Monday, August 21, 2006


Yesterday I stopped in at a new bookstore on Broadway, 'City Bookshop Inc." to look for some Durrell. They had none. They also did not have any Purdy and I was turning to go when a cover caught my eye:

I am 33 pages into it and damn! I mean I love Neruda anyway but this was the slap across the cheek I needed. The hollows of my cheeks were drawn and moist. Hunger.

I was tempted to call up "A" and read all 33 pages to him but alas my minutes had run out and so I kept it to myself. It is the thought that counts though. Right?

I also jotted down a quick piece today.
More than rough around the edges but it is

I am watching "Murder Ahoy" for the umpteenth time.
I want a t-shirt with Dame Margaret Rutherford on it.


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