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Whisky, Women, & Banana Peels: “That way (sweet) madness lies” (Papa's Footprint) (Volume 3)
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About Whisky, Women, & Banana Peels: “That Way
Here, I have my own theater, conveniently located beneath the proscenium arch of my brow and behind my eyes. Here, I author my books. I paint. I socialize with some of the great minds and talents of the formerly-living who attend my popular soirees. We spend wonderful evenings here in song and dialogue and whatever else my creative pen doth choose to write. This is my realm. I share intimacies with some of the most interesting women to ever have “trod the boards.” The actress, Vivien Leigh, is my present lover, muse, and challenge. Vivien and the magic of my pen give to me an impenetrable firewall against any creeping ennui or perils of the deep. First off, this is not a celebrities’ memoire. I am an actor, though, and have been for all of my adult life. Broadway, television, cabaret, burlesque, opera, a few movies, and I’ve made a fairly good living by honing and practicing my various talents. But, I was never considered to be a “star.” To my credit, I have “moved” people and made lots of people laugh, though. And, I’ve certainly bathed in my glory at many a wonderful curtain call. I’m 82 now, so a lot of the people I’ve entertained are not around anymore. Even, some of my ex-lovers have made their exits. I was a bad boy there for a while, but pin a rose on me: I’ve been sober for thirty-six years. This book is what I consider to be my self-inflicted archaeological dig into my id, my ego, and my super-ego. Somehow, it ended up being called, Whisky, Women, and Banana Peels. I wonder why? I must say that I have loved every minute of writing this book, even when I was revealing some of my unseemly debaucheries. Other than that, it’s been fun. It’s been cringe-worthy. It’s been devastating. It’s been embarrassing. It’s been euphoric. It’s been riddled with nightmares. It’s been funny. It’s been a trail of flops. It’s been sexy. It’s been full of love. It’s been about children and art. It’s been about questions. It’s been about four million and eighty-two years. Read the book. You be the judge… I am a man of unusual artistic bent who is, at times, clearly separated from reality. You will find “Himself” to be thoroughly and unabashedly entertained by his uniquely self-fascinated mind. I became born on the continent of Africa about four million years ago. Before that, I was in the sea. Before that? Who can say? I am easily and often seduced into the bejeweled canopy of moonless nights. From there, I gaze back and ponder my lives on planet Earth. From within this realm, I find a comforting sense of “home,” and a fascinating and readily available playground for the restless mind of an aging actor. You will find that I often refer to myself as Himself. A brief history for those readers not previously acquainted with Himself and his Odyssey is in order: In the two previous books of my trilogy: Dear Kate, Love, Henry (A Love Story for the Ages) and Behind These Eyes Such Sweet Madness Lies (My Life On and Off the Stage), I made the long trek from birth in ancient Africa around the Mediterranean and on to Paris. Along the way, I learned to read and to write in over a dozen languages. The romance languages I found to be best suited to my bent. It’s that the vowels go so very well in transporting my songs from the stage onto the ears of awaiting audiences. I fell in love with the fact that by writing on paper (or parchment), people in the centuries to come would be able to read my words and ponder my recorded thoughts. I recognized this as one of the great wonders of the world. And, too, in Paris, I fell in love with a beautiful young cellist who had me mesmerized by her sensitive bowing and her total immersion in the Bach Chaconne she was playing. Here, I recognized another of the great wonders of the world.
