HoW 04 - 1340

callow, defunct, infant, and white

He’s gone from this venue, but not defunct. He left some notes behind; musical notes, rather than the kind you’d find on little pieces of paper. You’ll hear them in the air, solitary, lingering at night on the beach. But please don’t go alone.
Featherless, unfledged, this callow bird took to the sky before he’d been weaned—like an infant, after hesitating first steps, being forced out the door to go to work as an adult—unsure, fearing to stumble, but determined to succeed; therefore earning the right of return, not as a babe in white, but wearing yellow and smiling.
Push, recall, and cheer; ponder your own success, but please don’t do it alone.

Mama’s mustache reminded me of...

the little twirler over the lip of Pat, my first lover. He was Native-American and had trouble growing any kind of facial hair. I should say up front Mama was not my mother, nor anyone’s really, though he acted like a mother to all of us, the destitute, the disgruntled, the disenfranchised. We’d come to the city, some of the younger ones from broken homes beyond the Palisades, some of the older ones having lost a partner to the scourge or from mere wanderlust, and a few, very few, simply looking for a new playing field. Mama’s reputation was legend. Once he took a shine to you, he’d be there for mral support forever. That funny little mustache always supplied a spot of humor, except when it didn’t—when it reminded you of one you’d dearly loved and lost.

There was a drunk in the men’s room stall...

and he was singing in a low voice, “Ninety-six bottles of beer on the wall…” slurring rather. Not knowing how long he’d been on his throne, I couldn’t tell if he’d just recently begun or couldn’t, in his condition, get through the nineties.
His singing disturbed my concentration and dried up my stream. There were other things on my mind that might have the same effect, to be sure. I knew with the surgery I was soon to face, I shouldn’t even be in a bar, but then, I had no one waiting at home to provide consolation, and at least here, at the Dew Drop, there were lights and music, however dim and off-key. And Happy Hour was not to be taken lightly.
When the drunk stopped counting bottles and a thud sounding like a falling body followed, I thought to check if he was still seated upright but felt I had not enough self-constructed consolation to share.

posthumous, nature, depth, and plumb

Did he really write so seriously and reach the depth of feeling for which he has been credited? Was he a poseur? Another Proust wannabe, or Fitzgerald plumbing for the reasons behind a Gatsby-like obsession; going for the posthumous ble ribbon? He was sensitive to the vicissitudes of the hard scrabble life as well as to that of privilege, but it was not in his nature to be consistent, certainly not for the length of a novel.
I believe faithful Tess had a hand in all his most acclaimed work and were it not for her contributions, we would not be sitting here talking about him. What does Carveresque mean anyway—that one has a tendency to cut away all the meat?

drinking, atheism, blue, and stony

Atheism doesn’t leave much time for drinking problems, financial worries, feeling blue when God doesn’t answer your prayers—there’s just so much not to believe in. To be sure, you will still be able to manufacture whatever stressful situations you need to get you through the stony silence of a blue sky that contains no heaven. The pointing finger that has missed you on the radar has found everyone who has the inclination to be led. Turn your head away and close your ears. Your business is your own. Time is not money if you treat it as a spendthrift.

strange, secondary, distinguished, and program

The primary stage of the program was where you were separated from your peers to be observed by experts in the field. They would note whether you excelled at simple tasks and were therefore worthy of more of their time and theorizing or were flat out incompetent and could be left among the normal group. If you did, somehow, impress beyond the ordinary and became part of their further research. The secondary phase was distinguished by severe trauma over trying to succeed at something for which most were ill-prepared, leaving you ecstatic if you achieved the set goals but feeling strange and inadequate were you to detect the merest sign of a scowl on the faces of the judges.
They never lie.
They are never complacent.

telepathy, family, balance, and calm

Jackson’s family was first in all matters. Through a sort of telepathy, each would know when one or another member was in need of help, be it financial or support of a more spiritual nature. An equanimity settled over the big house, and all could be accomplished with a calm other clans could only wish for. Mama said they were in balance due to their poise and upbringing. Papa claimed it was their birthright, as they were born with superior genes. Jackson only hoped his next girlfriend would be more understanding of his family’s quirks. He would like to marry and father children of his own one day.