Also Just In. Damn!

When it rains, it pours. And the rain in Maine is driving us insane.

Wondering what to do with all those mice, rats, and guinea pigs now that the family Burmese Python has escaped into the wild? Fret no more. Just contact Chelcea  (hey — her spelling, not ours) and she’ll take them off your hands. If Chelcea is not available,  ask for Igor.

Forever Home

This Just In

Attention! The city never sleeps and neither does the city desk. Your overseas investments may be taking a beating, but we might have found a silver lining in this trade war mess. Of course, if this doesn’t pan out, don’t blame us. You can always try working for a living.

Seeking Investor

Correspondence

My Dearest Hollingsworth,

What can I say? Congratulations old fellow on a capstone to a brilliant career. A thousand apologies for missing your publication party last month at the Faculty Club. Helen had a dreadfully aching molar that night that needed attending to, thus we found ourselves scrambling for a dentist at the last minute, the dismal results which of course were preordained by virtue of our location in a small Amish hamlet named Curdsburg, Pennsylvania. The Amish it seems have no urgent care clinics as they rely on folk remedies and the power of prayer. In the end a kindly doctor was found and the offending molar was plucked as if by a magician. As there were no ATM’s nearby, it took a bit of searching to locate a farmer willing to barter one of Helen’s almost finished Faroe Island cable knit sweaters for the several dozen eggs needed to pay his fee. By then we realized we would never make your party. I look forward to reading your book, and I do hope you will forgive me for being a Kindle unlimited subscriber. I know we authors make a lot of noise about that demon empire still a penny is a penny you know. My best to William as always.

Yours,

Applethorp

Dear Applethorp,

It’s a shame you missed the party. Your absence was never noticed, if that makes you feel any better. Bill decorated in a Great Gatsby theme— the Baz Luhrman version — and even managed to twist Leo’s arm into making a surprise appearance. I hardly see Bill this summer as he spends most of his time running parties for A-listers in the Hamptons, styling photo shoots for Conde Nast, and surfing off Montauk. Anyway, the book is a great success, no thanks to your review, by the way. Of course we have not always seen eye to eye but really, “the Artful Codger?” Harsh. I’m okay with a little shade but why throw the entire forest? Continue reading

Special Offer

Dear Exalted One,

How does that sound? Think you could get used to it? Well, we hope you are sitting down in your best leather club chair, sipping some rare 18 year old Yamakakaka Coffee Whiskey, because we here at International House of Banking have exciting news for you. Your impeccable credit score, buying habits, and frequent flyer mileage balance immediately qualifies you for an instant upgrade to Triple Diamond Premium Platinum Elite Titanium Status. This newest offering from IHB replaces the previous Triple Deluxe Elite Platinum Five Diamond Excellence Card, so you may cut that card in half.  Oh snap, you can’t — it’s constructed of a patented blend of carbon fiber, Kevlar and Tyvek, just like this offering card, which is why you sprained your wrist trying to tear this unbelievable offer in half before you even opened it. Continue reading

Unspooling

I arrived in Toronto on a Friday evening in late March. I believe it was cold but whether it was unseasonably cold or not I could not tell you. This is what I can tell you: That from the moment we touched down in the early dark a small clock began ticking deep within my core, a clock that for me would stop in less than 48 hours. That, had you been there with me, had you been my traveling companion, if you looked very carefully — with the most precise optics — you might have discovered a very fine thread, a fiber fine as spider silk, trailing back from the plane, across the western sky to southern California, and back East to western Massachusetts, and northwest to Ann Arbor, and then to Toronto, and back to Ann Arbor, and back to Boston, and back to a white Dutch Colonial house on a quiet shady street in a small college town, where, on the second floor, you would find me, holding my phone like a lost thought.  Continue reading

The River

The River

November, and I am standing under the light of an almost full moon, near the top of a wooded path that slopes down to a river. The moon has Jupiter for company, and I have Tango the leaf magnet. His fur seems to be unique in that each and every fine strand is lined with microscopic barbs that snag every small twig and dead leaf from the forest floor. At night, this is not much of an issue. But it is hard to look dignified walking a small terrier by day when he looks like he is wearing a ghillie suit.

The night air is cool but not cold, and something about the weather is not right. My eyes tell me it is fall, almost winter. The sun sets well before five, and, like a weakly lobbed softball, never really climbs that high in the sky before dropping in the southwest. The tree canopy overhead is bare of leaves, and through the black lattice of branches I see a few of the brightest stars, along with the moon. The first time I walk in autumn woods after the leaves have fallen I am always taken back to a childhood living room, listening to my mother read Halloween stories.  The comfort of yellow lamp light. A sofa with scratchy coarse green fabric. We would decorate our picture window with store bought and homemade pictures of witches, skeletons, and cats with arched backs.  The envy of the neighborhood. But tonight the air does not feel like winter approaching, it feels like spring — Continue reading

Ghosts in the Machine

We were on our way to pick up a dozen cheese pizzas from Joe’s Pizza near E. 14th and 3rd Ave. when we noticed the crossing sign was holding up the Black Power fist. Cool. The revolution was beginning! We figured this was the Bat Signal, going out all over the city. Figured we better get those pizzas and fast. And, by the way, we were standing in the middle of traffic to take this photo, thank you very much. Since this photo we have seen this aberration in various quarters of the city. Is it a rogue operator? An impish signal repairman? A Merry Prankster? If you know the answer, or are said operator/imp/Prankster, please write to us at: Apropopolis, 1507 7th St, Box 123, Santa Monica, CA 90401.

You might be rewarded for your efforts with a lovely bookmark.