frank rich's rhetoric is so good that it scares me. he manages to transform even the flabbiest of political mayhem into espionage-thriller-shoot-em-up-awesome. oh, go find it yourself.
dknapp left me a message hazarding a guess that "the time we are going to DO IT is nigh. nay. nigh." how long can you base a friendship on jokes about sexual tension? then i dreamt i was dating leonardo dicaprio. we were outside. i started my day with a trip to a post office in the ungentrified neighborhood north of fairmount around 19th to pick up the latest issue of cabinet. i waited for the belated 33 for 20 minutes in the always already cruel sun of 9:30am, thinking about my blind date tonight, my decade-long infatuation with sandy-haired protagonists. boys.
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3 comments:
a comment because it's quicker:
nyc is like a bathtub full of water that is too hot. you want to take a bath, you really do, but your skin hurts, and you worry that it could cause permanent damage.
so: will it cool?
i'm having some trouble with this metaphor, but okay. (why does your skin hurt again?)
i like that post office.
i also like your description of the dream, how it's not clear where that stops. "we were outside."
thanks.
why sticking my feet, or other parts, in the too-hot-water of nyc hurts is a good question. one, there is the intimidation of the prospect of trying to have a career there. also, simply the intimidation of being there, in all that activity. two, there is the anxiety of whether and how i would change if i lived there (permanent damage?): start believing in it all too wholeheartedly, become contemptuous of smaller ponds, poor people, children. become a snob, as it were. and acclimated to dissociation from nature.
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