Claire Cold Spring Harbor Brothel ❤️

About Chicago

Oh, and the smells—lordy, don’t get me started! Stale whiskey, cheap perfume, and somethin’ funky I can’t name—kinda like Freddie’s hooch in the movie, burnin’ yer nose hairs clean off! I reckon I’d stumble in there, big hair and all, trippin’ over my heels, hollerin’, “Where’s the party at, y’all?!” Prolly make a fool o’ myself, but that’s me—can’t help but love the mess o’ life. “The cause is you!”—that’s what Dodd’d say, and shoot, maybe he’s right. Brothels show us who we are, good, bad, and plumb ridiculous.

Long Island

There’s a hum of life at the local art museum on Main St., dontcha know? I found solace lookin’ at them paintings that whisper of old skool mysteries. Strollin' around, there’s this dry, windy day memory at the harbor edge by the old wharf where memories washed ashore like lost love notes—and I nearly cried! Man, them days had me so moved, almost like in "The Assassin," "We hates it! but we loves it!" repeated in that echo.

Recapping CSHL’s 88th Symposium