Our Lady Of

I am sifting through my egregious backlog of unposted posts and unuploadeded photographs: iPhoto is full to bursting with images of chess games lost, chess games won, Ethiopian beer, western Massachusetts landscapes, garlic scapes, lesbian swans, self-portraits in restroom mirrors, bowling, butterflies, Roman busts, rude graffiti, Lavender Diamond, old magazines, roasted fennel, and stills of Barbara Stanwyck. But I like this one best:

That's A.C.-M., on the left, and B.C.B., right. Bukowski's is a charming establishment where you can get Old Jubilation on tap, and nobody feels the need to remark upon the Virgin Mary statue B. has placed on our table. Not that we'd have heard anything over the music. (Mary has been Our Lady of the Living Room since then.)