Entracte
I'm casting about for a title to these "Addendum/Post-Script/Reply" entries (gonna be more to come); suggestions are welcome. I was thinking of "heimlich zu den Damen" but is that too precious? Tell the truth.
Listening to Robbie Williams at the moment, I was in that kind of mood and he's so appealing: small, dirty, mad and covered with ink. My only concern is that you'd have him over and he'd end up breaking things. Personal experience anyone?
First, to Anonymous: No, I was not trying to suggest that an interest in 18th century French interior design automatically means you're gay, only that it's an early warning sign. Throwing like a girl is another.
Next: a hurried phone message from our beloved S, in part: "the body of a young man was found on the steps of the local church in the village of St. Germain, near Paris, the victim of narcotics, and bearing the carte-de-visite of Mrs. J. Pierpont Morgan -- this from the Herald Tribune, sadly in 1907, not 1904, but there you are..." I ask you, how much do I LOVE this woman? To call with something so tantalizing, so piquant, so metaphorical!
And then, here's correspondence simply too important not to share, from J:
"My dear, can't recall if I remembered to send you the NY Post article about the go-go boy and 'art student' here who sued HX (local free bar rag) for referring to him as a 'porn star' in a caption under a suggestive photo of said young dancer. Says it caused him mental anguish, etc. Reminds me of plight of D. The local go-go boy won his case, court awarded damages of $1 million plus. HX to appeal. On second thought, do NOT share this with D. as it will only give him ideas.
"Dinner in W. Village last night for friends from Paris, no one at table had heard of the Cobra tragedy, however, one guest did admit to owning several Cobra DVDs. The company's product seems at odds with the image projected by -- or is it projected for? --young Master Corrigan. Any updates? J."
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Dearest J, thank you so much for this vital update, which is certainly the kind of thing D. needs to know about, any angle we can pursue, etc. I know, I know, I won't do anything foolish.
Meanwhile alas, no news at present on the Cobra case which is heart-rending as you can appreciate. I don't want to spread myself too thin, but so many of our young are being taken advantage of, everywhere I turn it seems, and I feel I am simply not doing enough. Just this morning at the Hamlet on Sunset, the Witches of Sierra Tower (who stumble over every Sunday to drink their brunch and abuse the staff) were being perfectly hideous to the precious new waiter from Long Island, the slight boyish one with the brown eyes, and it took everything in me not to intervene -- hateful harpies! I so identify with how Mother Theresa must have felt -- so much service work to be done, so little time.
Robbie Williams.
NYT Sunday (male) fashion spread shot at the Hollyhock House; how odd, JJ and I were there to see the Wagstaff film, when, a couple weeks ago, Justin a few months ago. It seems a lifetime has passed since...
Breaking News: just got the most intriguing email, from someone claiming to be a "former student" of mine! Can you imagine? As Nancy M. would exclaim, 'Are you shrieking?' More later...
Listening to Robbie Williams at the moment, I was in that kind of mood and he's so appealing: small, dirty, mad and covered with ink. My only concern is that you'd have him over and he'd end up breaking things. Personal experience anyone?
First, to Anonymous: No, I was not trying to suggest that an interest in 18th century French interior design automatically means you're gay, only that it's an early warning sign. Throwing like a girl is another.
Next: a hurried phone message from our beloved S, in part: "the body of a young man was found on the steps of the local church in the village of St. Germain, near Paris, the victim of narcotics, and bearing the carte-de-visite of Mrs. J. Pierpont Morgan -- this from the Herald Tribune, sadly in 1907, not 1904, but there you are..." I ask you, how much do I LOVE this woman? To call with something so tantalizing, so piquant, so metaphorical!
And then, here's correspondence simply too important not to share, from J:
"My dear, can't recall if I remembered to send you the NY Post article about the go-go boy and 'art student' here who sued HX (local free bar rag) for referring to him as a 'porn star' in a caption under a suggestive photo of said young dancer. Says it caused him mental anguish, etc. Reminds me of plight of D. The local go-go boy won his case, court awarded damages of $1 million plus. HX to appeal. On second thought, do NOT share this with D. as it will only give him ideas.
"Dinner in W. Village last night for friends from Paris, no one at table had heard of the Cobra tragedy, however, one guest did admit to owning several Cobra DVDs. The company's product seems at odds with the image projected by -- or is it projected for? --young Master Corrigan. Any updates? J."
*
Dearest J, thank you so much for this vital update, which is certainly the kind of thing D. needs to know about, any angle we can pursue, etc. I know, I know, I won't do anything foolish.
Meanwhile alas, no news at present on the Cobra case which is heart-rending as you can appreciate. I don't want to spread myself too thin, but so many of our young are being taken advantage of, everywhere I turn it seems, and I feel I am simply not doing enough. Just this morning at the Hamlet on Sunset, the Witches of Sierra Tower (who stumble over every Sunday to drink their brunch and abuse the staff) were being perfectly hideous to the precious new waiter from Long Island, the slight boyish one with the brown eyes, and it took everything in me not to intervene -- hateful harpies! I so identify with how Mother Theresa must have felt -- so much service work to be done, so little time.
Robbie Williams. NYT Sunday (male) fashion spread shot at the Hollyhock House; how odd, JJ and I were there to see the Wagstaff film, when, a couple weeks ago, Justin a few months ago. It seems a lifetime has passed since...
Breaking News: just got the most intriguing email, from someone claiming to be a "former student" of mine! Can you imagine? As Nancy M. would exclaim, 'Are you shrieking?' More later...
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