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letra de page 27, 38, 108 - james dickey

-“do you really want to go, baby?”
“it’s not something i’m dying to do,” i said. “and i won’t die if i don’t do it. but the studio is really bugging me. i had a terrible time yesterday, until i got down to doing work. it seemed like everything just went right by me, nothing mattered at all. i couldn’t have cared less about anything or anybody. if going up in the woods with lewis does something about that feeling, i’m for it.”
“is it my fault?”
“lord, no,” i said, but it partly was, just as it’s any woman’s fault who represents normalcy
“i wish you didn’t have to go off like this. i mean, didn’t want to. i wish there was something i could do.”
“there is.”
“have we got time?”

-“easy,” i said. “easy. you’re trying to hard. all we want to do is hold this thing straight. we don’t need to be pulling our guts out to get there. just let the river do it. let george do it.”
“george ain’t doing it fast enough. i want to get the h-ll and gone out of this godd-mned place.”
“ah now. it’s not all that bad.”
“it’s not? mosquitoes ate me up last night. my bites have bites. i’m catching a f-cking cold from sleeping on the f-cking ground. i’m hungry as h-ll for something that tastes good. and i don’t mean sorghum.”
“just steady down a little, and we’ll get there . . . when we get there. it’s not going to do your cold any good to dump in this river, you can bl–dy well bet”
“f-ck it,” he said. “let’s get on with it. i’m tired of this woods scene; i’m tired of sh-tting in a hole in the ground. this is for the indians.”

- james dickey

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