Wolf At The Door

There's this very realistic cheap statue of a dog outside the bathroom at Rebecca's and it startles me every time I turn to close the door, and every time I walk out.

Sudden barking scares me, and I distrust dogs I see on the street.

Once, I was playing badminton in my driveway, and the neighbor's dog ran up to me and tried to bite me. It bit a hole in my shorts and I whacked it without remorse.

When I used to walk the 15 minutes home from Cilantro at 4 A.M., the dogs would all be asleep. I would walk in the middle of the road, lest I wake the snarls chambered under the wheel wells.

Garamond

I just changed my resume from Arial to Garamond and it looks much better. What does that say about me?

I created my resume around the time Helvetica turned 50. I read:

people use Helvetica because they want to be a member of the efficiency club.

And that sounded good to me. Then I sat back, and waited for somebody to notice.

Istanbul was Constantinople

I was just making myself coffee in a French press, with cardamom, and I was thinking to myself, "What would I call this drink if I were selling it in a shop?" and of course I thought, "Turkish coffee," because that's what it tastes like. But I wasn't 100% sure if that's what Turkish coffee is, and at any rate, the cardamom isn't ground with the coffee, and certainly, I thought, the Greeks would object. I remember hearing once that the Greeks call Turkish coffee Greek coffee.

I would need to name my beverage something that 1) does not claim to be Turkish coffee, since it is not prepared in the way I understand to be traditional 2) acknowledges the existence of the beverage's wider constituency and 3) sounds intriguing.

And then I remembered that song from fifth grade, that I can't remember if I secretly or openly loved. I remember really wishing I could understand the refrain of the verse. I would call my drink that.

Indar

"When we land at a place like London Airpot we are concerned only not to appear foolish. It is more beautiful and more complex than anything we could have dreamed of, but we are concerned only not to appear foolish. We might even pretend that we had expected better. That is the nature of our stupidity and incompetence. And that was how I spent my time at the university in England, not being overawed, always being slightly disappointed, understanding nothing, accepting everything, getting nothing. I saw and understood so little that even at the end of my time at the university, I could distinguish buildings only by their size, and I was hardly aware of the passing of the seasons. And yet I was an intelligent man, and could cram for examinations."