It Was The Hat. He Looked Sweet

I Guess It's Always Romantic When Two People Fall In Love.... Even If It Turns Out Not To Be Real.

I Wonder What Proust Would Have Made Of Our Present-day Locus Of Collective Fantasy, The Internet. I’m Guessing He Would Have Seized On Its Wistful Aspect, Pointing Out Gently And With Wry Humor That Much Of What Beguiles Us Is The Act Of Reaching For What Isn’t There.

The Answers Were Maddeningly Absent—it Was Like Trying To Remember A Song That You Knew Made You Feel A Certain Way, Without A Title, Artist, Or Even A Few Bars To Bring It Back.

Nineteen Eighty Is Almost Here, Thank God. The Hippies Are Getting Old, They Blew Their Brains On Acid And Now They're Begging On Street Corners All Over San Francisco. Their Hair Is Tangled And Their Bare Feet Are Thick And Gray As Shoes. We're Sick Of Them.

If You Don't Have People That The Reader Cares About And Stories That Are Gripping, You've Got Nothing.