Count melted sock
It would be as easy, and as inapplicable, to compare him with Camus, or Poe, or Ionesco, or C. S. Lewis. What he has most in common with any of them is best stated in Aldiss summing up, in a lengthy comparative critique of three British writers: Otherwriters . . . are copying. Ballard is originating. I took one step too many. I know that now. The guy who made thats completely nuts, Carlos declared assertively. They should put him away. Unbeknownst to the great powers on Earth, the Martians were holding a summit meeting of their own on the Mars Bar Canal. I didnt know whether to grin or not, so I didn’t. He ate his bowl of oatmeal without tasting it and drank two cups of coffee. And all the time the critter stood there and showed him how much more it needed. How and where were they delivered? Vandervells jacket lay over a chair. She waited for three hours for him to return. By this time the noise from the crater was continuous. The lava flows dragged and heaved like chains, shaking the walls of the house. Clem the Ox answered,From the impossible to the impossible—that is the road of us free men. Robert WicksThe Impersonator,If, Nov. The big man began clapping his hands rhythmically. The piano took it up. Other people began to clap.What I mean, are we alive here or just waiting for the wagon to pick us up? Hows that again, can’t hear you! A roar of pleasure as he cupped his hand to his ear. “Well, come on, let me hear it!” A louder roar. Pete, Pete; a gabble of voices. “I got nothing against Fred,” said thebald man earnestly in the middle of the noise. “I mean for a square he’s a nice guy.” “Know what you mean,” said the pop-eyed man, “I mean like he doesn’t mean it.” “Sure,” said the bald man, “but, Jesus, that sweaty undershirt and all …” Then they both burst out laughing as the big man made a comic face, tongue lolling, eyes crossed. Pete, Pete, Pete; the room was really jumping; it was a great party, and everything was all right far into the night. Miss Henderson is, in private life, a schoolteacher in the primary grades, and most of her stories about children have been from the viewpoint of the sympathetic adult. This time she tells it through the childs own mind and eyes.* * * * When he clattered off the barges landing apron, he had a better look at the store boat. The calliope was anchored to her foredeck, still giving forth, monotonously, The Girl I Left Behind Me — evidently intended as a clarion call to potential customers. If its piping had drawn many, there was no evidence of them now; theIsland Star likely had been here for some time. Leaving the village behind, we followed the heady sweeps of the road up into a land of slow glass. After what seemed an eternity, they retreated. Dr. Williams steeled himself for the next move, fervently wishing that hed cut his throat when he had the opportunity. None of this, of course, was real. He must still be on the ship, delirious—possibly even dying—from the effects of the crash. Perhaps they hadn’t crashed at all. Perhaps this was simply some atrocious nightmare engendered by his fear of travel and its imagined consequences. The ingredients, after all, were all there; his lone survival, the grotesquely impossible musical performance and its equally ludicrous perpetrator that now lurked outside his place of shelter, his . . . Since theres only one damned conceited rhymer....
