food.»
«I'll eat anything,» I said. «I'm not hungry, I'm exalted. I just want to show you how I feel.
«I should say not!» he said, baring a fang. «Christ, if it got that bad I'd go to a doctor. I'd think I had the D. T's, or something. You'd better put that glass down... that gin isn't good for you.»
«You think it's the gin? All right, I'll throw the glass away.» I went to the window and threw it into the courtyard. «There! Now give me a glass of water. Bring a
«Now before I get drunk on the water,» I continued, following him into the bathroom, «I want you to observe the difference between exaltation and intoxication. The girls will be coming back soon. By that time I'll be drunk. You watch. See what happens.»
«You bet I will,» he said. «If I could learn to get drunk on water it would save me a lot of headaches. Here, take a glass now. I'll get the pitcher.»
I took the glass and swallowed it down in one gulp. When he returned I swallowed another in the same fashion. He looked on as if I were a circus freak.
After five or six of these you'll begin to notice the effect,» I said.
«Are you sure you don't want a wee drop of gin in it? I won't accuse you of cheating. Water is so damned flat and tasteless.»
«Water is the elixir of life, my dear Ned. If I were running the world I'd give the creative people a bread and water diet. The dullards I'd give all the food and drink they craved. I'd poison them off by satisfying their desires. Food is poison to the spirit. Food doesn't satisfy hunger, nor drink thirst. Food, sexual or otherwise, is only satisfying to the appetites. Hunger is something else. Nobody can satisfy hunger. Hunger is the soul's barometer. Ecstasy is the norm. Serenity is the freedom from weather conditions—the permanent climate of the stratosphere. That's where we're all headed... towards the stratosphere. I'm already a bit drunk, do you see? Because, when you can think of serenity it means that you've passed the zenith of exaltation. At one minute past twelve noon night begins, say the Chinese. But at zenith and nadir you stand stock still for a moment or two. At the two poles God gives you the chance to leap clear of the clock-work. At the nadir, which is physical intoxication, you have the privilege of going mad—or of committing suicide. At zenith, which is a state of ecstasy, you can pass fulfilled into serenity and bliss. It's now about ten minutes after twelve on the spiritual clock. Night has fallen. I am no longer hungry, I have only an insane desire to be happy. That means I want to share my intoxication with you and everybody. That's maudlin. When I finish the pitcher of water I'll begin to believe that everybody is as good as everybody else: I'll lose all sense of values. That's the only way we have of knowing how to be happy—to believe that we are identical. It's the delusion of the poor in spirit. It's like Purgatory equipped with electric fans and streamlined furniture. It's the caricature of joyousness. Joy means unity; happiness means plurality.»
«Do you mind if I take a leak?» said Ned. «I think you're getting somewhere now. I feel mildly pleasurable.»
«That's reflected happiness. You're living on the moon. As soon as I stop shining you'll become extinct.»
«You said it, Henry. Jesus, having you around is like getting a shot in the arm.»
The pitcher was almost empty. «Fill it up again,» I said. «I'm lucid but I'm not drunk yet. I wish the girls would come back. I need an incentive. I hope they didn't get run over.»
«Do you sing when you get drunk?» asked Ned.
Do I? Do you want to hear me?» I began the Prologue to Pagliacci.
In the midst of it the girls returned, loaded with packages. I was still singing.
«You must be high,» said Marcelle, glancing from one to the other of us.
«He's getting drunk,» said Ned. «Ore
«On water?» they echoed.
«Yes, on water. It's the opposite of ecstasy, he says.»
«I don't get you,» said Marcelle. «Let me smell your breath.»
«Don't smell mine... smell his. I'm satisfied to get drunk on liquor. Two minutes after twelve it's night time, says Henry. Happiness is only an air-conditioned form of Purgatory... isn't that it, Henry?»
«Listen,» said Marcelle, «Henry's not drunk, you're the one who's drunk.»
«Joy is unity; happiness is always in the majority, or something like that. You should have been here a little earlier. He wanted to eat my hand. When I refused to oblige him he asked for a coat. Come on in here... I'll show you what he did to Ulric's drawing.»
They looked at the drawing, one corner of which had been chewed to a frazzle.
«That's hunger for you,» Ned explained. «He doesn't mean ordinary hunger—he means spiritual hunger. The goal is the stratosphere where the climate is always serene. Isn't that it, Henry?»
«That's it,» I said, with a grave smile. «Now Ned, tell Mona what you were telling me a moment ago...» I gave him a hypnotic blink and raised another glass to my lips.
«I don't think you'd better let him drink all that water,» said Ned, appealing to Mona. «He's finished one pitcher already. I'm afraid he'll get dropsy—or hydrocephalis.»
Mona gave me a searching look. What's the meaning of this act? it said.
I put my hand on her arm, lightly, as if I were laying a divining rod on it. «He has something to say to you. Listen quietly. It will make you feel good.»
All eyes were focused on Ned. He blushed and stammered.
«What is this?» said Marcelle. «What did he say that was so wonderful?»
«I guess I'll have to say it for him,» I said. I took Mona's two hands in mine and looked into her eyes. «This is what he said, Mona... ' I never knew that one human being could transform another human being as Mona has transformed you. Some people get religion; you got love. You're the luckiest man in the world.'»
Mona: «Did you really say that, Ned?» Marcelle: «How is it I haven't transformed
«I guess he needs another drink,» said Marcelle. «No, drink only satisfies the lower appetites,» said Ned. «I'm searching for the elixir of life, which is water, according to Henry.»
«I'll give you your elixir later,» Marcelle rejoined. «How about some cold chicken now?» «Have you any bones?» I asked. Marcelle looked perplexed.
«I want to eat them,» I said. «Bones give phosphorus and iodine. Mona always feeds me bones when I'm exalted. You see, when I'm effervescent I give off vital energy. You don't need bones—you need cosmic juices. You've worn your celestial envelope too thin. You're radiating from the sexual sphere.»
«What does that mean in plain English?» «It means that you feed on seed instead of ambrosia. Your spiritual hormones are impoverished. You love Apis the Bull instead of Krishna the charioteer. You'll find your Paradise, but it will be on the lower level. Then the only escape is insanity.»
It's as clear as mud,» said Marcelle.
«Don't get caught in the clock-work, that's what he means,» Ned volunteered.
«What clock-work? What the hell are you talking about, you two?»
«Don't you understand, Marcelle? I said. «What can love bring you that you haven't got already?»
«I haven't got anything, except a lot of responsibilities,» said Marcelle.
«Precisely, and that's why it feels so good.»
«I didn't say that! ...Listen, what are you talking about? Are you sure you're feeling all right?»
«I'm talking about your soul,» I said. «You've been starving your soul. You need cosmic juices, as I said before.»
«Yeah, and where do you buy 'em?»
«You don't buy them... you pray for them. Didn't you ever hear of the manna that fell from the sky? Ask for manna to-night: it will give tone to your astral ligaments...»
«I don't know anything about this astral stuff, but I do know something about ass,» said Marcelle. «If you ask me, I think you're giving me the
«You see, Henry,» Ned broke in, «that's how they bring things down to earth. She's always worrying about
