The Arch. These people will not stop their yammering about the Arch. It is 19 degrees outside and the famous Arch of St. Louis and all it represents (which is…?) is not something I can bring myself to visit.
Like my anti-hero Mr. Blaine, I am a hunger artist, able to perform feats of stamina and deprivation which are wholly unimpressive to the static observer.
I have not breathed outside air since Tuesday night. This hotel, and the mall in which it is housed, is the sum extent of my universe.
The only arch that interests me goes up in the air and comes down in Tallahassee.