Friday, May 5, 1972 - Page 126
LOCATION: Newport Beach, California
12:30 PM
At about 10:30 Chunk called: Norton is sick (that's his bike we were going to take to Ensenada), so we aren't going, which is just fine since I've got a lotta stuff to get done here. I went back to sleep (I've been awful sleepy lately when trying to get up -- I could stay in bed all day if I let me. Pro'ly because I don't eat enough -- just one meal a day. I'm still fairly healthy though), and at 11:30 or so, the doorbell rang thrice, but I was asleep so couldn't answer it. I eventually got up to get the mail (another rejection from F&SF for M-Q, naturally), and on the door handle was the card above [actually, below]. I guess they haven't caught Mike yet.
2:00 PM
I called the # above, he wasn't there. A little while ago he returned the call, and I told him I had last heard he was in jail in Pomona 8 months ago. They're after him for a minor traffic violation. [Mike McEvers was a good friend and former schoolmate of Chuck's -- in 1971, he often stayed at our home and occasionally got into trouble with the law]
9:00 PM
I'm now on page 150 in Cat's Cradle, and 250 in Sirens of Titan... I've been sitting here for a minute trying to think of something else to write, but I can't think of anything, so instead I'll just write down my perplexity at my inability to come up with something to write, and enlarge on that theme until this page is finished, an endeavor which, ironically, is being accomplished by... never mind, I just thought of something: A PERSON WHO USES METAPHORS IS LIKE A PAINTER WITHOUT A BRUSH --- (that's original... think about it) -- 9:07:33 P.M. -- FINI
LOCATION: Newport Beach, California
12:30 PM
At about 10:30 Chunk called: Norton is sick (that's his bike we were going to take to Ensenada), so we aren't going, which is just fine since I've got a lotta stuff to get done here. I went back to sleep (I've been awful sleepy lately when trying to get up -- I could stay in bed all day if I let me. Pro'ly because I don't eat enough -- just one meal a day. I'm still fairly healthy though), and at 11:30 or so, the doorbell rang thrice, but I was asleep so couldn't answer it. I eventually got up to get the mail (another rejection from F&SF for M-Q, naturally), and on the door handle was the card above [actually, below]. I guess they haven't caught Mike yet.
2:00 PM
I called the # above, he wasn't there. A little while ago he returned the call, and I told him I had last heard he was in jail in Pomona 8 months ago. They're after him for a minor traffic violation. [Mike McEvers was a good friend and former schoolmate of Chuck's -- in 1971, he often stayed at our home and occasionally got into trouble with the law]
9:00 PM
I'm now on page 150 in Cat's Cradle, and 250 in Sirens of Titan... I've been sitting here for a minute trying to think of something else to write, but I can't think of anything, so instead I'll just write down my perplexity at my inability to come up with something to write, and enlarge on that theme until this page is finished, an endeavor which, ironically, is being accomplished by... never mind, I just thought of something: A PERSON WHO USES METAPHORS IS LIKE A PAINTER WITHOUT A BRUSH --- (that's original... think about it) -- 9:07:33 P.M. -- FINI
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