Supposed Thoughts of Gypsy Rose Lee While Performing

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"Walter Lippman wasn't brilliant today."
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"Will Saryan ever write a great play?"
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"I was reading Schopenhauer last night,
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And I think that Schopenhauer was right."

"I don't want to see Zorina."
"I don't want to meet Cobina."
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"I'm an intellectual."

"I don't like a deep contralto,
Or a man whose voice is alto."
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"I'm a heterosexual."

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"It took intellect to master my art."
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"Who the hell is Margie Hart?"

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"I consider Dali's painting passe."
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"Can they make the Metropolitan pay?"
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"English people don't say 'clerk', they say 'clark'".
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"Anybody who says 'clark' is a 'jark!'"

"I have read the great Cabala,
And I simply worship Allah."
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"I am just a mystic."

"I don't care for Whistler's mother,
Charlie's aunt, or Shubert's brother."
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"I'm misogynistic."

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"My intelligence is guiding my hand."
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"Who the hell is Sally Rand?"

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"Toscanini leads the greatest of bands."
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"Jergens Lotion does the trick for his hands."
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"Rip Van Winkle on the screen would be smart."
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"Tyrone Power will be cast in the part."

"I adore the great Confucius,
And the lines of luscious Lucius."
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"I am so ecletic."

"I don't care for either Mickey:
Mouse and Rooney make me sicky."
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"I'm a little hectic."

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"My artistic taste is classic and dear."
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"Who the hell‘s Lili St. Cyr?"

Zip from PAL JOEY
Music by Richard Rodgers;
Lyrics by Lorenz Hart

Television: A Medium

"...So called because it is neither rare nor well done."

- Ernie Novacs

Farther Along

Tempted and tried we're oft made to wonder
Why it should be thus all the day long
While there are others living about us
Never molested though in the wrong

When death has come and taken our loved ones
It leaves a home so lonely and drear
Then do we wonder why others prosper
Living so wicked year after year

‘Faithful til death’, said our loving master
A few more days to labor and wait
Toils of the road will then seem as nothing
As we sweep through the beautiful gates

Farther along we'll know all about it
Farther along we'll understand why
Cheer up my brother, live in the sunshine
We'll understand it all by and by

-American Hymn by an Anonymous/Unknown Composer, 1911

Time Heals All Wounds

"It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.'
I do not agree.
The wounds remain.

In time, the mind (protecting its sanity)
covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens.
But, it is never gone."

-Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy

It's Later Than It's Ever Been

The John Hand Building
Birmingham, AL
Photo by Randal Eaton Culbreth
Click Image to Enlarge

On War and Aggression

"Valuing life is not weakness;

and disregarding it is not strength.

The next time you gamble, bet your own life."

-Mirage in The Incredibles
John Walker, Producer;
Brad Bird, Director

I'd Like to Propose a Toast

Here's to the ladies who lunch.
Everybody laugh.
Lounging in their caftans and planning a brunch
on their own behalf.
Off to the gym, then to a fitting
claiming they're fat;
and looking grim 'cause they've been sitting
choosing a hat.
(Does anyone still wear a hat?)
I'll drink to that.

Here’s to girls who stay smart;
aren’t they a gas?
Rushing to their classes in optical art
wishing it would pass;
Another long exhausting day;
another thousand dollars;
a matinee; a Pinter play;
perhaps a piece of Mahler’s.
I’ll drink to that.

(…and one for Mahler!)

Here's to the girls who play wife.
Aren't they too much?
Keeping house but clutching a copy of "Life"
just to keep in touch.
The ones who follow the rules;
and meet themselves at the schools;
too busy to know that they're fools.
Aren't they a gem!?
I'll drink to them!
Let's all drink to them!

And here’s to the girls who just watch.
Aren't they the best?
When they get depressed, it's a bottle of scotch
plus a little jest.
Another chance to disapprove;
another brilliant zinger;
another reason not to move;
another vodka stinger;
I'll drink to that!

So here's to the girls on the go.
Everybody tries.
Look into their eyes
and you'll see what they know;
Everybody dies.
A toast to that invincible bunch;
the dinosaurs surviving the crunch;
Let's hear it for the ladies who lunch!

Everybody rise. Rise.
Rise. Rise!
Rise! Rise!
RISE!

The Ladies Who Lunch
from Company (1970) by Stephen Sondheim

In Memory of Jonathon Thomas

"I think the virtue of being given the Lifetime Achievement Award before you have necessarily achieved your lifetime's work is probably because if they wait until you have achieved all of your lifetime's work, you probably will have died.

This is better.

And I'm grateful.

I'm dedicating this to the memory of Jonathan Thomas, my life partner, who died only a month ago. He and I were together for 35 years. And he made me a happy playwright.

And you have made me a happy playwright tonight.

Thank you."
—Edward Albee, Playwright - on receiving the 2005 American Theater Wing's Tony Award for Lifetime Achievement

Optimism

Upon hearing an unexpected knock at the door,
or a ring of the telephone, Dorothy Parker would often exclaim

"What fresh hell is this?"

My Philosophy of Life by John Ashbery

Just when I thought there wasn't room enough
for another thought in my head, I had this great idea--
call it a philosophy of life, if you will.
Briefly, it involved living the way philosophers live,
according to a set of principles. OK, but which ones?

That was the hardest part, I admit, but I had a
kind of dark foreknowledge of what it would be like.
Everything, from eating watermelon or going to the bathroom
or just standing on a subway platform, lost in thought for a few minutes,
or worrying about rain forests would be affected,
or more precisely, inflected by my new attitude.

I wouldn't be preachy, or worry about children and old people,
except in the general way prescribed by our clockwork universe.
Instead I'd sort of let things be what they are
while injecting them with the serum of the new moral climate.

I thought I'd stumbled into, as a stranger accidentally presses against
a panel and a bookcase slides back, revealing a winding staircase
with greenish light somewhere down below,
and he automatically steps inside and the bookcase slides shut,
as is customary on such occasions.

At once a fragrance overwhelms him--not saffron, not lavender,
but something in between. He thinks of cushions,
like the one his uncle's Boston bull terrier used to lie on
watching him quizzically, pointed ear-tips folded over.
And then the great rush is on.

Not a single idea emerges from it.
It's enough to disgust you with thought.
But then you remember something William James wrote
in some book of his you never read--it was fine, it had the fineness,
the powder of life dusted over it, by chance, of course, yet still looking
for evidence of fingerprints. Someone had handled it
even before he formulated it, though the thought was his
and his alone.

It's fine, in summer, to visit the seashore.
There are lots of little trips to be made.
A grove of fledgling aspens welcomes the traveler.
Nearby are the public toilets where weary pilgrims have carved
their names and addresses, and perhaps messages as well,
messages to the world, as they sat
and thought about what they'd do after using the toilet
and washing their hands at the sink, prior to stepping out
into the open again.

Had they been coaxed in by principles,
and were their words philosophy, of however crude a sort?
I confess I can move no farther along this train of thought--
something's blocking it.
Something I'm not big enough to see over.
Or maybe I'm frankly scared.
What was the matter with how I acted before?

But maybe I can come up with a compromise--
I'll let things be what they are, sort of.
In the autumn I'll put up jellies and preserves,
against the winter cold and futility,
and that will be a human thing, and intelligent as well.
I won't be embarrassed by my friends' dumb remarks,
or even my own, though admittedly that's the hardest part,
as when you are in a crowded theater and something you say
riles the spectator in front of you, who doesn't even like the idea
of two people near him talking together. Well he's
got to be flushed out so the hunters can have a crack at him--
this thing works both ways, you know.
You can't always be worrying about others and keeping track of yourself
at the same time. That would be abusive, and about as much fun
as attending the wedding of two people you don't know.

Still, there's a lot of fun to be had in the gaps between ideas.
That's what they're made for!
Now I want you to go out there
and enjoy yourself, and yes, enjoy your philosophy of life, too.
They don't come along every day.
Look out! There's a big one...

The Miraculous Potential of Diversity

"We must declare ourselves, become known; allow the world to discover this subterranean life of ours which connects kings and farm boys, artists and clerks. Let them see that the important thing is not the object of love, but the emotion itself."

- Gore Vidal

On God and Money

"If you want to know what God thinks of money, just look at the people he gave it to."

- Dorothy Parker

But We'll Get Together Then

My child arrived just the other day,
He came to the world in the usual way.
But there were planes to catch, and bills to pay.
He learned to walk while I was away.
And he was talking 'fore I knew it, and as he grew,
He'd say, "I'm gonna be like you, dad.
You know I'm gonna be like you."

And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon,
Little boy blue and the man in the moon.
"When you coming home, dad?" "I don't know when,
But we'll get together then.
You know we'll have a good time then."

My son turned ten just the other day.
He said, "Thanks for the ball, dad, come on let's play.
Can you teach me to throw?" I said, "Not today,
I got a lot to do." He said, "That's ok."
And he walked away, but his smile never dimmed,
Said, "I'm gonna be like him, yeah.
You know I'm gonna be like him."

And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon,
Little boy blue and the man in the moon.
"When you coming home, dad?" "I don't know when,
But we'll get together then.
You know we'll have a good time then."

Well, he came from college just the other day,
So much like a man I just had to say,
"Son, I'm proud of you. Can you sit for a while?"
He shook his head, and he said with a smile,
"What I'd really like, dad, is to borrow the car keys.
See you later. Can I have them please?"

And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon,
Little boy blue and the man in the moon.
"When you coming home, son?" "I don't know when,
But we'll get together then, dad.
You know we'll have a good time then."

I've long since retired and my son's moved away.
I called him up just the other day.
I said, "I'd like to see you if you don't mind."
He said, "I'd love to, dad, if I could find the time.
You see, my new job's a hassle, and the kid's got the flu,
But it's sure nice talking to you, dad.
It's been sure nice talking to you."
And as I hung up the phone, it occurred to me,
He'd grown up just like me.
My boy was just like me.

And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon,
Little boy blue and the man in the moon.
"When you coming home, son?" "I don't know when,
But we'll get together then, dad.
You know we'll have a good time then."

Cat's in the Cradle by Sandy and Harry Chapin

The Lord Is My Keeper: A Song of Degrees

I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.

My help cometh even from the LORD, whom hath made heav'n and earth.

He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: he that keepeth thee will not slumber.

Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep.

The LORD is thy keeper: the LORD is thy shade upon thy right hand.

The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night.

The LORD shall preserve thee from all evil: he shall preserve thy soul.

The LORD shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore. -Psalms 121 (KJV)

Eeyore: On Life

"Hallo, Eeyore," said Christopher Robin, as he opened the door and came out. "How are you?"

"It's snowing still," said Eeyore gloomily.

"So it is," said Christopher Robin, looking up and around.

"...and freezing," Eeyore continued.

"Is it?" replied Christopher Robin.

"Yes," said Eeyore. "However," he said brightening up a little, "we haven't had an earthquake lately."

The Complete Tales of Winnie the Pooh by AA Milne

Turn! Turn! Turn!

To Everything - Turn, turn, turn.
There is a season - turn, turn, turn.
And a time for every purpose under heaven.
A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap.
A time to kill, a time to heal.
A time to laugh, a time to weep.
To everything, turn, turn, turn.
There is a season - turn, turn, turn.
And a time for every purpose under heaven.

Pete Seeger, adapted from Ecclesiastes