Well, dear readers, the most extraordinary thing happened yesterday and I simply must tell you about it now that I’ve mentioned it because to not tell you about it now that I’ve mentioned it would be heinous (heinous, do you hear me). Since I have already decided that I shall do nothing heinous (heinous, do you hear me) in the year 2010, tell you about this extraordinary thing I shall. As I’ve been telling you, writing this new book has, thus far, been a wonderful experience – I’m still very early in the book, but I’ve been writing more pages a day than I ever have before, and that’s pretty interesting to me. Taking this little trip down memory lane is fascinating, and every time I write a new section, more memories come bubbling up to the surface. I’m pretty good remembering what happened when, but certainly not quite as infallible as I was with the Kritzer trilogy. Anyway, as I’ve said, the prologue of the book starts with my marriage and then presents snapshots from my year in New York trying to be an actor. I vividly remember that time and so I knew I was probably being pretty accurate save for knowing exact dates and addresses and stuff like that. But in a more general way, I knew my memory was correct. Well, today, cousin Dee Dee wrote me an e-mail and told me this extraordinary thing. Prior to her being cousin Dee Dee she was plain Dee Dee (she would marry my cousin Alan) and a very close friend of mine from my LACC days. The extraordinary thing she told me was that she had letters from me that I’d written from that time in New York, as well as other letters written over the course of a decade and a half. She asked if I wanted to see them, and, of course, I said yes, yes, and yes. So, she brought them over. The first of these letters was actually from 1967 when I was touring the country with The Bishop’s Company doing Do You Know The Milky Way? Reading that rather long missive was amazing – it brought back so many interesting memories, but that time is not part of the book. So, I went to what was apparently the first letter I’d written her from New York, six months after we’d moved there. It gave me chills reading it because it is exactly what I describe in the book, to a T. I was so astonished by it, in fact, that I put two little excerpts from it in the book immediately, because it is so personal and real and brings home what I was feeling then. Also, it had the exact address of where we lived, so I put that in, too, as well as a few other details. Interestingly, a couple of the letters had song lyrics that I’d just written, and as soon as I read them I swear I could sing the tune out loud. In a letter from 1975 when I was in New York rehearsing for the taping of Forget-Me-Not Lane, I go on and on about a pricey French restaurant and how outrageous the cost of the duck was – $8.00. In fact, I call out all the prices and it’s just hilarious reading it. I may use little excerpts from these letters wherever it might be appropriate because they’re in my voice at the time this was all happening. It was like looking in a crystal clear window back in time, reading these letters. I’m so grateful she thought to save them. In one of them, written in 1985 I say “Do you think we’ll be reading this in twenty years?” I called muse Margaret and told her about it, and she loved the idea of using the little excerpts.
Otherwise, the day was perfectly pleasant. I got up early, did revisions and smoothing out on what I’d written yesterday, and then wrote a few new pages. I answered a bunch of e-mails then got some bacon and eggs. After that, I picked up a couple of packages, then came home and wrote more pages. I then had a conversation with the co-author of the long musical and we went over my notes and did those fixes. Then I got the letters. After that, I wrote some more and ultimately did a little over ten pages. I was too antsy to watch a motion picture, but I had watched two of them over the last week in the bedroom environment. One was The Man With The Golden Gun – not a very good movie, although I really like the John Barry score and Britt Eklund. But I was just never able to get with Roger Moore as Bond. The transfer, while not as good as Dr. No or From Russia or Goldfinger, is miles ahead of the mess that is Thunderball. And I watched Groundhog Day, which really is a little miracle of a movie that gets everything right. The transfer is quite nice but falls a tiny bit short of stellar. It’s miles ahead of the DVD, however.
I also finally began the liner notes for our new release, and I’m hoping to hear the master by this evening. I’ll need to finish the notes by tomorrow at the latest so we can assemble the booklet and inlay over the weekend. We’ll announce it some time next week.
Well, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below because I’m really tired and I really need my beauty sleep.
Today will be a very long day. I’ll try to write a little in the morning, or at least smooth out what I wrote yesterday, and then I go to see the tape transfer guy, to hear tapes for upcoming projects. We’re only going to do three films in this session, so I should be there about ninety minutes or so, after which I’ll come home and write pages and also work on the liner notes. I don’t think I’ll be able to jog until Saturday. But I’m going back to at least semi-regular jogging starting that very day.
Tomorrow, I have a little work session with the composer and lyricist of the long musical and then I’ll finish the liner notes and write. I think I’m going to need a nice dinner out on Friday or Saturday night. On Sunday night, cousin Dee Dee is having one of her famous dinner partays and I shall be in attendance.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, write, listen to tapes, write, eat, hopefully pick up a package or two, and then watch a motion picture on Blu and Ray. Today’s topic of discussion: Are you a person who saves letters and papers from your past? And if so, have you ever gone back and read through them and what did you think when you did? Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst we sing the wonderful Perry Como song, We Get Letters.