ATD: aching back

[pynchonoid]

Then there's the famous episode - possibly apocryphal,
of course, although I heard it from a source I respect
and trust - of Pynchon, working on Vineland while
sitting in an old lawn chair (in the garden of a house
in Aptos, California) to the point of a similar back
problem, then running away, still stuck in the painful
bent-over posture, because he didn't recognize the
masseuse who showed up to help.  

:
> Against the Day :
> 
> 
>  Back in 1899, not long after the terrible cyclone
> that year which devastated the town,  
> Young Willis Turnstone, freshly credentialed from
> the American School of Osteopathy, had set out
> westward from Kirksville, Missouri, with a small
> grip holding a change of personal linen, an extra
> shirt, a note of encouragement from Dr. A. T. Still,
> and an antiquated Colt in whose use he was far from
> practiced, arriving at length in Colorado, where one
> day riding across the Uncompahgre plateau he was set
> upon by a small band of pistoleros. 
> “Hold it right there, Miss, let’s have a look at
> what’s in that attractive valise o’yours.” 
>  “Not much,” Willis said. 
>  “Hey, what’s this? Packing some iron here! Well,
> well, never let it be said Jimmy Drop and his gang
> denied a tender soul a fair shake now, little lady,
> you just grab ahold of your great big pistol and
> we’ll get to it, shall we.” The others had cleared a
> space which Willis and Jimmy now found themselves
> alone at either end of, in classic throwdown
> posture. “Go on ahead, don’t be shy, I’ll give you
> ten seconds gratis, ’fore I draw. Promise.”  
> Too dazed to share entirely the gang’s spirit of
> innocent fun, Willis slowly and inexpertly raised
> his revolver, trying to aim it as straight as a
> shaking pair of hands would allow. After a fair
> count of ten, true to his word and fast as a snake,
> Jimmy went for his own weapon, had it halfway up to
> working level before abruptly coming to a dead stop,
> 
> frozen into an ungainly crouch. “Oh, pshaw!” the
> badman screamed, or words to that effect. 
> “¡Ay! Jefe, jefe,” cried his lieutenant Alfonsito,
> “tell us it ain’ your back again.” 
> “Damned idiot, o’ course it’s my back. Oh mother of
> all misfortune—and worst than last time too.” 
> “I can fix that,” offered Willis. 
> “Beg your pardon, what in hell business of any 
> got-damn punkinroller’d this be, again?” 
> “I know how to loosen that up for you. Trust me, I’m
> an osteopath.” 
> “It’s O.K., we’re open-minded, couple boys in the
> outfit are evangelicals, just watch 
> where you’re putting them lilywhites now—yaaagghh—I
> mean, huh?” 
> “Feel better?” 
> “Holy Toledo,” straightening up, carefully but
> pain-free. 
> “Why, it’s a miracle.” 
> “¡Gracias a Dios!” screamed the dutiful Alfonsito. 
> “Obliged,” Jimmy guessed, sliding his pistol back in
> its holster. 
> 
> 
> ISBN-13: 978-1-59420-120-2 
> ISBN-10: 1-59420-120-X 
> Price: $35.00/$43.50 Can. 
> EAN: 9781594201202 53500 
> Category: Fiction 
> Pages: 992 
> Trim: 6 1/8” x 9 1/4” 
> Rights: QOO 
> On sale: 12/5/06 
> STRICT ON SALE 
> Marketing: 
> • Advance Reading Copies 
> • Widespread national review 
> coverage 
> • National advertising 
> 5
>  -------------- Original message
> ----------------------
> From: the Robot Vegetable <veg at dvandva.org>
> > Welcome back!
> > 
> > The slow read has already commenced.
> > 
> > 
> > On Tue, 15 Aug 2006, Joe Varo wrote:
> > 
> > > Greetings.
> > > 
> > > Some of you long-timers who have been on the
> P-List forever might
> > > recognize my name.  I was a regular back in the
> '90's, but after the
> > > first M&D slow-read the general tenor of the
> discussions seemed to veer
> > > off into areas of not much interest to me, and
> so I signed-off.
> > > 
> > > Now, with the new book coming out in a few
> months I thought I'd sign back
> > > on and reacquaint myself with the terrain.
> > > 
> > > I'm assuming that group slow-read of "Against
> the Day" is planned?
> > > 
> > > Joe
> > > 
> > > 
> > > 
> 
> 
> 


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