Rod Serling Turned Me Into a LIBERAL!

Woke up again in the middle of the night. What is up with that? I exercised and everything!

Three-quarters moon was shining into my bedroom window.

Maybe I’m a werewolf or something.

But I hate to sleep with the windows closed and the curtains drawn.

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This time I watched Twilight Zone episodes, which I can remember first watching when I was—no lie—seven years old

In fact, I wonder whether Twilight Zone isn’t responsible for many of my adult values.

I remember one episode in particular—the one where the beautiful woman lives in a world of hideously ugly people and so, believes that she is the one who is hideously ugly. My nine-year-old self thought: Wait! So attributes like “beauty” are only what people think they are. They’re not real!

It’s a thought that has stayed with me all my life.

Ditto that 1950s mob turning on one another in their zeal to ID aliens. (The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street.)

And that eerie one about Death hitchhiking…

Rod Serling turned me into a liberal!

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Else? It seems that I write best when I’m ignoring other stuff I should be doing. There’s something about stealing moments that fuels creativity.

I had set yesterday aside entirely for the Work in Progress, and I did manage to squeeze out 500 words, but they weren’t particularly good words.

It’s summer; the Orpheum Dance Palace is going through a cash squeeze: Horny men would rather go to Coney Island and get lucky under the boardwalk. Florrie needs an abortion, and June’s gotta scrape up the money to pay for it. Impetus for her reunion with Henry. Blab la bla.

Not good words as I say.

But at least they’re written words.