The meat balk19 devoured20, the paper napkin carefully thrown on the floor, belching21 a trifle and not knowing why or whither, I step out into the 24 carat sparkle and with the theatre pack. This time I wander through the side streets following a blind man with an accordion22. Now and then I sit on a stoop and listen to an aria23. At the opera, the music makes no sense; here in the street it has just the right demented touch to give it poignancy24. The woman who accompanies the blind man holds a tin cup in her hands; he is a part of life too like the tin cup, like the music of Verdi, like the Metropolitan25 Opera House. Everybody and everything is a part of life, but when they have all been added together, still somehow it is not life.When is it life, I ask myself, and why not now? The blind man wanders on and I remain sitting on the stoop. The meat balls were rotten: the coffee was lousy, the butter was rancid. Everything I look at is rotten, lousy, rancid. The street is like a bad breath; the next street is the same, and the next and the next. At the comer the blind man stops again and plays "Home to Our Mountains". I find a piece of chewing gum in my pocket -1 chew it. I chew for the sake of chewing. There is absolutely nothing better to do unless it were to make a decision, which is impossible. The stoop is comfortable and nobody is bothering me. I am part of the world, of life, as they say, and I belong and I don't belong.
I sit on the stoop for an hour or so, mooning. I come to the same conclusions I always come to when I have a minute to think for myself. Either I must go home immediately and start to write or I must run away and start a wholly new life. The thought of beginning a book terrifies me: there is so much to tell that I don't know where or how to begin. The thought of running away and beginning all over again is equally terrifying: it means working like a nigger to keep body and soul together. For a man of my temperament26, the world being what it is, there is absolutely no hope, no solution. Even if I couldwrite the book I want to write nobody would take it -1 know my compatriots only too well. Even if I couldbegin again it would be no use, because fundamentally I have no desire to work and no desire to become a useful member of society. I sit there staring at the house across the way. It seems not only ugly and senseless, like all the other houses on the street, but from staring at it so intently, it has suddenly become absurd. The idea of constructing a place of shelter in that particular way strikes me as absolutely insane. The city itself strikes me as a piece of the highest insanity27, everything about it, sewers28, elevated lines, slot machines, newspapers, telephones, cops, doorknobs, flop29 houses, screens, toilet paper, everything. Everything could just as well not be and not only nothing lost by a whole universe gained. I look at the people brushing by me to see if by chance one of them might agree with me. Supposing I intercepted30 one of them and just asked him a simple question. Supposing I just said to him suddenly: "Why do you go on living the way you do?" He would probably call a cop. I ask myself - does any one ever talk to himself the way I do? I ask myself if there isn't something wrong with me. The only conclusion I can come to is that I am different.And that's a very grave matter, view it how you will. Henry, I say to myself, rising slowly from the stoop, stretching myself, brushing my trousers and spitting out the gum. Henry, I say to myself, you are young yet, you are just a spring chicken and if you let them get you by the balls you're an idiot because you're a better man than any of them only you need to get rid of your false notions about humanity. You have to realize Henry me boy, that you're dealing31 with cut-throats, with cannibals, only they're dressed-up, shaved, perfumed, but that's all they are - cut-throats, cannibals. The best thing for you to do now. Henry, is to go and get yourself a frosted chocolate and when you sit at the soda32 fountain keep your eyes peeled and forget about the destiny of man because you might still find yourself a nice lay and a good dean lay will dean your ballbearing out and leave a good taste in your mouth whereas this only brings on dyspepsia, dandruff, halitosis, encephalitis. And while I'm soothing34 myself thus a guy comes up to me to bum35 a dime36 and I hand him a quarter for good measure thinking to myself that if I had had a little more sense I'd have had a juicy pork chop with that instead of the lousy meat balls but what the difference now it's all food and food makes energy and energy is what makes the world go round. Instead of the frosted chocolate I keep walking and soon I'm exactly where I intended to be all the time, which is front of the ticket window of the Roseland. And now. Henry, says I to myself, if you're lucky your old pal37 MacGregor will be here and first hell bawl38 the shit out of you for running away and then he'll lend you a five-spot, and if you just hold your breath while climbing the stairs maybe you'll see the nymphomaniac too and you'll get a dry fuck. Enter very calmly. Henry, and keep your eyes peeled! And I enter as per instructions on velvet39 toes, checking my hat and urinating a little as a matter of course, then slowly redescending the stairs and sizing up the taxi girls all diaphanously gowned, powdered, perfumed, looking fresh and alert but probably bored as hell and leg weary. Into each and every one of them, as I shuffle40 about, I throw an imaginary fuck. The place is just plastered with cunt and fuck and that's why I'm reasonably sure to find my old friend MacGregor here. The way I no longer think about the condition of the world is marvellous. I mention it because for a moment, just while I was studying a juicy ass8, I had a relapse. I almost went into a trance again. I was thinking, Christ help me, that maybe I ought to beat it and go home and begin the book. A terrifying thought! Once I spent a whole evening sitting in a chair and saw nothing and heard nothing. I must have written a good sized book before I woke up. Better not to sit down. Better to keep circulating. Henry, what you ought to do is to come here some time with a lot of dough41 and just see how far it'll take you. I mean a hundred or two hundred bucks42, and spend it like water and say yes to everything. The haughty43 looking one with the statuesque figure, I bet she'd squirm like an eel33 if her palm were well greased. Supposing she said - twenty bucks!and you could say Sure!Supposing you could say - Listen, I've got a car downstairs ... let's run down to Atlantic City for a few days. Henry, there ain't no car and there ain't no twenty bucks. Don't sit downkeep moving.
At the rail which fences off the floor I stand and watch them sailing around. This is no harmless recreation... this is serious business. At each end of the floor there is a sign reading "No Improper44 Dancing Allowed". Well and good. No harm in placing a sign at each end of the floor. In Pompei they probably hung a phallus up. This is the American way. It means the same thing. I mustn't think about Pompei or I'll be sitting down and writing a book again. Keep moving Henry. Keep your mind on the music.I keep struggling to imagine what a lovely time I would have had if I had the price of a string of tickets, but the more I struggle the more I slip back. Finally I'm standing45 knee-deep in the lava46 beds and the gas is choking me. It wasn't the lava that killed the Pompeians, it was the poison gas that predpitated the eruption47. That's how the lava caught them in such queer poses, with their pants down, as it were. If suddenly all New York were caught that way - what a museum it would make! My friend MacGregor standing at the sink scrubbing his cock... the abortionists on the East Side caught red-handed ... the nuns48 laying in bed and masturbating one another ... the auctioneer with an alarm in his hand ... the telephone girls at the switchboard ... J. P. Morganana sitting on the toilet bowl placidly49 wiping his ass ... the dicks with rubber hoses giving the third degree ... strippers giving the last strip and tease...
Standing knee-deep in the lava beds and my eyes choked with sperm50; J. P. Morganana is placidly wiping his ass while the telephone girls plug the switchboards, while dicks with rubber hoses practice the third degree, while my old friend MacGregor scrubs the germs out of his cock and sweetens it and examines it under the microscope. Everybody is caught with his pants down, including the strip teasers who wear no pants, no beards, no moustaches, just a little patch to cover their twinkling little cunts. Sister Antolina lying in the convent bed, her guts51 trussed up, her arms akimbo and waiting for the Resurrection, waiting, waiting for life without hernia, without intercourse52, without sin, without evil, meanwhile nibbling53 a few animal crackers54, a pimento, some fancy olives, a little head cheese. The Jew-boys on the East Side, in Harlem, the Bronx, Carnarsie, Bronville, opening and dosing the trapdoors, pulling out arms and legs, turning the sausage machine, dogging up the drains, working like fury for cash down and if you let a peep out of you out you go. With eleven hundred tickets in my pocket and a Rolls Royce waiting for me downstairs I could have the most excruciatingly marvellous time, throwing a fuck into each and everyone respectively regardless of age, sex, race, religion, nationality, birth or breeding. There is no solution for a man like myself, I being what I am and the world being what it is. The world is divided into three parts of which two parts are meat balls and spaghetti and the other part a huge syphilitic chancre. The haughty one with the statuesque figure is probably a cold turkey fuck, a sort of con3 anonymeplastered with gold leaf and tin foil. Beyond despair and disillusionment there is always the absence of worse things and the emoluments55 of ennui56. Nothing is lousier and emptier than the midst of bright gaiety clicked by the mechanical eye of the mechanical epoch57, life maturating in a black box, a negative tickled58 with add and yielding a momentaneous simulacrum of nothingness. At the outermost59 limit of this momentaneous nothingness my friend MacGregor arrives and is standing by my side and with him is the one he was talking about, the nymphomaniac called Paula. She has the loose, jaunty60 swing and perch61 of the double-barrelled sex, all her movements radiating from the groin, always in equilibrium62, always ready to flow, to wind and twist, and clutch, the eyes going tic-toc, the toes twitching63 and twinkling, the flesh rippling64 like a lake furrowed65 by a breeze. This is the incarnation of the hallucination of sex, the sea nymph squirming in the maniac's arms. I watch the two of them as they move spasmodically inch by inch around the floor; they move like an octopus66 working up a rut. Between the dangling67 tentacles68 the music shimmers69 and flashes, now breaks in a cascade70 of sperm and rose water, forms again into an oily spout71, a column standing erect72 without feet, collapses73 again like chalk, leaving the upper part of the leg phosphorescent, a zebra standing in a pool of golden marshmallow, one leg striped, the other molten. A gold marshmallow octopus with rubber hinges and molten hooves, its sex undone74 and twisted into a knot. On the sea floor the oysters75 are doing the St. Vitus dance, some with lockjaw, some with double-jointed knees. The music is sprinkled with rat poison, with the rattlesnake's venom76, with the fetid breath of the gardenia77, the spittle of the sacred yak78, the bolloxed sweat of the musk-rat, the leper's sugar-coated nostalgia79. The music is a diarrhoea, a lake of gasolene, stagnant80 with cockroaches81 and stale horse piss. The drooling notes are the foam82 and dribble83 of the epileptic, the night sweat of the fornicating nigger frigged by the Jew. All America is in the trombone's smear84, that frazzled brokendown whinny of the gangrened sea cows stationed off Point Loma, Pawtucket, Cape85 Hatteras, Labrador, Camarsie and intermediate points. The octopus is dancing like a rubber dick - the rhumba of Spuyten Duyvil inedit.Laura the nympho is doing the rhumba, her sex exfoliated and twisted like a cow's tail. In the belly86 of the trombone lies the American soul farting its contented87 heart out. Nothing goes to waste - not the least spit of a fart. In the golden marshmallow dream of happiness, in the dance of sodden88 piss and gasolene, the great soul of the American continent gallops89 like an octopus, all the sails unfurled, the hatches down, the engine whirring like a dynamo. The great dynamic soul caught in the click of the camera's eye, in the heat of rut, bloodless as a fish, slippery as mucus, the soul of the people miscegenating on the sea floor, pop-eyed with longing90, harrowed with lust91. The dance of Saturday night, of cantaloupes rotting in the garbage pail, of fresh green snot and slimy unguents for the tender parts. The dance of the slot-machine and the monsters who invent them. The dance of the gat and the slugs who use them. The dance of the blackjack and the pricks92 who batter93 brains to a polypous pulp94. The dance of the magneto world, the spark that unsparks, the soft purr of the perfect mechanism95, the velocity96 race on a turntable, the dollar at par1 and the forests dead and mutilated. The Saturday night of the soul's hollow dance, each jumping jigger a functional97 unit in the St. Vitus' dance of the ringworm's dream. Laura the nympho brandishing98 her cunt, her sweet rose-petal lips toothed with ballbearing clutches, her ass balled and socketed99. Inch by inch, millimetre by .millimetre they shove the copulating corpse100 around. And then crash! Like pulling a switch the music suddenly stops and with the stoppage the dancers come apart, arms and legs intact, like tea leaves dropping to the bottom of the cup. Now the air is blue with words, a slow sizzle as of fish on the griddle. The chaff101 of the empty soul rising like monkey chatter102 in the topmost branches of the trees. The air blue with words passing out through the ventilators, coming back again in sleep through corrugated103 funnels104 and smokestacks, winged like the antelope105, striped like the zebra, now lying quiet as the mollusc, now spitting flame. Laura the nympho cold as a statue, her parts eaten away, her hair musically enraptured106. On the brink107 of sleep Laura stands with muted lips, her words falling like pollen108 through a fog. The Laura of Petrarque seated in a taxi, each word ringing through the cash register, then sterilized109, then cauterized110. Laura the basilisk made entirely111 of asbestos, walking to the fiery112 stake with a mouth full of gum. Hunkydory is the word on her lips. The heavy fluted113 Ups of the sea-shell. Laura's lips, the lips of lost Uranian love. All floating shadow-ward through the slanting114 fog. Last murmuring dregs of shell-like lips slipping off the Labrador coast, oozing115 eastward116 with the mud tides, easing starward in the iodine117 drift. Lost Laura, last of the Petrarques, slowly fading on the brink of sleep. Not grey the world, but lustlack, the light bamboo sleep of spoon-backed innocence118.
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1
par
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| n.标准，票面价值，平均数量；adj.票面的，平常的，标准的 | |
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lobster
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| n.龙虾，龙虾肉 | |
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con
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| n.反对的观点，反对者，反对票，肺病；vt.精读，学习，默记；adv.反对地，从反面；adj.欺诈的 | |
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intestinal
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| adj.肠的；肠壁；肠道细菌 | |
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apparatus
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| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
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unifies
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| 使联合( unify的第三人称单数 )； 使相同； 使一致； 统一 | |
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masticating
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| v.咀嚼( masticate的现在分词 )；粉碎，磨烂 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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consecrates
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| n.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的名词复数 )；奉献v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的第三人称单数 )；奉献 | |
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slaughtered
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| v.屠杀，杀戮，屠宰( slaughter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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disdaining
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| 鄙视( disdain的现在分词 )； 不屑于做，不愿意做 | |
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scurrying
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| v.急匆匆地走( scurry的现在分词 ) | |
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deft
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| adj.灵巧的，熟练的（a deft hand 能手） | |
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mathematicians
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| 数学家( mathematician的名词复数 ) | |
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physicists
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| 物理学家( physicist的名词复数 ) | |
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astronomers
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| n.天文学者，天文学家( astronomer的名词复数 ) | |
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balk
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| n.大方木料；v.妨碍；不愿前进或从事某事 | |
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devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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belching
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| n. 喷出，打嗝 动词belch的现在分词形式 | |
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accordion
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| n.手风琴；adj.可折叠的 | |
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aria
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| n.独唱曲，咏叹调 | |
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poignancy
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| n.辛酸事，尖锐 | |
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metropolitan
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| adj.大城市的，大都会的 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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sewers
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| n.阴沟，污水管，下水道( sewer的名词复数 ) | |
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flop
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| n.失败(者)，扑通一声；vi.笨重地行动，沉重地落下 | |
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intercepted
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| 拦截( intercept的过去式和过去分词 )； 截住； 截击； 拦阻 | |
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dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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eel
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| n.鳗鲡 | |
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soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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bum
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| n.臀部；流浪汉，乞丐；vt.乞求，乞讨 | |
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dime
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| n.（指美国、加拿大的钱币）一角 | |
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pal
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| n.朋友，伙伴，同志；vi.结为友 | |
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bawl
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| v.大喊大叫，大声地喊，咆哮 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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shuffle
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| n.拖著脚走，洗纸牌；v.拖曳，慢吞吞地走 | |
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dough
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| n.生面团；钱，现款 | |
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bucks
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| n.雄鹿( buck的名词复数 )；钱；（英国十九世纪初的）花花公子；（用于某些表达方式）责任v.（马等）猛然弓背跃起( buck的第三人称单数 )；抵制；猛然震荡；马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
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haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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improper
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| adj.不适当的，不合适的，不正确的，不合礼仪的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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lava
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| n.熔岩，火山岩 | |
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eruption
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| n.火山爆发；（战争等）爆发；（疾病等）发作 | |
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nuns
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| n.（通常指基督教的）修女， （佛教的）尼姑( nun的名词复数 ) | |
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placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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sperm
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| n.精子，精液 | |
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51
guts
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| v.狼吞虎咽，贪婪地吃，飞碟游戏（比赛双方每组5人，相距15码，互相掷接飞碟）；毁坏（建筑物等）的内部( gut的第三人称单数 )；取出…的内脏n.勇气( gut的名词复数 )；内脏；消化道的下段；肠 | |
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intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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53
nibbling
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| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的现在分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
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crackers
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| adj.精神错乱的，癫狂的n.爆竹( cracker的名词复数 )；薄脆饼干；（认为）十分愉快的事；迷人的姑娘 | |
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emoluments
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| n.报酬，薪水( emolument的名词复数 ) | |
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ennui
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| n.怠倦，无聊 | |
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epoch
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| n.(新)时代；历元 | |
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tickled
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| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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outermost
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| adj.最外面的，远离中心的 | |
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jaunty
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| adj．愉快的，满足的；adv.心满意足地，洋洋得意地；n.心满意足；洋洋得意 | |
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perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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equilibrium
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| n.平衡，均衡，相称，均势，平静 | |
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twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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65
furrowed
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| v.犁田，开沟( furrow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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octopus
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| n.章鱼 | |
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dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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tentacles
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| n.触手( tentacle的名词复数 )；触角；触须；触毛 | |
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shimmers
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| n.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的名词复数 )v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的第三人称单数 ) | |
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70
cascade
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| n.小瀑布，喷流；层叠；vi.成瀑布落下 | |
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spout
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| v.喷出，涌出；滔滔不绝地讲；n.喷管；水柱 | |
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72
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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73
collapses
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| 折叠( collapse的第三人称单数 )； 倒塌； 崩溃； （尤指工作劳累后）坐下 | |
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undone
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| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
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75
oysters
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| 牡蛎( oyster的名词复数 ) | |
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venom
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| n.毒液，恶毒，痛恨 | |
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gardenia
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| n.栀子花 | |
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yak
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| n.牦牛 | |
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nostalgia
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| n.怀乡病，留恋过去，怀旧 | |
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stagnant
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| adj.不流动的，停滞的，不景气的 | |
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81
cockroaches
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| n.蟑螂( cockroach的名词复数 ) | |
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82
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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dribble
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| v.点滴留下，流口水；n.口水 | |
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smear
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| v.涂抹；诽谤，玷污；n.污点；诽谤，污蔑 | |
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cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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gallops
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| （马等）奔驰，骑马奔驰( gallop的名词复数 ) | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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pricks
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| 刺痛( prick的名词复数 )； 刺孔； 刺痕； 植物的刺 | |
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batter
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| v.接连重击；磨损；n.牛奶面糊；击球员 | |
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pulp
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| n.果肉，纸浆；v.化成纸浆，除去...果肉，制成纸浆 | |
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mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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velocity
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| n.速度，速率 | |
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functional
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| adj.为实用而设计的，具备功能的，起作用的 | |
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brandishing
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| v.挥舞( brandish的现在分词 )；炫耀 | |
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socketed
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| v.把…装入托座（或插座），给…装上托座（或插座）( socket的过去分词 )；[高尔夫球]用棒头承口部位击（球） | |
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corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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101
chaff
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| v.取笑，嘲笑；n.谷壳 | |
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102
chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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103
corrugated
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| adj.波纹的；缩成皱纹的；波纹面的；波纹状的v.（使某物）起皱褶(corrugate的过去式和过去分词) | |
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104
funnels
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| 漏斗( funnel的名词复数 )； （轮船，火车等的）烟囱 | |
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antelope
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| n.羚羊；羚羊皮 | |
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enraptured
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| v.使狂喜( enrapture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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108
pollen
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| n.[植]花粉 | |
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109
sterilized
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| v.消毒( sterilize的过去式和过去分词 )；使无菌；使失去生育能力；使绝育 | |
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cauterized
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| v.（用腐蚀性物质或烙铁）烧灼以消毒( cauterize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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112
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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113
fluted
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| a.有凹槽的 | |
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114
slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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115
oozing
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| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的现在分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
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116
eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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117
iodine
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| n.碘，碘酒 | |
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118
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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