Monday, February 25, 2008
The other night, after a very delicious daube and some homemade pudding at my friend Lily's house, I came home to find the apartment occupied by Slim and his high school friend Jim. They were blasting Anthony Braxton and drinking whiskey out of coffee mugs. They'd also watched TV with Bonecrusher for a while. When I asked Jim what was new in his life, he replied that he was madly in love and that it was life-changing, in the best possible way. They met at his sister's wedding under the most romantic possible circumstances.
In other news: Warren just turned 25, so some of the gang dined at a venerable local restaurant whose suave Italian owner was just busted for mob racketeering. Shared by me, Maeve and Maxine: a stuffed artichoke.
I put to the table that age-old question: how do contemporary dwarves feel about their role in mythology? I think if I were a living link to Aphrodite's girdle, I'd be pretty pleased with myself. But then, I have always claimed Silkie blood on the most tenuous of grounds, and I'm not even a great swimmer.