on myth. the foo-foo grocers near my father's house sold me a beautiful bottle of pomegranate juice last night. i 1) wanted to use the glass as a vase and 2) have a weird thing for persephone, so i guzzled it before we left for san francisco this morning. i haven't felt so ill since, er, new year's day.
on myth. scrawled at the upper left corner of my new chum, the oxford companion to english literature (1932):
TO THE VERY DEAREST MAN IN THE WORLD -on myth. joe and i crawled around los angeles and discovered a marvelous apartment - built c.1911, hardwood floors, fireplace in bedroom w/city views - in san francisco. i've determined that no zesty new city wants to take me in and help me figure out my twenties. this place has no great love for me, mind you, but my mail's already coming to this address. in this case, at least, i'll go for the path of least resistance.
"MAY FLIGHTS OF ANGELS SING YOU TO YOUR PROFESSORSHIP - "
AND
"THERE ARE MORE THINGS IN THIS BOOK THAN ARE DREAMT OF IN YOUR PORNOGRAPHY" -
LOVE ALWAYS -
PHYLLIS - FEB. 28 - 1959
jake and tom have, at long last and with great fanfare, taken to the web. they are fine men. visit them early and often.
the little-site-meter-that-could registered my ten thousandth visitor last week. though i failed to block my own page views for several of the first months online, it's pleasant to think that my mom and paul's mom have been checking up with me. ladies, friends, and random hits from developing countries, welcome and thanks.
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