I’m going to LA and New York for a flying visit (long story but I have a friend who works for Qantas, he gets flight benefits that he can give to friends, so a cheap business-class return ticket to LA is all happening. And cheap is like really cheap). We are leaving Easter Sunday. And it’s a weird thing to say, and almost unbelievable and dream-like, and I can’t believe all the elements of this following sentence are true, but: When I’m in Brooklyn, I hope to meet up with my literary agent. (I should say no news as yet re publishing; am hanging in there.)
I’ve been to NYC a couple of times before so have seen and done all the sights. All I want to do is walk across the bridge again, and walk the Highline. I haven’t been to LA but would like some t-shirts, maybe some shoes, and a Hollywood bus tour around the star residences, and also those celebrity hand-prints in the concrete outside the Chinese theatre, I want to do that too.
In other news, who knew that ee cummings was such a spunk? I didn’t. And he had terrific nail beds, too, in the last photo. I love it when I come across old photographs that somehow seem really contemporary. It makes them seem timeless and as if you could just meet up with them down the street for a coffee now. Check the pics with him smoking, and the way he is wrinkling his brow, those fingers placed just-so on his cheek or chin. If you saw one of them, you’d think: Oh interesting, he’s really natural and classic. But you see a bunch of them and you know, that was his shtick.