Showing posts with label Lindsay Noseworth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lindsay Noseworth. Show all posts

Monday, December 12, 2022

Chapter 1: Section 6: Page 55: Line 181 (975)

 Lindsay pulled out charts.

* * * * * * * * * *

It's like Thomas Pynchon is punishing me for attempting this project. What am I supposed to do with this line?! A four word sentence?! What happened, Pynchon? Use up all of your four page sentences with Gravity's Rainbow?! Did you finally just tucker out? What's the subtext of this statement? We already know, through good old regular text, that Lindsay Noseworth is a kiss ass who would immediately pull out the charts to figure out where east by south might bring them. Hell, we knew he was a kiss ass based on his big old kiss ass name: Noseworth! He's got a nose worth shoving right up Randolph's ass!

Saturday, December 10, 2022

Chapter 1: Section 6: Page 54: Lines 167-168 (961-962)

 "As of this moment we are all friends and brothers," Randolph supposed, "but historically any ship's armory is a free-standing volume of potential trouble—an attraction to would-be mutineers, and little else. There it sits, waiting its moment, taking up space that might, particularly on an airship, be more usefully assigned."

* * * * * * * * * *

Randolph eloquently explaining why guns are bottom-tier inventory. In this case he's speaking about ships, particularly airships, but why not extrapolate his argument to any home in America? Oh, because you want your gun? Fine, whatever. What do I care? Have fun with your free-standing volume of potential trouble, you coward.

"an attraction to would-be mutineers"
Who do you think he looked at when he delivered this line? Lindsay or Chick?

Wednesday, March 24, 2021

Chapter 1: Section 5: Page 36: Lines 11-12 (593-594)

 "But every boy knows the Chums of Chance," declared Lindsay Noseworth perplexedly. "What could you've been reading, as a youth?"

* * * * * * * * * *

Either Lew is pretty near the same age as the Chums of Chance or Lindsay has just declared the Chums of Chance are either a long standing club with rotating members or the Chums of Chance have always been the current roster, for years and years, because they're either ghosts or angels. You know which one I believe! Although maybe you don't if you haven't been reading my hundreds of blog posts on this book. I believe they're angels! And not just any angels! Randolph St. Cosmo, the captain, is the embodiment of Orc from William Blake's America a Prophecy.

I guess we're also learning that the Chums of Chance books were huge nationwide hits that every American boy proudly read (and every American girl secretly). And that means Lew Basnight isn't American! Or if he is American, he isn't cool and if he's not cool, he isn't American! Or he's from a different dimension which is my favorite theory which I'll definitely have you believing once we get to the Lew Basnight section.

Friday, March 5, 2021

Chapter 1: Section 4: Page 30: Line 85 (457)

 "No need for introductions, then," Lindsay calculated.

* * * * * * * * * *

Way to go, Lindsay, you fucking genius you. Amazing that he can do this kind of social math in his head!

Chapter 1: Section 4: Page 30: Line 82 (454)

 "As it happened," Lindsay, the Unit Historian, recalled, "we caught a contrary wind, and ended up in the middle of some unpleasantness in Oltre Giubba, instead of down at Alex, where we had counted upon some weeks of educational diversion, not to mention a more salubrious atmosphere."

* * * * * * * * * *

"Oltre Giubba"
I haven't found any specific mention of unpleasantness in Oltre Giuba (as the Italians referred to Jubaland, the most southwestern state of Somalia and which Pynchon misspelled, unless it was spelled that way in the 19th century or unless the two Bs are just an affectation of Lindsay's speech). But it seems the "general unpleasantness" of the late 19th century was due to British and Italian efforts to colonize Somalia. What the Chums could have flown into was the tensions which began the Banadir Resistance, a guerilla war against the Italians which lasted from 1888 to 1924.
    Contrary winds or not, the Chums were sure to find themselves in the midst of some sort of conflict flying above Africa in the mid to late 1880s as it was the beginning of the Scramble for Africa (also called the Rape of Africa which is a far more fitting and less "apologetic" term. I mean, really, "Scramble for Africa" sounds like some zany Cannonball Run movie or Hollywood comedy akin to It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World (was that enough "mad"s? I'm not even going to check!)). This Scramble for Africa led directly to many of the native people exhibits in World Fairs all over the world for decades. So this is a bit of a tie-in to the Chums visiting the Chicago World's Fair. Here we see them hovering about the violence which led directly to the grand exciting spectacle of the Fair they're now visiting.
    Also see Pynchon's thematic use of the Herero Genocide in Gravity's Rainbow.

"Alex"
My guess is that Lindsay means Alexandria, Egypt. We all know the Library of Alexandria was long destroyed but Lindsay lives in a secret world full of secret organizations with secret missions to secret parts of the world. Why would the Chums expect weeks of educational diversion in Alexandria unless the Library was still extant, just now hidden to the rest of the world?! Later, the Chums are going to travel through the Hollow Earth so why shouldn't this offhand remark by Lindsay be read as the Library of Alexandria's existence maintained in some dark hidden section of the city, perhaps in some labyrinthian catacomb beneath the streets?

Wednesday, March 3, 2021

Chapter 1: Section 4: Page 29: Line 73 (445)

 Crowds of colorfully-dressed aeronauts had swept between them, as ships arrived and took off, and the great makeshift aerodrome seethed with distractions and chance meetings. . . .

* * * * * * * * * *

How many familiar television and movie clichés has Pynchon added to this first chapter of Against the Day? Was I just not paying close enough attention to notice them all? It took two in a row for me to begin thinking about it. First Lindsay screaming like the skipper frustrated with Gilligan (or Sarge screaming at Gomer (or Mel screaming at Vera (or Ralph screaming at Norton (or Fred screaming at Barney (or . . . you get the picture))))). And now the scene where somebody being pursued disappears into a colorful chaotic carnival landscape of strange people with exotic looks and vehicles blocking every avenue. It would make a kind of playful sense that Pynchon would simply litter this first chapter with familiar tropes seeing as how this book is often described as Pynchon's most accessible. Pynchon wanted to make a Pynchon book for Dumb-Dumbs!

Oh! That whole slapstick bit when the ship was about to crash was one of those moments. And maybe Miles and Lindsay wandering wide-eyed about the fair, innocent youngsters gawking at all the wonderful new sights of the big city. What about Darby having embarrassing feelings for Penelope Black? That was sort of John Hughes-ish, no?

Anyway, Lindsay failed to stop Darby from rushing off to see loads of naked women. Lindsay's just going to have to live with knowing Chick will have ruined Darby just a little bit more after tonight.

Chapter 1: Section 4: Page 29: Line 72 (444)

 "Sucklinggg?" screamed Lindsay, but to no avail.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Gilligaaaaaan?"

"Gomerrrrr?"

"Nortoooon?"

"Barneyyyy?"

"Jetsoooon?"

"Lucyyyyyyy?"

"Veraaaaa?"


Chapter 1: Section 4: Page 29: Line 68 (440)

 Lunch-time arrived, and with it Lindsay's announcement of early liberty.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Lunch-time"
The middle of the day when a person usually takes time for their second meal, between breakfast and dinner. Some people have different schedules and so their "lunch" could take place at any time of the day. But that would not mean that they're having lunch during "lunch-time." Lunch-time would still be about the middle of the day even if they were sleeping or eating a different meal during it. Am I being overly pedantic about something so mundane and obvious? Well, I'd better be or else Pynchon is likely to slip some extra-special subtext right past me. Like maybe how "lunch-time" takes place in the middle of the day and, according to the title of this book, we (or somebody) is against that day. Which means we're now in the middle of the battle and have seemingly achieved liberty early! Hoorah!
    But wait! Early liberty does not mean extended liberty and success! Soon the day will probably burst forth from the clouds in its renewed battle to cozily bamboozle us with its lethargic rays and enticing patches of warmth. We must remain vigilant if we are to win this battle!
    Unless the title doesn't mean a competition with the day and is suggesting that the day actually buttresses us and holds us up, uplifting us so that we have the strength to battle back the darkness.

"early liberty"
"Liberty" is a naval term meaning "allow the recruits to let their hair down and take the sticks out of their butts, maybe spend some time consuming too many beers while not saluting officers and standing however they please." The early version of liberty is like a small treat seen as a way to lift up morale and to also have something to hold over the lowly recruits later.
    And as I mentioned earlier, liberty is freedom. It's something to be fought for although not necessarily in physical battle. The dopiest and most easily manipulated Americans think only the military can fight for freedom and liberty. These jerks go about waving flags and praising every military operation as a means of fighting for their freedom and then just roll over whenever their freedoms are actually impinged upon. Protesting is a form of fighting for freedom but these yahoos constantly fight against protesting because of their narrow view of how freedoms are won. In their minds, people protesting against the draft are selfish American hating bastards while America invading Vietnam is protecting American liberty and freedom. What dumb jerks!

Monday, March 1, 2021

Chapter 1: Section 4: Page 28-29: Line 67 (439)

Chevrolette managed to mollify even Lindsay by borrowing his "skimmer" and holding it coyly in front of their faces, as if to conceal a furtive kiss, while the frolicsome Darby Suckling, without whose spirited "clowning" no group snapshot would have been complete, threatened the pair with a baseball bat and a comical expression meant to convey his ingenuous notion of jealous rage.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Chevrolette managed to mollify even Lindsay by borrowing his "skimmer" and holding it coyly in front of their faces, as if to conceal a furtive kiss"
"Well, I guess if an attractive woman is going to flirt with me, I can forget about this man selling his daughter into an almost certainly loveless future marriage with a boy I think of as a despicable and lazy human being" is something Lindsay probably thought being that it's the same thought any teenaged virgin boy would have had. An attractive woman suddenly flirting with you can make you forget even the most immediate and over-the-top human rights violations! "I can't believe those police are beating those protest . . . did Sherry just playfully touch my leg and rub her boob on my arm?!"

"the frolicsome Darby Suckling, without whose spirited "clowning" no group snapshot would have been complete"
Wait until the joy and wonder of life has been sucked completely out of Darby Suckling and we'll see how great group photographs become! We all know, especially with somebody like Lindsay hanging about sucking the joy out of everything like marrow from a bone, that Lindsay's frolicsome attitude isn't going to hold up too long into his teen years. Group photos will quickly go from everybody laughing at Darby "clowning" around to everybody looking awkward and slightly scared of the scowling teenager with the dark eyeliner, ripped jacket, fingerless leather gloves, and the uncombed jet-black dyed hair. You might be thinking, "Hey, Grunion Guy, don't you think Chick Counterfly would be a more obvious peer who will cause this turn in Darby's personality?" and I say, "Did you not grow up around adults, you traitor?!" Your peers and friends definitely have say in the things you like or the fashion you wear but they're never the ones who destroy your sense of wonder and joy for living! That's on the fucking adults in the room!

"threatened the pair with a baseball bat"
I guess Darby carries a baseball bat around with him like Harley Quinn?

Not pictured (or, you know, described) Randolph looking stupefied, Chick eyeballing Dahlia, and Miles Blundell falling on his face.

Chapter 1: Section 4: Page 28: Lines 64-65 (436-437)

 "—I could go age fifteen, I guess," Merle went on, twinkling directly at Lindsay Noseworth strangling with indignation, "but you'd have to pay in gold, and come fetch her on your own ticket. . . . But say now would you mind if I got a snap of you all in front of this Trouvé-screw unit over here?"

* * * * * * * * * *

Oh boy! Don't I have egg all over my face! I lambasted Lindsay Noseworth for not understanding Merle's joke about getting his daughter smashed on corn liquor and here I've been bamboozled into thinking Merle was serious about selling his daughter into sex slavery! Of course he's just being crude and crass and inappropriate for the chuckles! And also to make Lindsay's head explode, something Chick Counterfly would readily assist in. Boy do I feel like an ass! Mostly because Pynchon turned me into Lindsay Noseworth! My, my, that Pynchon is a clever guy!
    But still . . . Pynchon presents the idea here because it's a thing which part of society was okay with and part of society was fighting against to make the world better for as many people as possible. Lindsay, being a lover of rules, at least seems to be a lover of rules for the betterment of society, even if he sometimes interprets "the betterment of society" in fairly shallow ways (like being against profanity). The only reason Lindsay can bristle and get angry at these comments is if this kind of attitude is fairly common among the masses. If people didn't treat their young daughters like chattel, Lindsay would quite obviously understand this as a joke. The "joke" here is less "ha ha, I'm treating my five year old girl in a wholly inappropriate and disgusting way" and more "ha ha look at that uptight jackass squirm while we say despicable things about my daughter!" Maybe some people can't appreciate the difference between those two intents. But I can!

"Trouvé-screw"
"Trouvé" is French for "found." So I don't know what this unit is supposed to look like. I guess like one of those drill units. It probably just looked like Leonardo's original design.





Friday, February 26, 2021

Chapter 1: Section 4: Page 27: Lines 39-40 (411-412)

 "This cannot be," he muttered. "Small children hate me."

* * * * * * * * * *

It isn't just small children, Noseworthy.

Here's why small children hate Lindsay: he's a control freak. It's why he's the master-at-arms of the ship. He loves rules because he fears chaos. If all rules are being followed, nothing bad can transpire. And who are the worst, most chaotic creatures? Small children. So Lindsay almost certainly ruins all of the fun being had by any children in his vicinity by shutting down whatever game they're playing due to rules and regulations not permitting their gambits and gambols. But this kid has just met him so she's interested! Especially since he was acting like such a clown over Merle's alcohol joke.

Have I mentioned previously how the name "Noseworthy" suggests a brown-noser? I probably did!

Chapter 1: Section 4: Page 27: Line 38 (410)

 Lindsay blinked.

* * * * * * * * * *

Blinking is a sign of hesitation, a thing we haven't really seen from Lindsay before. Maybe in his grudging admiration for Miles Blundell's psychic seizure at the Fair. But that was not about a sudden lack of confidence or being unsure about his present predicament like this. That was just Lindsay not really wanting to say something nice to Blundell but being so overwhelmed with awe that he couldn't really stop himself. Here, he has stopped short and must assess the situation. Why is this little girl showing interest in him?

Chapter 1: Section 4: Page 27: Line 37 (409)

Dally, intrigued, ran over and stood in front of him, peering up, as if waiting for the next part of some elaborate joke.

* * * * * * * * * *

 Even a five year old thinks Lindsay must be putting on the act of a silly man, spewing his stick-up-the-butt nonsense to whoever is trying desperately not to listen. Dally is my kind of human being. She would have understood my hyperbolic anger used for comic effect in my comic book blog. Oh, sure, at first I was pretty earnest! Some readers (whom I must have eventually disappointed) loved the blog because it was so free of cynicism and snark. Because I wanted to love DC's The New 52. I wanted it to mean something! I wanted the change to have been thought out. I wanted drama and stories that were telling some kind of coherent story within their new universe. I thought there would be monumental changes! Exciting new avenues to explore in the stale and old personalities that couldn't be changed due to years of continuity! But eventually I realized it was all a sham and DC had hired some of the worst writers for their project and even the editors didn't give a damn. It broke me! It was the last time I was eager and earnest and full of wonder at what the world could offer! But it didn't give me what I expected. It gave me a pie in the face and an atomic wedgie. So of course I got angry! Of course I got cynical! Any sane person would have done the same! But, as Dally would have realized, I was never really angry. My life wasn't so invested in DC Comics that I was giving myself three strokes a week reading Lobdell and Nocenti comics.

One time, Marcus To discovered one of my Batwing reviews where I drilled him a new asshole due to his cover. In his post about how he'd never had a negative review like that, he mentioned how one of his friends thought it was funny in how angry I was. Yes! That was the point, Marcus To's friend! And here's how I ended that review, by the way:

"Ha ha! Look at how much I can bitch and still enjoy reading a comic book! What the fuck is wrong with me?"

But really, I can't blame anybody who thought my blog was reviewing comic books seriously. At some point in the 2000s, people forgot that the Internet was meant for fun and whimsy. Now everybody thinks everything is an argument. Being facetious on the Internet is almost a high crime these days! And I'm not talking about being facetious about things like race or gender; I usually treat that stuff seriously because, as Kurt Vonnegut writes in Mother Night, "We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend." I don't mind being a super angry super fan of comic books (which I'm not; I really am just pretending at that! Stupid Vonnegut! Take it back!) but I won't participate in racism or sexism by pretending to be a Nazi asshole! Who thinks that's funny?! No, what I'm talking about is going on a huge rant about how terrible Superboy might be in a comic that's written terribly by a terrible writer only to have huge Superboy stans constantly yell at me for criticizing their fictional love boy!

Um, you know what, never mind this entry! I'll get back to Against the Day in the next post!

Chapter 1: Section 4: Page 27: Line 36 (408)

 "Sir, one must protest!"

* * * * * * * * * *

"One must protest all common men who might
give poison to a child. One must contest
all use of slang. One must protest all spite
engendered by protesting all unrest.
Sir. SIR, I say. One must protest the sight
of shirts untucked, unpolished shoes, and messed
up beds left long unmade. One must, despite
all threats, protest all sins left unconfessed.
One must protest against the day, the light
that shines on only some. One must attest
to those unseen long covered by the night.
One must protest all those who won't protest.
One must protest the ones who close their eyes,
Who choose to dismiss truth and feast on lies."


Thursday, February 25, 2021

Chapter 1: Section 4: Page 27: Line 35 (407)

 "You have been poisoning this helpless angel with strong drink?" cried Lindsay Noseworth.

* * * * * * * * * *

Oh, pardon me! I guess even in 1893, people existed who can't understand facetiousness. Or maybe I'm the one who can't understand earnestness?! It is 1893, after all. Corn liquor was probably marketed as "the healthy way to put your baby to bed!" Lindsay might be ahead of his time in understanding that maybe you shouldn't be funneling high percentage alcoholic beverages down the throats of young children. That's what opium is for.

No, I've got to believe that, in this case, Lindsay has misinterpreted the tone of the statement. Merle seems a bit informal and jolly. He's just making a joke about his girl yelling "I need a drink!" the way an alcoholic adult would yell it whenever they enter a room. But Lindsay, whom I think I mentioned might be dealing with Asperger's (or I might have just thought it every time I read any of his dialogue), can't parse sarcasm or whimsical humor. He is the Spock insert character, after all.

"helpless angel"
All children are angels because they are innocent and good. Also they are helpless because they're so small and fragile and innocent and good. Unless that child is Punky Brewster. I bet the pitch for that show was, "Imagine this: a child who is not an angel nor helpless!" The collective gasps of the people in that meeting probably blew out a window.

"with strong drink"
Lindsay seems to be implying, with the use of the modifier "strong," that weak drink is acceptable and not at all a poison of helpless angels.

Saturday, February 13, 2021

Chapter 1: Section 3: Page 24: Lines 53-56 (338-341)

"Long as we have this windfall, let's go get us some root beer, and some of that 'Cracker Jack,' too. Say, what do you know! We're here! We're at the Fair!"

* * * * * * * * * *

"root beer"
I wonder what root beer tasted like in 1893? Root beer became a national phenomenon in 1876 at the Philadelphia Centennial Exhibition, commercialized by Charles Hires, most famous up until that point for having two plural names. Hires began bottling it in 1893 so maybe that's the root beer Miles is excited to drink.
    Don't misunderstand me and think I'm saying Charles Hires invented root beer. Obviously the white man stole the idea of root beer from Native Americans because isn't that one of the running themes of Miles and Lindsay's experience at the Fair? American colonists arrived on the shores of America and were, "I need a drink! What can we ferment here on these shores?!" And the Native Americans were all, "These sassafras roots are pretty good! And healthy too!" Then the colonists were all, "Give us that!" The Native Americans were all, "Hey, chill out! Plenty to go around, my limited number of weird white dudes from the sea! Let's be cool!" And the colonists were all, "Are you looking at me funny?! Why I outta. . . !" And then . . . WHAMMO! . . . root beer!
    You now know why I never got better than a C- on my oral reports.
    Anyway, I still don't know what root beer might have tasted like in 1893. But then, I don't even know how to describe the flavor of root beer in 2021! If somebody asked what it tasted like, I would have to say, "It tastes like root beer." So maybe I shouldn't stress about it too much, seeing as how there are so many different ways to make root beer.

I guess it tasted like roots and barks and herbs.

"Cracker Jack"
The snack that would eventually become Cracker Jack was possibly sold at the Chicago World's Fair by a pair of brothers who had come up with the concept of molasses on popped corn with peanuts. But if it was (and it's probable the idea of it being sold there is simply a marketing retcon) it was almost certainly not named Cracker Jack but probably just sold as "Candied Popcorn and Peanuts." So, yes, Miles and Lindsay could have partook of a molasses covered popped corn kernel with peanuts at the Fair which later became Cracker Jack. But would Miles have called them "Cracker Jack"? Pynchon places the name in quotes to suggest that it's not the officially designated name of the snack item, maybe just the way people refer to that particular treat. Perhaps it was already taking off to such an extent that people were simply describing it as a "crackerjack snack" to their buddies. But the name wasn't trademarked until 1896. So did Pynchon get this wrong?
    The only answer to that is "Did young boys in airships travel around the world on secret missions in 1893?" Pynchon's novels live in a hazy environment of historical accuracy, urban legend, pop culture, mass marketing, and speculative fiction. In other words, it makes a good story and a nice reference to have Miles suggest trying some 'Cracker Jack.' It's like a director having to have a kid wearing a Walkman in an 80s film.

"Say, what do you know! We're here! We're at the Fair!"
All the wild stuff happening around them and Miles doesn't really feel like he's at the Fair until he contemplates the enjoyable snacks of which they're going to partake. I fucking get it, Miles. You're my boy!



Chapter 1: Section 3: Page 24: Line 52 (337)

 "Come on, Lindsay," Miles flourishing the banknote they had acquired so unexpectedly.

* * * * * * * * * *

Lindsay has had all the power up until now, simply because of his rank and his attitude. But Miles suddenly has money and the power dynamic has changed! Miles is in charge now, fool!

Chapter 1: Section 3: Page 24: Line 51 (336)

 Presently they had come within view of the searchlight beams sweeping the skies from the roof of the immense Manufactures and Liberal Arts Building—a miniature city, nested within the city-within-a-city which was the Fair itself—and began to see caped Columbian Guards on patrol, a reassuring sight, to Lindsay at least.

* * * * * * * * * *

"the searchlight beams sweeping the skies"
This statement, along with the later reminder that this is a city within a city within a city—cities all the way down—is a reminder of Matthew 5:14 (which is also a reminder that all references ultimately go all the way back to The Bible—it's Bible quotes all the way down!) and the "shining light" of "the city on a hill." I could also say it's a reference to Ronald Reagan or John Winthrop but since they were ultimately referencing The Bible, it's only speculation that Pynchon is referencing them but safe to assume he's referencing The Bible.
    The exhibits on display in the Manufactures and Liberal Arts Building are meant to provide knowledge of technologies and ideas that will lead the people of the world into a better future. It is an example to be broadcast to the masses and, being that it's a Biblical reference, apparently to save them. It is the way forward while the exhibits surrounding the building, especially those in the darkest and least lighted alleys, are the past. This is the future center of the world and it's as white and as male as every white male always knew it would be (because exhibits by women were forced into their own building and African Americans weren't really represented at any level of planning for the Fair and its exhibitions).

"the immense Manufactures and Liberal Arts Building"


Imagine building this as a temporary structure.

Yes, I know that a lot of temporary structures from World's Fairs wound up becoming permanent structures (like the Eifel Tower and the Space Needle (not to mention many temporary buildings to house people and tourists which became permanent apartment buildings)). And this building might have become permanent as well if it hadn't burned. But the idea was that every building at a World's Fair was theoretically temporary. And yet they were still built this magnificently and grand. Impressive.


The interior which shows how it's a city within a city within a city.

"see caped Columbian Guards on patrol, a reassuring sight, to Lindsay at least"
And if the reader still doesn't understand just how xenophobically myopic the entire enterprise ultimately is, we see Lindsay finding comfort in guards representing Columbus patrolling the streets of the Fair. Police have always been a reassuring sight to those people who know exactly who the police are policing.
    This celebration of the advancement of white males (specifically the non-poor ones) can also be read in the insular nature of the description in this sentence: the cities inset within other cities. This is the way toward exclusion. The only way to whittle down a city to fit within another city is by exclusion which is on full display here at the Fair. First off, people must pay fifty cents to enter. So you've now excluded the poor, almost certainly immigrants. You then exclude further by keeping the non-white exhibits to the periphery of the inner city, making another city toward center, the White City to be specific. And even in this interior city, you can exclude further, right down to a single building which exclusively housed white male exhibits. Imagining this movement further, "beyond the zero," one might say, you can see the trajectory continue until the final, smallest city becomes "a white male, preferably American."
    While the Chicago World's Fair might have been celebrated as a coming together of cultures and people from across the globe, ultimately it simply becomes a statement of white male authority.








Chapter 1: Section 3: Page 24: Lines 48-50 (333-335)

 "Sometimes," Miles with a strangely apprehensive note in his voice, "these peculiar feelings will surround me, Lindsay . . . like the electricity coming on—as if I can see everything just as clear as day, how . . . how everything fits together, connects. It doesn't last long, though. Pretty soon I'm just back to tripping over my feet again."

* * * * * * * * * *

Miles Blundell is either demonstrating psychic power or he's simply become a metaphor for the times he's living in. What he's describing is less like intuition or ESP and more like the inspiration that comes upon a person who suddenly sees the universe in a way never imagined before and changes our understanding of it forever. In a way, Pynchon has chosen the year 1893 as that moment for America (and probably the entire world, seeing as how he begins at the Chicago World's Fair. But even that is probably a microcosm of his overarching theme: the world but in the context of America's historical view and perception of it) because it's kind of this "Miles Blundell sees the secret of Three-card Monte" moment. Things are changing rapidly thanks to advances in our understanding of the world and electricity is coming on strong. Soon we will see where the curse of Scotland is really hiding and it will change our understanding forever.

Or maybe Miles Blundell is just on LSD and he's peaking pretty hard here. It's amazing how much you understand everything on acid! Although when you come down, you either lose the ability to see the connections or, sober, you actually see more clearly and realize you on LSD was a fucking idiot. I once understood how the number three connected everything; I once understood how idiotic the buttons on remote controls were; I once figured out that I had been living in hell for over one thousand years (hell being the parking lot of a strip club) while Jupiter was following me; I once learned that standing at a urinal in a club with your dick out and not being sure if you needed to pee or not while only slightly hearing the beat of the music at the periphery of your senses was one of the most comfortable places I've ever been.

You learn a lot of stuff that doesn't help you in life while on acid!

"like the electricity coming on"
I forgot that earlier I suspected Miles Blundell might be epileptic. This is more evidence for that theory.

Friday, February 12, 2021

Chapter 1: Section 3: Page 24: Lines 46-47 (331-332)

 "That was . . . well executed, Blundell. How did you know where that card was?"

* * * * * * * * * *

Some people need ellipses to give compliments and other people are not me and Lindsay. There's something inside me that causes me to feel that giving a compliment is a zero sum game in which I'm losing a piece of myself every time. It's probably why I'm so afraid of being earnest. When I ran a warehouse on the Netscape campus back in the 90s, I would sometimes play Pink Floyd's The Wall and just weep amid the racks.

Ha ha! No I didn't! I can't believe you believed that! So gullible! I actually used to listen to that album and mutter, "Pussy." Then I'd shotgun a whisky and do fifty push-ups while thinking about all the ladies with whom I'd had sex and nobody ever walked into the warehouse calling my name wondering why it was taking me so long to emerge from deep within the warehouse and why my face was wet. It was from the sweat of doing so many push-ups!

Anyway, I wish I were better at complimenting people! I suppose I would have complimented Miles in this case because, personally, it would cost me nothing. "Good job making ten dollars off of that man afraid that you were going to pull the whole systemically racist architecture of America down on top of his head!" I would have shouted while patting him fraternally on the back.