Saturday, June 19, 2010
Everything is conspiring to make things a little difficult. I write a little bit nasty story about people who are in my life and so who are friends by definition, and there they are following me down the street. The younger brother says he has been trying to call me, and I don't answer. I tell him I was busy talking about him with one of his neighbors. What about? I was talking about his voice. Would he like me to give him voice lessons? No, come along, his mother wants to buy me pizza. I thought his mother considered me a corrupting influence? Yes, that's right, but she thinks she can handle it. We've missed you. She's got some new money making schemes she'd like to talk about. Look, I say, I have had enough mothers in my life. And lower the pitch of your voice! I demand, lowering mine as an example. He does lower his voice impressively, and I in return lower mine even more, he too then does the same. Now, I say, we are both employable respectable people! Come along for pizza, he insists. Free food!