Oh? Now tell me your gut reaction to the following words. Colonial.
Dellahay. Wood. Patio. Five Pieces. Sun resistant, wind resistant, Judgment
Day resistant. Amazing value at just $299. And consider the Dellahay motto
neatly inscribed on their cute little tags: 'Patio furniture isn't furniture. It's a
state of mind.' " Dad smiled, putting his arm around me as he pushed me
gently toward Garden. "I'll give you ten thousand dollars if you can tell me
what that means.
Always live your life with your biography in mind," Dad was fond of saying.
"Naturally, it won't be published unless you have a Magnificent Reason,
but at the very least you will be living grandly.
America's greatest revelation was not the atom bomb, not Fundamentalism,
not fat farms, not Elvis, not even the quite astute observation that
gentlemen prefer blondes, but the great heights to which she has propelled
ice cream.
I'd have to, if on Sunday I wanted to run
off with some "slack-jawed Suzy," some "invertebrate," a "post-pubescent
wasteoid who imagines the Khmer Rouge to be makeup and Guerrilla Warfare
to be that rivalry which occurs between apes.
Well, everyone and their grandmother knows she's still
banging Charles after all these years —"
"Like a screen in a tornado. Sure.
We were freshman, taking her film class, and we'd spend hours after school sitting in her classroom talking about any old thing—life, sex, Forrest Gump.
Marisha PesslIf all histories have a period known as The Golden Age, somewhere between
The Beginning and The End, I suppose those Sundays during Fall Semester
at Hannah's were just that, or, to quote one of Dad's treasured
characters of cinema, the illustrious Norma Desmond as she recalled the lost
era of silent film: "We didn't need dialogue. We had faces.
Connie Madison Parker, age 36, on Merchandise: "You got to put your
goods on display, babe. Otherwise, not only will the boys ignore you but—an'
trust me on this, my sister's flat as you—we're talkin' the Great Plains of East Texas — no landmarks — one day you'll look down and have no wares at all.
What'll you do then?
Fuck you," she said, giggling. "And your little dog too.
Marisha PesslAs far as one journeys, as much as a man sees, from the turrets of the Taj
Mahal to the Siberian wilds, he may eventually come to an unfortunate
conclusion —usually while he's lying in bed, staring at the thatched ceiling of
some substandard accommodation in Indochina," writes Swithin in his last
book, the posthumously published Whereabouts, 1917 (1918). "It is impossible
to rid himself of the relentless, cloying fever commonly known as Home.
After seventy-three years of anguish I have found a cure, however. You must
go home again, grit your teeth and however arduous the exercise, determine,
without embellishment, your exact coordinates at Home, your longitudes
and latitudes. Only then, will you stop looking back and see the spectacular
view in front of you.
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