lirik lagu the great gatsby project – ali shahid
i believe that on the first night i went to gatsby’s house i was one of the few guests who had actually been invited. people were not invited**they went there. they got into automobiles which bore them out to long island and somehow they ended up at gatsby’s door. once there they were introduced by somebody who knew gatsby and after that they conducted themselves according to the rules of behavior associated with amus*m*nt parks. sometimes they came and went without having met gatsby at all, came for the party with a simplicity of heart that was its own ticket of admission
i had been actually invited. a chauffeur in a uniform of robin’s egg blue crossed my lawn early that sat*rday morning with a surprisingly formal note from his employer**the honor would be entirely gatsby’s, it said, if i would attend his “little party” that night. he had seen me several times and had intended to call on me long before but a peculiar combination of circumstances had prevented it**signed jay gatsby in a majestic hand
dressed up in white flannels i went over to his lawn a little after seven and wandered around rather ill*at*ease among swirls and eddies of people i didn’t know**though here and there was a face i had noticed on the commuting train. i was immediately struck by the number of young englishmen dotted about; all well dressed, all looking a little hungry and all talking in low earnest voices to solid and prosperous americans. i was sure that they were selling something: bonds or insurance or automobiles. they were, at least, agonizingly aware of the easy money in the vicinity and convinced that it was theirs for a few words in the right key
as soon as i arrived i made an attempt to find my host but the two or three people of whom i asked his whereabouts stared at me in such an amazed way and denied so vehemently any knowledge of his movements that i slunk off in the direction of the c*cktail table**the only place in the garden where a single man could linger without looking purposeless and alone
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“gatsby. somebody told me****”
the two girls and jordan leaned together confidentially
“somebody told me they thought he k!lled a man once.”
a thrill passed over all of us. the three mr. mumbles bent forward and listened eagerly
“i don’t think it’s so much that,” argued lucille skeptically; “it’s more that he was a german spy during the war.”
one of the men nodded in confirmation
“i heard that from a man who knew all about him, grew up with him in germany,” he assured us positively
“oh, no,” said the first girl, “it couldn’t be that, because he was in the american army during the war.” as our credulity switched back to her she leaned forward with enthusiasm. “you look at him sometimes when he thinks n0body’s looking at him. i’ll bet he k!lled a man.”
she narrowed her eyes and shivered. lucille shivered. we all turned and looked around for gatsby. it was testimony to the romantic speculation he inspired that there were whispers about him from those who found little that it was necessary to whisper about in this world
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almost at the moment when mr. gatsby identified himself a butler hurried toward him with the information that chicago was calling him on the wire. he excused himself with a small bow that included each of us in turn
“if you want anything just ask for it, old sport,” he urged me. “excuse me. i will rejoin you later.”
when he was gone i turned immediately to jordan**constrained to assure her of my surprise. i had expected that mr. gatsby would be a florid and corpulent person in his middle years
“who is he?” i demanded. “do you know?”
“he’s just a man named gatsby.”
“where is he from, i mean? and what does he do?”
“now you’re started on the subject,” she answered with a wan smile. “well,**he told me once he was an oxford man.”
a dim background started to take shape behind him but at her next remark it faded away
“however, i don’t believe it.”
“why not?”
“i don’t know,” she insisted, “i just don’t think he went there.”
something in her tone reminded me of the other girl’s “i think he k!lled a man,” and had the effect of stimulating my curiosity. i would have accepted without question the information that gatsby sprang from the swamps of louisiana or from the lower east side of new york. that was comprehensible. but young men didn’t**at least in my provincial inexperience i believed they didn’t**drift coolly out of nowhere and buy a palace on long island sound
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