Grumbles from the Grave Read Online Free PDF

So I took myself to one side and said, "Look here, Robert, this has got to stop. You haven't any need for more money; the possession of more money simply leads you into expensive tastes which in no way increase your happiness. In the meantime you are getting fat, short-winded, and soft, and ruining your digestion to boot." To which Robert replied, "Yeah, boss, I know. But look—it's the money machine. Just punch it, and the dollars fall out. Money, money, money, money!" So I had to speak to him sternly, "Money! Sure, money is nice stuff, but you don't need much of it. We settled that when we entered the navy, and we proved it the time you got stung buying that silver mine." To which he answered, "Yeah, but look—you could buy the GE Home Workshop. You could put it right over there—and it costs only $110." "Another gadget! You know what I think of gadgets. When would you use it, anyhow?" "Don't give me that stuff! You know you like gadgets." "Well, within moderation, but the lust for them is a vice." "It is, eh? You've got it pretty bad then." "I have not," I answered with dignity. "I can take them or leave them alone. Besides, I would rather make them than buy them." The argument went on and on. He pointed out to me that money did not have to be spent; it could be loaned or given away. (We were both agreed that it should never be saved, except for specific short-term purposes.) I said, "When did you ever give or loan money that the deal didn't turn sour?" He mentioned a couple of times, and I was forced to admit he was right; "—besides, we could be more careful about it," he added hopefully.
    The upshot of the matter was a compromise. I agreed to let him continue to punch the alphabetical slot machine just as long as he hit the jackpot every time; the first time he failed to get his nickel back we would quit.
    So—at long last came the envelope I had been looking for, a rejection instead of a check [for "Creation Took Eight Days," later published as "Goldfish Bowl"]. I had a quick pang of regret over the money I didn't get, which was washed away by the pleasant knowledge that school was out at last. I spent the whole day taking pictures. I spent the next day starting the excavation for a swimming pool, a project which I have had in mind for five years, which I have been ready to commence for some months, but which takes time, lots of it. I could hire it done by staying at the typewriter, but that was not the idea—I wanted the heavy physical exercise [that] a pick, shovel, and wheelbarrow provide.
    Besides that, I have had a number of typewriter projects in mind which have been indefinitely postponed because I was busy with S-F. In particular a short book on monetary theory which should have been written eighteen months ago. That is a "must" and will probably be finished this winter. I expect it to be published but I probably won't make any money out of it. Besides that, I have been urged to tackle a primer of semantics and general semantics. I am moderately well prepared for the task, having had five seminars in the subject; nevertheless there is a lot of research to be done and a monumental task of devising lucid pedagogical methods in a most difficult field, involving as it does a very nearly complete reorientation in methods of thinking even for the "educated" reader. I estimate that it may take from two to five years to complete. Incidentally, if you are interested, I would be willing to do a popular article or two on the subject for Astounding. I offered to do so once before, you may recall, but you made no answer.
    Besides the above, I am going to try to do at least one novel for book publication and will probably try a flyer in slicks, most likely through Virginia Perdue's agent. I haven't had much luck with agents up to now, and it seems to be agreed that a good agent is almost a sine qua non for such endeavor.
    The above plans, although numerous and involved, are leisurely in their nature—which is what I