Friends with Books
I begin work for my UCLA Creative Nonfiction writing class today. And my friend Stephen’s new book arrived in the mail. It is a good omen I know. There’s a modest but growing pile of books on the corner of my writing desk—books written by friends and relatives, by people I know, which makes them very special. As always I must mention that my master’s thesis, all bound and official is among them; if all of us did this once or, in some cases more than once, then there is no reason, with nose to the computer-grindstone, we/I cannot do it again.
I am excited about my new book here beside me on the couch waiting to be born to the bedroom to enhance a sleep-troubled night. Life in Jersey/NYC/London, the dance world, the glamour of it all, the excitement, joy, and, I’m guessing, some sorrow…
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