Where I live

Two views of (parts of) my apartment at Avant (photos by Opal Armstrong Zwicky), so you can see some of the things I’ve been writing about. And then can be used for a more urgent purpose: opposing death — I am on deathwatch for one of my oldest and dearest friends — by laughing in its face and by counterposing the power of sex against it. This will take us down some surprising paths, of parallels and analogies and loosely related circumstances. And then somehow it will all end in Latin, with Catullus, where I at least will find release and repose — cease, Galatea, cease to grieve. But in a lot of steps, and only a bit of it today. The penthouse workroom. Penthouse because it’s on the top floor, facing the streets, with the foothills in the background. With the window wall, filled with a delightful tree and providing all that light: (#1) Note the antic stuffed mammoth; Sam Gross’s mammoth cartoon; the rainbow flag; the Sally Thomason penguin doodles; the computer, tv, and phone center;…