The Eden Express_ A Memoir of Insanity - Mark Vonnegut [57]
The ideal thing would be something that automatically rewarded good and punished evil. Something like what we had hoped acid was. You wouldn’t have to worry about where to put it.
Maybe the Germans are putting something in the VW’s they send over here. Sore about World War II and all. Maybe the Japanese are doing something with transistors. Inscrutable chaps, and after Hiroshima who could blame them? Sometimes I think it’s timed to go off some day, sometimes I think it’s going off all the time.
Who’s trying to do what to whom?
Maybe it’s freaks vs. straights, male vs. female, white vs. black, young vs. old, East vs. West, etc. The fuckers couldn’t hit each other to save their lives, but every round’s a direct hit on my little head.
Eternal vigilance is the price of freedom.
Insanity is the price of eternal vigilance.
Holy shit, is my mind running. This coffee isn’t even cold yet. The same song is still playing on the juke box. I’m thinking about a million miles an hour, spinning fantastic webs. It’s a gas. Cramming whole lifetimes of thinking in between sips of coffee.
That stuff about where to put it, mistakes, and all doesn’t begin to tell the story. There’s so much more there. It’s like I’ve discovered some sort of shorthand. I’ve got these little microdots of thinking. I just go “dit” and I’ve got years of thinking and then “dit” and another big hunk. Fitting it all together more and more. And it’s not just my thinking. I’m tapping huge pools of other people’s thinking. “Dit” and I’ve got the whole Bible. “Dit,” all of Freud and then “dit” and the relationship of Freud and the Bible in one “dit.” It goes forever in both directions. I’m getting closer and closer to having it all in one “dit.” I get it from time to time but can’t seem to hold it very long but I’m holding it longer and longer. And then one “dit” is all I need. Everything is in it utterly distinct but still in just one “dit.”
The same song is still playing, my coffee’s still warm. Simon is sipping his coffee. Simon, the waitress, and everyone else is glowing softly with incredible beauty. I’m content forever. “Dit.” Content forever? But it’s not forever, it’s just now. Now I’m content forever. I’m content forever at this moment of time but what about the movement of time? What happens next?
If I could just be content for now. Now. I don’t care what happens tomorrow because I’m already content about it now no matter what it is.
No matter what it is. It could be dreadful and here I am content about it. I have an awful feeling something awful is happening or I wouldn’t be feeling this way. All these strange things that have been happening to me must be clues of some sort. All these things I keep trying to laugh off.
“Simon, I have this awful feeling I’m kissing everyone good-by forever. It seems very sad. ‘It’s been very nice. You were really swell,’ they seem to be saying. ‘Good-bye. I love you too,’ I seem to be answering. ‘Good night. Everything will be just fine.’ Even strangers. Words aren’t necessary. Just glimpsing people going by in cars, they’re all saying, ‘Good-by Mark, we all loved you.’ ‘Gee whiz, everyone, I loved you all too. It’s really been great. I wish we could do it all again.’
“Simon, the time will come when you too will have to leave me. Don’t be sad. It’s meant to be. I love you, Simon, you’ve been wonderful, solid like a rock.”
“What do you mean, Mark?”
“In time it will all make sense, Simon, be patient. I myself am not sure yet how it ends. But be patient, it will all become clear. We have a very strange and difficult journey but nothing is asked of us that we cannot do. Remember that.”
“Sure, Mark.”
“Thank you, Simon. Have faith. You will be remembered.”
“Well, let’s pay the check and get out of here. We still have to find a place to crash.”
“Well, sure. Let us pay the check. I suppose it is time for us to leave this place. Do you have money, Simon? If you do not have any money, Simon, I have money. We do not have