Carmen and Lorainne and so forth

We're off to the opera at the A.R.T. Two pianos and minimalist set. Apparently great voices and acting. The last opera I attended was many years ago in Chicago. Falstaff. A January night. Bitter chill wind off the lake, the kind that freezes marrow. We ate dinner in town and ran out of time, ergo no coffee. Hideous cold walk to the opera house. Warm and dark within. I slept through Act II and Act III. Nobody could sleep through Carmen.

There was a Carmen kind of girl in my junior high. Lorainne Lujan. Very mature for her age, when the rest of us had skinny legs and flat chests. Beautiful skin. Tough as nails. Mean, too. She beat the crap out of a bunch of my friends in front of the library one day after school. Like many Hispanic kids, she didn't go on to high school. I put a woman like her in my first book which remains forever on the closet shelf. And rightly so.

A small publisher who sells mostly to libraries wants to see the East German book, The World of Mirrors, and as always, I am hopeful.

Tomorrow, we're off to NEBA, the New England Bookseller's Association. Manning a booth for some mystery writing organizations. I'm signing and giving away a few books.

Actually wrote some pages this week. A big murder scene that occurs 2/3 of the way thru the book. I'm just about out of Reno and back to New England. About this time of year, too. Maybe I better run outside and take notes.

Aloha

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