Saturday night, nine-seventeen p.m,
I began watching a documentary about Harry Nilsson, a man I never knew. Sure,
I’ve heard his songs, but I didn’t know the details of his life. And after
watching the documentary I still don’t know who he really was. I know he liked
to have a good time, and that he was stubborn, and a baby maker. I know he had
famous friends, and had trouble performing live for people. It was an
entertaining documentary. I enjoyed it. It always surprises me when a man can
sing in key. Parts of Harry’s life were very sad. Yet, it seemed that Harry had
an army of angels surrounding him, for he could do no wrong, although he did wrong
much of the time.
Eleven–nineteen p.m. I checked my
phone for messages. I had one. It was from Bill the Google Master. It read, “You
ever heard of Harry Nilsson?”
I’m
thinking of changing Bill the Google Master's name to Spooky the Spooky Guy.
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