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Whitman and Me:  Myrtle Beach 1859
"Whatever man.  If you're not going to try, I'm not."
Me explaining to Thoreau that there is always room for a hot tub,
you just have to plan your space.

Friendship is full of give and take...
Like sometimes one friend is super into chickens,
but the other friend is super afraid of having her eyes pecked.
You just work it out.


Earl and Lester asked me to perform with them constantly,
and yet their recordings are mysteriously void of my playing.
Foggy Mountain Unplugged


Capote and I hung out for awhile,
but I got tired of the constant argument
over who was the Mary and who was the Rhoda...
also I got tired of being the Rhoda.

This is me with Thomas Merton,
if memory serves me right,
just after our Captain & Tennille number.
Oh T...you are my favorite funky monk.


You know Bev...
she always be like, "Yo bitch, lemme take you to my salon 'for we go out for girlz nite...getcha hair done rite!"
And I'm all, "No thank you and no thank you."
That Cleary, she don't take no for an answer.


This is me hanging with Sylvia Plath.
I feel like if it's going to be a "reading hang" instead of a "chatting hang,"
a person should tell a person beforehand so that person can bring a book too.
But I mean, it's fine.  Whatever.


This is me hugging Teddy Roethke,
and him acting like he didn't need it.
But he did, y'all.
He diiiiiiiid.

C'mon, Char!  Put your book down for a week, amiright?!
[She was more fun after the porridge shots, but I mean, who isn't, right?]

Here's me with Walker Percy when our painting first came in.
I remember beforehand I was all, \
"Walk, Walk - we not black and white.  We need some color to make it POP."
And he was like, "Trust me, Pam-a-lot.."
Gotta hand it to him, he really knew his over-the-mantle self-portraiture.


like NEVER.  it was insulting almost.
they seemed super into each other though.
[Me, Kerouac, Ginsberg]


Man, those were the days...
Sometimes Ernie and I'd get going and it was like being on stage
at a Crocodile Rocks.
And in our vests.
Always in our patchwork vests.  Hemingway loved his vests.

You know how it is...
Sometimes you run into an old friend,
have a few absinthes, and wake up with matching tattoos. 
Then that friend goes into hiding, and you're stuck with DMC on your hand.
What am I saying...it's an old story...you've been there.

"So if I'M not married in 10 years, and YOU'RE not married in 10 years..."
[The day two friends decide to go into puppetry,
is the day two friends should start to plan some safety nets]

I don't remember much about my time with Bukowski except... well, nope...nothin'


If one day, they're all "WE NEED ABASSOON, WE'RE ALL ABOUT THE BASSOON!" but then the next day, they're all "Oh sorry - we're pursuing other avenues in our artistic journey...well, I don't think that is fair is all

"No, Em - see that's why it's funny.  They're like YOUR arms."
Emily Dickinson always wanted to PLAY the arm game,
but I feel like she never really UNDERSTOOD the arm game.

During my Buddhist phase, Faulkner visited me seeking wisdom.
I was like, "Dude.  You gotta get those longass sentences in check, man"


V:  You're the funniest!
Me:  No, YOU'RE the funniest!
V:  You're probably right.
Me:  Wait--what?

[Virginia Woolf]