Spring 2024 - Recrudescence

“Little Fluff”

or talked about, the horror of all power without compassion.

At bottom least, I didn’t want power. Not out of virtue, or cleverness. I just didn’t recognize it, not even enough to respond to it. But I should have never waited to be accepted, or to be found relevant. Or liked. As a human being and a writer, I should have only brought forth the crop within. Just know what you are doing. Just share it. And deliver it.

I do so now.

And leave the writing world on that.

*

May 29.

Oh! And here is an ‘Open Sesame!’ For $54.00 a day to the

illustrious Pannonia Hotel!

‘Isten hozta! ‘God has brought you!’ bawled the Pannonia’s poncy proprietor in a nobly moustached, brow-emblazoned, breast thumping Hungarian patriot’s cry. He was Doctor Szilagy, a dentist of éclat, renowned from Sopron all through Burgenland, to Vienna, Pozsony-Bratislava, even to Istria and Switzerland. His last year’s middle-ager glob of a gut lost, he cut a newly dashing figure. On turning to him, I tried on a face of stern restraint. But he rounded on me with an embrace that crushed me to him with a hug. ‘The Creator,’ I drew my limp little rapier to swashbuckle with him in my pseudo-baroque Hungarian, ‘hath contrived Thou shouldst lose much weight!’ ‘Aye! Indeed!’ cried he heraldically, ‘Though I too, had a tad to do with it!’ We roared, charmed by ourselves, while he, playing gallant, kissed my hand, the bastard! And he nearly had me, 125