PROSE

Prose is architecture, not interior decoration, and the Baroque is over.

— Ernest Hemingway, Death In the Afternoon

This simple proposition, if widely understood, would wipe out most modern literature at a stroke, and the world would be better off for it.

ISAAC

Thinking of my pals in the Crescent City as tropical storm Isaac careens towards Key West, past which it is expected to pick up strength, perhaps to hurricane force, and slam into the U. S. somewhere along the north Gulf Coast on Wednesday, the 7th anniversary of Katrina. I know Isaac means “he who laughs” but hitting New Orleans on that anniversary would be less than amusing.

My pals occupy high ground in New Orleans and I’m sure they’ve got a good supply of absinthe on hand to help ride out the storm if necessary, so I’m hoping for the best.

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