Thunderstorms, heavy air, crickets, serious thoughts, freight trains, refrigerators, blondes, brunettes, Margaret, repressed memories, the father-son relationship, shotguns, Paris, London, Venice, Montana, New York, NEW YORK, the Subway, the El, the Metro.
Cali-fucking-fornia. Jesus. Get over it.
Airplanes, sailboats, rowboats, paddle boats, vintage convertibles. Escalators, snowglobes, the American flag, fireworks, the guy who wears a pocket square at a crowded party.
Brunettes. Soccer.
Sidelong glances (no one, in the history of human interaction, has given a sidelong glance. sorry).
Marxism, communism, democracy, Democracy, democrats, Democrats, Islamic Fundamentalism. French, scarfs.
Hunting, bourbon, the West, Argentina (sorry, seriously, it’s time).
Red wine (with the exception of certain big Cabern—NO ALL OF IT HAS TO GO)
War. Terror. Terrorism. Bomb shelters. Nuclear arms reduction treaties.
The devaluation of the yuan. Iranian nuclear program. The EU.
Vladimir Putin
Red, Black, White, Blue, Turquoise, most shades of gray, and definitely orange.
The flow of capital as a kind of postmodern sublime (shove off, will ya?). Paper jams. Commutes. Clock radios. Morning. Afternoon. Happy Hour. The small hours. The last hour. The Violet hour. Dawn. Dusk. High noon. Five o’clock somewhere. One more drink. Giving up smoking. Walking into a bar. Meeting at a bar. Saw you at a bar. Are we going to a bar.
