At first there was something casual about this quirk, as if individual sayings and scenes had just occurred to him. But that changed little by little. And I remember he started going to movies that featured the actors on the show. ”Marathe pretended to pull up her nose. “At some point he couldn’t talk or talk about a topic at all without referring it back to the series. The topic. Without making the series the reference system. ”Steeply noted that he could not fail to notice the quiet squeaks that Marathe used to turn his wheelchair around to get different angles of his squat shadow. Steeply exhaled through her nose with a strong whistle. “On the whole, he wasn’t even uncritical.” Sometimes Marathe came out of the blue cheerfulness
the thought that he had nothing against Steeply, although stomachs or minds were too much to say. “So it wasn’t that kind of obsession, you say.” “It went step by step and slowly. At some point, I still remember, he suddenly called the kitchen the mess tent and his study the marsh or the swamp. Those were fictional places on the show. He loaned out films in which actors from the series were seen in crowd scenes or short appearances. He bought one of the then so-called Betamixer263, an early magnetic video recorder. From then on, he magnetically recorded all 29 shows and reruns every week. He archived the tapes and organized them in baroque systems with cross-references that at first glance had nothing to do with the date of the recording. I remember Mummykins saying nothing when he picked up his bedding and slept in the armchair in his study at night, the swamp. Or pretended. As if he were sleeping. “” But you suspected he wasn’t really
was sleeping. “” It was becoming apparent that he was looking at his M * A * 5 * H magnetic tapes all night, probably over and over, using a cheap white plastic earplug to keep out the noise, and feverishly taking notes in his notebook. ”In contrast to the violence and transperfant dotting of the sunset, the morning sun seemed to be slowly exhaled from the rounded protrusions of the Rincon range of hills, its warmth a dewier warmth and its light the vague red of a tender sensation; the upright shadow of U.S.B.U.D.’s steeply was cast over the ledge of Marathe behind him, so close that Marathe could reach out and touch the shadow. “You find that I don’t remember very well how things were progressing,” Steeply said.