Tuesday in CinCity. The Funny Valentine Edition.
Exegesis by Paul Hostovsky We couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen, sitting on that green bench in the late sixties or early seventies, me and Michael Zucker who was much more savvy and world-weary than I, when I asked him to please explain the meaning of the words to a song by Carly Simon, who was simply gorgeous—that much was plain—after we'd resolved the essential question of whether or not she was wearing a bra in that photo of her with the blue top and thick lips on her album cover. "I don't get it," I said. "'You're so vain. You probably think this song is about you.' But the song IS about him, isn't it?" I asked Zucker, holding my palm up in the air like one who is trying to ascertain the truth about whether or not it has started to rain. Zucker looked away then, gingerly fingering the green slats, as though he were reading the carved names of the lovers and obscenities tact...