A lot o' people don't realize what's really going on. They view life as a bunch o' unconnected incidents 'n things. They don't realize that there's this, like, lattice o' coincidence that lays on top o' everything. Give you an example; show you what I mean: suppose you're thinkin' about a plate o' shrimp. Suddenly someone'll say, like, plate, or shrimp, or plate o' shrimp out of the blue, no explanation. No point in lookin' for one, either. It's all part of a cosmic unconciousness.
You eat a lot of acid, Miller, back in the hippie days?
This got brought up because of a post on the Film Score Monthly message board about Elia Kazan and a screening of A Streetcar Named Desire and I had been listening to the score only a little while ago. Plate of shrimp indeed...