I am just a poor boyThough my story’s seldom toldI have squandered my resistanceFor a pocketful of mumblesSuch are promisesAll lies and jestStill a man hears what he wants to hearAnd disregards the rest
NEW YORKER THURSDAY IN THE MAIL, A LESSON IN READING
The New Yorker magazine is my only subscription and I’m surprised how much fun it is. I actually look forward to it, which has been a surprise over the past year. I know what I’m doing on New Yorker Day:
MIDNIGHT TRAIN GOING ANYWHERE?
The midnight train is always going somewhere. You and I? Not so much. Oh, we’re going somewhere, too, but we don’t know where that is. And we’re not supposed to.
MICRO MEMOIR II: LEAVING TOWN CHRISTMAS PARTY
Leaving town used to be easy, if I remember right. Pack a bag, get in a car, hop on bus, and leave. “I’ll be there in a few days.” Same story going out to Brooklyn as leaving:
TEFLON DON TO VELCRO DON
Teflon Don was the name given to John Gotti for his slipperiness with law enforcement. Nothing stuck. They had the old gangster right up until it mattered. But he didn’t fit the old gangster mold. The big guy worked another angle. For this post I use only the most impeccable sources.
EFFICIENT DEXTERITY FOR DIFFICULT TIMES
Efficient dexterity means different things to different people? Like everything you try for the first time, or the millionth time, always remember one thing: Everyone is different and what matters to you and I doesn’t matter for everyone else. If you’re reading this I’m bunching you with my other readers. “BUNCH.” Now we’re all gathered […]
MARRIED LIFE GOING LONG, LONGER, KEEP GOING
Married life seems long when you think how long you’ve been married. Then someone else says they’ve been married longer and calls you newly weds. Newly weds after thirty-seven years? That’s it? I keep it more basic: Every day has a first date feel. You remember first dates?
BOOK HOARDING ADVICE FOR BEGINNERS
Book hoarding is not a disease. If that makes you feel better, you might be a librarian. Not a librarian, but still have loads of books? Still not a disease, and here’s why: