“What work I owed I postponed until it had to be churned out in a flush of rage over my being disturbed by it.”
Jack Richardson, Memoir of a Gambler
Archives for April 2004
TT: And I feel fine
I jumped in a cab last night and told the driver, “Carnegie Hall, please.”
“Excuse me?”
“Carnegie Hall, please.” Silence. Then it hit me. “Do you know the address of Carnegie Hall?” I asked, trying to conceal my astonishment.
“Er, no, sir,” he replied, tearing himself away momentarily from his cellphone. “I don’t.”
To you this may seem trivial, but I fear it isn’t. I’ve been taking cabs to Carnegie Hall for almost 20 years, and in all that time, no cabby has ever had to ask me where it was–until last night.
I don’t even want to think about what that means.