Sarah Lee laughed and laughed. In my search among photos, I’d found a catfish. She does not allow any photo of her to be shown on FB, and her birthday is October 21, and I wanted a photo. Of Mediterranean descent is she, and thus generous in several aspects, notably her wide mouth, and just, well, generous. The catfish of course was a tease; just a joke. Never would I ever post such a thing.
An Oracle is what I wanna be (to return to business).
Any writer who survives the ages is an Oracle. Do we not venerate artists of old? for their enduring wisdom? They do just what you and I do, presuming we are writers of vision, and they are immortalized by time.
So who the heck are you?
LITTLE KID—I wanna be an oracle.
SCHOOLMARM—You’re no oracle.
LITTLE KID—But I wanna be an oracle.
SCHOOLMARM—What makes you think you’re an oracle?
LITTLE KID—Hemingway was an oracle.
SCHOOLMARM—You’re no Hemingway.
LITTLE KID—But madam, even Hemingway wasn’t Hemingway until Hemingway was Hemingway.
All is not lost, for I am also a person of considerable style and, yes, a simplicity of elegance: a person of grace. Yes, grace.
Grace paves the road to oracle-ism with gold. Grace is the—
What! is someone laughing at me? Who is that laughing! Is that you, Sarah Lee, laughing at me!
YOU BETTER NOT BE LAUGHING AT ME!
You’re laughing at me. That’s what you’re doing. You’re laughing at me.