an old writer and his words

  • 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

  • DRINKING TEA IN KABUL*

    Rockets flash brieflyacross the chilled sky,plumes of smoke, ashcarried offby impending winter. Over the lintel of the entryto the Inter-Continental Hotel Chicago,carved deeply into the marbleEs Salamu Aleikumstaring implacablythrough ponderousbrass framed doorsonto the Miracle Mile.Countless guestspass below itunseeing. My son and Isit across a small tablespilling bits of tapasonto the cloth,laughing lightlyat the young boybathed…

    Lou Faber

  • FIFTEEN MINUTES IN A LIFE

    I walked slowly into the darkened showroom of the tattoo parlor, walls lined with the wares of the burly, bearded man dragon rampant on his chest barely contained by the Harley T-shirt. Look around, he said, till you see what you want, I’ll be here. On one wall all manner of dragons and other dreamlike…

    Lou Faber

  • OH, REALLY?

    The box said all natural. That alone was nothing unusual, but it was on tomatoes. How, he wondered, could tomatoes but unnatural, or worse still partially natural, partially not. Had they cloned the tomato? Would cloning make it unnatural, and if so, how could you tell it from the original which was natural? And these…

    Lou Faber