Every year I run a race with June and I lose. Actually this seems to happen to most of the people I know. This year it wasn't creepy balance problems but employment, sickness, the scattering of my brain into its component spectrum of brain-rays.
J. said, “It sounds like you haven’t been writing a book lately—that you’ve been writing scenes. Maybe you need a retreat.”
How do you retreat when you’ve arranged your entire life as a retreat?
Occasionally the pedestrian crossing at University and MLK starts bellowing, “University and Martin Luther King! University and Martin Luther King!” It always sounds to me like it’s calling in an airstrike. I said so in front of J.’s parents and J. said I was sick.
I’m not the one who came up with Richard Scarry’s The Body in Pain.
