|I love the fences in this neighborhood.|
This sounds like the beginning of a poem or a letter, or an epistolary novel:
I will call when my first cup of coffee is brewed.
It has a certain cadence, no? Or perhaps after my many weeks of quiet, I am just encharmed with words and possibilities again.
Tonight I saw John Lithgow in the new play about Joseph Alsop, The Columnist. Holy shit, it was terrible. It might have been my worst theatrical experience since I saw a travelling production of Cats in San Franciso back in the 1980s. I was hard pressed to stay quietly in my seat when I wanted to stand up and scream "What the fuck?" Grace Gummer, Meryl Streep's daughter was in it also and she really needs to find another metier. Okay. Enough. I don't need to get steamed about it.