reading Harold Bloom's new book the anatomy of influence. One of his quotations is the writing is the defense of melancholy. It seems to me that if writing is a defense off melancholy then that is 1 of the reasons that I do not write very much. when I was a kid, doing the first 3 years of my life, my mother use to walk me alternatively to the Philadelphia Art Museum or to the Philadelphia Zoo almost daily. We lived 3 blocks from the bridge that was just across from the Philadelphia Art Museum so it was a short walk from our apartment. Remember also that this time there were no TVs and as far as I know my family did not have a radio either. I remember the first time we got the radio in the house that would have been many years later since we were in the suburbs then and I remember the puzzling look on my father's face as he sat there listening to the voice coming from that little box. The TV arrived at the same house at about the same time and I remember that very clearly because it almost killed me.as I recall the TV installer had brought the TV and installed the antenna on the roof and was sitting on the couch explaining to my parents how the device work. Meanwhile, I was on the floor heading about on all fours I remember the great rug the walls and the vanilla looking cabinet of the large TV sitting on the floor. Next to the TV was a brown wire with 2 little metal leaves. I recognize it as electrical and thought it needed to be plugged in and I distinctly remember plugging the 75 ohm antenna lead into electric socket. This of course started electric shock coursing through my body and I remember hopping around and looking up at the 3 adults sitting on the couch. My parents we're completely focused on what the installer was saying and he set in the middle of the 2 of them. What I remember was his turning and seeing me and reaching down and grabbing it.but before all this happened we lived 1 Spring Garden Street just across the Schuylkill River from the art museum. And my mother said that she used to walk me they're practically everyday so I must have gotten an early it's a cation in art. That probably explains why even today when I visit the Philadelphia Art Museum I have a very strange feeling of comfort with the place. I somehow remember the feeling of the halls the steps the artwork very atmosphere of the place. Are you even remember the strange ancient elevator with its Gigantic brasss doors.