274: The case for religion: It is viable to live by that which cannot be disproven.
275: I have a closet full of unused items labelled Patent Pending. I’ve been meaning to contact the companies to see how it worked out for them.
276: We infantilize our dogs no matter how old they get.
277: Only a clairvoyant optometrist can successfully administer an eye-chart test to a clairvoyant.
278: Travels with Latte (1): Erin, Latte, and I are strolling the tiny Tuscan hill town of Monteriggioni (ringed by towers Dante called “horrific giants”). A woman approaches with a 5-year-old shyly behind: “My daughter fell in love with your dog in Florence!”
279: If Mount Everest weren’t there, we’d have no reason to climb it.
280: Has anyone ever “calmly” sunk two free throws with the game on the line? Has anyone ever “rested comfortably” in a hospital?
281: Early literary influences: Wrestling magazine caption: “A tangle of arms and legs.” Local sportscaster: “He beat him to a pulp. And then he beat up the pulp.” The comma in Alfred E. Neuman’s “What, me worry?”
282: Travels with Latte (2): Erin, Latte, and I are sitting on a boulder in Central Park overlooking the Boathouse Café. A pre-teen girl asks if she can pet our dog, which Latte tolerates. A few hours later, as we wait to cross 92ndand Broadway, a voice through a car window: “Hello, Latte!” The Central Park girl waves as the car turns down Broadway.
283: Prophetic entry from my 8thgrade journal: “In Science we went over chemical equations and actions for how electricity is produced in a dry cell. I don’t get it at all. I doubt if I’ll ever get it.”
284: Fragrance-free aromatherapy for the allergic.
285: When I am nine, I fall prey to a T.V. commercial for a cereal containing, for a limited time only, a lucky charm ring. I want the ring badly. I repeatedly tell my mother the name of the cereal, and, if she forgets, “Make sure you get a box with a picture of the lucky charm ring.” “I know, I know, lucky charm,” she says as she leaves. She returns home and triumphantly, with a “ta da!” pulls out the last item from the last bag: A box of ring-less Lucky Charm cereal.
286: Travels with Latte (3): Erin, Latte, and I are crossing Lucca’s empty Piazza dell’ Anfiteatro, early-morning. We hear a calling voice getting closer: “Latte?...No?...Yes?...Si! Latte!!” It’s Simone, who met Latte in a café a year ago. “Latte forgets, but I remember,” Simone says. Latte wags her tail, and we all start our day with a smile.
287: At the coffee shop, my friend asks the counterman, “If I order a hamburger do I get French fries with it?” “No, if you order a hamburger you get a hamburger; if you order French fries you get French fries....” “…But sometimes you don’t have to ask…” “Here you have to ask.” My friend holds his hand up and says, “It’s just not worth discussing.”
288: In the early ‘70s, I meet two Chicago poets browsing in the Eighth Street Bookstore. When they’re back in Chicago, we exchange poems, publish in each other’s magazines. They return to New York a year later, bringing along three friends, camping out in my living room. After a couple of days on the periphery of their bonhomie, I start to feel like an outsider, exacerbating my recent stretch of loneliness. Late one night, I retreat to the roof, where it is dark and chilly. I withdraw deeper into myself, and I fear going back down, where someone will surely ask me what’s wrong, as my face betrays a secret I have only told myself. One of the visitors appears and says, “You must spend a lot of time up here. Wow, you can see the river. There goes a ship.” I don’t tell that I have never looked at the river long enough to see a ship. We are joined by another, and another, until all five are with me once again. They ask questions about my life, and no one mentions my sadness, maybe they can’t see it in the dark. The chill accumulates into a shiver. Someone appears with wine—I didn’t notice him go back down. A few minutes later, someone else brings me a sweater. When the wine is gone, we return to the apartment. Soon they are all asleep, two on a couch, one in a chair, and two in sleeping bags. I go to my room, warm and happy, eager for breakfast.
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