One day he came up to me in front of the library and gave me a drawing.... it was a man holding a writing tablet standing between towering buildings under the stars holding a pencil.
I stuck it under a clip on the sun visor in my beader truck.
Seems I have not forgotten.
What is music? Something about Harmonics?
Orion came across the top of the house just this morning looking out of the corner of her eye at the Pleiades
I went outside to take a second look I saw two shooting stars one in front of me and one behind.
I thought of Jersey John and the day he handed me that picture.. with not a word spoken, but the deed is remembered.
Wondering the question why , why is it publishers, Literary agents... the makers have their heads so far up their ass's ? I thought it was dark in there.
Is it simply the supply so outweighs the demand? That they remain virtually unapproachable? or is it tied to tale like an anchor falling to the sea floor?
I should think there is a fortune to be made catering to the market of the underdog....
But we are so wrapped up in Protocol.... we haven't the time of day, lets make it hard.
Trust me I am laughing.... I have given Random House one star for their behavior.
Wonder the question.
Jersey John
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