Our relationship's negotiations was often debilitated by your kafkaesque communications.
Tues night notes:
For dinner I had a slice of pizza from the Cheeseboard Collective in north Berkeley. On it was garlic, roma tomatoes, mozzarella, cilantro, lemon juice and lemon zest. Do you know what garlic and lemon taste like on a pizza? Fantastic! I washed it all down with a glass of an unknown but decent Cabernet. I sat on the ledge of the storefront of the actual cheeseboard
Store, the one that only sells cheese and bread, I ate my inexpensive, gourmet pizza, and I thought how lucky I am the Bay Area, especially to live in Berkeley-Oakland.
Afterwards I walked over to Black Oak Bookstore and attended a reading given by a biographer, Jeffrey Meyers, on the painter, Modigliani. Black Oak readings are often filled with near-retirees, gray-haired with great intellectual aspirations. I Imagine most of them are either professors or work at the university. Modigliani was quite a strange and tragic fellow. He died of tuberculosis at age 35, and had a consortium of sordid friends. Yes, another life I need to add to my list of lives to read about.
