course, appeases me – most of the time - and, like most creatures, I find it hard to dismiss blind loyalty, for it is so very pleasing and its comforts are so manageable. So you see, I am in no position to tell Addi that she is a good dog…though I suppose I could tell her why I am in no position to do so, I instead opt for a diversionary tactic, like that rant on ‘belief’ last night, which I do believe, but which I brought up as a diversionary means to a calmer, less conflicted end.
Does this make me a liar? Oh, perhaps, perhaps…but I might prefer that it makes me a keeper of the peace, a kindhearted man who does keep unnecessary harm from her heart. For if she knew about just why I am incapable of judgement (which I am not – that is a lie too) or if she knew just how upset I am by her excessive loyalty today (which seems to be true) I run the risk of her actually responding by lessening the degree to which she is loyal, and that would be bad, very bad indeed.
Yes - I will suffer through her loyalty today to enjoy its comfort tomorrow.
Stieg gazed again out into the golden world, so full of chances, so full of wonder.
“Oh comfort, how lazy its made me… though I’m not sure lazy is the word. No, it isn’t – how COMPLACENT its made me – that’s the word – COMPLACENT!” Stieg covered his mouth abruptly – Addi moans a bit…will she wake?
“Please don’t wake, PLEASE don’t wake” Stieg thinks at her.
Stieg believes adamantly in metaphysics, in telepathy, and attempted it often, and just as often was crushed by his failure to produce a desired result. For now, however, Addi remained asleep, and so Stieg, encouraged by such a reaction to his powers and inspired to be courageous, decided to transmit to her his truest, sincerest thoughts regarding their relationship:
“You know, Addi, I’ve taken you walking, a lot. It used to be we went walking twice a day. I’d barely be up – wouldn’t be up – and you’d be licking my face, leash in teeth, begging for a good brisk walk.”
“Now we take walks once every other day…not that you are old or I am old, but the same path every day, it gets boring. Still, I like a good brisk walk, even a nice slow walk, and you’ll go with me whenever I want, of course, being utterly loyal as you are…but…sometimes I just want to tell you to go, to go out there, onto that street, onto that trail, and run, run without me, feel the wind in your long rugged locks, meet other dogs, other people, smell things, all off the leash….”
Addi stirred, stretched – Stege Frochen froze for a moment…and when it was safe again…
“I try and let you off of the leash to go roam, but you hang near me – you go off to smell this or investigate that, but as soon as I start walking on, you’re right by my side. It is infuriating at times… I want to turn to you and scream: “Don’t you know I want to walk alone sometimes! Don’t you know I want to smell the pink flowers and investigate myself, by myself!” But I do not say such things – for what if you were to listen! Then I would be dogless. That is a scary thought, even for a moment. Without a dog, I would be alone at nights. Is that obscenely selfish? Oh, how I wish I were alone tonight – to wake tomorrow morn ALONE! To tune in to the subtleties of life one at a time alone. To contemplate, to think, to feel the presence of the universe even…to be thrown into wonder? Oh, alone tonight would be very good indeed!”
Stieg turned again to the wide world outside his window:
“Perhaps I could leave her at Jules’ house – he has said he likes dogs… Maybe I’ll call him up. He is a strange fellow, though…Also, I would not want to leave her there with him for too long, lest an affinity grow between them and Addi get confused about who to give all her loyalty to. That would not be fair to her… And one really must have all a dog’s loyalty, not simply some. If you have only some, then there are inevitably fractions of it floating off somewhere, even some in someone else’s possession! How unfair to her, to divide her so. No, not Jules, I think leaving her with Jules for even one night is an unthinkable idea. Besides, I think he is an opium addict…”
“…Just look at her now, sleeping – poor sweet thing, no idea she has of these thoughts, these evil thoughts of mine! How is it that I can think in such a way about a creature with such unconditional love! Look at her sleeping - She is a miracle! How blessed I am, truly, to have such a creature by my side, loving me, faults and all!”
Again Stieg Froshen turned his gaze back to the world beyond the crystal windows.
“The Coldby’s will be visiting soon. Must make their room. but perhaps the fog will have held them up… They love Addi so. …Mr. Coldby himself seems a bit too interested in her when he comes over. But he is a poet, perhaps that warrants forgiveness? Not that I revere poets - The easiest of trades, not anything like writing a book of philosophical treatise. The trade of a man of leisure. Such a kind man, it seems though, that it could simply be his kindness that leads him to touch her so. …It’s just that he pets her right in front of me without asking. If he asked, now that might be different. I would not let him pet her even if he asked my permission! But he is so uniformly kind to everyone – a cunning alibi or an honest flaw of character…if it were not for his kindness I might think… And the Coldby’s children, they seem to think of Addi as a jungle gymnasium. They hang on her, climb upon her head, and she coddles them and plays silly games with them that I think I’d be rather embarrassed to play. Sometimes I am embarrassed that she engages so. They love her. Yes, she is good with kids, Addi is. Shall I have her spade? The Coldby kids are fine to come and play on their monthly visits, for they only stay but a few days each time and then leave us be, and none other of the guests bring their children with. I quite like when the Coldby children leave. Though I must say when they are here the whole place is aglow with some youthful brand of cheer I must have forgotton – was I so buoyant? Then they scream. Was I such a child? I would not want to have any of my own. I would not want to let Addi have any. I do want children, though, I think. The Coldby’s children are fine children. Look at her sleeping so. I shall make her breakfast. She sleeps. I am awake and she sleeps. How I would love to go on a brisk walk. I remember when she used to wake me, licking my face with her large tongue, leash in teeth, begging for me to walk her. Those were the days, I say, walking all of the time. Damn leash. I hated walking her on that thing. Freedom!”
Stege put ink to paper again:
They say that good dogs are loyal, I suppose it is a maxim. Oh, I don’t know about that. I would like to challenge it – I have a pretty good argument against it I think too:
If Loyalty begets a sense of Security (and it does however illusory it might be), and Security is a fantasy (and it is, for one is never safe from the haphazards of living) then perhaps a loyal being is a bad being, as it woos, or woofs, in this case, it’s victims into a strange and illusory world of comforts. Thus, my maxim may be:
Bad dogs are Loyal.
…Shall I explain this to her? Oh when she wakes she will be so loyal – what a weight upon my shoulders! I must tell her – It is KILLING ME! I cannot do my work, my writing, my precious writing for I am too comfortable in her presence! Why would I do any work while in the midst of such comfort? I must tell her. I have no feeling left, no angst to work from with such love around me! Ugh, I think I may be sick – my stomach has grown queasy just thinking about it! I must tell her! She must go! Out into the fields, anywhere but here! Let her give her loyalty to some other poor unsuspecting needy fool, let her dump her shackles of never-ending love onto some other man! Let her be walked by some other man on some other leash! Yes, it’s not a pretty thing for me to think, to imagine, but let another man walk her, briskly even! Briskly Briskly Briskly! Then I will be alone, left alone. In this house. With my angst and confusion! I will write a great book, SIX GREAT BOOKS and many essays, important essays, philosophical essays!
The hotel will be a bit emptier, and there will be those sad and lonely nights where I will long for that furry creature and that warm soft stomach of hers, but I will remember! I will remember why she is not near me! I will be pained so that a SEVENTH book may come from it! Yes – I must tell her.
Stieg looked to her again…
…Look how she lies sleeping, no idea of the thoughts I’m having, the same thoughts I have every morning. She sleeps so peacefully, her face smooshed and buckling into folds of warm skin. I touch her up-and-down stomach – how warm it is. A smile comes over my face. She loves me so…
TO BE CONTINUED…
A lost novella in progress I recently recovered a portion of. The rest seems lost forever. Currently about 1/3rd "complete".
Hi Alex. Congrats on your recent recognition! Well-deserved!
I’ve been a subscriber to your substack since Dec 3, and by the end of last year I had read all your articles to that point. (I’m a long-time fan of your music, too. Going on 10 years. All albums.)
A month ago, I deleted my Instagram account. And the emails notifying me of your new substack articles must be filtering out. So I am just learning of the NYT article now. Will check it out.
As an otherwise faithful follower of yours, I’d like to respectfully request Chapter 2 of Elephant Hotel. I don’t know if I relate more to Stieg or to Addi, but I’d like to find out.
Thanks for your consideration of this note.