Dear Reader,
I would like to start a blog, but I hesitate to write down my thoughts; they are so hard to articulate. I have been feeling what's the use of living in this world, but last night I saw the movie Withnail and I, and even though I do not smoke or drink or use drugs, am not gay or a thespian, nor do I live in England, nor do I seem to have anything in common with any of the characters, I felt a burst of being very glad to live on this planet if only for the fact that the people who made this movie live here too. Isn't that odd? That is my tenuous hold on this current reality. And that is slipping away fast even now, about 12 hours since I watched the movie credits roll by. On the special features of the CD people said they had seen the movie 45 times and 50 times, it made them so happy. I can relate. Why, I don't really know. Perhaps it is because of the totally stoned drug dealer who seemed to have the most grip on reality of all the tortured characters. Don't get bent out of shape about anything, just remain in your calm center, he was saying, and he really was there himself. It was very hard to believe he was actually an actor. It seemed like he was a liberating angel in disguise that had just happened on the set, wanting to calm everybody down.
As I was typing that last bit a woman came and donated cookbooks to the aprt. complex library, where I am typing. I took three of them myself. I love cookbooks.
I have known some interesting people in my life and would like to write about them. I have physically touched eight famous people. I can't say who they are, exactly, for legal reasons, but I will describe them.
