Letters From the Bathroom Being of an age by which time has provided me with a whole lot to say, but with so little time left to get it said, I have gone the way of one of my heroes: the Great Gabriel Garcia Marquez: When he was intent upon the mountainous task of writing his hundred year family chronicle, One Hundred Years of Soliitiude, but without anything like a hundred years to write it, his wife locked him in the bathroom to get it done. And so shje did and he did his business. So he said. We know he wrote the book in good time, and I know he has also said that the actual events of life are so bazare that there is no need to make anything up, but that doesn’t rule out a certain amount of EXAGGERATION in that book, or in his locked- in-the-bathroom story, and I no longer even have Georgia to lock me in the bathroom, but in the spirit of the thing. I can certaonly lock myself in, and I will so do, and so while I am here in the bathroom I will surely drop some chapters.