Some Can Whistle
“He looked as if he might have been bingeing for a few days, taking drugs, and listening to the Rolling Stones through his earphones.
“Where’s the yard?” T.R. asked, surveying my expensive adobe home. “This stupid house looks as if it was made of mud pies.”
“It’s nice inside,” I said meekly.
T.R. and Muddy had quarreled all the way from Arlington, and T.R. was not in a good mood, to put it mildly. Before I could even help Granny Lin out of the Cadillac—she had stiffened alarmingly during her sta...y in Arlington—the delicious Jamesian moment occurred in which Godwin and T.R. first set eyes on one another: T.R., beautiful despite her terrible-taste new clothes, sailing up to the house with Jesse on her hip, the epitome of American youth, American good looks, American ignorance, American energy; and Godwin Lloyd-Jons, the ultimate Euro, drugged out, fucked out, arted out—nothing left but brain.
“Who are you? I bet I could get AIDS just from shaking your hand, don’t you kiss my babies,”MoreLess
“Where’s the yard?” T.R. asked, surveying my expensive adobe home. “This stupid house looks as if it was made of mud pies.”
“It’s nice inside,” I said meekly.
T.R. and Muddy had quarreled all the way from Arlington, and T.R. was not in a good mood, to put it mildly. Before I could even help Granny Lin out of the Cadillac—she had stiffened alarmingly during her sta...y in Arlington—the delicious Jamesian moment occurred in which Godwin and T.R. first set eyes on one another: T.R., beautiful despite her terrible-taste new clothes, sailing up to the house with Jesse on her hip, the epitome of American youth, American good looks, American ignorance, American energy; and Godwin Lloyd-Jons, the ultimate Euro, drugged out, fucked out, arted out—nothing left but brain.
“Who are you? I bet I could get AIDS just from shaking your hand, don’t you kiss my babies,”MoreLess
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