Jacob Lawrence, This is harlem (1943)
Jacob Lawrence, This is Harlem (1943)
Can a Game Be Literature?

Mark's Pages

February 10, 2012:

But, you know. It's crowded. Cars for blocks, people for blocks, cops everywhere. You have to hunt for parking. The only time I remember ever hunting for parking was for midnight showings of The Rocky Horror Picture Show at The Strand, which incidentally is now a great ugly t-shirt barn.

Consuelo's is now Der Kaiserhoff. Margarita's is still there but now it's a diner. Blazing Scissors is gone. The Black is absolutely immutable, the same Bob Marley poster in the same corner of the same wall as if Time had peeked in and said to itself, "Gack! Get that grow light out of my eyes!", and turned away blinking.

Realize: if any of our frequent pregnancy scares in 1983 had as they say born fruit, that fruit would now be one of these trendies, under a sidewalk umbrella sipping microbrew outside the Blue Parrot or Raglan.

And that's enough of that.