Bobby,
There is still time for your tales
of lot-lizardry... I guess you'd just have to
feel the imperative.
More interesting would be your travels
through the coils of religious fantasmagoria.
I still believe in the psychedelic powers of
that dust from the Nepalese burial grounds.
I mean my take on the erst-while wizard Allan L. would make a truly sick short story.
I would not call "Sarah" 'realistic' in any
way, shape or form. What about that diner that
served up gourmet delicacy? (I think that was an extended metaphor for NYC/SF chic restaurants as just another version of the truck stop, where all sorts of other delectable trade may be had...)
Or every one of the truckers in lingerie...?
Or a hermaphroditic hooker lying
unviolated under artistic lighting... or her pimp
never fucking her.... etc. etc.
They call that "magic realism"...
xxxx
PS: Now I have even more books to buy.
My inclination to never buy new fiction is
being undermined.