Monday, August 29, 2011

resume': reply to an inquiry from bill johnson

A good, rich life, Wayne...and I am the richer a person for having shared a part of it. Question: Do you regret not having finished at Stanford?


hi bill,

so funny you should ask! for three months late spring, early summer, I had a theater dream almost every night. they took place in opera houses, on the beach, all kinds of stuff, mostly I was an in and out observer, but you were directing a lot of the shows, great stuff. what a dream career.

of course, I sometimes yearn for status. then I wake up the next morning feeling 
I've escaped with my life (like now). it's the having to work at a false authority persona I could never quite do. psychics have told me I've had so much responsibility in past lives, I get to have fun in this one (I wish it felt more often like fun). and one told me I was too impressed by death when young. well, that certainly took away the illusion I'd never end. other factors like ww2 helped, my first five years of life, newsreels of battles and the dead buried at sea.

at thirteen I try to decide: writer or artist? the first only needed a pencil and paper, me a bookworm who couldn't draw realistically.

to answer your question, I sabotaged stanford from the beginning. as a teenager I decided 1. no television 2. no teaching 3. no kids 4. no house. time was what I wanted, the little I had. so I've stuck to these thru thick and thin, tho stanfords have been thrown in my path.

by the way, the most important people in the world teachers and politicians, they influence the most people in the deepest way. I'm just out here tap-dancing on my coffin.

you've been an inspiration. best, wayne

                                             3 days later we hiked to my first lookout 1951

                                                 cone peak pinnacles national monument

                                          i spent the first six months of my life looking up
                                          at it from a crib in soledad, california. only 
                                         realized many years later when driving back 
                                         from southern california.