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Broke apart 4 pallets this morning. Took less than an hour. Ate 8 hard-boiled eggs for breakfast. Toast, coffee, oatmeal. Finished The Member of the Wedding last night. Slim was sleeping. The last delicate pages wrapped a truly wonderful book. Of course without question tore what was left of my liver out. Why am I reading such melancholic books? So heartful & crafted. Yet I try to respond to all that is given. I guess my luxury is the indulgence. The unquestionable losing of one’s self. McCuller’s writing is quite unique. A southern Nietzsche. “The show is over & the monkey’s dead”. John Henry quoted as he settle himself in the next to the last bus seat beside her father. “Now we go home & go to bed.” Much earlier in a fragment of a thought Frankie asks, “Doesn’t it strike you as strange that I am I & you are you?” Amazing conversations thru out this book. A twelve yr old girl, her black housekeeper & her little cousin John Henry which in my world ironic cause John Henry means Evan Henry. Any more & perhaps I might spoil this book. Just finished The Old Man & the Sea. Hemingway. I got one word for/of Ernest – Dignity. A profound writer. Maybe in this day & age hokey. Fuck that. He’s brilliant. So is this book. Never saw the movie with Spencer Tracy. Don’t need to guess Ernest wasn’t too pleased. The dignity of Ernest.
New Graham Parson’s I believe re-released. Can’t wait to hear that. What a musician. Poet. Legend. American. Rebel with a clue.

Later.