This is on the lighter end of Horacio Quiroga’s stories, which (of those I’ve read) tend to have more to do with death and desolation than the streetcar indiscretions we’ve got here. But it’s March, and I’m springing forward and bringing you with me, merrily because there’s no unsightly wad of money in our [...]

Never having been one for bandwagonry (after all, the bumper’s too high for me to jump, and I don’t have much in the way of carnival skills from which is allegedly derived the phrase), but it can’t be helped: if everybody and their thrice-removed step-great-uncle

Is there anybody out there who has a cure for acute compulsion? The thought had entered my mind that I had very little knowledge of tonight’s author, and that, further, I was quite curious to know what he looked like. And, given the tendency toward googlification of the nubs of my fingers, this curiosity was one that I felt compelled to satisfy.