In 1969 I had to go and live in Canada.
Nothing wrong with Canada. A good place.
Julie and I had split up after college. We had always sort of understood that was what we were going to do.
I had to leave America.
The only job I could find was writing a mail-order catalogue, in Toronto.
It was lonely. I listened to music a lot but I had no musical talent. So I made little songs on paper, like this:
At Christmas I took an all-night bus to New York to visit Malise.
Malise said: “Why don’t you marry Julie? She’s a great girl. Then you get citizenship, residence, you can live here. You’re good together.”
So I went to see her. Actually I didn’t even have to ask her. She suggested it
We lived in San Francisco for a while. Then Malise rang and said there might be a job for me in Los Angeles, on a newspaper.
A senior journalist on the paper had bought one of his paintings.