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Dispatches from Paris.
Preface to a 30-Volume Love Note. (I spent yesterday at a cottage out near Fontainebleau. The market was incredible. I tasted cheese from a woman's hand. The palace was garish ("barbaric" a friend of mine called it) and clarified why a nation might murder its kings. But I was there as a guest. I was there on someone else's time. I had never done anything like this.)
How I Met Your Mother. (I can now say that I what I immediately felt that day was thin. I shall speak responsibly and say that love is built on years of struggle, on business, on the tight-spots from which you brawl your way out. And I shall speak honestly and tell you that the my whole adult life has been built on something else--on thin feeling, on myth, on instinct, on the irrevocable desire to do the sort of filthy things that makes respectable people shriek, "Think of the children.")
If Ta-Nehisi Coates wrote about the phone book, I'd read it.
How I Met Your Mother. (I can now say that I what I immediately felt that day was thin. I shall speak responsibly and say that love is built on years of struggle, on business, on the tight-spots from which you brawl your way out. And I shall speak honestly and tell you that the my whole adult life has been built on something else--on thin feeling, on myth, on instinct, on the irrevocable desire to do the sort of filthy things that makes respectable people shriek, "Think of the children.")
If Ta-Nehisi Coates wrote about the phone book, I'd read it.
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*HUGS*
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Also he's not afraid to admit to personal bias, or to getting stuff wrong. He's absolutely part of my daily reading. (Except when he talks about rap or sports, as those are subjects I have no knowledge about, or interest in.)
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(I could so write it. Stupid copy right laws.)
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