Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of February 13, 2022
I read a comic book to my son the other night at bedtime that I wrote. I haven’t read it since it was published six years ago. It’s not very good. Too wordy. When we finished it, the kid said, “I like that story.” He has terrible taste but is very kind.
By morning, he had decided he needed somewhere nobody cared about theater, someplace where the name Chekhov was more likely to be mistaken for a rifle than a playwright.