Ted Berrigan

“Whatever is going to happen is already happening”

Sartre excerpt

“I suddenly perceive that my former understanding of the situation is no more than a memory of an idea, a memory of a feeling. In order for it to come to my aid once more, I must remake it ex nihilo and freely. The not-gambling is only one of my possibilities, as the fact of gambling is another of them, neither more nor less. I must rediscover the fear of financial ruin or of disappointing my family, etc. I must re-create it as experienced fear. It stands behind me like a boneless phantom. It depends on me alone to lend it flesh. I am alone and naked before temptation as I was the day before. After having patiently built up barriers and walls, after enclosing myself in the magic circle of a resolution, I perceive with anguish that nothing prevents me from gambling. The anguish is me since by the very fact of taking my position in existence as consciousness of being, I make myself not to be the past of good resolutions which I am.” – From, Being and Nothingness (‘the origin of negation’)

Cannery Row

Doc said, “Look at them. There are your true philosophers. I think,” he went on, “that Mack and the boys know everything that has ever happened in the world and possibly everything that will happen. I think they survive in this particular world better than other people. In a time when people tear themselves to pieces with ambition and nervousness and covetousness, they are relaxed. All of our so-called successful men are sick men, with bad stomachs, and bad souls, but Mack and the boys are healthy and curiously clean. They can do what they want. They can satisfy their appetites without calling them something else.” This speech so dried out Doc’s throat that he drained his beer glass. He waved two fingers in the air and smiled. “There’s nothing like that first taste of beer,” he said.

Richard Frost said, “I think they’re just like anyone else. They just haven’t any money.”

“They could get it, ” Doc said. “They could ruin their lives and get money. Mack has qualities of genius. They’re all very clever if they want something. They just know the nature of things too well to be caught in that wanting.”

- from Chapter XXIII

I remember reading this four years ago and laughing out loud in the bathroom of my dorm.

“Yossarian saw it clearly in all its spinning reasonableness. There was an elliptical precision about its perfect pairs of parts that was graceful and shocking, like good modern art, and at times Yossarian wasn’t quite sure that he saw it at all, just the way he was never quite sure about good modern art or about the flies Orr saw in Appleby’s eyes. He had Orr’s word to take for the flies in Appleby’s eyes.
‘Oh, they’re there, all right,’ Orr had assured him about the flies in Appleby’s eyes after Yossarian’s fist fight with Appleby in the officers’ club, ‘although he probably doesn’t even know it. That’s why he can’t see things as they really are.’
‘How come he doesn’t know it?’ inquired Yossarian.
‘Because he’s got flies in his eyes,’ Orr explained with exaggerated patience. ‘How can he see he’s got flies in his eyes if he’s got flies in his eyes?’
It made as much sense as anything else, and Yossarian was willing to give Orr the benefit of the doubt because Orr was from the wilderness outside New York City and knew so much more about wildlife than Yossarian did, and because Orr, unlike Yossarian’s other, father, sister, brother, aunt, uncle, in-law, teacher, spiritual leader, legislator, neighbour and newspaper, had never lied to him about anything crucial before. Yossarian had mulled over his new found knowledge about Appleby over in private for a day or two and then decided, as a good deed, to pass the word along to Appleby himself.
‘Appleby, you’ve got flies in your eyes,’ he whispered helpfully as they passed each other in the doorway of the parachute tent on the day of the weekly milk run to Parma.
‘What?’ Appleby responded sharply, thrown into confusion by the fact that Yossarian had spoken to him at all.
‘You’ve got flies in your eyes,’ Yossarian repeated. ‘That’s probably why you can’t see them.’
Appleby retreated from Yossarian with a look of loathing bewilderment and sulked in silence until he was in the jeep with Havermeyer riding down the long, straight road to the briefing room, where Major Danby, the fidgeting group operations officer, was waiting to conduct the preliminary briefing with all the lead pilots, bombardiers and navigators. Appleby spoke in a soft voice so that he would not be heard by the driver or by Captain Black, who was stretched out with his eyes closed in the front seat of the jeep.
‘Havermeyer,’ he asked hesitantly. ‘Have I got flies in my eyes?’
Havermeyer blinked quizzically. ‘Sties?’ he asked.
‘No, flies’ he was told
Havermeyer blinked again. ‘Flies?’
‘In my eyes.’
‘You must be crazy,’ Havermeyer said
‘No, I’m not crazy. Yossarian’s crazy. Just tell me if I’ve got flies in my eyes or not. Go ahead. I can take it.’
Havermeyer popped another piece of peanut brittle into his mouth and peered very closely into Appleby’s eyes.
‘I don’t see any,’ he announced.
Appleby heaved an immense sigh of relief. Havermeyer had tiny bits of peanut brittle adhering to his lips, chin and cheeks.
‘You’ve got peanut brittle crumbs on your face,’ Appleby remarked to him.
‘I’d rather have peanut brittle crumbs on my face than flies in my eyes,’ Havermeyer retorted. “

—from Joseph Heller’s Catch-22

A Brief Quotation

HAMM:

Give me the dog.

CLOV (looking):

Quiet!

HAMM (angrily):

Give me the dog!

(Clov drops the telescope, clasps his hands to his head. Pause. He gets down precipitately, looks for the dog, sees it, picks it up, hastens towards Hamm and strikes him violently on the head with the dog.)

CLOV:

There’s your dog for you.

(The dog falls to the ground. Pause.)

HAMM:

He hit me!

CLOV:

You drive me mad, I’m mad!

HAMM:

If you must hit me, hit me with the axe.

(Pause.)

Or with the gaff, hit me with the gaff. Not with the dog. With the gaff. Or with the axe.

—from “Endgame” by Samuel Beckett