Big Sur/Chapter 32
We pack up little elliott’s pathetic warmclothes and put food together and get the hamper all set and wait for Dave to come sadly in the night—And we have a big talk—“Billie but why did the fish die?” but she knows already they probably died because I gave them Kelloggs cornflakes or something went wrong, one thing sure is that she didnt forget to feed them or anything, it’s all me, all my fault, I’d as soon be rusted by autumn too-much-think than be dead-fisher cause of those poor little hunks of golden death floating on that scummy water—It reminds me of the otter—But I cant explain it to Billie who’s all abstract and talking about our abstract soul-meetings in hell, and little Elliott is pulling at her asking “Where we going? where we going? what for? what for?”—She’s saying “And all because you think you caused the death of the goldfish tho they probably just died on their own accord”—“Why would they do that? why? what kind of logic is that for fish to have?”—“Or because you think you drink too much and therefore every time you’re feeling good on a little booze you give up and say your hands hang helpless, like you said last night when you were holding me with those hands blessing my heart and my body with your love, O Jack it’s time for you to wake up and come with me or at least come with somebody and Open your eyes to why God’s put you here, stop all that staring at the floor, you and Perry both you’re crazy—I’ll draw you magic moon circles’ll change all your luck”—I look her dead in the eye and it is blue and I say “O Billie, forgive me”—“But you see you go there talkin guilty again”—“Well I dont know all those big theories about how everything should be goddamit all I know is that I’m a helpless hunk of helpful horse manure looking in your eye saying Help me”—“But when you make those big final statements it doesnt help you”—“Of course I know that but what do you want?”—“I want us to get married and settle down to a sensible understanding about eternal things”—“And you may be right”—I see it all raving before me the endless yakking kitchen mouthings of life, the long dark grave of tomby talks under midnight kitchen bulbs, in fact it fills me with love to realize that life so avid and misunderstood nevertheless reaches out skinny skeleton hand to me and to Billie too—But you know what I mean.
And this is the way it begins.