Halloween is the highest of the holy days in Long Pauses land. My wife spends months planning her costume — this year she was Galadriel, I was Harold (from Harold and Maude). Our best friends hosted the party this year, which was attended by folks from the English department and . . . I swear this isn’t a setup for a punchline . . . a group of future reference librarians. Sounds wild and crazy, doesn’t it? Actually, there are great perks to attending such a party, like getting to have this conversation*:
Post-Attack Roy Horn: Darren, did you catch Philip Roth on Fresh Air today?
Harold: Oh yeah. It was a rerun from 2000. I’m always surprised by how personable he comes off in that interview. I expect him to be more defensive and bitter.
Post-Attack Roy Horn: You had to love that question about his influences. Like, was there any chance that he would name someone other than Bellow?
Harold: Hopeless nostalgic, that one. Whatcha drinkin’?
Post-Attack Roy Horn: Miller tall boy.
Harold: Sweet.
Or this one:
Andy Warhol: I saw Paris, Texas last week.
Harold: Wim Wenders, right? I haven’t seen it yet.
Andy Warhol: Sam Shepard is great in it.
Harold: Speaking of, what did you think of the CBT’s Buried Child?
Andy Warhol: I enjoyed it, except for the last twenty minutes. And I didn’t like the way that they turned Dodge into comic relief.
Harold: Exactly! He should be more cynical and threatening. . . . Does your wig itch as much as mine does?
Andy Warhol: Totally.
Or my favorite:
Collared Green: Dude, please tell me that you’re Harold! I love that costume!
* Poetic liberties have been taken in the reconstruction of these conversations.