My Body in Nine Parts Read Online Free PDF

well my body, since it is part of it, especially after I take a bath.
    My nose used to like the smell of cigarette smoke when I let it out through my nostrils. This was before I gave up smoking about twenty years ago. But my nose remembers that smell. Sometimes my nose craves the smell of a good Gitane. The French cigarette my nose preferred.
    Oh, I also have to tell how my nose takes itself for Cyrano’s nose. In fact, and this is true, because of my nose I was once chosen, among several aspirants, by a theater director to play the part of Cyrano de Bergerac with my own nose.
    Okay, it was not a major Broadway production, but still I played the part. You should have seen me in the role of Cyrano, dressed like a musketeer. My nose was so proud on opening night. So proud that it became even redder than normal when the people in the audience stood up to applaud our performance.
    Of course, I have often been called Pinocchio because of my nose. But also because, according to certain people, I have a tendency to exaggerate when I tell stories. Perhaps even the tale of my nose may not be totally factual.

 
IN DEFENSE OF MY NOSE: SUPPLEMENT #2

    One day a man called Gaston insulted my nose publicly. He was a poet. So he claimed. I don’t know what caused him to want to attack my nose, but I had to defend it. This is what transpired:
    Gaston – You have … you have … Mister Federman … huh! A very big nose.
    Federman – Very big, you say.
    Gaston – Yes, quite big. Enormous in fact.
    Federman – That’s all? That’s all you have to say? This is the best you can come up with? How pathetic.
    Gaston – BIG … very BIG! HUGE! And crooked.
    Federman – Ah, my dear Mister Gaston, no, you must do better than that. Don’t worry my nose can take it. You could have said so many things, in so many different styles, in so many different tones of voice. For instance:
    Aggressive: Me, Sir, if I had such a nose I would have it demolished on the spot. Exterminated!
    Friendly: It must drown into your coffee when you drink, you should perhaps drink it out of the saucer.
    Descriptive: It’s a boulder! It’s a mountain peak! It’s a volcano! What am I saying. It’s an asteroid. When does it collide with the Earth?
    Curious: What use do you make of this elongated oblong box? Do you use it as a writing table or a pedestal?
    Gracious: You must love flying saucers very much to offer so openly to their wheels such a solid landing pad.
    Truculent: Tell me Sir, when you smoke your disgusting French Gitanes and you exhale the vapors through your nostrils, do people shout Fire! Fire!?
    Considerate: Be careful not to lean forward too much when you walk, the weight of this promontory might make you topple over.
    Pedantic: The ugly giant monster that the Japanese invented, called Nozigodla, must have on his forehead as much flesh and bone as your nose.
    Tender: Why don’t you have a little parasol, or better yet a tent made for it so that it doesn’t get burned by the sun?
    Cavalier: What! This type of instrument is now in style to probe into secret places. How convenient. How useful.
    Emphatic: There is no wind, no storm, no blizzard, no tornado, no volcanic eruption strong enough to make such a nose sneeze or catch a cold, except perhaps a piece of freshly cut hay. Even the most powerful succumb to grass.
    Dramatic: When it bleeds do certain people think it’s the Red Sea and try to go across?
    Admiring: What a great publicity sign this nose would make for a perfumer. Just the nose surrounded by a myriad of beautiful perfumed women in negligees.
    Lyrical: Is it a train? A boat? A dirigible? A spaceship? When is the launching?
    Naive: This topological monument, when is it open for public visitation?
    Well, I could have gone on teaching Gaston a few more tirades about my nose. But poor Mister Gaston had already disappeared into the crowd, his tail between his legs, never to