demipaterility

@@@@@ That was the shock, that was the thing so awful to realize The Time Machine: ROBERT HEARN THE ADDLED WOMB A big man with a shock of black hair and a small sharp voice, a heavy immobile faceHis brown eyes, imperturbable, stared out coldly above the short blunted and slightly hooked arc of his noseHis wide thin mouth was unexpressive, a top ledge to the solid mass of his chinHe liked very few people and most men sensed it uneasily after talking to him for a few minutes In the center is the city, lashing at one's senses For a thousand, two thousand miles the roads and the earth have led up to itThe mountains have snubbed down to hills, lapsed into plains, rolled on majestically in leisurely convolutions and regroupingsNo one ever really comprehends it, the vast table of America, and the pin points, the accretions, the big city and the iron trails leading to it (All the frenetic schemings, the cigar smoke, the coke smoke, the carbolic and retch of the el, the frightened passion for movement of an ant nest suddenly jarred, the vast hurried grabbing plans of thousands of men whose importance is confined to a street, a caf?, and there is no other sense than one of the presentHistory is remembered with a shrug; its superlatives do not match ours The immense ego of city people How do you conceive your own death, your own unimportance in all that man-created immensity, through all the marble vaults and brick ridges and the furnaces that lead to the market place? You always believe somehow that the world will end with your deathIt is all more intense, more violent, more rutted than life anywhere else And in the humus around the mushroom stem grow the suburbs Since we added that last wing, we got twenty-two rooms now, Lord knows what the hell we're gonna do with 'em, Bill Hearn shoutsBut Ina you can't tell her a goddam thing, she figures she needs it, and we got it Now, Bill, Ina says(A pretty woman who looks younger, slimmer, than the mother of a twelve-year-old sonThere is the thin aseptic mouth, the slightly bucked teeth, the midwestern woman's denial of juice Well, I'm a regular as an old shoe, Bill Hearn saysThere ain't any pretense about me, and if I come off an old scratch farm, I ain't a bit ashamed of itThe way I see it a man needs a parlor or a living room, a coupla bedrooms, a kitchen, maybe a rumpus room downstairs, and y' got enough, agree with me, MrsJudd is plumper, softer, more vacant-lookingJudd and I are mighty pleased with our place in Alden Park Manor, an apartment's so easy to keep