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late afternoon tipple.

14 Jun 2011












Last Wednesday afternoon, as the skies grew dark and the clouds suddenly unleashed a brief but torrential downpour, Kits and I took refuge at Marshall Stack; his wife Anita joined us soon after, having narrowly escaped the rain by ducking under various awnings on her walk over from Soho.   In the relative darkness, what with the stormclouds and all, we discussed Malick, modernism, and how much we — Kits and I, though not Anita — quite profoundly disliked Punch Drunk Love

Also, Kits gesticulates like nobody’s business.



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