Clinton, S.C., Wednesday, May 29, 2013, 10:37 a.m.
Last night I watched Steve McQueen in “Bullitt.” Remember when actors didn’t talk so much? Clint Eastwood is the last one standing, I guess.
McQueen epitomized 1960s cool. I don’t think anyone now matches McQueen, but Brad Pitt wishes he did. He has aspirations.
Then again, this is a more talkative age. Maybe actors talk too much because people talk too much. I do not exclude myself from the indictment.
My sister Dee Dee would’ve turned 50 today. She died last summer. I was talking to my mother yesterday, and it occurred to me that a sister and two close friends have died at either 49 or 50.
This morning’s revelation: John F. Kennedy’s birthday was also May 29.
The funniest thing on TV is the small print in the pharmaceutical ads.
I finally memorized the words to a song, “Scuppernongs and Muscadines,” I wrote several months ago.
I wrote a new song, too. “All I Ever Did Was Hurt.” As you may suspect, it’s not a feel-good tune. It’s the kind of song one would memorize while drinking, and that’s not a good way to memorize.
I’ll provide more details soon, but suffice it to say I will be appearing in Winchester, Va., on June 22, and in the Philadelphia area on June 29. I’ll talk about my novel, The Audacity of Dope, preview my next, The Intangibles, and perform some songs. I’ll sign books if I do my job well enough that you want to buy them.
The Virginia appearance is at the Winchester Book Gallery and will begin at 5:30 p.m. (that’s a Saturday). It begins with a reading from The Audacity of Dope, followed by a musical performance. I’ll perform songs from the novel, the lyrics of which are scattered through the book.
Circle the dates. I’ll be following up with more information about my version of what NASCAR once called “the Northern Tour.”
If a rumor is flying, and no one will deny it on the record, it’s true.
In decades of journalism, I’ve known few, if any, exceptions to this rule.
Most people who go out of their way to be confrontational have something to hide.
The truth is never more apparent than when being vehemently denied.
Football coaches often remind me of generals. Basketball coaches often remind me of car salesmen.
No good comes from reaching the point in life where you think the world owes you something. It’s the beginning of the end. You’ve got to work your way from the cradle to the grave, and that’s just the way it is.
Never trust a man who seems obsessed with appearing younger than he is. I call this the John Edwards Rule. He’s not the first, though.
I guess I’m building my own set of Intangibles.
When I was in high school, we referred to the slogans on the locker-room walls as “the Intangibles.” It’s the origin of the title of my next novel, which is scheduled for publication in November.
I had to write a novel. I don’t have a locker room.