Since arriving in Connecticut on Saturday evening, I’ve written nearly seven thousand words of the ninth chapter of my Louis Armstrong biography (which for the moment is now tentatively retitled Rhythm Man: A Life of Louis Armstrong). It feels as though I’d rammed a spade into the ground and struck oil on the first try.
For the moment I can’t think about anything else–all I want to do is sit at the computer and write–and Mrs. T is being unbelievably patient with me. We went to the grocery store this afternoon to stock up for the coming week, and I actually got lost at one point. Instead of paying attention to what we were doing, I started thinking about Armstrong’s Hollywood career, pushed the cart down the wrong aisle, and vanished from sight for a good five minutes.
I expect to return to the real world a little later this week, but for the moment it’s 1938 in my head.
Please bear with me….