Coming up and out of the neighborhood, as if it were Fitzgerald's valley of ashes, or Homer's underworld, he had the sudden urge to hurl his refill mug as far as he could, because he could--though really the culture had paralyzed such impulses for better or worse at a very young age--thus walking naked and unencumbered, although fully clothed, freely and truly as intended.
The fact that when he looked in the mirror, he still wasn't the spitting image of Ric Ocasek, despite all of the brushing and blow drying--and the skinny tie--was the source of many crestfallen mornings.
Comments
Post a Comment