I am not here writing this. What I mean is, White Bear is typing this as he takes dictation from me via cell phone. Obviously, I have no idea if he will publish what I say or, sneaky fellow that he is, he might publish whatever happens to be on his mind at the moment.
Capote was relatively young and relatively unknown when he was asked to drop everything and fly in to the Italian countryside to work on the script on a day-to-shoot basis. One story has it that he would speak to his pet Raven every day on the telephone. One time, the Raven refused to reply to Capote's voice on the telephone, so Capote hopped onto an aircraft and flew to Rome where the Raven was boarded in a hotel so he could visit the bird. Yeh, my kind of people.
But, the primary purpose of this brief post is to say that I have been on the road a few days and, before the journey even had ended, I encountered a personal situation which has demanded my time and my attention. More importantly, it was a mood changer, a destroyer of my patience and a forecaster of the end of the particular trail I happen to be on at the moment. My emotions right now are ranging from anger to depression to frustration to a bit of confusion. I need a few days to read novels, to watch films, to escape long enough for my mind to push aside the fog.
So, please pardon me if I ignore you for a couple of days and fail to comment at any of your blogs until I slip the knots which bind me.
Petersen (Robert Morley) in the film, "Beat the Devil:"
"You mean Mrs. Chelm is an unqualified liar?"
"Well, let's say she uses her imagination rather than her memory."
(For the record, I fell instantly in love with Mrs. Chelm and her imagination. What man would not?)