Tuesday, August 26, 2014

There is a long history of us, type O.   Suffering from an excess of words.  Carnivores with lots of adrenaline, in need of the tyrosine found in red meats to keep the brain cool, in need of aerobic exercise, lest they fall into manic behavior.

Emily Dickinson was lady-like, quiet about it, kept up her scribbles on backs of envelopes, and invented her own way of keeping the poems that were her way of working things out to satisfaction.  She belongs in the owner's instruction manual.

Dick Nixon, we know was a type O, as was JFK.  Nixon fell into a particular excess of a particular thought, a track of how to "screw" people, Dick Cavett, Teddy Kennedy, McGovern...  He liked the idea of taping the office, to record every word.  JFK branched out, and read a lot, and could talk a mile a minute intelligently.  The agile format of the press conference served him well.  Perhaps an excess of bravery running in his line.

It is said that Lincoln had type A blood, fond of cheese, without weight gain, though he had a lot of words in his head too, interestingly enough, thus maybe shooting my theory down in some way.

James Joyce, quite probably.  Healthier than Hemingway, arguably.  The children of both inheriting, dopamine off kilter, as in schizophrenia.

Robin Williams, classic exhibitor, poor devil, Hamlet's "words, words, words."  He liked his bicycle rides.

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