Chapter 1: Page 6: Line 7

 Hammers and Saws have fallen still, bricks lie in snow-cover'd Heaps, City-Sparrows, in speckl'd Outbursts, hop in and out of what Shelter there may be,— the nightward Sky, Clouds blown to Chalk-smears, stretches above the Northern Liberties, Spring Garden and Germantown, its early moon pale as the Snow-Drifts,— smoke ascends from Chimney-Pots, Sledging-Parties adjourn indoors, Taverns bustle,— freshly infus'd Coffee flows ev'ryplace, borne about thro' Rooms front and back, whilst Madeira, which has ever fuel'd Association in these Parts, is deploy'd nowadays like an ancient Elixir upon the seething Pot of Politics,— for the Times are as impossible to calculate, this Advent, as the Distance to a Star.

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Line 7 Vulgarized:
Snowfall has put a halt to construction (as well as the darkness of a night with a slight moon, I suppose) while birds search for food and shelter. A slight snow-colored moon hangs in a sky with slight cloud cover above the districts of Northern Liberties, Spring Garden, and Germantown. Smoke rises in the sky from chimneys, groups of people out sledding now head indoors filling up the taverns to warm themselves with loads and loads of coffee rather than wine which is, nowadays, held for occasions of political talk to calm temperaments exacerbated by the volatility of the times this December, as impossible to predict as distances in space!

Subtext:
Everybody is trying to build a brand new country but, for the moment, they've put down their tools to celebrate Christmas. Arguments over a new Constitution can wait until next year! The conclusion about predicting politics this Advent mentions time and the distance to stars, two variables that Mason and Dixon will need to use in their work. Well, maybe not the distance to stars. The line is accurate in that "this Advent" it's impossible to measure the distance to the stars. That won't be possible for another fifty years or so when Friedrich Bessel becomes the first scientist to measure the distance to a star (with an error of about 10% which seems sort of terrible but, even now, if I tried to figure out the distance to a star, I'd probably be off by a four or five digit percentage! Because I'd just be guessing!). But Mason and Dixon do need to measure astronomical activity to accurately map and measure the Earth as well as needing clocks capable of great precision. So while it seems like the Times are impossible to calculate, Mankind will definitely try with all the tools at their disposal and probably come within a fairly small percentage error of success. So that sort of explains America and our Constitution, I think. It was a good try with the tools of the time but it definitely has at least an error of 10%. It probably should be reworked with modern thought and modern tools, you know? All of these people who worship it so strongly don't seem to understand how civilization improves. Dumb dumbs probably still think throwing virgins in volcanos is a good idea.
    Imagine if people still threw virgins in volcanos to appease Gods? You'd never be able to get a full table of nerds together to run a Dungeons & Dragons campaign!

Chapter 1: Page 6: Line 6

 Ponds and Creeks are frozen over, and the Trees a-glare to the last slightest Twig,— Nerve-Lines of concentrated Light.

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Line 6 Vulgarized:
The surfaces of all the ponds and creeks were covered in a layer of ice and so were all of the branches of all of the trees, even down to the smallest twig, so that the entire tree was aglow, so much so that they looked like a nervous system made entirely from light.

Subtext:
Subtext is like the water under the ice, right? So all the subtext is hidden and covered over. And the shallowness of the plot is like the coat of ice on the tree blinding the reader so they have a hard time seeing the actual tree (which is a metaphor for the subtext. Maybe!).
    Lines are sentences so "Nerve-Lines of concentrated Light" suggest each sentence is packed with information, even down to the shortest one! And nerves send signals so that we feel things so "Nerve-Lines" are sentences that make us feel stuff! Like emotions and lustful thoughts, especially when the boner metaphors start sledding in. "Sledding" is a Christmastide metaphor just to keep us all in the spirit!

Chapter 1: Page 6: Line 5

 Snow lies upon Philadelphia, from River to River, whose further shores have so vanish'd behind curtains of ice-fog that the City today might be an Isle upon an Ocean.

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Line 5 Vulgarized:
Philadelphia is covered in snow from the Delaware River to the Schuylkill River. Icy fog hangs over the rivers so thickly that the far shores cannot be seen, making it seem like the city has become an island.

* * * * * * * * * *

Did I need to vulgarize that bit of writing? It was already pretty clear, wasn't it? Well, just wait until I vulgarize some line that's just, "Reverend Cherrycoke gave a polite Wave." And then I'll be all, "A reverend, you know what those are, right?! Like ministers or something! A priest, sort of! Well, his name is Cherrycoke like the version of Coke that wants to be Mr. Pibb but fails drastically at the impersonation. See, he just moved his hand around in the air, a gesture to indicate friendliness and goodwill upon meeting or retreating from other people. Polite just means he didn't give the finger or nothing."

Subtext:
No man is an island is probably part of this, right?! You can't read about something being an island without thinking about that quote and also thinking about Bon Jovi. Here, Pynchon is painting a picture of Philadelphia as an island on this Christmastide, separated from all other life on the planet. We are supposed to consider the isolation here and the borders creating that isolation. BORDERS! That's what this book is about! You know what else has borders that turn the thing surrounded by those borders into an island unto itself? A book! Between the covers lies a distinct place far different from the reality surrounding it, a place that relies not on what happens outside the borders and is affected by nothing but what lies within.
    So think of this back room in this crowded house in this snow-covered and river-bound city as an island within an island within an island all inside the island of the book.
    I should probably have use the term liminal space in there somewhere, right?! Go back and add it yourself wherever it would work best! Thanks!

Chapter 1: Page 6: Line 4

 This Christmastide of 1786, with the War settl'd and the Nation bickering itself into Fragments, wounds bodily and ghostly, great and small, go aching on, not ev'ry one commemorated,— nor, too often, even recounted.

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Line 4 Vulgarized:
It's Christmas 1786 and the Revolutionary War is over but young America, composed of 13 young, dumb states, was in a new conflict about how the states were going to get along because these Articles of Confederation weren't meant to last forever and somebody was going to have to do something about it, like maybe hold a convention in Philadelphia or something. And this Christmas, with the war not too long in the past, everybody was still dealing with some physical wound or emotional trauma, maybe as severe as a lost limb or as simple as a neighbor's hurtful words (possibly traitorous!), pains and aches that were maybe mentioned once and done with, maybe blathered on about over and over, or maybe kept secret from the outset.

Subtext:
The subtext is that I'm not sure I know what I'm talking about, even when trying to Vulgarize the passage! Did I read this right?! That's a rhetorical question because unless you're Thomas Pynchon, you don't fucking know either! But I'll give the subtext a shot anyway!
    This book is about boundaries and here we see mention of a Nation still somewhat divided. How? I don't know since I wasn't there in 1786 and I'm no historian. Why was the nation bickering itself into Fragments? I have thoughts which I voiced in my Vulgarization. Constitutional thoughts! But here we see how the boundaries between states aren't just important physical divides but ideological ones as well. And each state has been wounded by war and differences in ideology in various ways: bodily might be states that saw a lot of fighting; ghostly were states impacted less directly, maybe economically or simply by having to send a bunch of young men off to fight. States wounded in great and small ways, the further from the sites of physical battle, probably the smaller the wounds. And not all of these conflicts were commemorated, not all of them recounted and told to the history books. Many would go unseen and unknown by time, only witnessed by those who experienced them.

Chapter 1: Page 6: Line 3

 Upon the Wall, banish'd to this Den of Parlor Apes for its Remembrance of a Time better forgotten, reflecting most of the Room,— the Carpet and Drapes a little fray'd, Whiskers the Cat stalking beneath the furniture, looking out with eyes finely reflexive to anything suggesting Food,— hangs a Mirror in an inscrib'd Frame, commemorating the "Mischianza," that memorable farewell Ball stag'd in '77 by the British who'd been Occupying the City, just before their Withdrawal from Philadelphia.

* * * * * * * * * *

Line 3 Vulgarized:
Hanging on the wall in this backroom reserved for the monkey children because the object represents a time of strife and conflict was a commemorative mirror, reflecting the carpet and drapes and Whiskers the cat who is always hungry and probably curious which is why he's called Whiskers, from British General Sir William Howe's retirement party in 1778. I mean 1777. Whichever one is the actual date when the British withdrew from Philadelphia! I'm going to trust Pynchon's '77 over Wikipedia's 1778! I'm not stupid!

Subtext:
The mirror is a historical object from a time about a decade earlier that people would like to forget. Mirrors are also reflections of their environment. Here we have a mirror representing historical reflection. It has been placed in a room occupied by hyper children who will give it not much thought and one very hungry cat. Perhaps Pynchon feels his books are like that mirror. Historical reflections wasted on the masses.
    Or the mirror can represent the extravagant waste of a bunch of losers celebrating nothing. It reflects nothing of the event, an event which meant and provided nothing to the greater good. It was a party for party's sake.

Chapter 1: Pages 5-6: Line 2

 Here have come to rest a long scarr'd sawbuck table, with two mismatch'd side-benches, from the Lancaster County branch of the family,— some Second-Street Chippendale, including an interpretation of the fam'd Chinese Sofa, with a high canopy of yards of purple Stuff that might be drawn all 'round to make a snug, dim tent,— a few odd Chairs sent from England before the War,— mostly Pine and Cherry about, nor much Mahogany, excepting a sinister and wonderful Card Table which exhibits the cheaper Wave-like Grain known in the Trade as Wand'ring Heart, causing an illusion of Depth into which for years children have gaz'd as into the illustrated Pages of Books...along with so many hinges, sliding Mortises, hidden catches, and secret compartments that neither the Twins nor their Sister can say they have been to the end of it.

* * * * * * * * * *

Line 2 Vulgarized:
The back room was littered with old pieces of mismatched furniture, the descriptions of which scream, "Thomas Pynchon did some old timey furniture research and/or watched a lot of Antiques Roadshow!" The most interesting piece, a mahogany Card Table, had a grain that looked like one of those three-dimensional posters that were popular in the early 1990s as well as loads of hinged writing surfaces, hidden compartments for jewelry and letters from mistresses and so many other secret compartments that the children (a set of twins and their sister) had almost certainly never found them all.

Subtext:
This book is like that mahogany Card Table. You can stare into it for years and marvel at the intricate verbiage giving an illusion of depth to the beautifully described scenes but you'll never discover every hidden gem and reference. Even if you were three people!

Subtext P.S.:
The sawbuck table contains two mismatch'd side-benches. Surely this is a vague and casual reference to the stars of our story, the scarr'd sawbuck tale representing the adventure they will have between them (see? a table sits between benches?). The other characters are the odd chairs and Second-Street Chippendales. The card table, as mentioned previously, the book within which they all reside.

Chapter 1: Page 5: Line 1

 Snow-Balls have flown their Arcs, starr'd the sides of Outbuildings, as of Cousins, carried Hats away into the brisk Wind off Delaware,— the Sleds are brought in and their Runners carefully dried and greased, shoes deposited in the back Hall, a stocking'd-foot Descent made upon the great Kitchen, in a purposeful Dither since Morning, punctuated by the ringing Lids of various Boilers and Stewing-Pots, fragrant with Pie-Spices, peel'd Fruits, Suet, heated Sugar,— the Children, having all upon the Fly, among rhythmic slaps of Batter and Spoon, coax'd and stolen what they might, proceed, as upon each afternoon all this snowy Advent, to a comfortable Room at the rear of the House, years since given over to their carefree Assaults.

* * * * * * * * * *

Line 1 Vulgarized:
The children have thrown snowballs at their cousins and also splatted them on the sides of buildings and also knocked hats off of people's heads which the wind has then carried away. Afterward, the children, having enjoyed various other snow activities as well, had brought in their sleds and took care of the metal parts so they wouldn't rust sitting around overnight the way things rust immediately when you don't totally know how rust works but you know it exists and also they're probably good Puritan kids who know that punctuality in all things makes God smile, especially if you're a preterite and won't know it until you die after which you'll curse God and think, "Why did I do all of those good works then?!" They also took off their snow-covered shoes in the mud room and raided the kitchen (probably hungry from sledding and snowball fights). The kitchen has been chaos all day with various stews and boils and baking pies and chopped fruits and rendered fats and caramelized sugars. It only becomes more chaotic when the children rush in begging for some taste of icing or batter, pocketed some cooling cookies or whatever treats Puritans are allowed, and then headed into the back room, where they spend every wintery day, which the parents have abandoned because it's become such a mess of kids' stuff.

* * * * * * * * * *

The scene is set. Pynchon begins by describing a lovely little wintery scene, probably having decided it's a good litmus test for those thinking about picking up the book. "Don't tell me I didn't warn them about how difficult reading this book might be! It's all right there in that first sentence!" he didn't say but probably would have if I'd gone up to him and said, "The language in this book was impenetrable, you jerk!"

Subtext:
I don't know. Was there any subtext in this? What is subtext?! I think the entire subtext was simply that bit about Pynchon letting the reader know what they were in for. Certainly he considered that in the same way he must certainly have considered beginning Against the Day with an easily digestible boy's adventure novel with lots of humor like the slapstick scene where they almost crash and die and all of the "your mom" jokes as well as the scene where all the boys get boners over the naked lady running around below them (a scene in which Pynchon uses the "starred" descriptor but this time made by dropped and exploded sandbags and not snowballs).
    Also, that first line purposefully makes you think of the opening line of Gravity's Rainbow, right? "A screaming comes across the sky" and "Snow-Balls have flown their Arcs." That's probably Pynchon's way of saying, "This is my next great book on par with Gravity's Rainbow!"

Subtext P.S.:
Boundaries! I forgot about the boundaries! We begin with a major boundary in the house, separating the adult work space from the children's playroom. We also see the distinction between the two: children out playing all day while the parents work hard in the kitchen making snacks for the little pests.