"I am a public mop-handle, they have all of me, and are planning to sever anything they cannot freely manipulate. Since I have lost all shame here in Mississippi and since you have never had any, and I know you blab everything the minute you hear it, for though you are people say brilliant, you are the lowest species of human being ever crawled on earth, and you will admit this, for if there is one thing in you that distinguishes you from slime it is you are honest, this makes you I imagine, a man. I admire the trait and you are the one I can write to as a consequence."
- Free Lib Eustace Chisholm and the Works ePUB download
- [ePUB] Eustace Chisholm and the Works download
- Eustace Chisholm and the Works
Eustace Chisholm aka Ace aka the hyena who learns their names outside the bear deserted camp sites aka the palm reader aka the psalm reader aka the poet and the cursed. He could be like a wise old owl with this misspelled signs and days of the week in the love sick wood. It's always Thursday I don't care about you and tomorrow is always Friday I'm In Love. There are also lessons in attic Greek in the tree house. Young Amos Ratcliffe aka Rat alias starved for love alias no one's son alias object of chestly desire. His landlord Daniel Haws goes by Daniel Haws, white man and whore fucker extraordinaire. Alias everyone's bitch and man in love with boy.
Ace would turn the cards in the deck they had to play and would say play it while you can. It may not be love forever. I'm with Ace. The two should have fucked while the fucking was good. Daniel couldn't tell Amos he loved him and Amos couldn't meet his eyes unless they were inverted and white with desire to be elsewhere. The non-themselves submitted to anyone else who could have them. Black with shame, blue with waiting and red with tragedy.
I'm with Ace. I'm way too much with Ace. Eustace Chisholm and the works aka I'm in trouble aka I've been cursed with spiritualism of another aka it isn't really telling it like it is when it dies in its own denied step. You may have noticed that I really
like making Winnie the Pooh and Alice analogies about stuff. I give myself very good advice and very seldom follow it sob sob sob and a stuffed animal menagerie of tell me all your sob sob sob. Ace's fate scares me! What kind of a keeping warm by the fire of others chance do you have if they throw themselves onto the fire and sob sob sob no one is taking Alice's very good advice? Books don't listen to me either.
I like James Purdy. Eustace is my second Purdy in two days. The first was Malcolm. I can see some similarities between the two without having to stretch my good advice of sell your ass and make some money too much. Malcolm had Mr. Cox who keeps his days of the week where he wants them (too bad there are holidays). Malcolm had Malcolm who carried his hermitudes inside himself to all the other living in the shit that is life bottles to avoid having his uncorked and sos finally read. I like to read multiple books by an author and I love it when I can get a sense carrying over to the others. Daniel's r.e.m on feet and Malcolm's only happy when it's never morning. I knew the lack of eye contact. Letters of life and there are no small parts, only small actors. The end of Eustace hurts. A great poet once asked when will you accept yourself. It hurts too much when that acceptance is saying goodbye and not asking anymore. I think I like a whole lot what I see in James Purdy that there's more than one danger in this denying who you really are. You could open your arms to dreamless sleep. Forget palm readers and I see a tall and dark handsome stranger. My stethoscope says the heart of Eustace Chisholm and the Works is never surrender and never say die. Sob, sob, sob. Don't be afraid to look even if what you see aren't really anything but stupid chicory droppings at the bottom of your cup. Sob, sob, sob into my cup because that was fucking lame.