Well, out of all the people who tromp through here on a daily basis, only one person responded with the old New Yorker with the Woody Allen story I’m looking for. I would have thought that all of you were miserly recluses living in cramped apartments filled with potentially crushing piles of old magazines and newspapers. I guess there are only two of us, though, and the rest of you throw out your periodicals in a timely manner. I hope you recycle, and that you get some small satisfaction for that, because you’re not getting a slightly worn VHS tape of Hannah and Her Sisters.
However, because I’m not really that mad at you, I’ll tell you about the interesting e-mail I got this morning from Jack’s old boss in L.A., Dave. Dave and his partner, Linda, are compulsive about buying crumbly old houses, fixing them up, living in them for about two minutes, and then selling them fully furnished for whopping amounts of money. (Dave’s a builder, Linda’s an architect/designer, it’s a match made in heaven.) But this last house they bought and finished and are living in has a strange vibe to it. Dave and Linda have both separately reported seeing a “glowing green vapor,” and Dave is not the type to see vapors of any sort. OooOooOooo! Apparently the former resident died in the house, and Linda had a mystically-inclined friend over who took one step inside and said, “Someone’s still here.” OooOooOooo! So this morning, knowing that I secretly love this sort of thing, Dave e-mailed me a picture he took of the kitchen before they fixed it up. He says that if you stare at it long enough you can actually see something vaporous appear by the table, like one of those 3-D pictures at the mall, you just soften your focus and then the image pops out. OooOooOooo!