Well, B. said to N. that he wouldn't spend the evening alone with a book, that he wanted something interesting to do. N. offered various suiggestions -- interesting bars were "too plebeian" and restaurants "too materialistic". B. insisted he wanted something cultured, but not challenging -- "a comforting sort of cultural" thing to do. B. strode around the room expostulating on the dullness of life. N. suggested tango. No. N. offered jazz -- too challenging. B was sure there was something out there with just the right balance of warmth, adventure, comfort and beauty. N. said, How about flamenco guitar? I know a senor who performs in a Castellano restaurant across town. "Flamenco? Oh, that's close..." thought B. But then B. allowed that these Castilian dons were stuffy and puffed up. "Something Portuguese, then?" offered N. "Yes! Yes!" cried B. "A portuguese gypsy music dancer or guitariste! But not a man, no!! No stilted Dons for me! Call a Dona, N!"

Ya think? I dunno.... the line, "He wasn't that shaggy!" comes to mind....


A