Morning developed out the window. His right canine ached. He unreeled the long hair, beaded with saliva, tooth-tartar, mouth-breather's morning fur, and stared at it. How'd it get here? Eerie, dearie.
In the morning light filtering through the window, a man experiences a peculiar moment as he notices his right canine tooth hurting. This physical sensation prompts him to reflect on the strange and unpleasant aspect of his morning routine, symbolized by his disheveled hair, which is unkempt and slightly matted.
The scene is surreal, creating an eerie atmosphere as he questions how his appearance has come to embody a state of disarray. The imagery evokes a strong sense of unease and introspection, typical of Pynchon's narrative style, which often delves into the complexity of human experiences and the absurdities of life.
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All the things you can talk about in anyone's work are the things that are least important.
Race of Cain, ascend to heaven, And cast God down upon the earth!
