Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Don't Let Me Be Lonely
Given to me by Sesshu Foster.
Sesshu came to town in, I think, 2005. He had this in his bag and had been reading it on the flight out. I think he finished reading it while staying in the guest room of our old house. I remember we were sitting on the couch in the living room and he asked if I had read it and I said no and he recommended it and gave me his copy. I remember we also talked about how much we both liked mole sauce. He told me there was a place in LA that made the best mole around. A week or two after he left we received to containers of Sesshu's favorite LA mole sauce.
from Don't Let Me Be Lonely
Every movie I saw while in the third grade compelled me to ask, Is he dead? Is she dead? Because the characters often live against all odds it is the actors whose mortality concerned me. If it were an old, black-and-white film, whoever was around would answer yes. Months later the actor would show up on some late-night talk show to promote his latest efforts. I would turn and say–on always turns to say–You said he was dead. And the misinformed would claim, I never said he was dead. Yes, you did. No, I didn't. Inevitably we get older; whoever is still with us says, Stop asking me that.