Monday, March 07, 2005
Goodnight, moon
While climbing the marble steps up to TMCB, you will pass between two monumental chained weasels, sculpted in Vermont marble by Philadelphia's own Alexander Calder IV. Swinging open the Rodin-esque bronze doors, you will enter The Great Hall, whose vaulted deep blue ceiling is a veritable firmanent of glittering stars, each a blinking point of light that represents a writer or an alert reader in Corrente's globe-girdling network of correspondents.
Mounting the marble stairs to the executive cloakroom, be sure to admire the brightly burnished solid gold Louis Quinze taps on the wet bar——
Dammit, my pen ran out of ink, and I couldn't take any more notes. "Underground bunkers" .... "wine cellars" ... "mushroom farm" ... "rooftop Zen garden" ... "sunken pools with nymphs" ... And something about a nut case under the stairs.
Well, you see what I mean. It takes a heap o' living...