Crawling To Cartago – The Zen Dog Duke Chronicles

That’s when Zen Dog Duke said to the Bobble Head Baby Jesus,

He who has risen, let’s get a drink at Santos.

The Bobble Head kept his eyes fixed on the screen and did not flinch.

Come on now. Let’s burn the day, continued the Zen Dog. The words hung buzzing in the air like the cobalt glow of a neon sign above a liquor store. I’m getting thirsty, and you know, said the Zen Dog with a laugh, I am going to get a real rise out of you today.

Save me and I will save you, replied the Bobble Head Baby Jesus.

Zen Dog Duke heard the phrase and it rattled around in his mind going through various translations and then finally he heard it as if spoken in Latin. Then the ancient phrase in dialect reverberated in his consciousness, “Serva me, servabo te” transporting him to another time, he could see himself in Rome, face to face with Gaius Petronius, judge of elegance and fashion-fag-man-servant to Nero more than five hundred years after the death of Siddhartha Gautama. Reeling back and forth, stuck for just a moment in a time loop the Zen Dog paused and then said out loud,

How would one say that in Aramaic?

Would you like a red Twizzler, asked the Bobble Head Baby Jesus?

Zen Dog and The Bobble Head both leaned back in their botakas, the only two in Nova Cine at today’s matinee. They watched the curved screen with their feet up on the leather recliners as black and white projections of jealous and unfaithful young men flashed in front of them. Both were film buffs fond of the classics and attending the matinee was a ritual they shared with the conviction of unwavering intention. They were friends, kindred souls that shared a simultaneous love and disdain for humanity, but that was not all that they had in common. For each of them, the shared act of taking in a movie served as an affirmation of their solidarity and a temporary remedy for their mutual eternal loneliness.

He was a charming fellow, that Nero, said The Bobble Head Baby Jesus as he wiggled in his swaddling cloth while intermittently whistling through his half-eaten stick of red licorice. Zen Dog Duke was a fan of Fellini, Bertolucci, and Tarantino. Kill Bill, parts I and II were his favorite movies even though he knew they were a rip-off of Lady Snowblood. Bobble Head Baby Jesus was wide-eyed and peered at the images on the screen.

You’re miffed aren’t you, said Zen Dog Duke. Or is it nostalgia? This movie cracks me up. Satyricon. It’s kind of a gay parody of what your story would be, should be, and could have been … if it were your story but you’re a lazy plagiarist. You’re nothing but a copycat and a little bit of a con man. Used up cunt of a car salesman, my brother he said, channeling Alex from A Clockwork Orange. More than that old chum, you are the Western World’s favorite imaginary friend. The difference between us is that you didn’t even make a dent until Constantine decided to legitimize you! A tax collector’s trick. Zen Dog Duke laughed out loud. And then you’ve got this deity routine. Whatever possessed you to come up with that con? It’s the oldest trick in the book. Couldn’t you just be happy as a hippie carpenter banging village girls for fun? And then, after a pause Zen Dog Duke said softly, You have been up and down the silk road. They know you in Lumbini.

The Bobble Head Baby Jesus stared into space with a dull glare, a gaze that only the inspired or those delirious with hunger can conjure. After a minute he shook it off with a shrug and with dribble running down his chin, the Bobble Head Baby Jesus replied, Don’t get all Zarathustra on me now.

Zen Dog Duke licked his chops lubricating the way for his response.

Zarathustra, my ass. I’ve got news for you little man; my alter ego has an alter ego. To be sure, this was a fact.

Exactly who do you think you are, and I mean all three of you? What ego! Do you ever look in a mirror? Who do you see? “As we three did agree” Three must be the magic number that makes you feel important. Zen Dog Duke asked without raising his voice. Well, abracadabra. I’ve got a three-way for you.

I am that I am, replied the Bobble Head Baby Jesus. And who do you think you are?

You pretentious wanker, replied Zen Dog Duke. You want to play word games? he continued.

“I am I plus my circumstances.”

You’re a show off that likes to quote Jose Ortega y Gasset. You are hungry. A human with an ego, replied the Bobble Head Baby Jesus. You have desires, don’t you? You lust, don’t you? Are you sure you don’t want a Twizzler?

Damn right I’ve got desires. Sunyata. This emptiness haunts me. Did you just shit yourself? I am an ego that has no ego but wants something ethereal and I have no expectations but let’s play a game, said Zen Dog Duke.

He knew that some roles were more suitable when he wanted to persuade. Others when he wanted to be persuaded. Others still when he had no expectations. In general, he was convinced that role games were a fine and acceptable pastime. It was his Dharma. It was his way to enlightenment.

The contingencies of the universe allow us to exist, he said to the Bobble Head Baby Jesus. But bitch, you suffer too much. We are impermanent, insubstantial. I’ve told you, let go of that dukkha. Get over yourself and let’s burn the days.

The Dog knew what Zen was without knowing what it was that he knew. The Bobble Head Baby Jesus looked up at the snout of the Zen Dog and said to him, You are insatiable. What are you thinking about?

How my consciousness is the object of my consciousness, replied the Zen Dog. He continued, Do you know how we get to be who we are? We come to selfhood only through the recognition of others. I am just thinking about thinking, he said. I exist only because you do, and you would not be if not for my existence. You would miss me, bitch.

Are you telling me that I am a contingency? asked the Bobble Head Baby Jesus.

They got up from their recliners and left the Nova Cinema.

Let’s go for a walk, said Zen Dog Duke and The Bobble Head Baby Jesus said, Fine, but if we are going to Cartago, do tell me now. After all, we are here in Costa Rica on vacation. Crawling to Cartago can be such an ordeal and then I’ll have to listen to the confessions of the faithful. It’s such tedious work.

You, your peeps and their “Little Black Rock”, replied The Dog with a laugh. After all, he said, today is August second. The little black rock reference was to a miniature statue of a virgin placed at the site of a miracle in Cartago where a basilica was built, burned down and then built again. The two friends strolled up Avenida Escazu to Bar Santos.

Not only are you a contingency, you are a crutch, an excuse, and a pathetic fallacy, snarked Zen Dog Duke. What do you think of this one, he said and then rattled off another quote from a short Latin poem:

May he love tomorrow who has never loved before;

And may he who has loved, love tomorrow as well

Let’s go downtown and swing by The New Fantasy for a rub down. Wadda ya think? Zen Dog was pleased with his capacity to memorize lines that touched him, and he was also fond of massage parlors. Was language more important than thoughts, and intentions more important than actions? But first, he said, I want a drink.

Lead the way my faithless brother, replied The Bobble Head and they entered Bar Santos where the hostess showed them to a table by the window. She helped the Bobble Head Baby Jesus into a high back armchair and secured him so that he would not fall.

Thou shalt have no other gods before me.

Give it a rest, said Zen Dog. I’m just saying, contested The Bobble Head in a matter of fact tone. Do you want to talk about this or not?

Would you like to see a menu or just drinks? asked the hostess.

OK, a Scotch on the Rocks and a red wine, she repeated their order. Would you like a straw with that, little guy? She said.

To whom do you think we are speaking, said Zen Dog Duke, when we are talking to ourselves?

The problem with evil, said The Bobble Head Baby Jesus, is that it kills us.

Getting a straight answer is like pulling teeth with you, said Zen Dog Duke.

They both looked to the bar and watched as their drinks were prepared.

You are a farce, a myth a fairytale contrived by Constantine and his clutch of copywriters. Who could take you seriously? Said Zen Dog Duke. He continued, You know, Dark Matter is the structure of the universe. Dark Energy is pushing the universe apart and time is the only thing that stops everything from happening at once. You were created sick, just like in the song and I command you to be well. How do you like them apples?

We are in this together, said the Bobble Head Baby Jesus. But I wonder, is it worse to be someplace awful when you are by yourself or someplace nice that you can’t share with anyone?

Remind me never to go on vacation with you again, said Zen Dog Duke. The waitress brought their drinks to the table. They raised their glasses in a silent toast and then they drank.

Come on now, said Zen Dog Duke, let’s go for a walk.

***continued***

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