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Tumbrils, whole no. 7, May 1946
Page 3
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TUMBRILS, No. 7 Page 3 ------------------------------------------------- "And look fascinated." VKE, who had been dodging the manuscript for three days, pointed out a typo and said nothing. (The interested VAPAn was Sam Russell.) Anyhow, Shaw shouldn't have had anything to say, because when I last saw damon he was on his way to put four shots into Larry's gizzard. "You'll find it /silk-screen/ not only practical, but a lot of fun as well." - S*F, p. 20. The knight and I had just finished our first evening's struggle with RENASCENCE's new silk-screen outfit, during which time we had (1) exhausted the tusche, (2) nearly burned the house down trying dry the screen with candles, (3) spent at least two hours bolting and unbolting the screen from an old cupboard door which was the only workboard we could find, (4) sprayed ourselves, VKE, the music-room sofa and two of my three cats with tempera, and (5) produced nothing but a series of successively stickier smears. I can predict with assurance that the first silk-screen page to find its way into RENASCENCE will owe as much to the screwdriver as to the squeegee. Due to be listed among my favorite Dooleyisms for months to come is an item in a Phantagraph discovered creeping about the last FAPA mailing. It is one of a number of "Proverbs from the Dawnish," and it runs, "Show me a man without enemies and I will show you a nobody." . . . WORKSHEET FOR A BETTER WORLD I killed a cockroach with my insurance policy and then went out and cashed it in for $75. This is better, I thought: rent, chow, firewood. It was pretty cold already and at the crossstreets I could hear the wind honing the El girders. I wondered why when I left Dix I had chosen the field jacket, the Army's coldest garment, but even under a dyed overcoat a dress blouse feels funny. Every so often I passed a window with no neon in it and there I was, a dark coat with comical broad shoulders and tight waist, and something like a face on top of it; unless you like yaller shoes there's really no sense in dying an Army coat. On the El I thought I saw Col. Rutledge but it was someone else again, all pig-faced men look alike to strangers. Sometimes when I was hungry, which always sharpens my imagination, I saw him two or three times a day, and would feel an imaginary bulge inside my coat until some other store window would bring me up short. Still and all not everybody can be a Monte Cristo, and if a man gets some pleasure out of shooting in a dream, what's a reflection that it should make him feel foolish? After a couple of stops the seat next to me was empty and the pig-faced man got up and sat down in it. "You're Pfc Gregory, aren't you. Thought so. Thought I might see you." I got steel springs in my stomach and began to sweat into the field-jacket. "Why?" I said, stupidly, but I couldn't think of anything but that he'd guessed I might be looking for him or something. "Well, New York and all that. Remembered you lived here. I've got a good memory for all my boys. Like to keep my outfits in shape like a family. Army looks after its own." "This your first time in town?" At least I'd be damned if I'd say "Sir" to him. "I was here fifteen, twenty years ago. Much bigger now, of course. Well. Fine business. Fine business. Thought I might see you. Working now, I suppose." I started to say something but he went right on, just like always. That was his way, be like a goddam father to you until you flew off the handle and shouted at him and then the hurt look and the three months heaving coal in the stockade. "Now your friend Sgt. Lutz stayed in the Army. I won't deny he was a mal-
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TUMBRILS, No. 7 Page 3 ------------------------------------------------- "And look fascinated." VKE, who had been dodging the manuscript for three days, pointed out a typo and said nothing. (The interested VAPAn was Sam Russell.) Anyhow, Shaw shouldn't have had anything to say, because when I last saw damon he was on his way to put four shots into Larry's gizzard. "You'll find it /silk-screen/ not only practical, but a lot of fun as well." - S*F, p. 20. The knight and I had just finished our first evening's struggle with RENASCENCE's new silk-screen outfit, during which time we had (1) exhausted the tusche, (2) nearly burned the house down trying dry the screen with candles, (3) spent at least two hours bolting and unbolting the screen from an old cupboard door which was the only workboard we could find, (4) sprayed ourselves, VKE, the music-room sofa and two of my three cats with tempera, and (5) produced nothing but a series of successively stickier smears. I can predict with assurance that the first silk-screen page to find its way into RENASCENCE will owe as much to the screwdriver as to the squeegee. Due to be listed among my favorite Dooleyisms for months to come is an item in a Phantagraph discovered creeping about the last FAPA mailing. It is one of a number of "Proverbs from the Dawnish," and it runs, "Show me a man without enemies and I will show you a nobody." . . . WORKSHEET FOR A BETTER WORLD I killed a cockroach with my insurance policy and then went out and cashed it in for $75. This is better, I thought: rent, chow, firewood. It was pretty cold already and at the crossstreets I could hear the wind honing the El girders. I wondered why when I left Dix I had chosen the field jacket, the Army's coldest garment, but even under a dyed overcoat a dress blouse feels funny. Every so often I passed a window with no neon in it and there I was, a dark coat with comical broad shoulders and tight waist, and something like a face on top of it; unless you like yaller shoes there's really no sense in dying an Army coat. On the El I thought I saw Col. Rutledge but it was someone else again, all pig-faced men look alike to strangers. Sometimes when I was hungry, which always sharpens my imagination, I saw him two or three times a day, and would feel an imaginary bulge inside my coat until some other store window would bring me up short. Still and all not everybody can be a Monte Cristo, and if a man gets some pleasure out of shooting in a dream, what's a reflection that it should make him feel foolish? After a couple of stops the seat next to me was empty and the pig-faced man got up and sat down in it. "You're Pfc Gregory, aren't you. Thought so. Thought I might see you." I got steel springs in my stomach and began to sweat into the field-jacket. "Why?" I said, stupidly, but I couldn't think of anything but that he'd guessed I might be looking for him or something. "Well, New York and all that. Remembered you lived here. I've got a good memory for all my boys. Like to keep my outfits in shape like a family. Army looks after its own." "This your first time in town?" At least I'd be damned if I'd say "Sir" to him. "I was here fifteen, twenty years ago. Much bigger now, of course. Well. Fine business. Fine business. Thought I might see you. Working now, I suppose." I started to say something but he went right on, just like always. That was his way, be like a goddam father to you until you flew off the handle and shouted at him and then the hurt look and the three months heaving coal in the stockade. "Now your friend Sgt. Lutz stayed in the Army. I won't deny he was a mal-
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