LOOKS RIGHT
ENOUGH FOR ME
ENOUGH FOR ME
I am writing a post like John Steinbeck;
worried to death over the down and the out.
I am writing a post like Max Reinhardt;
Isle of the Blessed, and Venetian Nights
will do. I head southward, to get out of
the way of both the lions and the tamers
as well. Cannot stand either. I'm now
listening to someone else try to sing
like Janis Joplin : a Texas-blaze of
screeching sound, like a political
convention inside a cave. Don't
want that; hate the rave.
-
Instead of all this, I'll grab a coffee with
Faye Wray. Maybe, someday. Listening
to all she has to say, I'd wonder if I
should ask about King Kong.
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