Author: Stacy Horn

I didn’t leave the house at all yesterday, or do a bit of work. I still feel sick, so I’m going out for supplies, and then I’m coming back and curling up in this. Buddy is already there, warming it up. I’m considering doing work-related reading at least. But I’m also considering reading something escapist and watching TV. I wonder which will win?

The work-related reading is kinda fun. I’m reading about early UFO sightings in the 1940’s, when they still called them flying saucers.

Once again, I really thought this book was going to be a snap compared to my book about unsolved murders. I’m working on a small passage about a letter to the editor of Life Magazine that Rhine wrote in 1957, right after pictures of the Little Rock Nine appeared in the magazine. (The Governor had brought in the National Guard to block de-segregation, and prevent nine black students from entering Central High School in Little Rock, Arkansas.)

Rhine wrote a moving letter, and most people responded positively, but one person in Georgia wrote to say that the word “nigger” wasn’t so bad, and scoffed at what he called Rhine’s “emotional tizzy,” and said, “… there’s a good chance, actors that children are, they maybe [sic] enjoying their roles … As a psychologist, Dr. Rhine should be interested in the white children, particularly girls, with a deep seated (and justly so as Mississippi and other cases prove) fear of integrated rape, forced a bayonetpoint to closely associate with negro boys. Are not their souls scarred?”

Was he referring to Emmett Till, the 14-year-old who was murdered in 1955 because he whistled at a white woman?

I looked the person up, and sure enough, he’s still living in Georgia. I want to call him, to ask him to comment on this letter. Perhaps he might welcome the chance to take these words back, but I might get an equally ugly response, 49 years later. Ugh, ugh, ugh.

But I should call him, right?

I’ve got my usual awards show dinner lined up: potato chips and onion dip. I’m set. This year I actually know someone who is nominated, and for a big one! We’re not good friends or anything, only acquaintences, and barely acquainted, haven’t seen him in years, but still. It will make it more fun. He was nice and I will have someone to root for.

Okay, back to Bridey Murphy research. Although it’s not as interesting as I originally thought. I think I will only include a couple of paragraphs about it. Does anyone know this story? A woman in Colorado was hypnotized in 1952 and a past life came forth, a woman named Bridey Murphy who had lived died in Ireland.

Finney: Oh? Was this your seat? [Pausing the self-cleaning process.]

Finney: Well it’s MINES now. (Actually, he was just yawning.)

I’m backing up my computer right now, as I type. I wrote this morning, went to the gym, sent tax stuff to my accountant, found ways to cut corners this year, and I’m feeling virtuous, on top of things and in charge of my life. Clearly the universe is winding up to throw me my next curve ball. That sounds so pessimistic, I know. But in reality I’m a realistic optimist. The world sucks, but I will manage to have a decent time anyway.

Want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want, want.

Why oh why must I be poor?? I spent a whopping $815 yesterday at the dentist, so no iphone for me, alas. It’s okay. There are always miracles. Oh god, though, if you haven’t already you have to see this thing. You can go to Apple’s website. The interface is just amazing. Perfection. The things you can do, just tapping around. You have to see it, it really is a marvel.

I’ve got a book party to go to tonight that I’m looking forward to. Normally these things can be surprisingly tedious, but it’s a subject I’m interested in (that time of life) and I like the people.

I’m in a good mood today, for a poor person. I think it’s because I went to the dentist. Ever since seeing the movie Castaway, I live in fear of being stranded on a desert island with dental issues. Whenever I get a cavity or something taken care of I think, “Good. Now if my plane crashes, I won’t have to knock my tooth out with an ice skate.” (Nevermind the fact that I won’t get on a plane in the first place.)