yours and each o f you gets the whole universe to roll around in
because everything was made to converge at the point where
you are amidst all the rest o f life o f whatever kind, com position, or characteristics, it’s a great mass all around you, the blob, a loud blob, Jell-O , loud Jell-O , and yo u ’re some frail,
simple thing at the center and what you are to them doesn’t
matter because the noise protects you from knowing what you
are to them; noise has a beauty and noise has a function and a
quiet girl sometimes needs it because the night is long and life
is hard and pain is real and you stare into the glass and you
drink, darling, you drink, and you contemplate and you
drink; you go slow and you speed up and you drink; and you
are a deep thinker and you drink; and you have some hazy,
romantic thoughts and some vague philosophical leanings and
you drink; and you remember some pictures that flash by in
your mind and you drink; and there’s sad feelings for a fleeting
minute and you drink; and you choreograph an uprising, the
lumpen rise up, and you drink; and there’s Camden reaching
right out for you, it’s taking you back, and you drink; a man
nudges you from the right and you drink; he puts his face right
up close to yours and you drink; he’s talking about something
or other and you drink; you don’t look left or right, you just
drink, it’s worship, it’s celebration, you’d kneel down except
for that you might not be able to synchronize your movements, in your heart you kneel; and you drink; you taste it and
you roll it around your tongue and down on into your throat
and down on into your chest and you get fiery and warm and
you drink it down hard and fast and you sit stone still in
solemn concentration and you drink; the noise holds you
there, it’s almost physical, the noise, it’s a superhuman
embrace, bigger than a man’s, it’s swamp but not swam py, it’s
dry and dark and hot and popping, it’s dense and down and
dirty and you drink; the noise keeps you propped up, your
back upright and your legs bent and your feet firm ly balanced
on the stool, except the stool’s higher now, and you drink; and
yo u ’re like Alice, you’re getting smaller and it’s getting
bigger, and then you remember Humpty Dum pty was a
fucking eggshell and you could fall and break and D orothy got
lost in Oz and Cinderella was made into a pumpkin or nearly
such and there’s a terrible decline and fall awaiting you, fear
and travail, because the m oney’s gone, you been handing it
over to the big man behind the bar and you been drinking and
you been contemplating and the pile’s gone and there’s terrible
challenges ahead, like physically getting o ff the stool and
physically getting out o f the room and physically getting
home; it hardly seems possible that you could actually have so
many legs and none o f them have any bones that stand up
straight and you break it down into smaller parts; pay up so the
bartender don’t break your fingers; get o ff the stool; stand up;
walk, try not to lean on anyone, you can’t use the men as
leaning posts, you can’t volley yourself to the front sort o f
springing o ff one after the other, because one or another will
consider it affection; get to the door; don’t fall on the mandarin
with the list, don’t trip in front o f him, don’t throw up; open
the door on your own steam; get out the door fully clothed,
jacket, T-shirt, keys; once outside, you make another plan.
These are hard things; some o f them may actually be
impossible. It may be impossible to pay the bartender because
you may have drunk too much and it may be impossible to get
o ff the stool and it may be impossible to walk and it may be
impossible to stand up and it may be impossible to find the
door. It’s sad, yo u ’re an orphan and it’s hard to concentrate,
what with poor nutrition and a bad education; but sociology
w ill not save your ass if you drank more money than you got
because a citizen has to pay their bar bills. There’s tw o dollars
sitting on the bar in front o f you, the remains o f your pile like
old bones, fragments o f an archaic skeleton, little remnants o f
a big civilization dug up and yo u ’re eyeing it like it’s the grail
but with dishonorable intent and profane desire. It’s rightly
the bartender’s. H e’s been taking the money as it’s been due
with righteous discipline, which is w hy you ain’t overdrawn
on the account; you asked him in a tiny mouse voice afraid o f
the answer, you squeaked in the male din, a frightened
whisper, you asked him if you owed, you got up the nerve,
and yo u ’re straight with him as far as it goes but these extra
bills are rightly his; or you could have another drink; but you
had wanted to end it well, with some honor; and also he ain’t a
waitress, dear, and the m oney’s got his mark on it; and he ain’t
cracked a smile or said a tender word all night, which a girl
ain’t used to, he don’t like girl drinkers as a matter o f principle
you assume, he’s fast, he’s quiet, he’s got a hard, cold face with
a square ja w and long, oily hair and a shirt half open and a long
earring and bad teeth and he’s aloof and cold to you; and then
suddenly, so fast it didn’t happen, there’s a big, warm hand on
your hand, a big, hairy hand, and he’s squeezing your fingers
around the two dollars and he’s half smiling, one half o f his
face is smiling, and he says darling take a fucking cab. Y ou
stare at him but you can’t exactly see him; his face ain’t all in
one piece; it’s sort o f split and moving; and before you exactly
see his mouth move and hook it up with his words he’s gone,
w ay to a foreign country, the other end o f the bar where
they’re having bourbon, some cowboys with beards and hats.
Life’s always kind in a pinch. The universe opens up with a
gift. There’s generosity, someone gives you something special
you need; two dollars and you don’t have to suck nothing, you
are saved and the man in his generosity stirs you deeply.
Y o u ’re inspired to succeed with the rest o f the plan— move,
stand, walk, execute each detail o f the plan with a military
precision, although you wish you could take o ff your T-shirt
because it’s very hot but you follow the plan you made in your
mind and although your legs buckle and the ground isn’t solid,
it’s swelling and heaving, you make it past the strange, w avy
creatures with the deep baritone voices and the erections and
you get out, you get out the door even though it’s hard and
yo u ’re afraid because you can see outside that it’s raining, it’s
raining very hard, it’s pouring down, it’s so wet, you really