Spitball Army

From a box of things, the long-sleever fits. I wear it to work, musing that I’d rather have Dad present than his perfect shirt.

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I received 2 from you yesterday and was I ever glad to get them. I almost missed chow last night trying to finish them.

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Today is the 200th anniversary of the birth of Robert Schumann, artist and musician but, above all, composer.

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Vintage postcards from antique malls and yard sales get scanned as blog entries, annotated, then used as bookmarks in his library.

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Card is titled: “Crookedest Street in the World.”

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More Spalding Gray, this time from Swimming to Cambodia.

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Approximate playing time: 80 minutes.

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I’m thinking about writer, actor, memoirist and monologuist Spalding Rockwell Gray this evening. Today would have been his 69th birthday. I miss his insight and humor, and his remarkably unique view of the world around him.

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I’m going to try to write this letter as you write yours to me. In other words, I’m laying on my sack.

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Sometimes, as you are about to see, our friendly neighborhood President got a little crazy with his quotation mark usage.

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