Category Archives: Dreaming on Paper

Books are filthy. I found that out some months ago when I volunteered to help re-shelve books as part of a renovation project at the Mercantile Library in Manhattan. The library, founded by merchants in 1820—before there was a public … Continue reading →

The other day my friend Oliver and I rode the Quiet Car from Washington, D.C., to New York City. We were returning home from our separate Christmas visits, Oliver to a friend and a cousin, and I from my sister, … Continue reading →

To the extent that the world is striped it is a happy place. I call your attention to the following: awnings, beach umbrellas, cabana huts along the Riviera, gondolier’s shirts, straw hats, tigers and zebras, barber poles, candy canes and … Continue reading →

To relax this is what I do: I sit down at the computer pretending to be the curator of the world’s largest and most important museum of contemporary art. I am the ultimate arbiter of fine art, the highest court, … Continue reading →