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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.)

It’s not just me.

I’ve been smelling gas this morning, and it’s been freaking me out. I smelled gas before once, and called the Con Ed number you’re supposed to call, and they sent the fire department who didn’t smell a thing and seemed very annoyed about it. So I was feeling hesistant about calling anyone again. What if it’s just me again?

But it’s all over the news. I keep hearing that they found a leak at W. 4th and Bleeker, which doesn’t make sense because those streets are parallel. I also heard 10th and Bleeker. In any case, I live at Perry and Bleeker, so hearing Bleeker, Bleeker, Bleeker is not comforting. The NYPD is denying that they’ve found a leak.

I closed the windows, brushed my teeth and got out of my pj’s (I’m home writing today). It’s my version of the whole putting on clean underwear because what if you get into an accident thing. If we all blow up in some gas explosion, at least I won’t be found unclean and still in my pj’s at this hour.

Update: The OEM is not confirming the source of the odor. The Mayor is supposed to address the city in a few minutes.

Update 2: The OEM is now saying there is something going on at W. 4th and Bleeker. Have to find this intersection, I thought they didn’t meet, but even though I’ve been living here 30 years I still get confused.

I keep hearing emergency vehicles going by, though, so it’s around here somewhere.

Update 3: The sound of emergency vehicles is increasing.

Update 4: Either I’m getting used to it, or it’s because I closed the windows, but I’m smelling it less. The news keep saying W. 4th and Bleeker, which is bugging me. I keep hearing sirens. Where is the Mayor?? (It’s hard not to think “terrorism.” Not to be alarmist. It’s probably not.)

Update 5: Here’s the Mayor. They found a small leak at 6th and Bleeker (thank you Mayor, for at least knowing the geography of the city, unlike everyone else apparently). But it’s a small one, so that can’t be the source of the smell. Ah. Just learned a new fact. Natural gas does not have a smell, so what we might be smelling is … I missed it. An additive. So, they don’t know what it is yet. Con Ed has not found a drop in pressure that would identify the source of a gas leak.

Update 6: That was a reassuring press conference. I mean, they still don’t know what’s going on, which is not ideal, but nonetheless, I feel a little calmer.

Update 7: Now everyone in New York is an expert about mercapton and thermal inversion, and what not. Actually, I love all the little factoids we pick up whenever the news latches onto a story. It’s noon, and I don’t smell the gas anymore. The story about all the birds dropping dead in Austin is creeping me out now.

I should start a new blog: What is Creeping Me Out at the Moment. (Sirens all over the place again. Okay, they’re gone now. Heading away. The emergency is elsewhere.)