April 22, 2023:
In summer I'd walk down to Round Table Pizza in the mall, order a medium Guinevere's Garden, and ride out the 110 degree smogfest reading in the merciful protection of air-conditioned booths.
At that time it was Joyce, Perry Anderson, Freud, Braudel, Sterne, Fielding. The teenagers behind the counter were too polite, or too intimidated, to ask. Today it's Leibniz, Spinoza, Foucault, Pynchon, and again nobody asks.
I still love Guinevere's Gardens. Nowadays I order them through DoorDash, and fuck the smogfest.