March or Parade? Does it matter? Is the divide real or one only of words?
My memories of the Stonewall Inn that Friday night in June, 1969 seem real enough. But did things really happen as I remember or was the reality somewhat different?
Narcissus Yellow Ocean and a Conradian yarn
A friend in California calls the New England spring ‘the green wall’. I hadn’t thought of it in such terms but she’s right. As the trees leaf out, copper and green, they shut down views, arch over roads, insist on being noticed as they point the way toward summer.
I know we’re all sick to death of conspiracy theories which is why I want to tell you about a new one I might have invented.
Or perhaps experienced a sequence of mental events that could, all things being equal, have had me going around the house with a hammer knocking holes in the drywall instead of typing on my MacBook Pro.
You may have noticed that watching TV’s an excellent way to stop yourself thinking.
Last week, when I was holding my little dog as she was dying from a tumor on her liver, for a distraction I Netflixed some Zack Snyder movies. I couldn’t tell you how I got there; I was curious about Rebel Moon?
I’d been in the middle of writing about my visit to the local cineplex for its special Christmas showing of Die Hard, which I’d never seen in full, certainly not on a big screen, and how the ‘merry’ in ‘Merry Christmas’ doesn’t actually mean happy, or at least that’s not its original, far richer meaning—
