(no subject)
Let me take this opportunity to thank everyone for your warm birthday wishes. They were much appreciated. I, on the other hand, skipped the pleasantries and just tried to buy my own affection with a book run, getting Redmond O'Hanlon's Trawler, In the Rose Garden of the Martyrs by Christopher de Bellaigue, and Lawrence Block's new Matthew Scudder novel, All the Flowers Are Dying. I've read only the first chapter of the latter so far, but I liked this bit from page five:"This is the best, this black pudding. There aren't many places you can get it. I suppose the old Irish neighborhoods, Woodside, Fordham Road, but who's got the time to chase out there?"
"Well, now that you're retired."
"Yeah, I can spend a day looking for black pudding."
"You wouldn't have to go that far," I said. "Any bodega can sell you all you want."
"You're kidding. Black pudding?"
"They call it morcilla, but it's the same thing."
"What is it, Puerto Rican? I bet it's spicier."
"Spicier than Irish cuisine? Gee, do you suppose that's possible? But it's pretty much the same thing. You can call it morcilla or black pudding, but either way you've got sausage made from pig's blood."
"Jesus!"
"What's the matter?"
"Do you fucking mind? I'm eating."
"You didn't know what it was?"
"Of course I know, but that doesn't mean I want to fucking dwell on it."
"Well, now that you're retired."
"Yeah, I can spend a day looking for black pudding."
"You wouldn't have to go that far," I said. "Any bodega can sell you all you want."
"You're kidding. Black pudding?"
"They call it morcilla, but it's the same thing."
"What is it, Puerto Rican? I bet it's spicier."
"Spicier than Irish cuisine? Gee, do you suppose that's possible? But it's pretty much the same thing. You can call it morcilla or black pudding, but either way you've got sausage made from pig's blood."
"Jesus!"
"What's the matter?"
"Do you fucking mind? I'm eating."
"You didn't know what it was?"
"Of course I know, but that doesn't mean I want to fucking dwell on it."