This side of Bardot survives in the doyenne who today proclaims her disgust
I often feel this way when alone in Southeast Asian hotel bars---an enhanced sense of bathos, an ironic dry-smile sorrow, a sharpened sense of distance and loss.
A few inveterate smokers went out into the waiting room, but returned at once, driven back by the Stygian darkness.
I staged five plays that first year. Even if the results were dubious, it was salutary.
As a sop to my mom, I declared a “Symbolic Systems” major, basically a fancy cog-sci degree, which mostly taught me that all roads led to nil.
