Preacher from "The Preacher's Legend"

Preacher:
Well…I uh nevah thought that mistuh Jesus wuld come to mah house. I thought I wanted dat but iz turn out I don’t. Ain’t nuffen wrong wit dat. I’m glad mistuh capote led me stay home. Iz didn’t spec I had da strength en meh tu stay home cause I wunted tu see mah ol’ woman Evelina but I let mistuh jesus know to tell hu how good an happy man I is.

My thoughts:
When I interviewed the preacher, it was very hard to understand what he was saying. He also kept looking out the window in a paranoid way; my guess would be because he was nervous “mistuh jesus” would come back for him. His cabin was very nice, there weren’t any weeds outside and he had his little bible on the coffee table. I didn’t get much from this interview because he seemed annoyed by my presence. I was only there for about 5 minutes. I think he just wants to be alone for the rest of his life. I also had to tape record our conversation because of his pronunciation of words.  In the end, I just decided to let the old man be by himself. Oh and on my way out I ran into “mistuh jesus,” and he told me that he was on his way back to get some water from the old man like he promised. Since then, neither Jesus nor Preacher were ever seen from again.

Here's a candid shot of him I found on the floor of his cabin: 

Mrs. Miriam from Truman Capote's "Miriam"

Mrs. Miriam:

At first I thought it mighty exciting to meet the young girl at the theatre. She made me feel young again; I mean who would’ve thought that a woman at my age would daringly buy a ticket for a young girl illegally at the picture film? I felt like a criminal, but it was unfortunately the wrong thing to do. It’s not terribly common to meet a little girl at a movie at night, which is why I felt eerily excited. It wasn’t until that dreadful night that Mr. Capote turned my simple life into a quite awful one. I find it rude that Mr. Capote would put a creature like that girl into my life. It exhausted me. I suppose you could say that I was afraid of this little girl because of the way she followed me. Which is why I am infuriated. For heaven’s sake, why did you throw this upon me Mr. Capote? I hear that you wanted my simple life of routine to be taken away. I have evidence of this because near the end of this little story you state, “for the only thing she had lost to Miriam was her identity” (Capote 49).

My, is this vulgar girl meant to be this thing that I have always been afraid of? This fear, if I may say, of me having to step out of my comfort zone and become social, rather than being a recluse. It’s ridiculous. I have always had the fear that some person or thing would corrupt my dear life, but oh how to have a young fearsome being do that to me. Please child- I know life is supposed to be erratic, but how dare you mister. When I told the young girl, “suppose-perhaps you should put it back,” I not only wanted her to put my brooch from my husband back, but also my simple life (Capote 42). It is cruel to treat an old woman like that Mr. Capote. This child has taken away my life. Now I am too exhausted to know what to do next.

Here are some gruesome pictures I captured for the police men:

Breakfast at Tiffany's Holly Golightly

Holly Golightly:

Well I find it absolutely ridiculous when people think that I am a phony.  I am very real. I simply worship those who are adoring me. That does not mean I am phony. Darling, I am just a filles living in this wonderful world. Why should I not embrace it? Now there are some guys that are just beasts, but I just get tiresome of it so I leave them be. That doesn’t mean I am a phony, I just have to throw them out, especially if they wash enough wine down to bathe an elephant. On the topic of boys, I would like to say that I have trained myself to like them, well the older ones that is. The older ones give me enough money for the powder room, so I find them delicate to put up with. “I suppose you think I’m very brazen. Or trés fou. Or something.” Well it’s useful to me if you call me that because everybody else does, I am just used to these horrors of the way people talk to me. I know what my snob O.J. said about me to poor Fred. He said that, “She’s a phony. But on the other hand you’re right. She isn’t a phony because she’s a real phony” (Capote 30).  But darling, I didn’t care, I just told him to light me a cigarette.

            Oh my cat. The poor slob doesn’t have a name, but we don’t belong to each other so I don’t have the right to give him a name. Why should I give him a name when I don’t even know where I belong. This is very real of me because I am trying to give the darling a place to stay for the time, but he can’t stay with me. I am honest to the cat. I wish the darling had a name because it’s inconvenient, but “he’ll have to wait until he belongs to somebody” (Capote 39). I stated in the novella that, “he’s an independent, and so am I. I don’t want to own anything until I know I’ve found the place where me and things belong together” (Capote 39).  How much realer can I get? The day I left that poor little slob, I ran to get him back. But it was his time to go find his place.

            Some people may look at my lifestyle as gaudy, fake, or flashy, but I’m just natural. I was given my character early in life, so I know I am a real one. I lie, yes, and I am good at making an agonized confession, but God everyone does that.  What girl would go to the powder room with no change? I might let a little lie about how much I need, but it’s tacky to only have 25 cents, everyone knows that. You just have to present a little proof that you need the money. There has been some silly controversy about when I stated, “I haven’t anything against whores. Except this: some of them may have an honest tongue but they all have dishonest hearts. I mean you can’t bang the guy and cash his checks and at least not try to believe you love him. I never have” (Capote 82). It might seem fake of me darling to admit in a nonchalant way that I never fell in love with guys that gave me some money, but I honestly didn’t. I am not a slut or dyke either, although I would like to live with a dyke. They are just very clean. Et pourquois pas? Because I’m rather honest about life. More of an unto-myself type honest, no person is law-type honest and that is a fact. To end this little interview of ours darling, I will stick to the statement I made later in the novella, “Be anything but a coward, a pretender, an emotional crook, a whore: I’d rather have cancer than a dishonest heart” (Capote 83). 

Look at this great picture of me: