Wednesday, September 23, 2015
Once again, I looked into the bathroom mirror this morning and found some new kind of idiot.
"I could write about you, call you Edward G. Washingmachine and put a cigar in your mouth, right there where that gap is in the corner."
"But you won't, because..."
"It would be disrespectful. Robinson was an admirable man. He collected art but always said art collected him. He was extremely talented, spoke seven languages. He felt every role he assumed professionally was a big responsibility..."
"And don't forget."
"Don't forget what?"
"That old story..."
"Oh (how could I?), the kid in the 1950's who had to take an a plane trip back to his family. He boarded the plane and the only seat available was next to Edward G. Robinson, who calmed the kid down, was kind to him and, after the plane landed, waited with the kid until his family showed up to collect him."
"Yeah n'yeah, now you're talkin'"
"Just one other thing. You don't have to answer..."
"Kid, In two days I've seen enough of your dirty laundry to know you're on the up and up. Ask."
"That last film in '73, Soylent Green, about global warming --You did a death scene. Did you know?"
"Know that I'd do a real one two weeks later? Don't be an idiot. Important thing is you turned out alright. Now go on outside and see what Norma arranged for the equinox. I may not be around any more but I still know what art is. Get!"
To all, a pleasant autumn.