I'll Let You Go Read Online Free Page B

asked the boy offhandedly.
    â€œI sent the servants home,” answered Ralph, deliberately camp. “Mirdling’s Name Theorem: the small, strange thing that perceptually sets you apart. There’s something so
rune-like
about Rafe, so
rarefied
. When you take that rune-like, rarefied thing and make silk from the sow’s ear, ‘Ralph’—”
    â€œYou know what? You’re getting to be like the nutty professor. And who’s ‘Mirdling’?”
    â€œMy last name.”
    â€œYou should change it. Where’s Mom?”
    â€œGetting ready. Your cousins are here, you know.”
    â€œWhat’s with the tux?”
    â€œBlack-tie gala for ten thousand, to honor … 
Ron Bass
.”
    â€œWhat is your problem with Ron Bass?”
    â€œI don’t have a problem.”
    â€œYou’re always going off—”
    â€œGoing off?”
    â€œHe doesn’t even fit your theorem.”
    â€œOh yes he does. There’s ‘Bass’—you read it much more than you hear it. An inner voice forever asks: fish or tone? Add the confounding banality of
Ron
to the oscillating fish-music of
Bass
and you’ve got a cognitive dissonance—”
    â€œI still don’t know why you’re so freaked.”
    The Beau Brummell squealed, kicking up his python boots in a retarded jig. “Did you know Ron Bass’s first nine films took in a billion dollars worldwide? Or that he gets up at three forty-five in the morning to write, seven days a week? That’s why his company is called Predawn Productions. And I’ll tell you something else: Ron Bass skips breakfast because digesting food makes him
logy
. Ron Bass doesn’t use a computer—huh-uh. He writes on yellow loose-leaf with number-twoSundance pencils made by Blackfeet Indians. Ron Bass, as you probably know, is a legendary mentor, with an inner circle of story-structuring Pradacunts who paste and fax and generally
work
those three acts like crack whores on a cock. ‘I’m not comparing myself to Mozart,’ said Ron Bass in a recent interview with the
L.A. Times
, ‘but is the Jupiter Symphony any less magnificent because he worked so much and so fast?’ Do you want to know what Ron Bass does on weekends? I’ll
tell
you what he does on weekends: he writes! And then he takes his German shepherd to the farmers’ market in Santa Monica on Pico and buys hummus. (Gerry the German shepherd—could have used some help writing
that
name!) Ron Bass likes to go to movies on the weekend; he’ll see three in a day. He likes to see movies with the
public
. ‘You really know how good it is,’ sayeth Ron Bass, ‘when you’re in the dark surrounded by strangers.’ On Friday or Saturday nights, Ron Bass likes to have French-onion soup at 5 Dudley or branzino and green lasagna at Vicenti. Ron Bass likes to drive down to Orange County to see opera for a Sunday matinée—”
    â€œJesus, you’re obsessed! It’s just Ron Bass! He’s not even Robert Towne.”
    â€œDid you say … Robert
China
towne?” He spun around impishly, in fresh rodomontade. “Did you
hear
Chinatowne on KCRW, discussing ‘the sound of the shammy’? Polanski understood the importance of ‘the sound of the shammy,’ he said. Oh, how lucky for us all! Oh, 1974, if we could just go back! Do you know—are you
aware
—of what the Council of Elders—
the professors of screenwriting
—call that script? ‘The grail.’ Literally. They’re just like Trekkies—with their Grand Wailea Maui Waui seminars and Callie Khouri–Nora Ephron champagne brunches, laughing and clinking glasses while hooking you for thousands. And don’t think Mr.
China
towne isn’t rewarded
monetarily
each time some weekend warrior writes a check—oh, the Council makes sure they all get their fat number-two