Fare Forward: Letters from David Markson

May 3 ’05

Simso, Simso, Simso—

Lissen, kid, I truly dislike “lunch,” part of the total reclusiveness I’ve fallen into in my later years.⁵⁴ I remember Willie Gaddis telling me the same thing, one of the last times I saw him (though I probably didn’t understand it yet). So whadaya say to this instead? Why don’t you guys stop here at my apartment for an hour or so, in the late morning — say 11 a.m.? That way, you get the whole stretch before your later gig in which to do something far more interesting than watching a grumpy old man dribble egg yolk into his beard (I still have the beard). Eleven o’clock, Sat., May 21.

Done? Done.

But lissen, do, do, do call me earlier — say 9:30 or so, to double-check, just in case. And keep in mind the major sacrifice I’m making — I’ll actually have to make a pass at cleaning this place!

Until—

David

54 I was going to be in New York again, for another reading, and had asked him to meet for lunch. Again.