The Adventures of Augie March - Saul Bellow [267]
He knew everything along the banks for a thousand miles. Specific! Names and addresses. Dates. The whole mystery of life is in the specific data." "What makes you so keen about Egypt suddenly?" I said. "And besides I know there's plenty that's wrong with me. Don't you worry." "Why, of course, even though you're beaming you're full of anxiety. Don't I know it! I can see you pissing against the wind. What you need is some of Dr. Freud's medicine. It could do you a whole lot of good." "As a matter of fact," I said, now somewhat disturbed, "I've been having plenty of peculiar dreams lately. Just listen. Last night I dreamed that I was in my own house, somewhere--it was enough of a surprise to have a house of my own, much less dream what I dreamed. I was standing in my beautiful front room, entertaining a guest. And what do you think? I had two pianos. There were two grand pianos, as if ready for a concert. Then my guest, who had wonderful manners-- and me too, regular society--he said, 'Isn't it unusual for somebody to own three grand pianos?' Three! I turned around, and God! if there wasn't another piano. And I had been trying to figure out how come I had two in my house, as I can't play any more than a bull can sew cushions. This seemed downright sinister. But even though I was thrown by it I didn't let on or show anything. I told this guy, 'Sure, of course there are three of them'; as if who could do with less? So I felt like a terrible faker." "Oh, what a case! You'd be a regular conservatory for a scientific mind. You'd be the greatest collection of unknowns ever to lie on a couch. What I guess about you is that you have a nobility syndrome. You can't adjust to the reality situation. I can see it all over you. You want there should be Man, with capital M, with great stature. As we've been pals since boyhood, I know you and what you think. Remember how you used to come to the house every day? But I know what you want .0 paidea! 0 King David! 0 Plutarch and Seneca! 0 chivalry, 0 Abbot Suger! 0 Strozzi Palace, 0 Weimar! 0 Don Giovanni, 0 lineaments of gratified desire! 0 godlike man! Tell me, pal, am I getting warm or not?" "You are, yes you are," said I. We were in this woodwork bower, you see, of the Chinese restaurant, and all seemed right, good-tempered, friendly. When important thought doesn't have to be soliloquy, I know how valuable an occasion that is. Because to whom can you speak your full mind as to yourself? "Go on, Clem, go on," I told him. "I went to the Mottley School in the fourth grade. Mrs. Minsick was the teacher. She'd call you up to the front of the class and hand you a piece of chalk. 'Now, Dorabella, what flower are you going to smell?' Haw, haw! It was a riot. This little Dorabella Feingold would smell up until her pants showed and turn her eyes with ecstasy. She'd say, 'Sweetpea.' It was a regular drill. Inhale and exhale. Stephanie Kriezcki, she'd say, 'Violet, rose, nasturtium.' " He held the cigar by the stem and smelled with his inflated nose. "Just catch the picture of this lousy classroom, and all these poor punks full of sauerkraut and bread with pig's-feet, with immigrant blood and washday smells and kielbasa and home-brew beer. Where did they get off with this flora elegance? Why, hell! And then old lady Minsick would give a goid star to reinforce the good ones. She, with that kisser of hers with sharp teeth and tits that hung down to her belly, she'd hawk into the wastepaper basket. Well, the wild kids would say, 'Skunk cabbage, teach,' ' or, 'Wild schmooflowers,' or 'Dreck.' For this she'd grab you by the neck and rush you down to the principal. But these tough kids were right. Whoever saw any sweetpeas? Why, I'd fish through the sewer lid with a diaper pin because my wiseguy brother told me I'd catch goldfish." "This is a sad story. But don't you see both kinds of kids were right? Some stood up for what they knew and some longed for what they didn't. What do you mean, that there are some kids or people for whom there can't be flowers? That couldn't be true." "I knew you'd go for this chalk-smelling.