[Howto-kickstart] Fwd: CHANGE

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Here I am, he thought once, the world's only monastic druggie. "Whoever it is, I thank ye not for the burn I've given m'self! The man getting out of the car was as old and well preserved as the car itself — a Colorado Type if ever Paul had seen one. But Maugham first seduced him and then made him a child again, and that was wonderful. He tried to draw them up, make them less vulnerable less of a target, and his knee screamed. The memory of that pain-racked, endless interlude with the phantom voice of the sportscaster doing the play-by-play was too strong still. The following morning Paul was sitting up in bed, propped on a pile of pillows, drinking a cup of coffee, and eyeing those marks on the sides of the door with the guilty eye of a murderer who has just seen some bloody item of clothing of which he somehow neglected to dispose."Paul was dismayed by the depth of this slyness. This, Paul thought, was nothing more than blatant harassment. This was not a matter of My Lord's courage, but of his very sanity. ""Oh? The whisper of the axe.

This knowledge did not bring fear but a sense of resignation — he had needed the medication, and he had somehow managed to escape his room and get it. He went to the bar, looked at the bottle, then looked back at where his galleys and walking sticks lay. She stood looking at him, at the darkening, bloody sheets with vague consternation — her face was the face of a woman who hears on her radio that an earthquake has killed ten thousand people in Pakistan or Turkey. In it Misery spent a cheerful country weekend boffing Growler, Ian's Irish Setter. "he cried, and ran to her, as he had that day in Liverpool, when it seemed certain that the pirates had taken her away as Mad Jack Wickersham had sworn they would. This was how depressives got just before shooting all the members of their families, themselves last; it was the psychotic despair of the woman who dresses her children in their best, takes them out for ice-cream, walks them down to the nearest bridge, lifts one into the crook of each arm, and jumps over the side. He replaced the receiver slowly, a line from an old Roger Miller song occurring to him and seeming to make a certain senseless sense: No phone, no pool, no pets. "He spoke rapidly, urgently, eyes flashing, riveted on her face — he was positive in that moment that his life might depend on what he was able to say in the next twenty seconds. ") He closed his eyes, the sportscaster's voice fading as he listened avidly to the minute rattle of the pin in the lock. Followed by an elderly man who had died of that perennial bridesmaid, Short Illness. For a moment the only _expression_ she saw there by the lamp she carried was the one Geoffrey had worn since she had first opened her door to him — a look of agonized dread. The photo showed a fireman on a ladder, silhouetted against a background of flames billowing from the window of a frame building. It was the tide, his father had tried to explain, but he had always known it was the piling. "So then you saw that the road just ended at this cliff,»she said, "and everyone in the theater knew that if Rocket Main didn't get out of that old Hudson before it got to the cliff he was a gone goose. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you to go ahead and do your worst — I've discovered a whole new critical mode, my friend. At last she did come back and looked at him, smiling radiantly like a woman just awakening and realizing it was going to be a beautiful day. Annie apparently not only pinched and slapped herself when she was feeling depressed. The language of the book had grown florid and overblown again — it was not self-parody yet, not quite, but it was floating steadily in that direction and he seemed helpless to stop it. Psychotics, rocked in the poison cradles of their own egos, want to do everyone handy a favor and take them along. He was a little surprised at the depth of sympathy he felt for the animals and the depth of his anger at Annie for how she had, in her unadmitting and arrogant egoism, left them to suffer in their pens. Waited for his unseen chest to go up again on its own, as it had been doing his whole life without any help from him. He had asked his mother where the bird came from and when she said Africa he had understood it was doomed to die in the cage where it lived, far away from wherever God had meant it to be, and he cried and his mother bought him an ice-cream cone and for awhile he had stopped crying and then he remembered and started again and so she had taken him home, telling him as they rode the trolley back to Lynn that he was a bawl-baby and a sissy.