Un Coup de Foudre

IN THE BACK PAGES OF THE TABLOID, where the ads for teacup monkeys thankfully no longer appear, he notices a plug for a woman billing herself as ALACULA.

The ad includes what appears to be the xeroxed face of an attractive young woman, possibly Russian or of Eastern European extraction. "Do people still use xerox machines this far into the century?" he wonders, and then wonders that he does not know the answer. Among the barrage of cramped ads jumbled together like paintings on the walls of a nineteenth century Salon des Refusés, black and white rectangles promising "NONPAREIL" brochures for dog fanciers, cat fanciers, bird fanciers, ads whispering post office box numbers to which you SIMPLY MUST send A SINGLE DOLLAR BILL! to have your past, present or future decoded by a REAL AKASHIC EXPERT!!, her ink face no larger than his thumbprint radiates secret waves. And he falls into that ink face like Jimmy Stewart in Vertigo. It is the face of a young woman offering a surprising range of services while flashing us (presumably) pretend vampire teeth.

*HATE FLASHING

*THESIS SUPPORT

*ZINE CO-EDITORSHIP

*PET PSYCHOANALYSIS

*KITCHEN INSTRUMENT ORCHESTRATION (POTS, PANS, WATER XYLOPHONES, ETC.)

*SMALL ROOFING JOBS

*HALLOWEEN CONSULTANT

Un Coup de Foudre

*DAINTY WATERCRESS SANDWICHES

*DOLL THERAPY

*GUIDED ASTRAL PROJECTION TOURS OF CELEBRITY HOMES

*MISCELLANEOUS VAMPIRE STUFF

Among, the scores upon scores of newsprint ads doomed to the dustbins of history, he stares at the face of a young immortal. Her sharp teeth, her dark eyes as large and serious as Kate Bush's singing about Hammer Horror, will stay with him forever. Her grainy, xeroxial face is the ghost of Kathy Acker. And she is not giving you a piece of her soul unless you happen to live within thirty miles of Fond du Lac, Wisconsin.