Yesterday was unquestionably productive.
The morning spent in airless, 19th floor, mid-town offices. Obama in town, the city still snagged with traffic. The sidewalks choked with Ahmadinejad protestors and Palestinian hating zionists.
My foot feels much better. Walking normally until Midday then it swells a little and I have to rest.
Fleas on the dog, Petco remedy.
Read script by new, young writer. Charming boys. Flawed script.
You know that Burroughs came to my 21st birthday party? Did I ever mention that? He arrived with Princess Selima Guirey a descendant of Genghis Khan. I think both Scott Crolla and I were kind of amazed.
After a very spirited performance by a well endowed, naked man covered in glitter I stood on the street in the humid night chatting with an incredibly knowledgeable boy wearing an out sized base-ball cap who invited me to a Courtney Love party. I didn’t go.
We quite randomly discussed Herbert Huncke who I had seen read poetry on St Mark’s Place in that church there with Richard Gere who, for a short time, was an acquaintance of mine. I don’t think many people know this but Gere supported Huncke in his latter years. He died in 1996.
If you don’t know Huncke…google him. It’s worth your time to get acquainted with the man known as the ‘Mayor of 42nd Street’.
I first met the very young and very beautiful Richard Gere with Christina Monet-Palaci in Paris when I was Lord Rendlesham. Lady Jane Wellesley reintroduced me to him several years later in the late 80’s whilst making the ill-fated Baron in The Trees with Marc Warren.
Gere is a huge Italo Calvino fan so we had lots to talk about. Ah, those were the days.
I wonder if Tim remembers us having dinner at his house with Jane and Jean Paul Gautier?
Have you read City of Quartz by Mike Davis? We discussed that too, on the hot New York street, late last night.
I left the dog with Z and T and their huge black pit bulls. The Little Dog loves their bitch Lucy.
Home by midnight. Asleep by one, up at 6.30am.
Next week I am in LA for The Pacific Standard Time art event and Art Platform inaugural fair.
As for my novel? My novel has shape shifted from a dark, murderous, self-conscious meander into a funny, adroit tale of kidnap and mayhem. It’s not high art but it is very readable.
Finally, DADT was repealed. For the small number of people this affects directly…I congratulate you.
This morning the web is alive with video images of Republican Presidential candidates berating Commader in Chief Obama for liberating gay service men and women from keeping secrets.
The right-wing audience revealing their gay hate by booing a gay soldier, screaming with joy when the repugnant candidates promised reinstatement of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell.