My job is to give you a fine dining experience. The one where you cackle at my playful banter and leave nothing but cookie crumbles on the booth, a token of your humble gratitude.
At Your Service
Nana Faye
“I’m sure she is, Nana. I bet she’s looking down on you right now.”
Nana Faye snorted. It was odd to see the prim point of her nose turn up in such a way.
“No, I don’t think she is. I hope she’s with Elvis now… And Jesus too, of course.”
Before It’s Gone: Love, Writing, and a Presentiment of Loss
...Joan Didion once described keepers of private notebooks as “children afflicted apparently at birth with some presentiment of loss”
A Call
“Ah, nothing’s really wrong, you know. I was just watching the fireworks with my friends and, you know, thinking about how that’s another year down and… I don’t know, every year I come back here and do all the same things, see all the same people; it’s like this place is standing still. But not really, because whenever I come back the town’s a little more run-down, my friends are a bit older, the stuff we do is a bit less enjoyable. Everything’s just fading or something, I don’t know.”
Spring Nocturne, April 2022; Poissons (Sans Pains), Avec Du Vert, Etc. (upon Picasso’s Night Fishing in Antibes, 1939); Lush Life; Go Fish
It’s still sleeping-off the hoarfrost, heat drying wet night air, brute & fowl tucked into dwarf cottonwood, chollla...