"For the werewolf, somebody like you and me."

Another excerpt from Henry Miller's The Books In My Life

(Miller quoting Sherwood Anderson) "If there has been a betrayal in America," he goes on to say, "I think it is our betrayal of each other. I do not believe that we- and by the word 'we' I mean artists, writers, singers, etc.- have really stood by each other." ...He speaks of our loneliness for one another. He says that it might help for all of us "to return to the old habit of letter-writing between man and man that has at certain periods existed in the world."


On a similar note, I thought this song accompanies quite well this idea of loneliness in being an artist. Being a creative person, at least for me, is like being the man who turns into a werewolf. I am not the same when I am creating as I am simply living as a girl. There's a complete change. Unstoppable and uncontrollable. The full moon rises so often (a blessing because it allows us to be so powerful and wild) but at times it is scary, and yes lonely, and I miss the girl and wonder when the moon will fall, if ever. And naturally, more people understand the girl than, the werewolf.



Oh the werewolf, oh the werewolf
Comes stepping along
He don't even break the branches where he's gone
Once I saw him in the moonlight, when the bats were a flying
I saw the werewolf, and the werewolf was crying

Cryin' nobody knows, nobody knows, body knows
How I loved the man, as I teared off his clothes
Cryin' nobody know, nobody knows my pain
When I see that it's risen; that full moon again

For the werewolf, for the werewolf has sympathy
For the werewolf, somebody like you and me.
And only he goes to me, man this little flute I play
All through the night, until the light of day, and we are doomed to play

For the werewolf, for the werewolf, has sympathy
For the werewolf, somebody like you and me