The Captain Is Out to Lunch

8/28/91 11:28 PM

Good day at the track, damn near swept the card.

Yet it gets boring out there, even when you're winning. It's the minute wait between races, your life leaking out into space. The people look gray out there, walked through. And I'm there with them. But where else could I go? An Art Museum? Imagine staying home all day and playing at writer? I could wear a little scarf. I remember this poet who used to come by on the bum. Buttons off his shirt, puke on his pants, hair in eyes, shoelaces undone, but he had this long scarf which he kept very clean. That signaled he was a poet. His writing? Well, forget it…

Came in, swam in the pool, then went to the spa. My soul is in danger. Always has been.

Was sitting on the couch with Linda, the good dark night descending, when there was a knock on the door. Linda got it.

„Better come here, Hank…“ I walked to the door, barefooted, in my robe. A young blond guy, a young fat girl and a medium sized girl.

„They want your autograph…“ „I don't see people,“ I told them.

„We just want your autograph,“ said the blond guy, „then we promise never to come back.“ Then he started giggling, and holding his head. The girls just stared.

„But none of you have a pen or even a piece of paper I said.

„Oh,“ said the blond kid, taking his hands from his head, „We'll come back again with a book! Myabe at a more proper time…“ Tha bathrobe. The bare feet. Maybe the kid thought i was eccentric. Maybe I was.

„Don't come in the morning,“ I told them.

I saw them begin to walk off and I closed the door…

Now I'm up here writing about them. You've got to be a little hard with them or they'll swarm you. I've had some horrible expreriences blocking that door. So many of them think that somehow you'll invite them in and drink with them all night. I prefer to drink alone. A writer owes nothing except to his writing. He owes nothing to the reader except the availability of the printed page. And worse, many of the doorknockers are not even readers. They've just heard something. The reader and the best human is the one who rewards me with his or her absence.