"You may find that 'having' is not so pleasing a thing, after all, as 'wanting'. It is not logical, but it is often true."
Tiny yellow leaves pile in on the sidewalk, small fans, skirts of fairies, a mound of rustling gold. Breeze ruffles them, and they glitter on the ground.
What color today, do you think?
“You’re running lights, helping with strike, taking apart a set, all that techie stuff, right? So, black.”
It’s not like they’ll show.
“I know. But still.”
Black it is.
“Lookit them thighs! Girl, you could crack nuts with them thighs! You could kill a man!”
This makes me grin in rememberance. “My partner can crack walnuts with her thighs” was a line my partner used to use in our show. I sat on his shoulders eating torches blindfolded while he juggled two beanbag balls and an apple. But we haven’t done that show for so long; it’s been ten or eleven years now since my thighs have been assesed as weapons.
“I’m not really trying to read your handwriting,” he says, leaning over me. “I’m just looking at your tits.”
This is the price I pay for not drinking my beer at home.
After months of anticipation, I finally go to Vaccaro’s Pasticcioria on Monday night for pastry and coffee. The coffees are marvelous. The pasteries, not so much. The Napoleon and the cookies are disappointing, though Coco is happy with something called 'Vesuvius.' The cream puff-chocolate mousse-crushed Oreo cookie concotion that I order is less satisfying than I’d hoped.
But the most horrifying bit of all this is that I remembered the quote verbatim.
(Spock to T’pring in Amok Time; Star Trek, the original series)