William H. Johnson, "Jacobia Hotel" (1930)
William H. Johnson, Jacobia Hotel (1930)
Can a Game Be Literature?

Mark's Pages

"Spanish Made Easy". The manager wants to speak to the maids. More likely, know what they're saying about him behind his back.

Two nurses from Redlands who lived around the corner. That was my house, two doors down. "You mean the one with the painting on the porch and the bands playing all day?" The very same. The look they exchange...

"Why are you writing to Helen!?!!?!" — Helen is the owner here.
"You date people in Arkansas?" — no, I just write them letters.
"My good friend is from Arkansas." — so is my great-grandmother.
"Mark, Yolanda is forcing me to eat more of your tortilla chips!" — that's why I brought a two-pound bag.

"I left my black shoes here last time, do you have them?" I bring a pair of lady's pumps from lost-and-found: "Are these them?" The man, 250 pounds, shakes when he laughs so that ripples of laughter continue around his body long after his mouth has stopped. "No."

Everybody leaves me booze. Do I look like an alkaloid? You probably don't remember. Does Peter Buck look like an alkaloid? Probably better not to answer that.

"Are you going to be back there all day?" — no, almost done.