[from Tin House]
“You walk up Ninth Avenue, past the pastiche of prix fixe enthusiasts and Hell’s Kitchen derelicts—the ones that still bray and howl and forget to wear pants despite the fact that their neighborhood’s now got more brunching ad execs on Vespas than urine-soaked klepto-crackheads. You start fingering your stash of starch but you do not remove anything because you must never, ever unearth the food in public. Walk instead with hand in bag, pinching off pieces of object. Doesn’t matter if object is wet, viscous, cheesy, sloppy, or frosting-covered. This bag, this object cover-upper, must never be peeled back to reveal contents to you or to passersby.”
MALERIE WILLENS 