Summary : Love, the most natural painkiller there is, love. Monk quotes Burroughs to Nica , his extravagant confident, and Nelly, his wife, in identical choked up letters toward the start of his so-called ending, trying to explain what premature retirement meant to him, that the public eye was a threat to the survival of love. As suggested earlier, the correspondence is vast. The shadows take shape and we see the pianist taking notes on the shaping
Mine. d reign ( too easy ) to easily deranged by the mind some hearts can be ,
I believe in ( midlife ) resurrection. " He writes. To the jazz industry in crisis
"I'm not as strange and mystical as I seem but the parody pays well I like to sit around at home and nurse my dazes until they break into music while my son plays values on the drums Art Blakey gave him
Don't wanna go out like those beat writers, getting famous for things you're supposed to hide futures we have yet to achieve and untrue love. Wild motherfuckers but temporary." We find Theolonious was a lucid and most discerning salesman collapsing aloof into candor and melody into rumor, using silence the way a hype man uses an announcement to thrill and bide.
Highlights: There are telegrams from Duke Ellington to Monk begging him to stop stealing his stuff. Jokingly, admiringly. There's a collection of photos of hats from fashion magazines with notes for new compositions slashing through the photos, appearing as tempos appear. There are letters to his mother thanking her for being so patient with him, recipes for lamb and chicken liver written on club napkins, copyright forms for compositions that he never had the chance to transcribe, juice recipes Nelly suggested he try written in the margins of his dream diary wherein he recounts a recurring dream about being on stage mid concert and turning into a tiger in a cage made of tacky satin ribbons that he is meant to pave with iron and will until he disappears and wakes up in the phrase we sell the shadow to protect the substance.