HERE IS A COPY OF MY RESUME THAT DID NOT WORK

And sometimes I'd be in the next rom, for I was supposed to cover his campaign for the Chronicle. I'd be lying there in the hole in the middle of my bed where the springs had given down with the weight of wayfaring humanity, lying there on my back with my clothes on and looking up at the ceiling and watching the cigarette smoke flow up and splash against the ceiling like the upside-down slow-motion moving picture of the ghost of the waterfall or like the pale uncertain spirit rising up out of your mouth on the last exhalation, the way the Egyptians figured it, to leave the horizontal tenement of clay in its ill-fitting pants and vest. I'd be lying there letting the smoke drift up out of my mouth and not feeling anything, just watching the smoke as though I didn;t have any past or future, and suddenly Willie would start in the next room Tramping and mumbling.

It would be a reproach, an affront, a cause for laughter and a thing for tears. Knowing what you knew, you would lie listening to him getting ready to be Governor, and want to stuff the pillow slip in your mouth top stop the giggles. The poor, half-witted bastard and his speech. But the voice would keep on going over there beyond the wall, and the feet would keep on tramping, back and forth like the feet of a heavy animal prowling and swinging back and forth with a heavy swaying head in a locked-up room, or a cage, hunting for the place to get out, not giving up and irreconcilably and savagely sure that there was going to be a loose board or bar or latch sometime, not now but sometime. And listening to it, you wouldn't be so sure for a minute the bar or board would hold. Or the feet would not stop and they were like a machine, which was not human or animal either, and were tramping on you like pestles or plungers in a big vat and you were the thing in the vat, the thing that just happened to be there. The plungers didn't care about its being you, or not being you, in the vat. But they would continue until there wasn't any you, and afterward for a long time until the machine wore out or somebody switched off the juice.

Robert Penn Warren - All The King's Men


* Anyway kids, that is the ambition of Willie Stark and the Law School Industrial complex, pretty well summed up.
The copy of my resume that did not work will come.
In the meantime go back to my previous post, as it is not done, and with more to follow on that.

But stay a bit for Jack (Johnny) La Lanne:

August 5, 7:56AM  - Wow a lot of views this morning!

Anyway, Whew! -what a night. I ate almost a pound of pasta, and washed it  down with beer, and slept fitfully, and feel awful now.

I gotta pull myself together for sure.

But really, I love that passage about the ambition of Willie Stark. And Willie goes on to become ruthless and frightening. It is a great novel, and won the Pulitzer Prize. As it says on the back of the book: "a horrifying story of the rise and fall of a potential dictator."

But anyway, unlike the way I finally posted my College Transcript after a little teasing, you are going to have to hunt around my blog and look for my resume. The resume that didn't work.

It is not a shaggy dog sort of thing. There really is a resume, and you really will find it between now and Sunday. But youse is going to have to search among all of my older posts.

Which works out, since I do want the new crop of readers to see some of my other stories and awful antics.

Call my blog the profile of a debtor who is cracking under the strain, and trying to pull himself together with a vision of some kind of future here in the USA.

If anyone out there has a vision like that, fill me in on it.