Waste Land to a Scream: A Gay Science

Novel 010

London by the Docks, January 15, 1915

Fizzbin and the world turned inside out. That leg that enraptured his eye could not ever be exacted even if he tried to ease the pain by numbing the sentouboius splendor.

Only here in England could the clams taste so fragrant as they shuffled off the boots and onto the docks. Not for the first time the idea that this land might be permanently his home had wafted across his vision, but he did not think of it quite get because he did not know what he would do to supplement his income.

Teaching was impecunious at best, but the idea of writing poetry and making any income was absurd.

Then he looked out through his eyeballs and saw something very interesting: there were many men going hither beyond and stacking the large sheets of fish and clams, and there were some few women who bustled and groaned their way through the same activities. But most of the women were, to put it mildly, rotund. But then one female was not like this at all: she was shimmering in her luminescence. And therefore he watched with an open glaring overture that he could not help but stare at all of the features, both intern and as a collective, which he used obsessively. He did not know whether he was in love but he certainly was in lost with the idea of such a woman. The hair was teased and he knew that she had tortured its fragrant tassels relentlessly though he noticed that there was a new brush or comb on her person. But still, it had a radiance in its superposition as if an ultraviolet catastrophe leveled its sheen.

Still, he did not know the name of this girl, but as he eked out all the information, a query began to form in his brain. He saw she ate a peach.

And still, as yet he did not know the name of this girl but eking out all a query began to form along his brain. He watched as she glanced and danced to the rhythms of a distant melody that came from the rhymes of the smoldering body. He was transfixed, transformed, transmogrified in his splendor. And once he was called to her beauty and repelled because he wanted to see and not be seen. There was also the matter of his staying in England inside the United Kingdom where he truly wished to be. And he thought that this would be a marriage of both convenience and elopement.

Thus, he stood racing up the details because it was clear that she was out of place. She was not from here but somewhere infinitely superior in race and polish. Then he followed her up the docs and the confusing road to a train on Canary Wharf, ducking the side streets and alleyways that perplexed his brain. And yet somehow, the woman was infinite in her decisions, as if she knew exactly which turn to make and when. The walls were confusing to him but clearly not to his interlocutory.

It is in his description to Pound that he stopped for a moment because then Pound said: “I think I know this girl she is a nanny up at Cambridge, though I do not know which college she is attended to.” Then Pound leaned back with his lately brushed beard and stood a while and thought.

“This could be arranged.”

“What could?”

“You could be persuaded to ask her to marry you because she is at least of moderate attainment and that would allow you to stay in the United Kingdom after you have released your studies.”

"You seem very sure about arranging another man's marriage to a woman he hardly knows."

"What are friends for? Her name is Vivienne Haigh-Wood Eliot." TS remember that.

The gall that crept onto Pound’s face was amazing: there was no limit to the amount of brazen humility, even outright chutzpah that Pound could get away with effacing. it seemed as if there was new conscience at all inside Pounds faced. but then TS plots rather slyly, Why not? It is only a woman and while his face depended on the company of women there was no reason why it had to be any particular woman.

A woman is as good as any other contrary to tensions vibrancy and emasculation. To fragile an illusion. He had known them, known them all already, till human voices wake us, and we drown.