putterings 589 < 590 > 591 index
“No,” I said. I was quite surprised. One of the things I had really been looking forward to was having that combination kitchen-bedroom all to myself, and cooking little things, and puttering, and playing the hi-fi: playing house, for all the world as if it were mine, and mine alone. After you’ve been on the streets for a while, living alone becomes the ultimate luxury.
I was quiet, but Luke, I was sure, could hear me thinking, with that telepathy people develop when they are continually at the mercy of others...
—
ex Diane DiPrima, excerpt from Memoirs of a Beatnik (1969)
in June Skinner Sawyers, ed., The Greenwich Village Reader : Fiction, Poetry, and Reminiscences, 1872-2002 (Cooper Square Press, 2001) : 432-439 (438)
borrowable at archive.org : link
26 February 2026