The bar you’d sometimes go to after you bought a book at Strand or a new notebook at B&N and wanted to just look at them by yourself and have a pint in front of you while you did. I walked by it yesterday and it’s open partially. The outside bit is a new thing. The food is nothing special, nor is the way they pull a pint. But it’s a very great space. It used to be part of Letterman’s opening montage. It’s been some kind of tavern since 1892. First German, since Irish though the quirky son of the son says it’s not an Irish bar, it’s an American bar.

 

 

FOREVER YOUNG. OY.

I bought a book this morning

that just came out

written by a young woman

my daughters’ age

which I try not to do

or to listen to music that’s for them

or watch what they’re bingeing on.

I don’t watch Saturday Night Live either because

if I’m watching it at 73 is it contraband anymore?

Kids and grandchildren need contraband.

When I was home from college and

getting ready to go out and

had The Mamas and The Papas on

the record player

my father didn’t 

stick his head

in the door and say

he really liked that new song

that Mama Cass was belting out. 

He probably just wished

I’d turn it down.

A group of men in a New Mexico prison are reading Ernest Hemingway. Here’s a PBS segment from yesterday: 

https://youtu.be/tmbh0JG_8ls