Posts Tagged ‘Cigarettes’

In which The Gay Recluse remembers old plants. Growing up in the 1970s, there were a lot of plants in our house. Having plants was a sign of liberal thinking: our mother, of course, was involved in the women’s movement, so she had a mix of spider plants, cactus and marginata; our dazed-and-confused sister did […]


In which The Gay Recluse is rendered delirious by delays. As we were waiting at the Pittsburgh airport, we were struck by the unexpected beauty of this stone riverbed. And this one, too. It wasn’t too hard to imagine that we were out west somewhere. But only if we didn’t let the scope of our […]


On Miranda

20Apr08

In which The Gay Recluse appreciates Miranda. Many years ago we had a friend named Miranda. She was the coolest! She wore the smallest backpack ever! It was gold and she used it to carry her cigarettes in it and nothing else, and even that was a tight fit. She was a photographer and a […]



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