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The Continuing Memoir of Mt. Lemmon: At 17
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At 17 I was in a bookstore in Greenwich Village with my friend, Stan Edelman. It was 1957. In my hands I held a thick volume by a James Joyce (Finnegan’s Wake). I opened the book and I could not understand the first sentence much less the whole paragraph. It was the second great book after […]
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A Twist of Lemmonade
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I’ve been spending some time with Mt. Lemmon. Her ridges, her slopes, her rugged byways are festering, roasting, burning, as we watch from our condos and upscale stucco and adobe dwellings across the way from Catalina State Park, the preserve that borders Oracle Road which runs down like a larynx to mid-town Tucson. How long […]
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More Lemmonade: Musing Over death
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I muse over what death, not dying, is like. What an abomination it would be to go on after death. Heaven and hell are twin disasters. I don’t want eternal constructs. So, I assume death is like 4 a.m. last night; I was out, not aware, not knowing, gone, zonked, dreamless. i experience death each night […]