Dear God. Not Only Am I Unemployed

My Platitudes Don't Hold Their Interest And I Can Hardly Blame Them For That. My Real Stories Are All Out Of Date. So What If I Can Speak Firsthand About The Spanish Flu, The Advent Of The Automobile, World Wars, Cold Wars, Guerrilla Wars, And Sputnik — That's All Ancient History Now. But What Else Do I Have To Offer? Nothing Happens To Me Anymore. That's The Reality Of Getting Old, And I Guess That's Really The Crux Of The Matter. I'm Not Ready To Be Old Yet.

When Did I Stop Being Me?

They Grew Fat And Happy--the Horses, Not The Children, Or Marlena For That Matter.

I Just Think I'm Better Equipped To Make A Study Of Human Personality Than Trying To Get Into The Mind Of Animals.

I Strain To Hear, But My Old Ears, For All Their Obscene Hugeness, Pick Up Nothing But Snippets.