… found some of my short stories interesting in the late sixties. Ruth Stone, my creative writing teacher, a woman who waxed all poetic around wisteria which I had no clue wtf they were, these wisteria blooms that eventually left pods like locust seeds all over the walk shared my work with the famous critic and I think he enjoyed the one about the kid who was a hermit in Colorado, avoiding war, away from culture, and every morning with the wonderful regularity of youth he hung his ass out over the cliff and took a dump… yes, I think that was the image that held that story together, and if I’m not wrong that was the image that Leslie Fiedler liked.
Leslie Winer sings about stacks of soldiers, rafts and such toward the end of that new podcast.
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