I'm getting more use out of my old Vidal Sassoon hair dryer this year than I have in quite a spell. There I stand, shooting heat next to one side of my head, then the other, then the back. This is my technique. What, you do not find my technique absorbing? Maybe you would if it were more elaborate? Or maybe you would not?
The stuff I think about. Lordy.
Made a real stab tonight at memorizing the spoken word solo/duet thing I have in La Vie Boheme. There's some serious sptting of words, fast, there. It won't be the worst thing if I switch "egos" and "money," but it'd be pretty bad if I try putting "money" where "making noise and making pleas" happens, cuz what am I gonna do with all those extra syllables? Not to mention my mate in this bit is a devotee of the show, and I imagine she might well not forgive me.
I'd kinda like some more wild dreams tonight, Misses Sandman. I think. Or just the poetic lesson-giving ones. With all the references to Patricia Highsmith that are suddenly turning up in my life (it's crazy many) I suppose there's a good chance she'll be in them herself. That's kind of a scary thought. Do you think a guardian angel is putting her in front of me a lot these days? Cuz there's something I need to think about there?
Sweetly 'Ff'lo, oh oh oh oh.
