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Rage against the dying of the light

Scene: Two men dressed in business casual sitting at an East Village bar on a Friday night, ’70s punk rock playing in the background.

Friend: What have you been up to since Sabine’s been out of town?

Me: Uh… I went to The Strand for a couple of hours.

Friend: Lingered in the erotic art books section, did you?

Me: Ha ha, no, I bought (voice getting quieter as I realize what I’m saying) a Guy de Maupassant novel about the bitterness of growing old.

Friend: (Thoughtfully) I like to play classical music really loud when my wife and the baby go out of town.

Lights go out, curtain comes down.

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Too cool

According to the New York Times, Edward Albee’s estate is planning to sell the playwright’s art collection at Sotheby’s in an auction that’s expected to raise more than $9 million. My painting won’t be included in the sale because I used to be too cool for school.


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Not quite white

I was making my way back to work after lunch with a friend at La Loteria, one of the few Mexican restaurants I like in Manhattan.

I don’t like to walk around in Greenwich Village because I always get lost, but I do it because, as anyone will tell you, it’s rare to find good Mexican food in New York. I also like that place because most of the people working there seem to be Hispanic. I’m sorry to be so judgey, but I hate Mexican restaurants that only employ white waitstaff.

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A glitch in the matrix

As I do most nights (and as she described in this lovely article), I was reading to my wife in bed. This time, it was a very strange story about a community of people who believe a ’90s children’s movie starring Sinbad has disappeared, possibly due to a crossover with other dimensions, a glitch in the computer simulation we’re all living in, or simply a conspiracy (read it yourself, it’s amazing). Then the doorbell rang.

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