Tariku came with me last Sunday to a party celebrating the release of Jim Krusoe’s wonderful new novel Erased. I’m honored enough to call Jim my teacher and my friend and Tariku can’t get enough of the guy. I spent most of the party chasing after T while he toddled around the crowded porch copping feels off all the ladies (he was especially fond of Mary Otis in her cowboy hat) and shaking up the beers in the tub while no one was looking. There hasn’t been so much carousing at a literary event since Hemingway terrorized the Paris salons. Mary said she’d never felt such a tiny hand on her ass before. That’s my boy.