an old writer and his words

  • ELLISON WAS HERE

    I still remember sitting raptly listening to youread a story you promised would bein your next collection, Harlan, or certainlythe one after that, after all you were a writerand without writing you were a marginalcharacter in the story of a city given overto film and television and you were no actor.You were fearless, you told…

    Lou Faber

  • POOR MAN’S SAUCE

    It was a four burner stovetwo of which still worked.Money was always tight,our parents refusing to understandwhat it cost beyond tuition, room and boardto be a student, forgiven for theyhad never gone to college.We became masters of cheap cooking,two steps beyond ketchup and waterbut the cheapest tomato saucewe could find, and sale herbswell past their…

    Lou Faber

  • AKASAKA

    It sits off an alleythat winds off an alleyhalfway up the hillyou climb from Akasakato Ropponggi, cursing the layoutof the subway at the endof a too long day of meetings.There are no plastic samplesin a glass case outside the doorjust a t-shirt and beer mug, forribs and fires don’t translate wellto polystyrene and the loudoldies…

    Lou Faber

  • SHORT LISTED

    A short list of my college learning: you can drink bad beer when it’s free,you can’t  cram for finals on caffeine alone,you can watch Star Trek episodes for the nth time,you can make spaghetti sauce out of ketchup,Naval ROTC cadets make great radio engineers,even the news director gets free LPs,mescaline is not advised for exam…

    Lou Faber

  • HARLAN

    You came, Harlan, to Rochestersomewhere in an endless winter,“Ellison in Tundraland” you said.We all chuckled approvingly. You said a short prayerclimbing into the rusting Opel,sliding on the edgeof oblivion, andthe approaching snowplow. You stood, hoarse, smellingof Borkum Riff and English Leather,a tweed jacket over a polo shirtand thinning jeansand told us of the insanityof television,…

    Lou Faber