William H. Johnson, Street Musicians (ca. 1940)

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January 12, 2007:

I cringe when I hear that voice.

Strange accent: half Arkansas, half England. Nasal, shallow, thin.

I hear the pretense. It's a kind of nervous tick: ironic pose. I doubt that it's intentional anymore, rather that habit has made it part of the sinews.

And I hear the ugly side of the personality, which I experienced often second-hand, occasionally first-hand. Rages, manipulation, disloyalty.

Once upon a time in a galaxy far, far away there was a letter. It was a pond on which floated the carcasses of dead, bloated excuses, and it ended with, Because that's the kind of guy I am.

That's what I hear when I hear that voice.

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