Good afternoon, all! I debated staying in bed for the rest of my life, and I was having a bizarre dream about talking bankruptcy to a receptionist at the Leonard Bernstein publishing co,'s offices while a typhoon raged outside, water was leaking in the windows and Broadway was going through hell, and my friend Charlie Harmon was in meetings with Jean Druesedow, the woman whose graduate assistant I was in 1969 and 1970.
That was all pretty horrifying, but so is my life at the moment, and I'm both scared and angry. I'll try not to let too much of this onto HHW, but things do not bode good for me at present, and staying in bed is my metaphorical means of burying my head in the sand.