Finding out that Moss Hart had a journal during a fallow period in the early 1950's, and learning that he had begun his autobiography at about the same time. The autobiography (according to the New Yorker reviewer in November 1959) was full of gushing platitudes about the people he worked with, while the journal (which was kept under lock and key until both he and Kitty Carlisle Hart had passed) contained mostly observations of those people, viewed in the worst possible light. Nearly everyone appeared pathetic to him at that time, and knowing his state of mind makes it possible to forgive the man's sourness. Of course that's how he saw them, just like he saw himself as used up and useless.
Right now I'm wishing I had something going on that would get me as fired up as I was when creating a video of BB's mother; when discovering the wonders of the web; when writing and posting true little stories about a few Good Cats (illustrated with my amateur cartoons) for nine years; when I learned about Tabby's Place; when I began volunteering at the library; even when I was the King of the Easy Bill. Things have worked out so far. They probably will again. Let me see what I can do about it.
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