"Jason Gould - The Seven Wonders Of The Modern World" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gould Jason)

an unknown Country and Western singer's face with part of his ass, to make
him more like Kenny Rogers, and the day after that he had a would-be
Virgin Mary coming in. I was very excited.
'I want to look in the mirror and not be repulsed,' I told him when he
asked what I wanted.
'I see,' he said, sitting down at his desk. 'And is there part of your
face that repulses you most?'
'No. All of it.'
'And who, exactly, would you like to be?'
'Who?' I said.
'I presume you want to be a star...'
'Maybe. I've not really thought it through. I just don't want to be me.'
He reached into a drawer and produced a thick catalogue. He threw it on
the desk. He said: 'Beauty is in the eye of the deceiver.'
'Which means?'
'That you can be anyone you want, and if you were famous, or if you become
famous, then anyone can be you.'
'Cool!'
'First,' he said, pushing the catalogue towards me, 'the eyes.'
It was entitled: EYES, FEMALE. I opened it and a thousand faceless eyes
stared at me. Each page contained ten rows of different sized photographs,
the entire face, other than the eyes, inked out. Written beside each pair
was the name of the owner. It began with corneas pilfered from the stage
and screen: Garbo, Hepburn, Madonna et al. As I turned the pages so the
owner's popularity diminished, and at the end I was leafing through
pictures of unknowns, people listed by name, location and date, such as
Marcia Z, 5th Avenue, August 13th 1998, or J.L.D., Venice Beach, June 2nd,
1997. At the very back were animal eyes, cats being the most popular.
'There are so many...' I said.
'You don't have to decide now,' he replied.
He tossed me another catalogue: MOUTHS, FEMALE. It was identical to its
predecessor except it grinned and pouted where the other had glared,
winked or frowned. Madonna was there again, beside Jerry Hall, Elizabeth
Taylor, Twiggy. Next was NOSES, FEMALE, and next, CHEEKS; and then HAIR,
and NECKS, and CHINS, KNEES, ELBOWS. I was overwhelmed and unable to
decide who to be.
Narcissus left me alone. I browsed, kneeling on the floor surrounded by
open catalogues. Muzak - Vaughan Williams' Lark Ascending if I wasn't
mistaken - was piped through the walls.
When he returned he had more product literature. He sat on the edge of the
desk and handed them to me one after the other. He'd brought navels, hips,
ankles, toes.
I said: 'I had no idea the range was so extensive.'
'Oh it's more than just faces and thighs,' he said. 'Surgeons are the
tailors of the twentieth century.' He paused. Then he said: 'Now, what
would you like to do about your vagina?' He passed me another folder. 'We
have a discount at the moment on the Nastassja Kinski; it's a lot of work
but the end result is superb. For a few thousand more there's the Marilyn
Monroe, our most popular brand: not as symmetrical but with significantly
more girth.'