So. I had to read a “literary” book that in some way deals with
law, lawyers, or legal themes for my Law & Literature class.
I’ll read Grapes of Wrath, I said. That’ll be fine, I said.
Here is a sampling of some actual goddamn sentences I have had to
process with my human brain over the last two days:
“And the women went quickly, quietly back into the houses and
herded the children ahead of them. They knew that a man so hurt and so
perplexed may turn in anger, even on people he loves.” [domestic violence:
natural and to be expected, like mood swings, or, like, you know how you can
kind of smell and feel rain when it’s a long way off but somehow you know the
wind is pushing it in your direction and you just know it’s going to come but
you don’t take an umbrella with you and then later you have to walk back
through the rain and you think the whole time about how you knew it was coming
and why couldn’t you just take the fucking umbrella and god damn it why didn’t
you plan ahead for the rain? domestic violence is like that]
“Behind the harrows, the long seeders – twelve curved iron penes
erected in the foundry, orgasms set by gears, raping methodically, raping
without passion.” [nothin’ worse than a passionless rape, amirite]
“She looked at him and smiled secretly. She was all secrets now
she was pregnant, secrets and little silences that seemed to have meanings. She
was pleased with herself, and she complained about things that didn’t really
matter. And she demanded services of [him] that were silly, and both of them
knew they were silly.” [women is secrets, but when they’re full of babies then
women is secrets and uppity, that’s
the worst]
“‘Why, Tommy, I’m a-lustin’ after the flesh.’” [nothin to see
here, just my new catchphrase, appropriate for many situations]
“‘Say, the day I came outa McAlester I was smokin’. I run me
down a girl, a hoor girl, like she was a rabbit. I won’t tell ya what happened.
I wouldn’t tell nobody what happened.” Casy laughed. “I know what happened. I
went a-fastin’ into the wilderness one time, an’ when I come out the same damn
thing happened to me.” “Hell it did!” said Tom. “Well I saved my money anyway,
an’ I give that girl a run. Thought I was nuts. I should a paid her, but I on’y
got five bucks to my name. She said she didn’ want no money. Here, roll in
under an’ grab-a-holt. I’ll tap her loose.” [our hero, ladies and gentlemen. did I ever tell you about the time I raped
this woman? I surely did; you, too, huh? wild – can you pass that wrench?]
“‘Howdy,’ the woman said. ‘I’m Mis’ Sandry.’” [*ppppbbllllllttttttttttttt*]
“And always, if he had a little money, a man could get drunk.
The hard edges gone, and the warmth. . . . Like to stay drunk all the time. Who says it's bad? Who dares to say it's bad? . . . No - the stars are close and dear and I have joined the brotherhood of the worlds. And everything's holy - everything, even me. [THE NEXT PARAGRAPH, SEPARATED FROM A SOLILOQUY ON THE HOLY
FEELING OF INEBRIATION BY A MERE LINE:] A harmonica is easy to carry. Take it out your hip pocket, knock
it against your palm to shake out the dirt and pocket fuzz and bits of tobacco.
Now it’s ready.” [Willickers, Rootatootin’ Bill, Five Tips to While Away the Miles, Vagrant Hobbies Magazine,
Vol. 6, Iss. 2, 1912][ed. note: Rootatootin' Bill Willickers is Professor Emeritus of Trampthropology at Boxcar University.]
“Ma looked closely at her. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘But, Rosasharn –
don’ shame your folks.’ ‘I don’ aim to, Ma.’ ‘Well, don’t you shame us. We got
too much on us now, without no shame.’” [pregnant girl whose husband’s run off,
don’t get any joy out of the dance. you and your hoorin around – don’ you do
it, rosasharn]
“twelve-year old Ruthie . . . felt the might, the
responsibility, and the dignity of her developing breasts.” [what?] [side note: oh shit,
they come with responsibilities? do I owe some people some kind of money?]
“‘I got this here little girl. You know how purty she is. One
week they give her a prize in this camp ‘cause she’s so purty. Well, what’s
gonna happen to her? She’s gettin' spindly. I ain’t gonna stan’ it. She’s so
purty. I’m gonna bust out.” [... what?]
“‘Swedes up in Dakota – know what they do sometimes? Put pepper
on the floor. Gits up the ladies’ skirts an’ makes ’em purty lively – lively as
a filly in season. Swedes do that sometimes.’” [.......... k. that all
checks out.]
I’m uh... I’m going to see if I can write about another book.
Taking suggestions!
