Every Tuesday I do this #Brutalist Commute to Reinach.
Self-Portrait with Marcel.
Obviously the battle lines had been pre-fabricated. Imagine Joan’s fury if she ever discovered she was dating Altman in her present incarnation (as me). As it turned out, it was a mistake: I had confused Robert Altman for Robert Aldrich. It didn’t matter: before long I was sans boyfriend: passed over for an existence that featured wife, condo and a grey mini-van. I was much consoled when a ...
I. the perfume shop Before I discovered the little East Village Fragrance Shop, I had opted for the clean citrus-y notes of Dior’s Fahrenheit for Men. It suited me and few women wore it, at least none that I knew of. The store was owned by Lalita who was Thai —and kept the staff that way. It was a small bountiful boutique crammed with creams, soaps, and spa treatments: candles, face masks, ...
It would be a second death, after all, most insects undergo a pupal transformation--most notably Lepidoptera--the cocoon stage, I believe this to be the actual model for the ancient Egyptian mummy. They weren’t trying to preserve the mortal body, rather they swaddled it, cocoon-like, knowing that at some point the outer casing would decay and free the immortal soul to go into it’s ...
Dear_____ The news of your wedding came this afternoon. How the world has changed. I think of you and the summer we met. You and the Shepardess and Keith and Colin—and Mitch and mini-Mitch (and a host of co-workers whose names don’t come to mind readily…) You sneaking off to see Run Lola, Run; taking the early afternoon train to Pennsylvania—your broken heart; the under-pay; the string of ...