I take walks with my dog at night. Walks eastward, or westward, which is longer. Sometimes southward, though never too far. Sometimes, when I’m feeling ambitious, south and then west, making a large loop of the grid. Never northward, though — or at least, never north of the levee, as there lies dangers. My nightlyContinue reading “The night flaneur”
Author Archives: A garrett renter on Welbeck St.
Fine dining in Superior California
Sometimes you just have to get away for a day or so. I ostensibly have a real engagement tomorrow, up here in the wilds of Northern California. A sub-committee meeting of the commune to which I belong. An event that, if all goes well, will be as boring as all sub-committee meetings ever and alwaysContinue reading “Fine dining in Superior California”
The Veblenesque orgy of the estate sale
So, the Didion estate sale was this week. It was, according to New York magazine (actually in two different sections, natch), the Paris Review, the LA Times, hell even the fecking Guardian, a somewhat astonishing frenzy-blend of hagiography, money, envy, and feminism. Did I bid on something? Yes. Was I prepared to pay even aContinue reading “The Veblenesque orgy of the estate sale”
You know that time when…
You’re sitting at home, and there’s nothing to drink — because your spouse took the last of box white up to bed — so you break out the limoncello and have it with soda water? You know that time? You know that lemony taste that you only get with certain very specific brands of chocolateContinue reading “You know that time when…”
Further adventures in far Northern California
We went to visit my parents this weekend. They live on a hippie commune in what could generously be described as “timber country” but should more accurately be termed “methland.” Our time there was on-brand. We drove three hours so that we could sit around in an apple orchard, eat fabulous cheese and partake ofContinue reading “Further adventures in far Northern California”
Day 3 of isolation
I have, basically, recovered. My spouse is sick, however. And my younger son coughed a little and complained of a headache after dinner. My parents are white-water rafting in Oregon at the moment, along with a cousin and my niece and nephew. There being no cell service, there is perforce no comfort or advice toContinue reading “Day 3 of isolation”
Day 2 of Isolation
Here’s the thing we always forget about illness: it’s boring, and it’s tedious. The dread of it, no so much. That involves a lot of cortisol, and ultimately (if it goes on too long) the kind of numbing hangover that comes with too much stimulation. But the thing itself? Boring as all hell. And asContinue reading “Day 2 of Isolation”
A homeless witch stole my son’s fairy garden
I hope she has joy in it.
Writing and booze
A friend from college — no, that’s not right. A friend who went to the same university as I did, and with whom I became friends later, recently sent me a podcast. As one does. “One” here meaning “not me” because I would never send someone a podcast. I’d lend them a book, sure. ButContinue reading “Writing and booze”
Problematizing Pleasure
I used to go two-stepping, back when I lived in Boston. I loved it while I did it, and remember fondly the evenings I so spent. My pleasure in that activity was contingent upon several premises, perhaps least among them the fact that the activity was explicitly and deliberately tobacco and alcohol-free (the organizers includedContinue reading “Problematizing Pleasure”