I am extremely tired. I am not sure how the end of this week came up so fast. I was almost literally falling asleep on my feet walking from Kendall to Davis last night. Nonetheless, I got through my doctor's appointments and one of them even went significantly better than expected. Despite yesterday's hell of public transit failure,
spatch and I managed to meet for dinner at a pop-up crossover with Mei Mei being hosted by Mamaleh's, meaning that he had the kung pao pastrami, I had the lox on scallion pancakes, and we got a tsimmes-style brisket bao on the house. Tomorrow my family is taking me on a pre-birthday outing and Sunday I will maybe sleep.
I have been invited to participate in Providence's inaugural Noir at the Bar in November. I have obviously said yes. Chances are good that I will read poetry and nonfiction and talk about women and uncertainty in classic film noir. It should be fun.
The trouble with having the line "You have made the wrong choice, sir—as usual" running through my head is that I feel much more sympathetically toward Gilbert Norrell than toward the majority of our Senate, my thoughts about whom bend much more in the direction of dying with blood in their throats.
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I have been invited to participate in Providence's inaugural Noir at the Bar in November. I have obviously said yes. Chances are good that I will read poetry and nonfiction and talk about women and uncertainty in classic film noir. It should be fun.
The trouble with having the line "You have made the wrong choice, sir—as usual" running through my head is that I feel much more sympathetically toward Gilbert Norrell than toward the majority of our Senate, my thoughts about whom bend much more in the direction of dying with blood in their throats.