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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=498200" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Part 3 of Trout Fishing in America</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">SEA, SEA RIDER</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The man who owned the bookstore was not magic. He was not a</div><div style="margin:10px 0">three-legged crow on the dandelion side of the mountain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> He was, of course, a Jew, a retired merchant seaman</div><div style="margin:10px 0">who had been torpedoed in the North Atlantic and floated</div><div style="margin:10px 0">there day after day until death did not want him. He had a</div><div style="margin:10px 0">young wife, a heart attack, a Volkswagen and a home in</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Marin County. He liked the works of George Orwell, Richard</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Aldington and Edmund Wilson.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> He learned about life at sixteen, first from Dostoevsky</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and then from the whores of New Orleans.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> The bookstore was a parking lot for used graveyards.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thousands of graveyards were parked in rows like cars.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Most of the kooks were out of print, and no one wanted to</div><div style="margin:10px 0">read them any more and the people who had read the books</div><div style="margin:10px 0">had died or forgotten about them, but through the organic</div><div style="margin:10px 0">process of music the books had become virgins again. They</div><div style="margin:10px 0">wore their ancient copyrights like new maidenheads.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I went to the bookstore in the afternoons after I got off</div><div style="margin:10px 0">work, during that terrible year of 1959.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> He had a kitchen in the back of the store and he brewed</div><div style="margin:10px 0">cups of thick Turkish coffee in a copper pan. I drank coffee</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and read old books and waited for the year to end. He had a</div><div style="margin:10px 0">small room above the kitchen.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> It looked down on the bookstore and had Chinese screens</div><div style="margin:10px 0">in front of it. The room contained a couch, a glass cabinet</div><div style="margin:10px 0">with Chinese things in it and a table and three chairs. There</div><div style="margin:10px 0">was a tiny bathroom fastened like a watch fob to the room.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I was sitting on a stool in the bookstore one afternoon</div><div style="margin:10px 0">reading a book that was in the shape of a chalice. The book</div><div style="margin:10px 0">had clear pages like gin, and the first page in the book read:</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Billy</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> the Kid</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> born</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> November 23,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> 1859</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> in</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> New York</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> City</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0"> The owner of the bookstore came up to me, and put his</div><div style="margin:10px 0">arm on my shoulder and said, "Would you like to get laid?"</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His voice was very kind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "No, " I said.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "You're wrong, " he said, and then without saying anything</div><div style="margin:10px 0">else, he went out in front of the bookstore, and stopped a pair</div><div style="margin:10px 0">of total strangers, a man and a woman. He talked to them for</div><div style="margin:10px 0">a few moments. I couldn't hear what he was saying. He pointed</div><div style="margin:10px 0">at me in the bookstore. The woman nodded her head and</div><div style="margin:10px 0">then the man nodded his head.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> They came into the bookstore.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I was embarrassed. I could not leave the bookstore because</div><div style="margin:10px 0">they were entering by the only door, so I decided to go</div><div style="margin:10px 0">upstairs and go to the toilet. I got up abruptly and walked</div><div style="margin:10px 0">to the back of the bookstore and went upstairs to the bathroom,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and they followed after me. I could hear them on the stairs.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I waited for a long time in the bathroom and they waited</div><div style="margin:10px 0">an equally long time in the other room. They never spoke.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When I came out of the bathroom, the woman was lying naked</div><div style="margin:10px 0">on the couch, and the man was sitting in a chair with his</div><div style="margin:10px 0">hat on his lap.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "Don't worry about him, " the girl said. "These things</div><div style="margin:10px 0">make no difference to him. He's rich. He has 3, 859 Rolls</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Royces." The girl was very pretty and her body was like a</div><div style="margin:10px 0">clear mountain river of skin and muscle flowing over rocks</div><div style="margin:10px 0">of bone and hidden nerves.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "Come to me, " she said. "And come inside me for we are</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Aquarius and I love you."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I looked at the man sitting in the chair. He was not smiling</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and he did not look sad.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I took off my shoes and all my clothes. The man did not</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> say a word.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> The girl's body moved ever so slightly from side to side.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> There was nothing else I could do for my body was like</div><div style="margin:10px 0">birds sitting on a telephone wire strung out down the world,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">clouds tossing the wires carefully.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I laid the girl.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> It was like the eternal 59th second when it becomes a minute</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and then looks kind of sheepish.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "Good, " the girl said, and kissed me on the face.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> The man sat there without speaking or moving or sending</div><div style="margin:10px 0">out any emotion into the room. I guess he was rich and owned</div><div style="margin:10px 0">3, 859 Rolls Royces.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Afterwards the girl got dressed and she and the man left.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They walked down the stairs and on their way out, I heard</div><div style="margin:10px 0">him say his first words.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "Would you like to go to Emie's for dinner?"</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "I don't know, " the girl said. "It's a little early to think</div><div style="margin:10px 0">about dinner. "</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Then I heard the door close and they were gone. I got</div><div style="margin:10px 0">dressed and went downstairs. The flesh about my body felt</div><div style="margin:10px 0">soft and relaxed like an experiment in functional background</div><div style="margin:10px 0">music.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> The owner of the bookstore was sitting at his desk behind</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the counter. "I'11 tell you what happened up there, " he said,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">in a beautiful anti-three-legged-crow voice, in an anti-dandelion</div><div style="margin:10px 0">side of the mountain voice.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "What?"I said.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "You fought in the Spanish Civil War. You were a young</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Communist from Cleveland, Ohio. She was a painter. A New</div><div style="margin:10px 0">York Jew who was sightseeing in the Spanish Civil War as if</div><div style="margin:10px 0">it were the Mardi Gras in New Orleans being acted out by</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Greek statues.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "She was drawing a picture of a dead anarchist when you</div><div style="margin:10px 0">met her. She asked you to stand beside the anarchist and act</div><div style="margin:10px 0">as if you had killed him. You slapped her across the face</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and said something that would be embarrassing for me to</div><div style="margin:10px 0">repeat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You both fell very much in love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "Once while you were at the front she read Anatomy of</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Melancholy and did 349 drawings of a lemon.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "Your love for each other was mostly spiritual.Neither</div><div style="margin:10px 0">one of you performed like millionaires in bed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "When Barcelona fell, you and she flew to England, and</div><div style="margin:10px 0">then took a ship back to New York. Your love for each other</div><div style="margin:10px 0">remained in Spain. It was only a war love. You loved only</div><div style="margin:10px 0">yourselves, loving each other in Spain during the war. On</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the Atlantic you were different toward each other and became</div><div style="margin:10px 0">every day more and more like people lost from each other.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "Every wave on the Atlantic was like a dead seagull dragging</div><div style="margin:10px 0">its driftwood artillery from horizon to horizon.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "When the ship bumped up against America, you departed</div><div style="margin:10px 0">without saying anything and never saw each other again. The</div><div style="margin:10px 0">last I heard of you, you were still living in Philadelphia. "</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"That's what you think happened up there?" I said.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"Partly, " he said. "Yes, that's part of it. "</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> He took out his pipe and filled it with tobacco and lit it.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "Do you want me to tell you what else happened up there?"</div><div style="margin:10px 0">he said.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "Go ahead."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "You crossed the border into Mexico, " he said. "You</div><div style="margin:10px 0">rode your horse into a small town. The people knew who</div><div style="margin:10px 0">you were and they were afraid of you. They knew you had</div><div style="margin:10px 0">killed many men with that gun you wore at your side. The</div><div style="margin:10px 0">town itself was so small that it didn't have a priest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "When the rurales saw you, they left the town. Tough as</div><div style="margin:10px 0">they were, they did not want to have anything to do with you.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The rurales left.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> You became the most powerful man in town.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> You were seduced by a thirteen-year-old girl, and you</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and she lived together in an adobe hut, and practically all</div><div style="margin:10px 0">you did was make love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "She was slender and had long dark hair. You made love</div><div style="margin:10px 0">standing, sitting, lying on the dirt floor with pigs and chickens</div><div style="margin:10px 0">around you. The walls, the floor and even the roof of the</div><div style="margin:10px 0">hut were coated with your sperm and her come.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "You slept on the floor at night and used your sperm for</div><div style="margin:10px 0">a pillow and her come for a blanket.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "The people in the town were so afraid of you that they</div><div style="margin:10px 0">could do nothing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "After a while she started going around town without any</div><div style="margin:10px 0">clothes on, and the people of the town said that it was not a</div><div style="margin:10px 0">good thing, and when you started going around without any</div><div style="margin:10px 0">clothes, and when both of you began making love on the back</div><div style="margin:10px 0">of your horse in the middle of the zocalo, the people of the</div><div style="margin:10px 0">town became so afraid that they abandoned the town. It's</div><div style="margin:10px 0">been abandoned ever since. "People won't live there.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "Neither of you lived to be twenty-one. It was not neces-</div><div style="margin:10px 0">sary.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "See, I do know what happened upstairs, " he said. He</div><div style="margin:10px 0">smiled at me kindly. His eyes were like the shoelaces of a</div><div style="margin:10px 0">harpsichord.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I thought about what happened upstairs.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "You know what I say is the truth, " he said. "For you</div><div style="margin:10px 0">saw it with your own eyes and traveled it with your own body.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Finish the book you were reading before you were interrupted.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I'm glad you got laid. "</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Once resumed the pages of the book began to speed up</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and turn faster and faster until they were spinning like wheels</div><div style="margin:10px 0">in the sea.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Richard+Brautigan">Richard Brautigan</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=498200" data-title="Part 3 of Trout Fishing in America de Richard Brautigan" data-description="SEA, SEA RIDER The man who owned the bookstore was not magic. He was not a three-legged crow on the dandelion side of the mountain. He was, of course, a Jew, a retired merchant seaman who had been torpedoed in the North Atlantic and floated ..."></div> </div> </div>
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