Jeff Gord in his infamous House, Francis Bacon amongst his chaotic studio trash. Isabelle Huppert as she stands before my fogged mirror after just getting out of the shower. Glenn Gould standing up to play piano and humming loudly. Anne Carson and Annie Dillard at the dinner table, both of them feasting on the sublime (and maybe some wine). Rothko, but not up close, from across the room. Boy, I'd give a few years to meet Salinger's Teddy right before he got to the pool. Wouldn't mind having the opportunity to play under-the-table footsies and drink turkish coffee with Mr. Henry Miller in the fifties. Other than that, I'm self-important with my time to be honest, but I'm up for exchanging good energy.