When it comes to lawyers, I’ve got to be rather lucky. I was closing up the trailer last night, thinking about it all. We had been haggling a detail or two about contracts and stuff, then the conversation switched, and I was referring to a copy of T.S. Eliot’s “The Waste Land and other poems” as well as an antique edition of Norton’s Anthology of English Literature — my legal advisor was searching for a quote.
There was a little bit of water sifting down from the sky, more than fog or a drizzle, but less than rain, and I had kicked open the patio door, and there was a steady drip drip from the tarp stretched across the patio, an awning that’s really more permanent than it looks, and we had a pleasant digression down the avenues of the modern movement in literature. Some very vintage Pink Floyd was on the boombox, music I had acquired while with a friend who was younger than the original date the recording.
Fit all this in a trailer in S. Austin.
