.....He finds that he has drifted as far as the Odeon, one of the great world cafés, whose specialty is not listed anywhere--indeed has never been pinned down. Lenin, Trotsky, James Joyce, Dr Einstein all sat out at these tables. Whatever it was they all had in common: whatever they'd come to this vantage to score . . . perhaps it had to do with the people somehow, with pedestrian mortality, restless crisscrossing of needs or desperations in one fateful piece of street . . . dialectics, matrices, archetypes all need to connect, once in a while, back to some of that proletarian blood, to body odors and senseless screaming across a table, to cheating and last hopes, or else all is dusty Dracularity, the West's ancient curse. . . . [Gravity's Rainbow, V262-263]