Yuki’s Reviews > The Piano Teacher > Status Update

Man and woman meet, but not by chance. And the invisible third party, in the guise of maternal supervision, is upstairs, waiting for her cue. Erika advises the student to get away from here. She is majestic. The student resists, although he wouldn't care to run into Mother. He demands that the two of them go somewhere, so they can finally be alone and talk. He wants to have a conversation!

Walter Klemmer wishes he could kiss her on the throat. He's never done it, but he's often heard about it. Erika wishes the student would kiss her on the throat, but she doesn't give him the cue. She feels surrender rising inside her; and in her mind, surrender collides with old and new hatred, especially of women who have lived less life than she and are therefore younger.

Klemmer wants to get to Erika through a work/study program, reaching her intimately. He calls her name several times. His hands paddle through the air, venturing once again into forbidden territory: Perhaps she'll open her black festival mount to him after all. He predicts that she, indeed both of them, could have a lot more pleasure, and he declares he is ready for it. His penis twitches in bluish bloating.

If a woman does take one on, she can't ask for very much money, because her work isn't worth very much anymore. The Turk, who is not worth as much to his employer as the sum on his paycheck, is disgusted by his sexual partner. He refuses to slip on a condom, for the female is the pig, not the male. And yet, like the locksmith, the Turk is attracted to a fact that cannot be shrugged off... the female.

Walter Klemmer sensibly places his heart in his head and mentally reviews the women he has already possessed and remaindered. He gave them detailed explanations for dispensing with them. He didn't hold back; he wanted to make sure they understood (no pain, no gain). If a man feels like it, he can walk out without a word. The woman's antennae flicker nervously in the air; after all, a woman is an emotional creature.

Erika feels dry and small. The outer shell hovers weightlessly around her compressed centrosphere. Her body is no longer flesh, and something closes in on her, likewise turning into an object. A cylyndrical metal tube. A very simple appartus, applied in order to be thrust in. And the image of this object (Klemmer) is glowingly projected into Erika's visceral cavity and cast, upside down, on her interior wall.

Pain itself is merely a consequence of the desire for pleasure, the desire to destroy, to annihilate; in its supreme form, pain is a variety of pleasure. Erika would gladly cross the border for her own murder. Fucking in a slum contains more hope for shaping pain, decorating pain. These shabby, frazzled amateur actors work a lot harder, and they're a lot more grateful for the chance to appear in a real movie.

Bach has come to rest. His run is finished. Both performers, the master and the mistress, rise from their stools and bow their heads. They are patient horses sticking their noses into the feedbags of everyday life, which has reawakened. They say they are bowing their heads to Bach's genius rather than to this meagerly applauding crowd, which understands nothing and is too stupid to even ask questions.

Erika likes thinking about Walter Klemmer, a nice-looking blond boy, who lately has been the first to show up in the morning and the last to leave in the evening. A busy beaver, Erika must admit. He is a student at the Engineering Academy, where he is learning all about electricity and its beneficial features. Recently he has been listening to all the music students, from the first hesitant picking and pecking...

The mass anger, which has, after all, paid its fare, is always in the right for its three schillings and can prove it in case the tickets are inspected. During a surprise inspection the mass anger proudly shows its marked ticket and has the trolley car all to itself. In this way, it saves itself weeks of unpleasant, fearful purgatory, wondering whether an inspector might come.