RE: Rebecca Gray in a Play
I am writing you from the Hollywood High School library as we speak. I have now returned to my previous Kafkaesque existence. Quiet and libertine. I feel so official again. The relapse sent me spinning out into anarchy but the pensive and fastidious side of me won again. I will no doubt spend a lifetime here in the school system, nursing ideas of what could have been had I had to ride the bus...ooops.
Buses are very good modes of transportation and meditation. You will find that you begin to think more idyly, thoughts of long medeterranean vacations fly through your bonce as your are whisked back to your Brazil like reality of a city with no power...literally.
But, ahhh, the lunchtime. That half hour of desultory numbness which feeds the repaste of the soul. The bologna (as opposed to balony) and cheese sandmich frothing forth dreams of a scholarly I outta be. I just typed a test for my teachers students. I am useful damnit! That's what they say. And we know who they are. The Christians.
But I'm happy to evolve from my sadomasichistic judaism to a new found normalcy of christian kin. A glendalese evolution away from my New Yawkish past, breeding me away from all things of the mind and into the passive heart of "I've gotta be good or else, there go the teeth from all the gnashing". And the worms burn as the fire never quenches.
Almost lunch time.
Pieste resistance and Bon Appetite my luck ducky swirl.