Adieu

R.I.P. Stan My beloved husband.  March 10, 1939 – January 8, 2020. I miss you so.   Penny

Why not?

Temptations to provocation arise everywhere nowadays. Not merely in the public forum but around the dinner table and in the gatherings of extended family. Opinions sprout with pugnacious energy.

Boyhood

That magic zone of love without possession, of work as game and game as life itself, the heart unprotected, the imagination unbound, was an incipiency, a hint or sketch of what another kind of human life might be.

Oxtail

Slabs of oxtail jelly, Penny’s fresh-baked bread, chicken-liver paté, a side of lightly sautéed, sliced brussel-sprouts, a nice domestic gewürztraminer. I make a mental note to have pickled beets the next time we do this.

Sushi Barn

Comic mashup of architectural junk, fake artefacts, labels, copies neither-more-nor-less authentic than the originals, ready-mades from our very real present. People in this world, even in dire situations, similarly encrypted by bad jeans, say, or an outdated and ugly camo-pattern headscarf.