Sublime

Quand est-ce qu’on mange ? demanda la sœur. Et où ? — Vous venez avec nous ? demanda la brune. — Non. Je vais dîner avec ma légitime. » C’est ainsi qu’on disait alors. Maintenant, on dit « ma régulière ».

“You ever read that old bugger Nietzsche?” he asked. “A little,” I said. “You know what he said about love? Said it’s a state where we see things widely different from what they are.” “Pauline?” “Yup. It didn’t take long to unsee those things. I guess it started when we went to live with her folks in Piggott.

These men all moved to California recently, driven by a lust for space that can’t be satisfied by old cities with their tinge of Europe and horse carts and history. There is an ungoverned feel to California’s mountains and deserts and reckless coast.

(The INS paid the PHS no mind; the old definition continued to be used until the US Congress passed the Immigration Act of 1990.)

The former associate editor in charge of the magazine’s SOCIETY PAGES feature had once referred to Skip Atwater as an emotional tampon, though there were plenty of people who could verify that she had been a person with all kinds of personal baggage of her own. As with institutional politics everywhere, the whole thing got very involved.

Ah, the poor Parisians. Despite being French they are regarded as foreign, and therefore to be treated with suspicion and ridicule. They are renowned for their arrogance, for their condescending attitude, for their fashionable clothes, for their shiny cars, for buying all the bread in the bakery, for just being Parisian. A derogatory word—parisiani