A few weeks ago I noticed a green anole squeeze into the driver-door outside mirror of my car. It did not occur to me that he actually lived in there until this past weekend, when I took a four-day, three-night, 1200-mile book tour road trip from my home to a gig at Florida State College in Venice, Florida, and then on to an appearance at the Miami Book Festival and back home again. This little fella, whom I came to call “Larry,” went along for the ride, sunning himself at times at 70 miles per hour on the Interstate. He and I safely returned home but not without a couple of extreme-sport adventures. Twice Larry emerged entirely and flapped wildly in the wind like the green flag of a banana republic in a hurricane. The first time, before I could figure out what to do, he reconsidered the move and was able to crawl back in to safety. The second time, about fifty miles from home, I noticed him out there clinging by one foot and clearly about to fly away. I rolled the window down and grabbed him. (I have perfected a gentle-grab technique over the years with these guys, who often wander into my two-cat household at their great peril.) I pulled over and fortunately had a small box in the back seat that kept him safe until we got home. When I opened the box beneath the live oak at the end of the brick walkway to my house, he strolled casually out with what can only be described as an I-meant-to-do-that attitude.
Archives
From The Ongoing Life
- Books in Hell vol. 2
- Apr 12, 2010
- Invisible Dick Excerpt: “‘Jeehosophat! What a disgraceful scene!’ said Dick Brett, doing a series of physical jerks behind a bush, as he began to grow into visibility. ...
- Books in Hell: An Introduction & a First Selection
- Mar 26, 2010
- I do not collect books. Not in the way most book collectors do. ...
- TWEETS FROM HELL: PART THREE
- Feb 19, 2010
- J. P. Sartre & J. Goebbels drink ape-piss tea in fetid bistro, wondering if they might’ve done differently without a walleye, a club foot Swore by Stalin, mollified Hitler, Che & Chamberlain bake together in a low-temperature oven: damned if you do & damned if you don’t Those who died demented in a nursing home think they’ve simply moved down the hall Robert Olen Butler types away in a tiny, dark room alone with his unconscious & unable to avert his eyes: this is Hell, but it is Heaven too I have to speak fast: Hell as untweetable novel officially available. ...
- TWEETS FROM HELL: PART TWO
- Feb 12, 2010
- There are no animals. Seeing balcony railings, park benches, window ledges in the Great Metropolis, everyone aches at the memory of birds Montezuma stuffs tacos for throngs at Taco Bell, wearing flayed skin of Cortés, the rest of whom waits hopelessly nearby for golden fries On tube, “The Genghis Khan Factor”: the Mongol & Rush Limbaugh utterly agree & wink & are wed on air: the consummation is Hell’s reality TV In the cleric’s bar: Khomeini regrets his fatwa getting Rushdie laid 1000 times; Jimmy Swaggart regrets the ayatollah not going after him Hoa the Saigon bargirl died by drug-addled American’s jealous hand, now drinks Hell Tea alone, longing for the way he tonguetipped her spine Bronx tagger Scat 164, with can of cobalt blue, can’t tag on empty wall: it was always about who he is: still got Scat but he got no street A host of Holy Men here, unaware religions are performance art & their truths metaphorical: when metaphor turns into dogma, real sin begins Hell’s Great Metropolis is ringed in mountains where,
- Tweets From Hell: Part One
- Feb 2, 2010
- When you ask a publisher what sells books, he or she will hem and haw and say that they do a lot of things to try to sell books, but honestly they don’t know if any of that works. ...
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Larry is clearly part cat. His attitude reminded me of the late George Carlan’s riff on the difference between cats and dogs.
I enjoyed your interview on Barbara DeMarco-Barrett’s podcast, especially “plot is yearning, challenged and thwarted.” That’s the first thing about “plot” that has penetrated my hard head.
Thanks,
Beth