In the end, in the true definition of end, the finale, the fat woman is singing her song-FINALLY, that kind of END: it all works out. Everything. The moon, the sun, the earth, and the stupid vending machine at work that owes me a $1.75. It just does ( Read more... )

Frank leaves Rochester tomarrow ( Read more... )

I'm throwing a little party. Tomarrow night ( Read more... )

Had breakfast with Mrs Frank Carlson. A good friend of mine ( Read more... )

It all works out in the end. It just does. One of the rules of the universe ( Read more... )

LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo. Theres a strange facination with certain objects, that lately have gotten my mind turning on axis. T.S. Elliot's poem "Love song of J. Alfred Prufrock" is one of those. Dr. Grant Smith, an english teacher at ( Read more... )