Ah, that we all were Arthur, but then there’d be no poor, pity. I do appreciate the writing that went into the screen script. All those horribly snobby comments by Sir John Gielgud as the butler. Where was this man in my childhood and how come I didn’t have all that money could spoil me? To dream, perchance to find oneself rich, well, it could happen. After my trilogy on the wonderful subject of monetary theory, I need some diversion and a dram or two of scotch. Can’t say that I was ever caught between the moon and New York City, but I did fall in love long enough ago, so I can sympathise with Arthur on that score. I’ve only seen that film once, maybe twice before and it has been a very long time between viewings. It was a good film and Dudley Moore did a great job of playing the adult adolescent growing up. Don’t know if it as based on a book although if it was I think it might have been very delightful.
Irma does suffer at times from my writing. I think all sweethearts do and to tell the truth it is very difficult to tell your lover and your friend what you feel it so necessary to write so much and so often. Certainly I don’t do it for the audience, although lately more individuals have been reading my post and it does boost my ego just a little. But I would write regardless of that type of attention. Motivation is a difficult subject to understand. When I was doing my reading and my classes at the university, cognitive psychology was very fascinating. And then I discovered behaviorism. Now the funny part of that discovery was that I had started on Freud and then some Jung, and the rest of the psychoanalytic crowd. Yet the sixties was filled with behaviorism. One had to choose between the psychoanalytic study and the behavioral study. Then came Maslov and the human potential crowd and with it Rogers was very popular. True, one could go with Pearlman and the Gestalt theories, but these were harder to relate to the real world. Gestalt was far more an intellectual concept while Rogers was just so touchy feely. God, the years have passed and the new theories come along as if no one was listening. I keep hearing a lot of the old concepts wearing new clothing. Every generation must understand in its own language. You know, every generation does the same with its music.
Writing is like the music in your head, songs you have heard before, tunes captured on recordings, and a few live concerts of varying descriptions. There are times you head is just filled with words beyond belief. Sometimes an idea seems to die from loneliness until something comes along to save it, sweep it up into a distant memory. Later on you are surprised to find it again in the rubble of your mind’s trash heap. Perhaps the idea, like kindling, catches fire and warms the spirit, warms your hands as you type or write in longhand. I do both and the effect is the same. Remember when you were a small child and you found a shiny new penny of the ground? Remember how it felt, that sense of wonderment as the brilliant copper color filled your eyes with the reflected light? When I see a shinny new penny on the ground that same feeling comes back and I must stop and pick it up. I have a dish I keep these collections in. As it is, I do the same in France, see a shiny one cent piece on the ground and pick it up. The one cent pieces are really a pain to collect, almost every thing revolves around a euro coin. But I don’t mind, I have my dish full of coins. If a though costs a penny, I have plenty of them, stored in jars waiting for the right time to appear. Perhaps these pennies represent the monetary theory of thought, did you ever think of that?
The best I could do was fall in love. I suppose, considering that all my life I have dreamed of falling in love. Funny thing is that we do that very activity so often, falling in love is such an old habit unless you are lucky to do it early and keep that love to the end. The rest of us are not so lucky. A great deal of our time is wasted rushing from person to person asking: “Are you the one?” Rejection is what we claim, our due for not understanding love, for not getting what we want and need. It’s a shame, really, so many people going around looking from the outside in. But, hey, isn’t that what we write songs about? And novels, don’t forget novels that are filled with unrequited love and mistaken identity when it comes to love. I suppose that is why all writers drink to excess and beat their wives (if you remember the exchange between Cary Grant and Jimmy Stewart in the Philadelphia Story. I am sorry to say the the latter is not true and that the former is not a true recognition of my capacity. I would drink to excess but really can’t afford it. Perhaps a MacArthur grant would do the trick. Those of you who have any influence please put my name forward for the privilege of obtaining money under false pretenses. I have talent, but for what?
Life is one dilemma after another. To accept a MacArthur grant of hold out for the Nobel prize in writing. Not sure which one is better. Why not offer me both and I’ll get back to you. I hear having money is a curse so give it to me and let me be unhappy for you, no charge. I wonder how long that sign up list is now? Just my luck, I didn’t sign up early in life, puts me at the back of the line. Will success spoil Rock Hunter? Cold I be Rock Hunter? Would I like to be spoiled? Yeah, time to put live in perspective. If we have love then what do we need with a fortune. True, love in much nicer if you can afford a few of life’s luxuries. But love is a luxury for those who don’t have it. Aye, that’s the rub, mate. what we want is not always possible at the time we need it. But give life a little faith and love will show up right as rain, assuming rain is ever right. Well, the cat is in the chair before the fire gathering the last warmth of the evening. I can’t blame her, it’s not every night she gets ot spend time before a good hear source. So keep those cards and letters coming folks, I need the money.