I was nervous and drank m…

I was nervous and drank more than I ate; my father carefully dispatched his steak. Then he asked me what my plans were for the summer and in a flush of some strong emotion or other I said, more or less: it’s the beginning of summer and I’m standing in the lobby of a thousand-storey Grand Hotel, where a bank of elevators a mile long and an endless red row of monkey attendants in gold braid wait to carry me up, up, up, through the suites of moguls, of spies, and of starlets; to rush me straight to the zeppelin mooring at the art-deco summit where they keep the huge dirigible of August tied up and bobbing in the high winds. On the way to the shining needle at the top I will wear a lot of neckties, I will buy five or six works of genius on 45 rpm, and perhaps too many times I will find myself looking at the snapped spine of a lemon wedge at the bottom of a drink. I said ‘I anticipate a coming season of dilated time and of women all in disarray.’

My father told me that I was overwrought and that Claire had had an unfortunate influence on my speech, but something in his face told me that he understood.

Michael Chabon, The Mysteries of Pittsburgh

Such a beautiful, florid balloon of a description, popped so perfectly. Chabon is one of my favourite authors.

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