Archive April 2009

My mind is like your nose 0

Dear Bradshaw,

¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† With head magnetized to the pillow, I buried myself in bed last night and tried to fall asleep. But a hammer pounding into my forehead prevented that from happening. I felt better this morning, throbbing headache and fever gone, but my nose was running like an Olympic track star. I’ve blown so much mucus through my nostrils today I’m surprised there’s anything left of me. continue reading »

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Feeling like a fool 0

Dear Bradshaw, 

¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† As you know, we spent the weekend in Sabaudia. I’ve told you about this place, three-stories, with a huge patio and garden. As it had been raining previous to our departure, Francesca warned me about the wet tiles on the patio and how slippery they were. Having been there many times before, I knew she was right, but stormed up and down the stairs anyway. continue reading »

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Julius Caesar’s footprints 0

Dear Bradshaw,

¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Here we are = Sabaudia. Beautiful. Bob Dylan’s Tambourine Man is playing on the Pod, local red wine is in the glass, a flame is flickering on the tip of a candle, cheese, olives and sun-dried tomatoes are on a plate on the coffee table, it’s Saturday, meaning we have two more days of this. Jimi’s here and has already knocked over a few things, disguised herself with dust, and is currently running up and down the stairs. We’ve got a Cohiba cigar, one of Cuba’s finest, fresh mozzarella in the fridge, three huge bottles of Sabaudia wine, and a forecast of relaxation. And now, my friend, I’m going to eat another olive. continue reading »

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Earthquake! 0

Yo Shaw!

¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Earthquake! Six point something and let me tell you, pal, though I’m from California and am used to earthquakes, it’s quite a different bullet to bite when you’re on the eighth floor of a very old and very (in my opinion) unstable building in one of the most ancient cities in the world. The epicenter was sixty miles away and I woke to the bedroom rocking and rolling without music. There’s a bookcase in our living room, about ten feet high, and I heard it creaking to and fro, while the chandelier above our bed was swinging back and forth. continue reading »

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See my thumb? Gee you’re dumb. 0

Dear Bradshaw,

¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† April Fool’s, partner!¬† Wait a minute. What’d you say? I’m a fool? Is that what you’re insinuating? Did you just spit in my face? I’d say you practically poked me in the eye, pal. Who do you think you are calling me, me! a fool? Here I am writing you religiously like a priest or a rabbi or a rocket and you call me a fool.

¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Oh well, on to something else… I have this strange habit where I fart and hiccup at the same time. It’s weird, especially when I also cough and sneeze while it’s happening. You ever see anybody do that? Say, for example, when you’re in anger management or church or scrubbing the floor with your toothbrush, have you ever seen anybody fart, hiccup, cough and sneeze at the same time? Well, it happens to me.

¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† April Fool’s, April Fool’s, April Fool’s. They say that if you read April Fool’s three times in a row, you’re a fool. Ha! How’s that? Roles reversed! Now you, bub, are the fool. I just spit in your face. I poked you in the eye. Who do I think I am calling you, you! a fool? Here I am writing you religiously like a priest or a rabbi or a rocket and I call you a fool.

¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Well, that’s that, I’m going to give this goose the gut. I’m going to stick this stone in the street. I’m going to take this train to the track. See my thumb? Gee you’re dumb. See my pinky? Gee you’re stinky.

¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† April Fool’s, fool!

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