A bunch of us cousins went up to Paula and Luther's for brunch on Sunday. We discussed Precious, Nadia's ice cream cone idea, Esperanza Spalding, and book promotion, amongst other topics. I brought flowers and a wheat loaf. For a long time, I have refused to eat white bread - it's kind of like a mental prison I've been locked into from reading too many issues of Men's Health. (If Men's Health were looking for a new name for itself, I would definitely nominate "Worries.") One of these days, I'm going to bring my own crust to a pizza store. Or bring my own host to church. I'm wearing Fred Perry in this picture, and some ratty old cap. I'm not sure what everyone else is wearing.
Paula knows that when I meet up with people, I prefer to go to the movies, so that I don't have to talk to anyone, and can drift off into my own thoughts and the thoughts of the filmmaker, and eat tubs of popcorn, "worries" or no. But every now and then, I do like to gather in a group with people. After the brunch, Alyse, Nadia, Xavi and I walked down Edgecombe Avenue and I broke into the song "Harlem Blues," from Spike Lee's Mo' Better Blues. "Twenty years later and I still know that song by heart.
I'm not sure where this post is going, so I'll stop.
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