That Summer
1983; University of Iowa; Volume: 13; Issue: 3-4 Linguagem: Inglês
10.17077/0021-065x.2923
ISSN2330-0361
Autores ResumoTHAT SUMMER ALL AMY could picture were drowning men, men drowning.On postcards they appeared, small and hopeless on the horizon, falling beneath her sight.In museum catalogues the hulls of ships filled with them, and God, all the awful poems she found, always drowning men, compared to withering jade plants, to fingers to paper.No, there couldn't be so much drowning.It must be something else, maybe bad art, maybe the end of civilization, Amy wasn't sure.That summer there was Raymond, who prided himself on living through the darkest hours in Raymond's history.Rayond of private schools for disturbed adolescents, of washroom wastebasket fires.Ray mond of the insect eyes that never closed, who loved to dance and call celebrities by their first names.On a Saturday Night Live rerun John Belushi imitated Joe Cocker, rocking spastically, like a fat wind-up child, self-indulgent, sneering, as beer poured out of his puckered mouth, wetting his shoulder."You fucked up, John," Raymond said.Of course John didn't answer.When Amy said "Turn it off.I don't want to see a dead man imitating a living man," Raymond thought it too funny, laughed until his knees ached and his eyes finally closed.Famous among
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