Sunday, September 28, 2008
It is sad to relate here that on the very morning of St. Holiday's release from solitary refinement at the White Mountain Institute for the Clinically Addicted, the one once known as the Lovely One has abandoned him. "I can't take anymore," she was heard to say, as she headed for the Show Low Airport, bags in hand. That might be because she had already taken everything, and there is nothing remaining. Except for the cats, that is, which were left behind, like their master, to pile it higher and deeper. So, the Bliss Queen has gone, leaving a poor, afflicted shell of a man to sift through the ashes of a misspent life alone. Confidential sources inform us that St. Holiday's immediate plans, after he retrieves his fan mail from the local Post Office, are to relocate to the limestone caves of the Mogollon Rim and to mourn out the remainder of his weeks planning his posthumous work and perfecting his revolutionary hair-restoration formula.