By Derrida, Jacques
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Additional resources for Ends of Man1
And you didn’t tell me . ” She paused. ” She laughed. ” She thought. Then, with her black, curly hair, she gave a small, definite head shake. ” “Well . . ” She thought again. ” Not sure what she meant, I raised an eyebrow. 30 TIMES SQUARE BLUE “The people in the movies,” she explained. “The actors on the screen. ” “Oh,” I said. III Back then—in ’75 or ’76—the Metropolitan and a number of the theaters in the Forty-second Street area were being fed a stream of all but amateur work. Appearing in film after film, the main actor was an avuncular guy in his late thirties.
In a public rest room, at Penn Station or at Port Authority, however, when he stands before a urinal, slouched a leisurely eight to ten inches back from the porcelain fixture, I’ve never seen anyone not at least glance in his direction—astonished, with opened mouth and blinking eyes. “They got the cops hidin’ in the booths, looking out at 12 Darrell Deckard on Forty-second Street. what goes on—or holin’ up in the service closets, looking through the slit in the door. Pulled me in twice last week.
21 TIMES SQUARE BLUE “I’m gettin’ off on her up there—” he pointed at the screen—“and you guys are all gettin’ off on me . . That’s funny, huh? That guy there—” His hand swung to point to the Asian—“he always comes the same time I do. Don’t you? Didn’t you? ” He looked back at me. “He always does that. Every time. I shoot—he shoots. ” Looking over, he laughed. Smiling somewhat sheepishly, the Asian glanced up at me. ” the guy went on volubly. “I don’t mind, though. ” Turning back to the screen, he made two fists, stretched his arms wide, and yawned.