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Sunday, January 27, 2013

"They knew that presently dinner would be over and a little later the evening, too, would be over and casually put away."

How do you feel about dinner? How do you feel about the remains of the day?

That sentence is from "The Great Gatsby," and it is our "Gatsby" sentence today.

I know that presently today's iteration of the "Gatsby" project will be over, and that signals to me that a little later, this day, the only January 27, 2013 that there will ever be, will be gone, consigned to the place jocosely, morbidly, existentially known as the dustbin of history

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