1992 - Autumn
These last few days should really have been a time of mourning for me. My eczema has now begun to attack my eyelids, in consequence of which I rub them so furiously that one morning I woke up to find that I had a black eye.
Some time ago, Miss Arcade asked me to return to the public speaking racket . . . I declined on the ground that I have already said it all - and often - she offered to interview me . . . a series of five Sunday afternoons has been set aside for these public conversations. The first of them occured last Sunday. . . Miss Arcade arrived at about half past three to collect me from East Third Street and take me to our destination. . . A small audience of about forty people had arrived and we started to talk to one another and to them.
Very graciously it transpired that what Miss Arcade longs to unearth in the course of this series of two-hour sessions is some hitherto hidden aspect of my nature. . . but I fear there is no hidden treasure at the end of it. What little you see is all you are likely to get. . . To my amazement, every week the audience is larger . . .
On Tuesday of last week, at the request of a Miss Metzler, I sat out for Los Angeles. Never before have I travelled in such splendid style. A purring limousine arrived on East Third Street and took me to Kennedy Airport. . . On arriving on the other side of the continent, I was met by an even grander limousine and whisked away to the Mondrian Hotel on Sunset Boulevard. There it transpired that I was to work for a German advertising agency, one of whose clients manufactures West cigarettes. . . I was photographed refusing a cigarette from a typically good-looking young man. . . The homeward journey to New York was just as splendid as the voyage out. . .
I have also been to Chicago, where I had a simply wonderful time. . . I started to perform at the Halsted Theatre Center on Wednesday and finished on Sunday evening. I was supposed to explain the royal family of England and the politics of America. . . I explained that the folly of all politicians in this country is that they want to rule the world and be loved, and this is not possible. . . Mercifully, nobody hissed..
Last Friday, with trembling feet, I made my way to the Warner Building in Rockefeller PLaza to record an assortment of English verses by various poets from Edward Lear to Edith Sitwell. . . I was asked to do it and offered money, so I could hardly refuse.
The next day, like You-Know-Who, I rested, but on Sunday I went to Boston - again! . . The purpose of this second excursion was the same as the first - to introduce beforehand and to try to justify afterwards two showings of Resident Alien. . . The questions asked of me were all friendly, but more or less a matter of routine, except that one young man wanted to know what I would have done with my life if I had been under no obligation to earn money. I replied that I would never have gotton out of bed. Everybody seemed delighted with this notion.
Some time ago, Miss Arcade asked me to return to the public speaking racket . . . I declined on the ground that I have already said it all - and often - she offered to interview me . . . a series of five Sunday afternoons has been set aside for these public conversations. The first of them occured last Sunday. . . Miss Arcade arrived at about half past three to collect me from East Third Street and take me to our destination. . . A small audience of about forty people had arrived and we started to talk to one another and to them.
Very graciously it transpired that what Miss Arcade longs to unearth in the course of this series of two-hour sessions is some hitherto hidden aspect of my nature. . . but I fear there is no hidden treasure at the end of it. What little you see is all you are likely to get. . . To my amazement, every week the audience is larger . . .
On Tuesday of last week, at the request of a Miss Metzler, I sat out for Los Angeles. Never before have I travelled in such splendid style. A purring limousine arrived on East Third Street and took me to Kennedy Airport. . . On arriving on the other side of the continent, I was met by an even grander limousine and whisked away to the Mondrian Hotel on Sunset Boulevard. There it transpired that I was to work for a German advertising agency, one of whose clients manufactures West cigarettes. . . I was photographed refusing a cigarette from a typically good-looking young man. . . The homeward journey to New York was just as splendid as the voyage out. . .
I have also been to Chicago, where I had a simply wonderful time. . . I started to perform at the Halsted Theatre Center on Wednesday and finished on Sunday evening. I was supposed to explain the royal family of England and the politics of America. . . I explained that the folly of all politicians in this country is that they want to rule the world and be loved, and this is not possible. . . Mercifully, nobody hissed..
Last Friday, with trembling feet, I made my way to the Warner Building in Rockefeller PLaza to record an assortment of English verses by various poets from Edward Lear to Edith Sitwell. . . I was asked to do it and offered money, so I could hardly refuse.
The next day, like You-Know-Who, I rested, but on Sunday I went to Boston - again! . . The purpose of this second excursion was the same as the first - to introduce beforehand and to try to justify afterwards two showings of Resident Alien. . . The questions asked of me were all friendly, but more or less a matter of routine, except that one young man wanted to know what I would have done with my life if I had been under no obligation to earn money. I replied that I would never have gotton out of bed. Everybody seemed delighted with this notion.