by Madeleine Beckman I was at the Mudd Club you were too probably watching or with another young artist high (most of us were) on something potent but not as potent as youth. I was probably dancing (what I did back then). Music was my drug, movement my master – every muscle, tendon taut, tantalized in
by Jordi Alonso Had I but world enough and thymeand leisure too, to pass the timewhile buying—I would window shopthe newest pans; the freshest cropof lavender from France, flown inlast night would fuel my only sin.Extravagance in cooking makesfor novel drinks and tastier cakes;I’d, by the checkout counter finda tool to grate an orange rindin