Austin Meakim’s Reviews > Gravity’s Rainbow > Status Update
Austin Meakim
is on page 61 of 776
“What do you expect from me, working day in day out among raving lunatics.” … “they believe in survival after death, communication mind-to-mind, prophesying, clairvoyance, teleportation—they believe, Jess! and—and” … she comes up out of the fat paisley chair to hold him, how does she know,… muscles touches, skins confused high, blooded—know so exactly what Roger meant to say?
— 3 hours, 57 min ago
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Austin’s Previous Updates
Austin Meakim
is on page 74 of 776
Red Malcolm the Unthinkable Nihilist sez, “Good golly he sure is all asshole ain’t he?” Jeepers Slothrop, what a position for you to be in!
— 14 minutes ago
Austin Meakim
is on page 74 of 776
--the true name is Malcalm, and all the black cocks know him, Malcolm, have known him all along—
— 15 minutes ago
Austin Meakim
is on page 74 of 776
“Slip the talcum to me, Malcolm!” And the voice that replies is who but that Red, shoeshine boy who’s slicked up Slothrop’s black patents a dozen times down on his knees jes poppin’ dat rag to beat the band.
— 16 minutes ago
Austin Meakim
is on page 73 of 776
So that prophecy, even up here on rainy Massachusetts Avenue, is beginning ‘these days to work itself out in “Cherokee,” the saxes ' downstairs getting now into some, oh really weird shit
— 17 minutes ago
Austin Meakim
is on page 71 of 776
Someday the U.S. Army will provide him with shirts whose pockets he can button. But in these prewar days he can rely only on the starch in his snow-white Arrow to hold the pocket stuck together enough to keep objects from...
— 1 hour, 2 min ago
Austin Meakim
is on page 71 of 776
even when someone bends to light a cigarette, the flame reflects back in there only as dark, sunset orange. Slothrop can’t even see his own white face. A woman turns to look at him from a table. Her eyes tell him, in the instant, what he is. The mouth harp in his pocket reverts to brass inertia. A weight. A jive accessory. But he packs it everywhere he goes.
— 1 hour, 4 min ago
Austin Meakim
is on page 71 of 776
the hundred bottles hold their light only briefly before it flows away into the mirror...
— 1 hour, 4 min ago
Austin Meakim
is on page 71 of 776
Got a hardon in my fist, Don’t be pissed, Re-enlist— Snap—to, Slothrop
Jackson, I don’t give a fuck, Just give me my “ruptured duck!” Snap—to, Slothrop!
No one here can love or comprehend me, They just look for someplace else to send ...me...
Tap my head and mike my brain, Stick that needle in my vein, Slothrop, snap to!
— 1 hour, 6 min ago
Jackson, I don’t give a fuck, Just give me my “ruptured duck!” Snap—to, Slothrop!
No one here can love or comprehend me, They just look for someplace else to send ...me...
Tap my head and mike my brain, Stick that needle in my vein, Slothrop, snap to!
Austin Meakim
is on page 70 of 776
(6) (The day of the Ascent and sacrifice, A nation-wide observance. Fats searing, blood dripping and burning to a salty brown...)
— 1 hour, 8 min ago
Austin Meakim
is on page 69 of 776
(4) And at the end of the mighty day in which he gave us in fiery letters across the sky all the words we’d ever need, words we today enjoy, and fill our dictionaries with, the meek voice of little Tyrone Slothrop, celebrated ever after in tradition and song, ventured to filter upward to the Kid’s attention: “You never did ‘the,’ Kenosha Kid!”
— 1 hour, 10 min ago
