"  I can  feel  the  heat  closing  in,  feel them  out there

making  their  moves,  setting  up  their  devil  doll stool

pigeons,  crooning  over  my  spoon  and  dropper   I  throw

away  at  Washington  Square  Station,  vault   a  turnstile

and  two  flights  down  the  iron  stairs,  catch  an uptown

A  train...  Young,  good  looking,  crew  cut,  Ivy League,

advertising  exec  type fruit  holds the  door back  for me.

I  am  evidently  his  idea  of  a  character. You  know the

type  comes  on  with  bartenders  and cab  drivers, talking

about  right  hooks  and  the  Dodgers, call  the counterman

in Nedick's by  his first  name. A  real asshole.  And right

on  time this  narcotics dick  in a  white trench  coat (im-

agine  tailing  somebody  in  a white  trench coat  -- trying

to pass as a fag I guess ) hit the platform. I can  hear the

way  he  would say  it holding  my outfit  in his  left hand,

right  hand  on  his  piece:  "I  think  you  dropped  some-

thing, fella"                                             

  But the subway is moving.                                 

  "So long flatfoot!" I yell, giving the  fruit his  B produc-

tion. I look into the fruit's eyes, take in the  white teeth,

the  Florida  tan,  the  two  hundred dollar  sharkskin suit,

the   button-down   Brooks   Brothers   shirt   and  carrying

The News as a prop. "Only thing I read is Little Abner."

  A  square  wants  to  come  on  hip.... Talks  about "pod,"

and  smoke  it  now  and  then,  and  keeps  some  around  to

offer the fast Hollywood types.                             

  "Thanks, kid," I say, "I can  see you're  one of  our own."

His  face  lights  up  like a  pinball machine,  with stupid,

pink effect."

Now, from what book is this?

http://w3.enternet.hu/laca/mindenlofasz/naked.html

it's not the full text, but a little bit more...

Last edited by Hard Bop Hank (2008-08-04 18:41:53)

"Spade rose bowing and indicating with a thick-fingered hand the oaken armchair beside his desk. He was quite six feet tall. The steep rounded slope of his shoulders made his body seem almost conical- no broader than it was thick- and kept his freshly pressed grey coat from fitting very well."


It's on page 2 of that book...




"He scratched the back of his neck and began to dress. He put on a thin white union-suit, grey socks, black garters, and dark brown shoes. When he had fastened his shoes he picked up the telephone, called Graystone 4500, and ordered a taxicab. He put on a green-striped white shirt, a soft white collar, a green necktie, the grey suit he had worn that day, a loose tweed overcoat, and a dark grey hat. The street-door-bell rang as he stuffed tobacco, keys and money into his pockets."


Page 12 of the same book...


Question #1: What's the name of that book?

Question #2: How does anyone manage to dress in this order? Underwear, shoes (!), shirt and suit????


Cheers, HBH