Category Archives: Personal

Making a New Friend as an Adult: Looking Back

Allison and I met at a dinner party held at someone’s industrial loft/apartment out in Brooklyn, with the Brooklyn Bridge looming grandly in the windows. The loft was so big we played Frisbee, and at one point a person circled … Continue reading

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Seen Last Night, Lower Manhattan

We were walking and talking, moving south on Hudson, and then suddenly we saw it. And all conversation that had anything to do with anything OTHER than this GORGEOUS CHARGER ceased and desisted. We succumbed to total drooling inarticulate love. … Continue reading

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Halloween-Costumes-Through-the-Years Montage

In honor of Halloween, these are the photos that exist. I do remember other costumes but I lack evidence. The first Halloween costume in the recorded history of my life shows me as a witch with a bright blonde plastic … Continue reading

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Rimbaud’s Son

An essay I wrote years ago, posted today in honor of the birthday of poet Arthur Rimbaud A great poet, a really great poet, is the most unpoetical of all creatures. But inferior poets are absolutely fascinating. The worse their … Continue reading

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New York Collage: I Get Around

The Flatiron Building On the side of a bar, on 9th Avenue. It was around 8:30 in the morning when I took this picture. Altogether too early for this level of nonsense. On the side of a bus, careening across … Continue reading

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The Only Guy I Saw

… at the beach the other day. It was wild and dark. We had the place to ourselves.

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Throwback Thursday

I won’t even state how long ago this was, but I will say that David and I are still friends (he’s one of my best friends), we still live within 20 miles of each other. I have known him (and … Continue reading

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Miss Havisham? Is That You?

Feeling restless, I went to the beach yesterday. I took a long walk up and down the empty stretches of sand. There were intermittent rain showers, and the waves were heaving and dark green. There were very few people there. … Continue reading

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His Name Was Rico. He Wore a Diamond.

The ATM at the Copacabana, 47th Street, New York, NY.

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A Fingerprint

I came home the other night and opened my mailbox. There was a big envelope there, with my name written on it. No return address. But I recognized the handwriting immediately. From an old old flame of mine, a major … Continue reading

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