(Continued from July 8, 2009)
The art of day dreaming grows with practice. (I should have spent as much time on my violin). From childhood fantasies fed by envy, it was a natural progression to the satisfying fancies of revenge. At the reunion I noted the wrinkling of childhood and adolescent beauty. I gloated that I was one of the few who was still working at his music. (I had played in a community symphony orchestra for thirty-nine years). As for automobiles, I claimed superiority by virtue by my well-practiced and principled disavowal of conspicuous consumption.
Childishly malicious? If it's good enough for John Updike it's good enough for me. In his novel "Bech At Bay" the protagonist (Updike's alter-ego) gets revenge by killing the critics who had previously scorned him. (Never too late for me to find a new hero). Updike has only to put down his vengeful pen to return to reality. For the ordinary day dreamer there is always a wailing child who needs us, or bills to pay, or the lawn to mow. I could never day dream my way through those trials.
You can rest assured in your day dreams, Joe
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