VLVL2 (13) 1: Hello, again

[Vincent A. Maeder]

For this run at hosting section two of Chapter Thirteen of Thomas Pynchon's
_Vineland_, I draw inspiration from my meeting with Tim and Dave at a little
place on Rush called Dubliners, as diametric to Dublin as physically and
philosophically possible what with waiters speaking some eastern European
accent, Mexican guitar on the stereo and an original American fare, the
closest thing to Dublin was a conversation dangerously weaving down the
street of literature, curricula, and film like some itinerant Irish drunk
blithering his way into oblivion.  Then, Lord, followed by a snappy and
whipping wind howling in my ears the reasons why I'd move SOUTH and WEST --
at one point my ears freezing off, having to go back and pick them up off
the sidewalk outside some GAP store where the manikins bathed in warm
halogen, I was jealous of their heat, cradling my ears in my pockets until I
returned to the hotel where I set them on the heating vent until they
breathed back into life -- passing into fitful sleep until the next day
found me in some other part of Illinois -- that no-man's land between O'Hare
and Rockford -- eventually hitting an actual traveler's high somewhere in
Santa Monica walking down a sun-soaked street into a small Italian Bistro,
named The Bistro of course, run by a small South American man, waited by
white boys snobbishly wondering who the suit was, "perhaps a casting
director? better give him my best Brando sulk here..." returning home at
some post-midnight hour only to turn around that next morning toward
Vineland itself, I can only presume, some small hamlet named Richmond whose
existence I'd never realized before as misty rain licked across the
windshield to and from some doctor's tiny office located behind a strip
mall, near a hole in the wall Mexican café and local pizza shop (opted for
the pizza) until I was wending my way back home arriving, flopping, wet with
Richmond mist, baked with Santa Monica sun, my ears in my pockets wondering
what state I could possibly be in, onto the bed at well past 1:00 a.m.

Sooo, that's my excuse, and I'm sticking with it... Although this week is
much better; only Tucson, San Francisco and Wichita...

And now, on with the show...

V.