(no subject)
then i hear someone behind me in class say that they want to go to school for business. BUSINESS. i want to turn around and save him. doesn't he know where he is? we're embarking on a field of dreams and we can do whatever we want. what happened to the visionary-the poet, the painter...the diplomat? i detest a white-collar death sentence. who could stand to push papers! what kind of stories will you tell your grandchildren? /cut to a tired man in grey slacks loosening his tie at the bar /cut to his wife putting the children down to bed, reading them C.S. Lewis tales in hopes that they'll drift off...the problem with this...their pupils have widened; they won't sleep. when they do sleep, they're too tired to dream. the results are inconclusive but i can imagine this "business school" kid's parents were philistines. /cut to me sittting in class drawing a self portrait in blue bic pen, wishing i were running through parisian streets, 1 july 1966.