whatmoonsongs

Something wonderful happened today. I was wandering around town, sort of killing time, having done this and that, but nothing much to speak of (except that I saw a woman on stilts with a sign on her back that read, "Everything is under control."). I happened to pass Tulio (the restaurant of my hotel) on my way home, and as I did, the bartender looked up from his was book. I smiled at him and decided, in that instant, to stop in and say "hi". He made me a top shelf margarita with Chambord and asked what I was up to. I pulled two postcards from my purse and placed them on the bar, in front of him. "Oh! James Dean."

"No.", I said. "Kerouac. I was shopping for frames."

"When I was working on my M.F.A., I took a class on the Beats.", he said.

"Did you like it?"

"No. I'm a classicist."

I suddenly respected and took a strange comfort in his well-read-ness and demanded that he suggest some material. He said he could give me a list five hundred titles long, but I told him that one would be fine. He walked to the other end of the bar and returned a moment later with a note that said:

Lawrence Durrell
Justine

"If you buy this book, I'll reimburse you for it. This book will change your life," he declared. And I felt so compelled and excited like I haven't in a really long time. And I felt that I was being looked out for and stimulated and challenged by someone who could see that I needed it so badly. I can't remember the last time someone picked my brain or forced an issue or shared a passion. What a wonderful thing.