A man who doesn’t have to prove anything to anybody in that little
house. He would told me stories about his past in the navy and growing
up on his parents’ farm. But he didn’t really care that it was me that
he was telling. He was just being social. He never looked at me much.
But I would stare at him ’cause I could, ’cause he wasn’t looking back.
When he meets the girl, you’ve written this.
“As Eugene’s eyes became accustomed to the haze of the cigarettes and
miasma-like, he saw a woman, in serge and gloves that crept like living
tendrils up her normally
ivory arms, but now sun-kissed as a blush as the incarnadine discovery
inside a conch shell seen for the first time by a bewildered zoologist
as he is undone by its rosy, promising pinkness.
“Those were her arms. But it was her eyes that stopped his breath and
made his heart
“Blue they were. Even through the swirling vapors of pompous
chesterfields and arrogant
lucky strikes, he saw her eyes were a blue beyond blue, like the
“Blue beyond blue. A blue he could swim into forever and never miss a
or a cornstalk yellow. Across the chasm of that room, that blue, those
eyes devoured him
and looked past him and never saw him and never would, of that he was
“From that moment, Eugene understood what the poets had been writing
about these many years. All the lost, wandering, lonely souls who were
now his brothers.
“He knew a love that would never be his. So quickly did he fall for her
that no one in the room
even heard the sound. The whoosh as he fell, the clatter of his broken
“It was a sure silence but his life was shattered.”
End of chapter.
You don’t like it?
You know I do.
That’s not the point.
You don’t have the first idea what it is to be ALIVE!
You don’t know what it is to wake up and grab hold of life every day and
fight with it.
You’re just so goddamn scared to live.
There are other ways to live!
There’s loving your children and seeing them grow up right.
There’s providing for your family.
There’s doing work that’s important and giving to other people.
澳门新莆京手机网站，No, I’ve taken your abuse ’cause I told myself you were worth it.
That the work was worth it.
But god help anyone who loves you, tom.
Because for all your talk and all your millions of beautiful words, you
haven’t the slightest idea of what it means to be ALIVE.
To look into another person’s eyes and ache for him.
I hope someday you will.
And then maybe all your words will be worth five of Scott’s.