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After lunch at Sarabeth‘s, Les UDs went across the street and down to the end of School House Lane to visit Nancy Forrester’s Secret Garden.

Hidden among its overgrown ferny paths is an aviary lunatic asylum, a dark place where weirdly articulate parrots, caged like Bertha Rochester, hurl imprecations at you.

There must have been twenty or more of these livid obsessives in that evil place, turning and turning in their narrowing gyres, pressing their angry eyes up against the wires at you, flinging themselves off their perches and pecking about for feed…

WHODYATHINKYOUARE? WHATSTHEMATTERDEAR? COMEHERECOMEHERE HEYBIGGIRL WHATSTHEMATTERDEAR? WHODYATHINKYOUARE?

All of them all at once, like Bette Davis as Baby Jane if they broadcast the film on one of Nam June Paik’s installations…

“Nothing’s the matter!” said UD as she fled. But she felt defensive saying it.

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3 Responses to “WHATSTHEMATTERDEAR?”

  1. Jon Kenneth Williams Says:

    Great minds think alike! I had lunch at Sarabeth’s Kitchen on the Upper West Side just the other day.

  2. Margaret Soltan Says:

    Right! The guy who seated us said they had another restaurant in NYC.

  3. University Diaries » It’s Different in the Tropics. Says:

    […] Forrester’s parrots, as you know, don’t merely squawk and shriek. They talk. A lot. All at once. This isn’t refined […]

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