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The Ponytails of Old Swedish Men

7th Mar 2010 in Personal

A few weeks ago I was in the university library reading a big dusty stack of Paris Review interviews, which I could fool myself was work although it wasn’t really because I should have been editing my novel, like so:

I was there for hours and it was lovely, with the rain tapping the windows and the air conditioning hum. I wish I’d had a cup of coffee, though in the grand scheme of things it could not be classed as anything like a hardship. If I were less lazy I would just buy a thermos.

Finally I had to leave because an old Swedish man lay down on the couch opposite me and took off his shoes, which would have been okay except that he had bare feet. Then he put his long grey greasy hair on the arm of the couch and fell asleep. That is why I had to leave.

The next day I had a cold so I stayed in and ate peanut butter and read crime novels.