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NIGHT VISITOR
Across Bedford Avenuein the fourth floor windowthe antique bird printis bathed in the lightof a Chinese ginger jar lamp.Her shadow dancesacross the wall, armswrapped tightly around herselfin the sway of Terpsichoresinging her melancholy song.I hear onlythe cacophony of the drunkon the cornerbraying to the moonand the rumbleof the lorryon Tottenham Court Road. First Published in…
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GOOD LUCK WITH THAT
The fortune cookies of my childhoodwere far more interesting, or somy memory would have it.The cookies offered wisdomof the East, or so it seemedto a 10-year-old, but perhapsit was the same mumbo-jumboin the bulk print today, nowthat the cookies, which oncetasted good, unlike today’sorigami cardboard, werefolded by hand, and therewere no lotteries then, sothere was…
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TIME WHEN
There waa a time whennews wasn’t news, carriedby mouth, one personto another a game of telephonebefore that concept existed. Newspapers promised usthe news, but in the timeit took to write and print it,it was nearly news,or at worst slightly olds. Now the world is alwaysavailable instantly, but weknow or should, that halfof the time we…
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SUBSTITUTE
Language is becoming a poor substitutealthough I have no word for what it isthat it is a poor substitute for at present. I grabbed an organic bananafrom the refrigerator this morningand paused to wonder if there areinorganic bananas somewhere. My New York Times, as usual, offeredAll The News That Is Fit To Printbut I really…
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an old writer and his words 