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Business Or Pleasure?
Boy, that John Cassavettes sure got himself in a pickle in The Killing of a Chinese Bookie. What great fun. I have it paused, indefinitely, so it will last longer.
This has been a real gas for me this Rappahannock sabbatical from the urban environment. There was a brief point where New Orleans and all its complexities disappeared like it one day will under twenty feet of water and I was all be here now and shit but I'm on the downhill side of my stay and I'm starting to yearn for fresh oysters and shrimp and the beginning of crawfish season in February. And I miss ghosts.
I guess I won't miss the heavy tourist inundation, I mean we're all tourists yeah, but in such a small town the overwhelming influx is sometimes disheartening.
I haven't looked up an old friend in DC but I could have, that was a possibility that existed for me. I drove up to NY a couple of times, met a few new people. That was fun.
I miss the shy waitresses at the Chinese Buffet on the West Bank.
And the plate lunches at the grocery on Canal and Carrollton.
I'm a bigtimer bopping to another country estate next weekend, up in PA., hey ma, look at me.
I've met a few bright children from the DC area who will be future diplomats, and senators, and heads of multinational corporations.
Met a few hippies.
Weather-wise, this may have been the most pleasant summer I've ever spent.
I had a swimming pool.
I had some ideas.
Pretty soon I'll be sitting on a porch in a New Orleans ghetto, thinking about breakfasts at the Country Cafe in Little Washington, and Rae's in Sperryville. The dealers will sling. I will stare at them with blank eyes. And we will all be minding our own fucking business.