Flings
“and a story called “The Light of the World” which nobody else ever liked.
—Hemingway, “Preface to ‘The First Forty-nine’”
Caleb is good-looking and something of a fashionista—whatever that means. You’re not sure, but it’s the word you think of when you think of your old friend who these days blogs album reviews for a national fashion magazine and writes art reviews for a print-only underground literary annual called—for no reason you can discern—Farm Report. Back in August, for your golden birt...hday, i.e., the day one turns the same age as one’s date of birth—twenty-nine on the twenty-ninth, in your case—Caleb got you each an eight ball and took you out for a crosstown spree: the Maritime Hotel, the Jane, a pit stop at the Spotted Pig for burgers before heading to the LES—“Lush Life land,” quoth Caleb, never one to shrink from irony though it’s a safe bet he hasn’t read the book.
You finally cabbed it home at sunrise, slept clear through the afternoon, and woke up to a prodigious nosebleed—straight-up terror, fucking swimming in your own blood—itself the herald of a sinus disaster that swelled your whole face up and kept you out of the office for three days.MoreLess
—Hemingway, “Preface to ‘The First Forty-nine’”
Caleb is good-looking and something of a fashionista—whatever that means. You’re not sure, but it’s the word you think of when you think of your old friend who these days blogs album reviews for a national fashion magazine and writes art reviews for a print-only underground literary annual called—for no reason you can discern—Farm Report. Back in August, for your golden birt...hday, i.e., the day one turns the same age as one’s date of birth—twenty-nine on the twenty-ninth, in your case—Caleb got you each an eight ball and took you out for a crosstown spree: the Maritime Hotel, the Jane, a pit stop at the Spotted Pig for burgers before heading to the LES—“Lush Life land,” quoth Caleb, never one to shrink from irony though it’s a safe bet he hasn’t read the book.
You finally cabbed it home at sunrise, slept clear through the afternoon, and woke up to a prodigious nosebleed—straight-up terror, fucking swimming in your own blood—itself the herald of a sinus disaster that swelled your whole face up and kept you out of the office for three days.MoreLess
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