GZ hangers

Complications set in. A pink shirt, a French blue shirt, some black polos.

Mainly, I sorted . . . hangers. Many wire hangers are now . . . in the middle. They must go. I do not remember what happened to the shirts. Surely there were shirts. But I am focusing on hangers per se.

I think the shirts went into a suitcase. The shirt-wearer has taken the suitcase and left.

The categories: blue, blue-and-white striped, and white.

Is it art or is it student housing? A first-year student presents a sculpture on the Brown campus. In the background, people wildly applaud Shakespeare’s Othello. That’s college culture. The sculpture is by . . .

1. Pick a big historical event with which, however mistakenly, people feel they are familiar. Alternatively, present an event so ridiculous it hardly matters.
2. Reduce it to six main characters (Henry the Whatever, fairies and/or transvestites). Read more…

Today I read again the commendation from then Secretary of the Navy Forrestal, recognizing the “courage and sacrifice” of my grandmother, who sent seven sons to fight in World War Two. Here’s to you, Catherine.

A few hundred students marched down the Barer Strasse to join others marching down the Schelling Strasse to protest tuition and the relatively-new European bachelor program; and to express solidarity with students occupying the Auditorium Maximum of the University of Vienna. Read more…

At about 8:30 pm, a few hundred students coming from the direction of the Technical University marched under my window on the Barer Strasse to join their counterparts marching down Schelling Strasse from the direction of the Ludwig-Maximilians University. Read more…

This is my friend Anna, also known as LadyButler. Anna’s closets actually look like this. It is a little scary and I try not to think about it too much. However, I do think–often–about my own shortcomings in this regard. I think how much nicer my life would be if my closets were not inhabited by demonic textiles.

I do know what the problem is, and I will not burden you with my personal neuroses. Just remember that the first short story of my adult life is called “The Closet and the Money,” and deals with the detritus of the Second World War, that somehow wound up stuffed in a standing closet in my childhood bedroom. That’s all I will say for now. Read more…

Goddess of Salvation Read more…