Don’t worry, this post isn’t going to include a recipe for “Untouched Chicken Salad Sandwich” or something equally mawkish. I just happened to read my old teenage fave on a long bus trip recently and couldn’t help but laugh about its fine details and the way in which I took its perceived message straight to heart when I was younger. There is something slightly chiropractic about reading books that once seemed so deeply private and personal as a yearning kid when you are all grown up and grumpy. At least this one ages fantastically well, if you can’t tell at least by the way my current writing style sucks up to it. Really though, communing with the Glass family again reminds me how
cheap and exploitative douchey lame Wes Anderson films are. Do you hear what I’m saying, buddy?
Hmm. Enough of this critical foofery for the time being. I just spent last night on a boat! And in a day or two, I’ll have a groovy recipe for some of the fruits de la mer we collected whilst sailing the seas of Our Great 49th State.
Postscript 8/29/09: It was a very hot day today for San Francisco, and I was walking from one cool covered place to another when I found The Way of a Pilgrim propped up against a drainpipe not too far from the corner of 23rd & Folsom. A funny coincidence, that this little brown book should find its way into my hands less than a month after re-reading F & Z.