"We live our lives four days at a time."
– Hart Crane
Did you see the cloud shaped like an Oscar de la Renta gown over Boiceville last Thursday?
Dear Monsignor Sparrow:
Call me a nut, but late at night I like to find a Pete Seeger video on YouTube — and sing along!
I’M OUT OF ESTROGEN
AND I HAVE A GUN
The Sock Zombie
"When I was 12, my friend Hartley told me he saw a sock zombie in the cemetery at Allaben," recalls Stevie Glanders. "I couldn’t sleep for three nights — I kept picturing an undead guy in blue socks, walking toward me."
Shandaken Poetry Confluence
Insane men once
believed they were
Now they think:
"I’ll marry Meryl
– Roy Tamner
de la brie
avec sa peau
– Jacques Grillard
with its leathery
Interview with a "Dealer"
I spoke to Joe D., an unusual former drug dealer, at his home in Mount Tremper.
Sparrow: I understand you were a drug dealer.
D.: Yes, but I never did anything illegal.
Sparrow: How is that?
D.: I always sold fake drugs.
Sparrow: For example?
D.: Mostly I dealt "cocaine" and "marijuana." The "cocaine" was baby milk powder, and the marijuana was hemp — the same plant, but without THC.
Sparrow: Didn’t anybody complain?
D.: Rarely. For one thing, I’m a big guy, and people are somewhat afraid of me. Even though I never actually threatened anyone. For another, there’s the placebo effect. People take a drug and believe they’re stoned, even if there’s no intoxicant. In fact, guys would come up to me and say: "That was great pot!" I’d modestly reply, "Thank you."
Also, remember, some drug-buyers don’t really want to get high! Due to social pressure, they feel compelled to smoke joints, but they’re inwardly relieved when nothing happens. And other folks smoke three kinds of marijuana at once, so they wouldn’t notice if my particular stash is working. Other people just never complain about anything.
If someone said to me, "That coke sucked!", I’d always profusely apologize and give them their money back.
Sparrow: But isn’t it illegal to deal false drugs?
D.: No, it isn’t. Selling real drugs is illegal, as is defrauding buyers of legal goods, but I fell between the cracks.
Sparrow: How long did you "deal"?
D.: A year and three months. I didn’t want to push my luck. It helped pay for graduate school.
Sparrow: What were you studying?
D.: I got a Master’s in psychology at NYU.
Dear "I Heard a Bird":
I live 300 yards from Route 28. In the winter, the road gets closer. Through the leafless trees, I can see the trucks roll by at night, with their little red lights — like clean toys in profile. And I can hear, more clearly, their WWAAAaaaamnnmrr.
My friends are listening to the avant-rockabilly band William James On Chloroform.
Pit six cherries. Carve a dried apricot into the shape of six pits. Dip the apricot-carvings in cinnamon, and place them in the cherries. Serve.
This recipe comes from April P. Henemand.