all about Jim's case

T.S. Eliot (1888–1965). Prufrock and Other Observations. 1917.

1. The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.

LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
5
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question …
10
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
15
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
20
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.
And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
25
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
30
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.
In the room the women come and go
35
Talking of Michelangelo.
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—
40
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare
45
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
50
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?
And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
55
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
60
And how should I presume?
And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
It is perfume from a dress
65
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin? . . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
70
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…
I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas. . . . . .
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
75
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
80
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
85
And in short, I was afraid.
And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
90
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—
95
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: “That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.”
And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
100
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
105
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.” . . . . .
110
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
115
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.
I grow old … I grow old …
120
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
125
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
130
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

When the dawn tears the heart of the darkness, stars linger up in the sky yet they know they should live for the light...
Time takes away
no trains waiting,
so does grew pain
my fate is raging,
so I took the gun
just to see me hating
left the door open
I knew she was hesitating
put my hate on my chest....

Kate asked Jim "why do you like night and dark sky?"; then he paused for a long while, as he was lost in nothingness, but I knew that it was a hesitation to say or not to say anything. Some times he thinks it would be better if he could just walk away from deep questions; or maybe they are not as deep as he thinks so... He started staring in Kate's eyes like he was looking for his words in his eyes. What he said actually made me wonder.
Now I just forgot what he said but I still wonder and never able to forget the look on his face... and I still sense the feeling...
as I was listening to their conversation, my mind drifted away at once. how Jim came to existence and whether it is really necessary to listen to him?? then I looked at his face; I could figure out the expression on in his eyes. He was not talking but Kate was listening carefully to his eyes...
Jim pointed at a paper flower in distance and closed his eyes and layed back on the ground. Kate was searching in distance to see the paper flower. I felt I should leave them alone yet some thing that I didn't know what it was kept me still. they didn't ask me to leave so I could convince myself to stay longer. I was not looking for the flower that Jim pointed. I was Little tired. It was a long day after school and I was really tired and felt so sleepy. I wanted to stay there with them and sleep there, but I knew that my mom was waiting for me.
Sometimes when we look back in times we just realise how we have changed and how the world was small and simple. Is it us who has changed or the world around us? The answer seems to be clear to me yet I like not to look for it. Some times we try to live i our imaginations instead of pursuing the reality. All my attention was wandering around these weired questions when I noticed my headaches. I stood up and took a deep breath and thought this is the time that I need to gain more strength.
Jim and Kate were still looking for the flower. He turned at me and asked if I said something. I just didn't know what... maybe this time something else just changed and I was not aware of that moment. After all I realised all these changes are a part of my existence like that very moment I forgot or I forgot the moment when my head was filled with random inputs. I looked at Jim and Kate and thought how I can ever forget them and how I can stop listening to their silence!!!

There is a start and the game roll on and on; then life begins taking its toll so Jim Casey comes to be seen...
this story will be forever; I got so helpless when I realised it happens with or without our beliefs.
What are you talking about??
It's all about us... wait and hope to see...
wanna take a trip to the distant where the night is too deep to be explored and the dark stars wouldn't be seen, sparkles turn to ashes and the silence rules the night...
consequences are not true and time and place lose their concepts...
there would a be dis sober creator to make up a chaotic land of no where...
just the words are the matter, spontaneity of powerful feelings has lost the way to overflow and the poet is lost in history and papers. there will be time for hesitation but you know that you should pass and cross the red light in this pathetic traffic of hypocrisy... even if there would be a blind alley, there will be a way out. In the end we look behind and see who we are and what we did. the most tragic part is when we have to devote little things for greater goals and how we have to leave them behind while we are still keep an eye looking back and a big part of the brain still occupied to deal with loads of memories. Okei, I know I still make no sense and it all looks like a silly coded draft or the mentally challenged person. Maybe it need a flash back... yea I think ...