Long Bridge Runner

David,

She was right! I truly enjoyed your story and will be looking for more.

Dear Crusader,
When I was a young boy I had a pawn shop/consignment store on my paper route. The people who
owned it were aged Holocaust Survivors. The old lady always flooded me with compliments,
"Vat a good looking boy you are. So smart." etc. One day while still blushing I said,
"I wish you wouldn't make over me so much." And she answered, "Listen, my son, flattery
costs nothing and everyone loves it."--------------------me too!
Thanks,
David

ps...speaking of Rachmaninoff, this was a masterpiece and a favorite--http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ls5w0X8kfvo

David,

I don't know if you watched, The English Patient", beautiful film...your story reminded me of it and I took this from it...Katherine's last words...""we die rich with lovers and tripes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we have entered, swam up like rivers, fears we've hidden in like this wretched cave, we are the real countries, carry me out into the palace of winds, that what I wanted, to walk in such a place with you...an earth without maps..." I'll always be a true romantic.

"Cliff had relieved her of her virginity the year she turned twenty-seven, a virginity that by then had become an onerous burden. It was something she had cherished in the beginning until it became a thing constantly defended and finally it became a burden she knew she must rid herself of".--well done...such that is the double edge sword for a woman.

"...there was no satisfaction in it and he did not cure the urge that overwhelmed her, the urge that filled her up like a balloon that only she knew how to burst. And even this filled her with guilt, the same kind of guilt she felt looking at Daniel who was engrossed in the music..."--brilliant!

I'll be reading more, David. You are a wonderful writer. Just the right amount of eroticism mixed with sexual innocence.

I enjoyed Susan Sontag's, "Illness as a Metaphor", "Illness is the night side of life..everyone who is born holds dual citizenship...although we all prefer to use the good passport...", One of my favorites books of required reading in a class that taught the subject of illness and how society refuses to treat all symptoms.

Marge,
If you're serious, I'm sorry.
D. Rojay

Ned,
Thanks for your readership as always. I met Susan Sontag too; and she said that my name
was not Jewish and that it was misspelled. I think she confused me with a Thesaurus.
David

"Her body was nice too-thin and soft looking, but he did not want to think about these things. He did not want (using the phrase of his friends) "to get a woody."

Hey David Rojay-- DELETE this filthy sentence. People read this!

"She has nice legs, Daniel thought as if he had not noticed them before. Her body was nice too-thin and soft looking, but he did not want to think about these things. He did not want (using the phrase of his friends) "to get a woody."

Dan...any dimples?

I apologize to all the moms and dads in the audience. When your child asks "what is a woody" I suggest they call WB at CCToday. He is at a stage in life when he could take anyone out to the woodshed. Been there and done it all.

Back on topic, please. - Editors

I believe that means his studio is in his basement.

What is an "underground cartoonists"?

Whoa this was a hot chapter! I went to art school in Brooklyn and for us young underground cartoonists, Russian-Jewish women were the sine qua non of hotness. Despite my goyishe punim most folks thought I was one of the Chosen because of the whole Susan Sontag thing... In the NEW YORKER finally in '03 Ms.Sontag revealed that her real name was Rosenblatt! Entering publishing in '57 at the prodigious age of 17 she thought people would laugh at a certain boborygmous onomatopoeia... her dad had left home when she was 11 and a Mr.Sontag was one of her mom's boyfriends. She thought it was a really kool name and nom-de-plumed it. It is a really kool name(from Reykjavik to Vienna) unfortunately Mr.Sontag's parents had gotten one of the 'n''s clipped off at Ellis Island, leading to certain difficulties for me as a Scots-Irish hillbilly with a Hessian-mercenary name breaking into the Manhattan illustration scene. Oh well. Got to meet Ms.S a coupla times and she was quite a beauty with that stylish skunk-streak in her brunette mane...

If you read the lesser-known Gospels, you will find that God commanded that schools play tackle football. "He who plays touch football is an abomination, and shall suffer my wrath." (Madden, 2000:10). I think touch-football heretics are "cast into God's chowder" on Judgement day.

God is very interested in the NFL, and generally roots for the Saints.

If Martin Luther wasn't such a lazy Protestant guy, there would have been a 96th Thesis, and it would have been about tackle football.

OMG the Evansville Courier... that was the paper that my mom got the drawing of the train I did at 3 on the front page somehow... I remember wondering about the characters entering the Dew Drop Inn across from the Weinbach Pharmacy... the pencil-moustached touts in the checkered suits at the Race Track in a lawless patch of No-Man's-Land where the river between Kentucky and Indiana had changed course... watching the horse-races live-on-TV after school... Evansville was a bizarre once-great city barely recovered from the depression and about to go down the skids again by 1960...

I did XMas in New York once, had dinner at the hotel, and Frank Perdue was at the next table. Motherf*cker was eating STEAK, too.

would like to read the long bridge runner but the language is very strong. what is the purpose?.