Sunday morning, June 21: Room 510 new words: cartel bagman gonif STERN I have been in Miami exactly one week today. I feel a thousand years older and a million times more ignorant. I closed my “Go, Tar Heels!” notebook and dropped it into the bedside drawer, on top of the Gideons Bible. Then, pricked by some atavistic need for divine judgment, I slid out the Bible, opened it at random, and stabbed at a page with my finger. “For the good that I would, I do not; but the evil which I would not, that I do.” Romans 7:19. Well, that would certainly do in lieu of church, where everyone seemed to have gone except Don Waldo, who, last time I looked out the window, was breaststroking up and down the turquoise pool, his leonine head erect, his undulations making sun-dappled wavelets on either side of him. There was something noble and touching about the international man of letters in his billowing maroon trunks sedately propelling his blimp shape through the water. Presently I would dress and head out for an American breakfast at Howard Johnson’s with the fat Sunday issue of the Star.
What do You think about Queen Of The Underworld (2006)?
