Oh, he had to go out last night and meet this television writer for a drink downtown, in the Village and all. That’s what started it. He says the only people he ever really wants to meet for a drink somewhere are all either dead or unavailable. He says he never even wants to have lunch with anybody, even, unless he thinks there’s a good chance it’s going to turn out to be Jesus, the person — or the Buddha, or Hui-neng, or Shankaracharya, or somebody like that.
— J. D. Salinger, Franny and Zooey
The Zen bard of Cornish, New Hampshire has died, according to his son.
(NOTE: you may have noticed that this site is in the middle of a redesign. It’s live, though not quite ready yet. I’ll post more about this as soon as I fix a few more things).