Dan Aykroyd, writing about his romantic relationship with Carrie Fisher:
While in Chicago we obtained blood tests for compatibility from an East Indian female doctor. Contemplating marriage, I gave Carrie a sapphire ring and subsequently in the romance she gave me a Donald Roller Wilson oil painting of a monkey in a blue dress next to a tiny floating pencil, which I kept for years until it began to frighten my children.
The writeup is a bit bizarre, but really captures something of Carrie’s spirit.
I get the impression he’s summarizing that last event a bit.
Tuna Neck involved in “vibrant, wholly satisfying physical intimacy” is a vivid image I probably won’t forget. Even memories of a young, wholly vibrant DD won’t shake that.
Stream of (altered) consciousness?
This story reminds me that I do not like to read about stars and their love affairs. Thanks for the reminder.