Once upon a time

I floss three times a day, at least. I don’t own a car or a television. I loath shopping and Republicans, that party of plutocracy, fundamentalism, neo-confederacy, and neo-cons. I am a rootless cosmopolitan, a New Yorker, a Brooklynite, a citizen. I eat meat and my vegetables. I don’t smoke anything; I drink, wine usually, but also gin or vodka tonics, negronis, 20-yr-old tawny port, and cocktails of my own invention. In my medicine cabinet you’ll find some decongestant; that’s it. I read a lot but know people who read more. Lately, I’ve been reading Pretor-Pinney’s Cloudspotter’s Guide; A. Theroux, The Primary Colors, and Luc Sante, Kill All Your Darlings; at bat is Rediker, Villains of All Nations; Nussbaum, The Clash Within, and Virga, Cartographia; this is not counting the three books waiting for me at NYPL. Blessed is the “hold” system. I don’t have a personal relationship with Jesus, a large invisible rabbit, or any other schizophrenic characteristics. The last movie I saw was There Will be Blood, at Cobble Hill Cinema, and I liked it tremendously. I have been sporadically published, most recently in the Sierra Club’s Atlantic Chapter newsletter; most famously in Poetry magazine. I’m a licensed NYC sightseeing guide, which means I can’t take you to a house of ill repute (while I’m on duty). I was born at 10:36 pm at the Tokyo Sanitarium Hospital 45 years ago today. Now, where the hell is my telegram from the Queen?