3 March 1957
My family is giving me a hard time! I talk too much on serious subjects. They don’t like it! So – – – back to my notebook – my dear notebooks which let me go on and on and on as long as there are pages and ink. I guess writing is my principal out. I can write what I wish, if not for publication – to release my own thoughts. Such is my fate – to channel my thoughts – to release them on paper – there is nothing else to do.
Attached is an article on the garden show houses – architects with bubble pipes. Some architect – first he dreams up the house – then to find a location on which to build it.
An article my friend, when you learn to write about bubble headed architects who do not deal with the present and what they have – but dream up bubble pipe homes to place – Oh! Yes – no location discovered yet!!
I wonder if there is a code of ethics for architects as there is a code of ethics for lawyers?
House beautiful magazines, too, that make you sick with frustration. The fairytale story tellers of the adult world! – No sense of reality. Escapists all! Just like me – into my notebook with my pen and ink!!!
Also – fathers that go hunting to beagle clubs, church, golf, but who have no time for the boys – girls.
Also – fathers and mothers who spend all their time working for the money tree and buy their kids off and pay the price for the disregard of the responsibilities of parenthood – the Simcics and that the Dodaras – Harold Schrader, Victor, and Stephen.
Just want to scream the truth to them about themselves! Maybe someday I will learn to simmer down and write, really learn how to write! I am over the worst feverishness, but I’m still not completely recovered enough to calm down enough to learn the exacting art of writing!
Man alive, will I ever simmer down to that stage of careful craftsmanship?! I hope!
