Sitting there, looking around the empty apartment, covered in goose bumps, all of a sudden, I got it; just how profoundly the pain and fear and hurt and confusion of the past are permanently embedded into the deepest roots of our being, like the sharp yellow teeth of that squirming, unstoppable, feral creature snapping at my poor, beleaguered balls.
Some pains you never get free from.
Right there, in my trembling room, lying on that haunted sofa, in the silence of the night, shaking in cold sweats and blood and pain, it reached out of the murky gloom and grabbed me, holding me there, immobile: The Truth. The Law. The key to the Curse: for however so long as I lived in the shadow of those dark, uncharted fears and traumas, those memories of harms and hurts of the past, for just that long, my past would be my future, and there would always be another Narcisa. Another Dakini. Another lesson. Another Dolores. Another series of Pains.
Growing pains.
The pain would never end.
Some pains you don’t get over. Some pains simply become an integral part of who you are. The best you can do is learn to live with them and survive.
Because you can run and run and run, little Ignácio, but you can never ever hide . . . Forget it . . . Just open up the wound and look inside, again and again, until you are healed at last, reborn and renewed in a vital, cleansing baptism of pain.
INCRESCUNT ANIMI, VIRESCIT VULNERE VIRTUS
The Spirits increase. Vigor grows through a Wound.
Winds of change, blowing and echoing through the windows of my mind.
“Learn this lesson well, little Ignácio, my son . . . my son . . . my son . . .”
And at last, I knew I wouldn’t go looking for her again.
Not this time.
This time, Narcisa was gone forever.
I lay back on the sofa, staring at my worn old traveling bag sitting packed on the table, ready to go.
As the wind howled away outside my window, I thought of the long road ahead. O lungo drom. My only home.
Finally, I fell asleep.
I dreamt of my bittersweet Dakini, Narcisa, traveling home at last, back to Alpha Centauri, flying through the stars at the speed of light, light, light!
After that, I did not dream again.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First, I must give major thanks to my dear brother-by-another-mother, Johnny Depp, for his invaluable encouragement and support. From the day he first read the original Heartworm Press edition of Narcisa and told me of his wish to republish the book under his new imprint with HarperCollins, the spark of hope he lit in my heart was often the only light guiding me through the daunting process of bringing this new, revised work to completion. Over the years, he has selflessly shared his home, heart and patronage with a struggling writer. Johnny is a modern-day Medici, an old-school benefactor to the underground, the underdog and the dispossessed. For those angelic, soulful qualities, and for his loyal friendship, vision, generosity, love and undying belief in my humble efforts, I am eternally in his debt.
I also need to give special thanks to the great American indie publishing house, Heartworm Press, and its visionary founder, Wesley Eisold. Along with Max G. Morton and Anthony Smyrski, their collective foresight and courage were responsible for the original U.S. edition of this book. A big hug to punk rock kingpin Howie Pyro for playing matchmaker between Heartworm and a fledgling early draft of Narcisa.
Another deep tip of the Cigano hat goes out to the great American writer, my dear friend Dan Fante. His support and example have been a constant inspiration.
My fair colleague, Lydia Lunch, and her brother-in-arms, the superlative English author Chris Campion, are also at the top of my gratitude list for their invaluable encouragement and assistance, and for putting me together with a real literary agent who cares, the persistent and attentive Anthony Mattero of Foundry Media. Especially, I wish to bestow loving kudos upon my dear friend and longtime editor, Alessandra De Benedetti—to whom this book is dedicated—for her unrelenting loyalty, patience and indispensable input and advice through the long, challenging marathon of Narcisa.
Special posthumous thanks also to the iconic American authors Charles Bukowski and Hubert Selby Jr., who both took time from their brilliant careers to share generous wisdom and advice with an unknown writer. They are both unforgettable examples of how this whole deal works.
Last, but certainly not least, an expression of eternal gratitude to my muse and longtime partner in crime, the inimitable Brazilian poet Talita Cassanelli—to whom this book is also lovingly dedicated.
There are many other good people, entities, and institutions to whom I owe a deep debt of thanks as well, for their help, inspiration, and guidance. Many of them, like Alessandra and Talita, have been with me constantly throughout the process of bringing this book to life. Other supporters came along later in the game, kindly offering advice and moral sustenance. Others have simply lent a quick suggestion or a kind word along the way. Still others, whose names and contributions have been misplaced in the anonymous mist of my own forgetfulness, will nonetheless linger forever, deep in my heart of gratitude.
Principally, I would also like to thank:
Michael Signorelli and Barry Harbaugh of HarperCollins, Christi Dembrowski of Infinitum Nihil, Oscar van Gelderen, Vera Perrone, Mayra Dias Gomes, Robert Crumb, Billy Shire, Carlo McCormick, Tonico Monteiro de Carvalho, Iggy Pop, Jim Jarmusch, Herbert Reichert, Joe Coleman, Matthew Bishop, Jerry Stahl, Luiz Segatto, Joe Ryan, Pat MacEnulty, Michelle Delio, Marc Gerald, David Alan Harvey, Miguel Filipowich, Tony Smallwood, Stacey Richman, Denis Fahey, Kenneth Shiffrin, Ratso Sloman, John Bloodclot, Sami Yaffa, Debbie Harry, Eugene Hutz, Lawrence G. Smith, Wes Guptil, Justin and Brigitte Smith, Dan Depp, Paulo Lins, Steve Bonge, Anisa Claire, Chris Davis, Leon Ichaso, Daniela Austin, Kembra Pfahler, Ida Maria, Hannah Alazhar, Victoria Talbot, Pavlo Pushkar, Jerome Ali, Richard O’Connell, Noah Levine, Amy Fields, Narcissa Jones, Walter Gregory, Dra. Lais de Siqueira Bertoche, Cândido Netto, Genevieve Altamira, John Freund, Julia Cameron, Tony Fried, Yvonne Westbrook, Peter Kuhn, Ariel Electron, Alex Orbison, Johnny Carco, Bara Byrns, Christine Natanael, Rama Devi, Michelle Cushing, Leslie Westbrook, Cheyenne Crowe, Lisa Douglas, Jason Black, Johnny Brenner, Pascal Perich, Faustine Ferrer, Dayane Fox, Captain Kirk McFadden, Chris Lohnes, Robert Williams, Nick Wong, John Jardine, Elizabeth Kelsch Lloyd, Daniel Vandenberg, Lizzy Cline, Jesse Quinones, Mattew Perez, Deborah Sogatz, Duda Dalm, Tom Nolan, Jesse Craft, Alcoholics Anonymous, Narcóticos Anônimos Grupo Posto Nove, Bob Anderson and Primetime Recovery, Al-Anon Family Groups, Adult Children of Alcoholics, the Augustine Fellowship, Familia Vacite and União Cigana do Brasil, Vovó Catarina de Angola, Mãe Iansá, Santa Sara, Seu Tranca-rua das Almas, Paí Ogum, Salete Andrade, Georg Schmitt, Phillip Hutson, Heather Watson, Alfred Rinaldi, Mary Haswell, Jane Gang, Asia Argento, Matthew Perez, Steve Kane, Lou Perdomo, Justin Wade, and Kyle Overacker.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo by Vera de Arruda Perrone
Described by rock icon Iggy Pop as “the great nightmare anti-hero of the new age,” JONATHAN SHAW is a world-traveling outlaw artist, novelist, anti–folk hero, and whorehouse philosopher, writing in the tradition of Celine, Bukowski, Henry Miller, and the Beats. Widely known as a legendary tattoo master and notorious creator of underground art styles, since his disappearance from the skin trade Shaw has gone on to redefine himself as a groundbreaking avant-garde literary figure.
A child of the fifties, Jonathan grew up the unlikely spawn of a brief, violent, and unhappy marriage between American jazz legend Artie Shaw and Hollywood starlet Doris Dowling—best known for her supporting role in the Oscar-winning Billy Wilder classic The Lost Weekend. His surreal literary worldview was shaped during the tumultuous Vietnam era, then sharpened like a straight razor by massive teenage LSD consumption and close personal interactions with some of the weirdest minds of a very weird time in America.
After running with the likes of Frank Zappa, Jim Morrison, the Manson
Family, and Charles Bukowski, the aspiring young writer fell prey to heroin addiction and was swept away in a degenerate wave of juvenile delinquency, self-destruction, and moral degradation. Fleeing for his life, he left 1970s Hollywood behind to travel the world by thumb and tramp freighter. In his early twenties, he ended up in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, where he resides to this day.
Many years clean and sober, the heavily tattooed author was recently referred to by Marilyn Manson as “a decorated veteran of the drug war.” Long retired from the tattoo industry he once set the standards for, Jonathan Shaw writes full-time today, while living to test the limits of his reality. Traveling the South American backlands by motorcycle, he draws inspiration from a wide range of underworld situations and acquaintances, including gypsies, witch doctors, outlaw artists, drug addicts, criminals, and whores.
He is the author of two popular books from the innovative American publisher Heartworm Press. Foreign language translations of Shaw’s offbeat subterranean classic are published in Spain, Holland, France, and other European countries, as well as in Latin America. Other new works, including a book of short stories and his epic, multigenerational autobiographical novel Scab Vendor: Confessions of a Tattoo Artist, are also slated for publication.
With a fan base that includes fellow authors Lydia Lunch, Jerry Stahl, Dan Fante, the late Charles Bukowski, and Hubert Selby Jr., as well as cultural icons like Johnny Depp, Jim Jarmusch, and Iggy Pop, new releases of Shaw’s dark cult-masterpieces are long-anticipated events.
A half-breed Romani gypsy, the road is in his blood. When not traveling the world, Jonathan resides mostly in Rio de Janeiro, between frequent visits to other home bases in New York City and Southern California. He has one adult son living in Buenos Aires, also an accomplished artist. He enjoys the company of his loved ones and cats, as well as an extended tribe of old and new friends, fans, well-wishers, and partners in crime, all over the world.
His motto: “Comforting the disturbed and disturbing the comfortable—since 1953.”
He enjoys reading, bodysurfing, independent films, beans and rice, birds, kittens, motorcycles, and psychotic crack whores.
His favorite color is black.
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PRAISE FOR JONATHAN SHAW’S
NARCISA
“Finally, after twenty-plus years of coaxing, cajoling, pleading, and basic needling on my part, my ol’ scallywag brother, Jonathan Shaw, has put his pen to paper, dragging and drudging up virulent and violent hallucinations from his not-so-cute brainscape. Been waiting too long for this. So have you, whoever you are, believe me.
“If you don’t yet know him, you will. If you didn’t want to, too bad. Once he’s in, he’s in. Jonathan Shaw’s words, work, life, lives, deaths, rants, rage, hilarity, and taste rank with the best of ’em.
“If Hubert Selby Jr., Charles Bukowski, Ernest Hemingway, Jack Kerouac, William Burroughs, Neil Cassidy, Dr. Hunter S. Thompson, the Marquis de Sade, Antonio Carlos Jobim, Joao Gilberto, Edward Teach, Charlie Parker, Iggy Pop, Louis-Ferdinand Céline, R. Crumb, Robert Williams, Joe Coleman, Dashiell Hammett, E. M. Cioran, and all of the Three Stooges had all been involved in some greasy, shameful whorehouse orgy, Jonathan Shaw would surely be its diabolical, reprobate spawn.”
—Johnny Depp
“Jonathan Shaw has had his passport stamped in hell so many times he could get his mail there. Vile as junkie-cum, beautiful as a dead drunk’s bible, this story will keep you clawing at the pages, wondering how one man can wreak so much havoc, suffer so much for Art, and still have enough brains left to put a sentence together, let alone the heart to create this unique, riveting, hyper-colorful adventure. Written in blood, Jonathan Shaw’s writing takes us places most people never come back from. This is gonna hurt, motherfucker, but the author is living proof that whatever doesn’t kill you can get you laid. What are we, in the end, but the sum of our scars?”
—Jerry Stahl
‘’Jonathan Shaw is a shameless evildoer, a decorated veteran of the drug war whose deviance is only exceeded by his clever ability to weave his own sickness into a true classic of American literature. He is Oscar Wilde and Charlie Manson tattooing a portrait of Dorian Gray on the white underbelly of a society desperately in need of this type of fearless storytelling.’’
—Marilyn Manson
“Jonathan Shaw’s writing is one hell of a wild ride through the bizarre netherworld of his own damaged consciousness. His experiences are real, and his language and insights kinetic and brutal. This is what the French would call littérature maudite, and Shaw’s writing certifies him as a subversive and criminal inhabitantof the world of human expression.”
—Jim Jamusch
“Jonathan Shaw is the great nightmare anti-hero of the new age.’’
—Iggy Pop
‘’Jonathan Shaw’s passionate descriptions of the surreal, paranoid jungle he inhabits capture the haunting poetry of his soul.’’
—Hubert Selby Jr.
“Is he bitter? Oh, just a tad.”
—R. Crumb
CREDITS
Cover photograph © Robert Gaudette
Cover design by Milan Bozic
COPYRIGHT
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
NARCISA. Copyright © 2015 by Jonathan Shaw. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Previously published with slightly different text by Heartworm Press.
FIRST EDITION
ISBN 978-0-06-235499-0
EPub Edition March 2015 ISBN 9780062355003
15 16 17 18 19 OV/RRD 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
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