Slothrop has been spending all his time in the nadirs of loneliness and heartache. His is a Soul with no cheer. And so he watches a show about two guys on the bottom, who stay on the bottom, and end on the bottom, in the depravity of no-consciousness that is New York City––honestly portrayed, for once, thank you film crew from New Zealand (kinda similar I think to how a bunch of Canadians called The Band are one of the few musicians to ever to capture the haunting beauty of the American South)––all of which fills him with empathy, somehow... and so soon Mirth erupts, and Slothrop, too, finds enough courage to walk the streets again, to sell his body for money, to hope, against all disdainful odds, to one day see a girl.
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