Not really cheating as Ray is and always will be my main man but another has entered my life. (And no, thanks, it does not feel crowded here at all.) Do you ever have one of those lightning revelations that illuminates everything? I remember exactly where I had mine in 1982, in the hallway of the building where I took English classes at college. I was passing a doorway when it suddenly hit me I WILL NEVER FIND ANOTHER WRITER I LOVE AS MUCH AS RAY BRADBURY. I'd been reading his work since 1975 and continued to read him and many others and this thought didn't hit until 1982!

In the past two weeks my life has been changed in ways which have happened only a handful of times overall. Since that first story in 1975, I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times anything including Ray has affected me this much, and still have a finger left, that is assuming the thumb counts as a finger. Previous to that, in childhood, possibly three. Hey, I still have fingers left!

Thanks a lot, TCM.

Thanks to my uncle who subscribed to DirecTV. Thanks to my Mom who now watches TCM day, night, and Sunday. I happened to walk in Sunday before last while the Buster Keaton birthday tribute marathon (Sundays in October--Ray's favorite month!) was airing and caught the end of Steamboat Bill, Jr. and all of The Cameraman and the next couple after that. I watched The Cameraman at first because I was interested in the old-style cameras, old-style clothes, old-style everything. After The Cameraman it was no use, I was hooked and hopelessly in love. What's more our DirecTV does not come with DVR so I can't even tape stuff so I had to order the 11-DVD set. So now I feel compelled both by honesty and generosity to come clean here and share. Any of you guys can't handle it, just look the other way.

Buster Keaton has taught me that pain and suffering can be humorous and enjoyable, so I am prepared to enjoy every minute of my suffering.

Now, from my post "Statement from me on Ray as Burning Bush" you will have gathered that at some point I may have gained a reputation for being susceptible, and that I have tried to shake off that reputation, both because I was touchy about other peoples' bad reactions and because those paled with the emotional wear and tear I go through myself over really strong interests.

I really don't consider myself all that susceptible. (Of course, Ray has called himself "the greatest lover there is" and we are all rank amateurs compared to his propensity for susceptibility.) That is to say, there are authors I have read for years, every word I can get ahold of of theirs, and I am not into them the way I am into Ray. Authors whose home towns I have visited, Ray Bradbury, Mark Twain, Thomas Wolfe, Barbee Oliver Carleton, others? Crickets. Authors I have read? Way more than that. There are movies or whole TV series I have watched and loved and considered the actors brilliant but only a handful I have pursued to the point of fandom.

Anyhow, after this last actor to who I became rather devoted, I swore NEVER AGAIN would I feel any emotional involvement or connection to any movie actor, living or dead. I thought I was safe as I hardly watch TV or movies anyway and anyhow now I've turned 50 which is too old for emotions, right?

It took one Buster Keaton film to blow my resolve and bring me low but oh well, this seems meant to teach me something. (Sorry, safe may be a misleading term. I just mean at this stage there isn't much point to worrying about having too great of a personal life, and I assumed I'd be past the point of being swayed much by emotion. It's very strange how things take you unawares without your intending to be affected at all.) That is, for my doubters, I promise I don't do these things on purpose, quite the opposite, I scrupulously try to avoid them.

I will spare you guys any elaboration on how utterly gorgeous and totally appealing Buster is. For one, I don't want to make anyone jealous, and for another, I posted a few pictures and you either see it or you don't. Here, though, is a short subject which affected me with almost the impact of Fahrenheit 451. It is called Day Dreams from 1922 and what survives of it is viewable here

http://www.dailymotion.com/vid...eams-1922_shortfilms

but I can describe it.

Buster plays a young man who asks for a young lady's hand in marriage. Her father (played here by Buster's real-life dad) asks, "How will you support her?" He answers, "I don't know. I'll go to the city. If I don't make good, I'll come back and shoot myself." Her father says, "Splendid, I'll lend you my revolver."

There follows a series of episodes in which he sends the girl letters describing his activities in positive terms which she elevates to glowing daydreams. The one that really got me was when he wrote, "I am cleaning up on Wall Street," and she pictures him as a big shot banker when he is literally a street sweeper. Geez, does that hit home. How much horse puckey would someone have to shovel now to clean up that place?

In the end after he has tried numerous ventures and has nothing but blisters to show for all his hard work, he admits defeat and has himself mailed to the girl. The father solemnly produces the revolver and he and his daughter go in the next room. (Many of Buster's pictures are romantic and much of how they succeed lies in the appeal of the female lead. Right then I hated this girl. She didn't even try to prevent his shooting himself.) From the next room comes a blast and a cloud of smoke. Then Buster walks in saying, "I missed."

He ended up not being the one blown away, I was! Maybe pure self-preservation rather than the sort of statement being made by the occupy Wall Street movement now, but this is precisely how and why Bradbury's writing functions. No matter how fantastic, all of it is metaphors for very real life situations. Here in about twenty minutes I saw a summary of what I have been struggling with since 1972 (before which I was too young to understand, or care) and seriously reassessing since the financial crisis became severe in 2008.

This hit really, really close to home for me since a classmate of mine committed suicide in 1992. Yes, it was by gun and the reasons were emotional, not financial. Since the moment that happened I knew suicide was not an option for me which put me in the precarious position of having to justify not shooting myself every minute, every hour, every day of the entire time since. (Meaning, 19 years as a virtual hermit as I didn't want to have to justify myself the way the young man in this film is called upon to do. Actually, in real life it's my impression most people don't really want you to shoot yourself, they want you to either a) do impossible things in impossible situations or b) acknowledge your inferiority, subjugate yourself to their superiority, and learn to like it. Like it? I can't even accept it. You know those Two Black Crows routines Ray has quoted: "Even if that was true, I wouldn't believe it. Even if that was good, I wouldn't like it." I felt it's bad enough to be living a miserable existence without parading it in front of others so I chose to live in obscurity if not denial, or, at least, not flaunt the denial. I just finished watching Grey Gardens, the documentary and movie. The only thing worse than a humble genius who doesn't recognize their own worth, is someone who thinks they're a genius and isn't. I don't know which (if either) I am, I just don't have the wherewithal to continually deny my inferiority by putting up resistance against stubborn insistence, so I choose the recluse option. As, strangely enough, did Little Edie before she was discovered.)

Ray, with his individuality and pride, would surely understand my reluctance to admit inadequacy to others. Buster, with all his portrayals of the underdog, would certainly understand. Just seeing him being knocked down countless times, nearly killing himself to get a stunt right, has done me more good than just about anything. It isn't how hard you are knocked down or how often, but how well you recover. I realize in my case that being hurt was really a very secondary concern--my whole fear was in finding out it didn't really matter to anybody if I was hurt. That was something I couldn't stand knowing. Maybe Buster can help me see things differently.

If in 1972 a revelation comes that I have to prove myself to justify my existence, in 1992 a resolution that I'm not going to shoot myself just because I failed to impress certain people, then in 2011 a resolution comes that this "99%" now making all the noise are well justified.

(Politics, which both Ray and Buster have studiously avoided, sorry, too bad, but in this case obvious common good sense.)

Think about it. If these peoples' math is even marginally right and they took the old line that the old man in this film did (which the young man considered and rejected) and figured anyone in a free industrialized country who is not a financial success after several vigorous tries should just shoot themselves, and everyone who has lost a home, job, or property in the last three years DID go out and shoot themselves, and it was really 99% or anything like it, what would happen? The stupid 1% left wouldn't be able to run the world! Multiply that by other, non-industrialized countries where people have always been poor and you see where it leads--nobody left!

Here comes the punch in the gut akin to Fahrenheit 451. All of society has stumbled along since well out of human memory with one idea which has worked fine for them, or so it seems. Then one day along comes the situation which sparks the concept which shows "everyone" to be wrong and a few misfit loners to be right. BAM. That is, when we go to shoot ourselves, we should all miss.

It flies in the face of what we are brought up to believe as Americans, but there it is, that different and frightening notion which makes all too much sense.

In the end of the film when the fellow doesn't shoot himself, the girl's father throws him out the window. I felt like throwing the dumbbell girl out the window. She didn't even realize what she had.

I am also learning to appreciate, partly due to Keaton, that although sometimes people can work at consistent high quality for decades it's also acceptable to have one part of your career be the most productive or brilliant, or to have a good decade or so in a career that doesn't span decades. I remember it being said of Beatrix Potter that her main creative period spanned only about ten years but in those years she produced some of the most remarkable little books this world has ever seen--still in print and known in many languages 110 years later!

Laura Ingalls Wilder's main writing career was 11 years, 1932-1943, with other works published posthumously, and she has never gone away while others with longer careers have. All of Buster Keaton's really genius works were made in the 1920s, but he worked both before and after, some good, some not so good, and certainly a person has a right to be proud of turning in a good performance even in a bad picture.

Although I had the ambition to be a professional writer since age 10 (I wrote for fun for five years prior to that), I didn't seriously start kicking myself about success or lack of it till age 24 although I was developing severe anxiety by age 18. Then after age 24 there was always this feeling of uneasiness and inadequacy as I thought where Ray was at my age and how much better I should be doing.

People here will notice that lately I just don't respond to all these threads by people raving about how much Ray has "inspired" them. In the past I may have responded, but lately I skim them to make sure they haven't posted anything they shouldn't, then respond briefly if at all, because to tell the flat truth, they discourage the bloody hell out of me. For one thing, no matter how inspired you are, you will never be as good as Ray Bradbury, you might just as well try to top Shakespeare, which in some cases Ray did. For another, inspired or not, I know how it is to try and come up short and then you have all the discomfort of the time and effort you lost as well as the failure. I could never tell Ray this as he'd just say to turn it into a short story. He is totally sincere and means completely well giving such advice but it could just amount to one more blow reproving me for what I haven't been able to do as well as I felt I needed to. I've been afraid to touch it with a ten-foot pole until I started watching Keaton.

I share much with Ray but have never been able to talk with him about this, with all the scornful things he has said about writer's block being all ego and such. I know he has said, "The only failure is stoppage," and as long as someone is still trying he is not a failure.



Keaton's films are all about this--a determined person repeatedly trying so hard it hurts. That one scene of him walking against the wind in Steamboat Bill, Jr. just sums it up--perseverance against all odds. Ray (I think, correct me if you think otherwise) since a young age (before age 25) just doesn't know the meaning of discouragement.

Huge difference between him and me, he was able to accept at the age of nine that he was right and everyone else was wrong, by the age of 26 he was able to confirm it. That was my trouble--having my every perception questioned and not being able to confirm I was right. It makes you doubt your own perceptions. This is why I love Keaton's work, and for the exact same reasons as Bradbury's, both at their best present the struggle of one individual against an insane and surreal universe that doesn't always makes sense and is usually out to get them--that is, a portrait of my own existence. (Funny how both were connected to The Twilight Zone, an entire series dedicated to presenting this.)

One big reason I can't even bring certain things up with Ray (again, correct me if this is wrong perception on my part), he just brushes them off because of this being so into his own viewpoint (and this is true, anyone? He makes up his own mind and won't even listen to other viewpoints.) So if he's decided he doesn't accept discouragement in himself, Ray won't (I think) acknowledge it in others. Buster really knew discouragement. He spent most of the 1930s in a haze--appropriately enough, as did most of the country--yet during that time there were people mad as hell and speaking out about it, just like now. (Calling Mr. Burnham Wood! I need to borrow your Mafioso Cement Mixer to visit a few fine fellows in the year 1933.)

The big difference Buster has made in my life is for the past thirty years and more it's been on and off whether I can be alone without some preoccupation or distraction from my own thoughts. A few rare times when things were going well, I could, but at almost all times usually not and sometimes it is particularly bad. I can date this to since John Lennon was killed, but it was probably going on to some extent for at least three or four years previous. I have to have some distraction if I'm not doing something requiring my full concentration, such as reading, or operating loud tools. If I can concentrate well enough to follow a story I have to have an audiobook on, if not then music CDs or radio or TV in the background. For about the last year and a half (since my pastor got seriously ill and then died, this was not an option, this was a must.) Not to mention Nard, and I don't mean not to mention Nard! Without this distraction I became extremely uncomfortable.

For the past two weeks, what a difference! I can be busily and happily occupied with my own thoughts no matter what I am doing and even enjoy it. Thanks, Buster, for the peace of mind and different outlook. But, since you passed on when I was four, it looks as if this will have to be a prime example of "Pay it Forward."

Isn't that great, though? If I can love someone this much whom I can't possibly contact, must be real love indeed with no question of looking for anything else. Yes, the romance is doomed because he is married. And he is dead. But as Ray says if we all stopped to think we'd never do anything!

(Oh, boy, okay, I think I said it, I think I really said it.)

This message has been edited. Last edited by: dandelion,

If you're going to obsess, at least you're obsessing about people who are worthy of the obsession.

No complaints from me about adoring BK: genius, the man the word was invented for.

quote:

Originally posted by philnic:
If you're going to obsess, at least you're obsessing about people who are worthy of the obsession.

No complaints from me about adoring BK: genius, the man the word was invented for.

Phil, before we met I suspected you were the coolest and after we met I knew it. I am not done obsessing yet, am editing a bit above (starting at the 15th paragraph if you care to reread) and adding a bit below. More to come. Keep watching this space. So far I haven't needed to label it off-topic as I haven't strayed very off-topic, have I?

You know what's twisted about BK was his real initials (birth name) were JFK, J. being Joseph.

Yep, I am outta control. Here is a passage from one of the books I am reading, Anne's House of Dreams, by L. M. Montgomery. Anne Shirley Blythe has just made friends with Captain Jim and later befriends the Cornelia of whom they speak. Now, my name is Cornelia, I have read 1,200 books, mostly fiction, novels and short stories, and in that time I think I have come across, as character names, exactly THREE Cornelias. A couple of Cordelias, which is what Anne asked to be called when she arrived at Green Gables. Here is Captain Jim and Anne:

"You're young and I'm old, but our souls are about the same age, I reckon. We both belong to the race that knows Joseph, as Cornelia Bryant would say."

"The race that knows Joseph?" puzzled Anne.

"Yes. Cornelia divides all the folks in the world into two kinds--the race that knows Joseph and the race that don't. If a person sorter sees eye to eye with you, and has pretty much the same ideas about things, and the same taste in jokes--why, then he belongs to the race that knows Joseph."

"Oh, I understand," exclaimed Anne, light breaking in upon her. "It's what I used to call--and still call in quotation marks 'kindred spirits.'"

I am probably just in process of losing the last of my marbles and you good folks should probably just ignore me, but I feel a strange sense of serendipity that I happen to be reading this now, that it was published in 1917 when Buster was just starting in films, and that Buster's given first name was Joseph.

This message has been edited. Last edited by: dandelion,

It's plain to see you guys are reeling from my revelations but I've just had another! Brace yourselves and see if you can handle it. Here is Peter from Bradbury's story "The Veldt": "I don't want to do anything but look and listen and smell; what else is there to do?"

For years whenever not directly engaged in producing something of "lasting value" I have worried, "How do I keep from becoming that kid? How do I know I'm not?" Up to about age 30 (right before my classmate shot herself) I always thought reading a book or watching a movie was all right and justifiable as impressing and educating a writer's mind. For the last twenty years I have worried: suppose this is not what I am doing? I never worried about the quality of the book or movie or my own ability to tell what's good, I worried about my own mind not being good enough to be educated even by what's good! In which case the material is being wasted!

It has now occurred to me, if what you are experiencing touches you on an intellectual and emotional level, you are then thinking and feeling and you are doing something! What Peter was doing here was more the equivalent of playing video games rather than absorbing great cinema and literature--in other words his activities demanded nothing of him and gave him nothing. Huge difference!

Ray and Buster, along with Garrison Keillor, all have the common touch. There is not only a mix of, but hardly a distinction between "high" and "low" in their thought and work. It occurs to me to wonder if something in the American character was necessary to produce this...but I guess Shakespeare did the same thing. Anyhow, I will now proceed to pull myself together and not worry anymore about not living up to the material.

dandelion's out of control!

quote:

Originally posted by Doug Spaulding:
dandelion's out of control!

Doug, would you recommend corn gluten meal?

quote:

Originally posted by Doug Spaulding:
dandelion's out of control!

That's right, Doug. It's not just your front lawn.

Warning to readers of the male or juvenile persuasions. The following post may contain references to gorgeousness.

"You made me love you."

Yeah, that song, the one that Judy Garland sang to Clark Gable, I am singing to Buster.

During the TCM marathon I plunked myself down at the end of Steamboat Bill, Jr. so the first full Keaton feature I watched was The Cameraman. (Some years ago, friends tried to show me The General, but I'd had a two-hour drive after a four-hour sleep so I assure you the movie made no impression. I woke up only when they laughed. The kids screamed and laughed so at the scene where he was hiding under the table I came all the way awake for that but didn't see the rest of the picture.)

I watched The Cameraman at first only because I didn't feel like doing anything else and because of my own interest in, well, just about everything. I am a (fairly serious) amateur videographer and was amused by the hand-crank cameras with the two-ton non-retractable tripods. I also LOVE anything 1920s era--clothes, cars, etc. Especially now that I am restoring a 1916 house I soak up every detail. The monkey alone was priceless. With a lesser actor than Buster, would have stolen the show. I was especially interested in the changing cubicle scene--all those old clothes with the detachable collars, etc., and I was straining to see if he would raise his leg high enough to show if he was wearing sock garters and when he did and he was my delight was boundless.

Unfortunately by the end of that scene I was in love. I tried with all my might to fight it (of course, this did not stop me watching the next couple of features and tuning in the following Sunday.) I have been though ALL the stages--denial, shock, guilt, grief, and anger, and considering I ordered the DVD set that might be seen as acceptance. Maybe as a teenager I briefly enjoyed this sort of thing but as an adult I find them exhausting and even increasingly unwelcome. My emotions go through a wringer of a rollercoaster ride and these things never end well. After this last crush on an actor (not Dean Stockwell who was a couple of crushes ago but remains the one and only Dean-boy) I swore up, down, and sideways that NEVER AGAIN would I form an emotional attachment to any actor, living or dead. They are for ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY, and as little as possible for that, so I was dismayed, to say the least, to have this happen with someone I've known of for years with whose work I was vaguely familiar (hardly an old strong interest flaring up which can also happen but Buster hardly qualified as an interest. This is why it being so sudden and strong was so shocking.)

Buster taught me pain and suffering could be amusing and enjoyable so here I am to laugh at my pain and enjoy my suffering to the utmost. In Spite Marriage, the scene of him swooning onto his fellow theatergoer in his admiration of the actress onstage was TOO good--like a portrait of me watching him onscreen! Also, whichever one that was when the cop chased Buster while he was wearing a gladiator outfit--at last he was running in something other than trousers so you could see his awesome legs--TOO great! Folks, I think we are viewing the original Energizer bunny here in these films. Makes you feel more alive just watching.

As far as range of expression, well in Coney Island there are a few scenes where he laughs out loud, not a smile but totally cracking up. That and some of the physical feats reminded me of Dick Van Dyke, one of the few who could approach some of Keaton's moves. When he was the Great Stone Face he didn't remind me of Dick Van Dyke at all. There is a certain exuberant boyish quality even when he's perfectly serious, though, that is just sooo lovable. When he's cornered by the cops or some other authority figure and he gets that innocent, put-upon look with the big sad eyes he is just so sweet. He is pretty quick and crafty to escape, too. It's also apparent he was very good with animals which makes him a good person. He is also tender, respectful, sexy with women. What's not to love?

Few actors have affected me to this extent: Scott Bakula, about as much as Buster, Dean Stockwell, same as Buster who has him tied in many respects (build, gorgeousness, expressiveness, eyes), Robert Fuller more. There are others I like but no one in this league. Sorry, Scott, Dean, and Bob, but Buster deserves higher points in one respect. When my interest began in the others I was at least young enough to be affected. I swore upon reaching the age of fifty I'd be too old and dried up to feel any attraction to anything or anybody ever again. I've been fifty for about a month and made a very bad start thanks to Buster!

Seriously, he has managed to posthumously punch a significant number of major buttons I thought I had decidedly disabled and permanently pulled the wires. (And good riddance.)

I love you, Buster Keaton. DARN YOU! I can't help it. I want it to go on record I did not go down without a fight.

Cori, the unwilling fanatic

This message has been edited. Last edited by: dandelion,

It has often been observed (by Alfred Hitchcock, among others) that good movie acting can come just from the way a person looks. No performance required, the natural lines and "hang" of the face can appear to speak volumes. Doesn't work for everyone, because not everyone has a natural look that is meaningful in this sense.

It certainly DID work with Cary Grant. Watch him in Hitchcock's NOTORIOUS, and you'll see he barely moved a facial muscle, but his "performance" is eloquent.

It certainly works for Buster, too. He's known for his his incredible knockabout stunt work - which is second to none - but he also has that face. He doesn't hide behind a fake moustache (like Chaplin or Groucho), or have to pull faces (like Stan and Ollie). He just has a look that speaks to us.

quote:

Originally posted by philnic:
It has often been observed (by Alfred Hitchcock, among others) that good movie acting can come just from the way a person looks. No performance required, the natural lines and "hang" of the face can appear to speak volumes. Doesn't work for everyone, because not everyone has a natural look that is meaningful in this sense.

Fess Parker is the prime example of someone just having the right look and presence, maybe John Wayne as well who even more had the gait, the voice, and all. Buster, I think, is doing more than them, and with less--in that his best work was black-and-white and silent, with a limited range of facial expression with which he was able to do so much, whereas theirs had color and sound as well as more varying expressions. (At least with Wayne and probably Parker as well.)

Phil, you are torturing me, you brute, and I love every minute of it. Keep it up. More, more!

Besides the astounding talent and the added benefit of gorgeousness, think of the brilliant mind Keaton possessed. Like Ray Bradbury and Garrison Keillor, there is that marvelous, off-the-wall, thinking outside the box to devise the wildest scenarios ordinary mortals would never conceive but instantly recognize.

Thomas Wolfe had a University degree and postgraduate work and wrote an entire (very long) novel about looking for secret passages through a stone, a leaf, or an unfound door.

These guys found it.

Garrison Keillor is a university graduate. Ray Bradbury is a high school graduate.

Buster Keaton went to school one day in his life, one day! And he knew everything he needed for a lifetime of brilliant genius.

Educationally I am closest to a level with Keillor. University degree with no postgraduate. Meaning I went to school 16 years, 18 if you count Nursery School and Kindergarten. Still working my way through the library, haven't graduated myself as Ray did at the age of 28 (but close). I've read 1,200 books and still don't feel prepared. I still hope to accomplish my own work, but if not, rather than become Peter in "The Veldt," I will have to become "Charles" from "Any Friend of Nicholas Nickelby's is a Friend of Mine." The best you can do is inspire in others a love of what truly is excellent.

Wow.
Dandy, how about a book on Buster? I think you already have a good intro!
A great book on silent film is "The Silent Clowns" by Walter Kerr. He explores the technology of the medium, the unique approach by each of the great artists, and much more.
Have you seen "Seven Chances" or "The Playhouse"? The latter features one of Buster's own innovations; dividing the camera lens into sections and filming himself in multiple images.

It sounds as if you may be finding your niche...?

Braling II, you are reading my mind and thanks for thinking I may be up to this challenge.

Buster Keaton has been the subject of a number of adult biographies including his autobiography and one picture book for children age 10 and under. Ray Bradbury has been the subject of Sam's book and some literary criticism--no other biography that I know of. (Was there an unauthorized one awhile ago? I don't remember.)

What I would like to do, for children aged say 10-12, is describe in books about them incidents in Ray's and Buster's lives so evocative of the work that it almost illustrates the work, prepares children for when they encounter it, and even makes them want to run right out and get it.

It has been in my mind to say this to Ray for years and if you want to know why I haven't it's because I chickened out. For one, I tried to do something of the kind with someone in 1997. I won't mention subject's name but they were interested in the project but I guess didn't like my approach to it. I heard back from the person through someone else. The result, which this person never heard while alive--they have since passed on--was a three-month suicidal depression, the worst I had suffered in five years following the one just before and after my classmate shot herself. It was mind-bending and very unpleasant and frankly almost put me entirely off trying to write anything, non-fiction or otherwise.

My dad was never against me writing biography. In fact, he was much more encouraging of this than my attempts at fiction. He did say at the time, though, "If you're going to write about someone real, choose someone who's dead so they can't talk back." (The last subject of my other book passed away in 1928 so I got to meet only their grandchildren and then only because I started young. Worked out great.) Right after this incident, Dad suffered a severe stroke and the next ten years became all about coping with his condition and so on. I am just now thinking about getting back into writing.

Granted, I think Ray would be more encouraging than this other person, but I don't tell him what's in my mind, because if he was not encouraging (like if he snapped at me for attempting to write about a real-life subject even in a creative manner, rather than going for straight fiction--not that he yelled at me for my first book, quite the contrary--and not that he yelled at Sam for writing about him so I don't know why I'm worried--) it would destroy me. As I explained he has been the main thing keeping me going since 1975. If he was encouraging, I would feel pressured to come up with perfect results. I wish I could get his blessing but I don't know how to approach him about this. If any of you have insights on this please message me.*

(I would also have a bit of a challenge how creative I wanted to be. The subjects of my other book were truthful about their own experiences and were depicted in myths made by others, so it was easy to see where to go with that. Both Ray and Buster, on the other hand, have had major points of their best stories about themselves disputed to some extent, let's just say--and these legends deliver profound emotional truths.)

There does seem to be a need for such a book for young people about Keaton. Having checked the Library of Congress there seems to be a huge gap I'd like to think I had the ability to fill. By the way of the 1,200 books I have read approximately five sixths are children's and young adult including all the John Newbery Medalists (highest honor in American children's literature) and a fairish number of Carnegie Medalists (highest honor in British children's literature) so I happen to like to think if I know a thing about anything it's children's literature.

That's on the one hand. On the other hand, things such as crushes have a bad way of turning around to bite me in the behind so I'm really trying to have fun with this thing with Buster. I hope that doesn't rule out writing.

*Please answer soon while I am feeling brave. There is an awful chance I may come out of this, panic, and run rampant with a big eraser.

This message has been edited. Last edited by: dandelion,

Be of good cheer, Dandy!
It sounds like you've got more going for you than lots of folks, me included! I've been out of work for 7 moths. I'm still playing music, but that doesn't pay the bills and I've no medical insurance. I have lots of unmarketable talents: singing, voice-over, portrait art, bass viol, but, like they say, a genius is someone who can do everything but find work!
You really do have the gift of writing, and I hope you'll just start and see what happens.
You're also a very sweet person, and if I were 20 years younger and single...!
By the way, talking of children's literature, I love the "Ant and Bee" series from England and Margaret Wise Brown, especially "Mister Dog" which was illustrated by the incomparable Garth Williams.

quote:

Originally posted by Braling II:
Be of good cheer, Dandy!
It sounds like you've got more going for you than lots of folks, me included! I've been out of work for 7 moths.

Well, 7 moths is still better than one butterfly.

quote:

You're also a very sweet person, and if I were 20 years younger and single...!

Awww, geez! Thanks, I will gladly accept any compliments.

This message has been edited. Last edited by: dandelion,