Every so often, I try to clear a little space on my already overstuffed bookshelves. Today I’m leaving two books on my porch, one of which had a big effect on me when I first read it–and possibly on two people who didn’t.
It won’t come as a surprise to learn that I’m not comfortable dancing. That’s exactly why last year, for my wife’s birthday, I signed us up for dance classes. The gift was not me learning to dance, it was my willingness to put up with the humiliation of taking dance classes.
Last week I was looking for my boss when I noticed Nabokov’s Pale Fire on a colleague’s desk. I asked her, “Are you reading this?” Realizing how condescending that sounded, I tried to make a joke of it and added, “Or what?”
A girl in college once told me she thought that people who liked the same bands could probably be friends. Her sentiment struck me as terribly naïve, but it’s taken me two decades to question my own assumption that people who like the same books share a sensibility. Last week my wife and I wentContinue reading “Don’t judge a book by its readers”
Here’s a sad story. When the weather allows, I like to take a break from work and visit the Strand’s kiosk in Central Park. While there, I methodically browse through all the books on sale, starting at one end and making my way to the other without skipping a single book. But this isn’t the sadContinue reading “A disturbing peek into my psyche”
At a recent night out with another couple, we followed Indian food with a nightcap at Rolf’s, a German restaurant. (Thankfully the ethnic leap was mitigated by the bartender, who was Bangladeshi.) It’s not often that I get to talk about my literary obsessions with a willing participant, so I drunkenly tried to keep upContinue reading “An eye for an eye”
I’ve shaved off my beard. Again. I try to grow a beard at least a couple of times a year, each time believing that this time will be the time that I keep it, this will be the time when I will become a bearded man. But I always give up and shave it offContinue reading “The beard of Sisyphus”
Earlier this week I received an invitation to a gallery opening from an artist I hadn’t heard from in many years – and whom I hadn’t seen since our one and only date about ten years ago. I met her when I worked at an art gallery in Harlem. It was rare to get visitorsContinue reading “The return of the rhizome”