Just finished a speech for Hank Aaron. He’s gonna deliver it at the Thankful Baptist Church in Rome, Georgia. I love writing for him. An old-fashioned gentleman. The speechwriting fee will cover my rent so I can stop worrying about it. I can light a joint and listen to John Coltrane on WCLK. The lady DJ tells me that the twenty-third was John Coltrane’s birthday and I already knew it was Springsteen’s, so how wild is that? Pretty wild.
Pieces of plays and columns and sermons and poems are crowding my little head. I feel great. I feel productive. I am getting ready to make a note about the column about Kay’s workshop and then hit a lick at “Eleanor and Mary,” for Topper. I wish I had time to go to the movies. Maybe later. I am a WORKING writer! Anyhow, sometimes life is so fine/so fine/so fine.