Death Letters
No time for visits or pleasantries with friends. Not meaning to be rude, I am all in my head and heart, completely consumed, driven to record as much as I can before you fade from me. I know this behavior is futile. You are gone and my efforts will not bring you back but somehow...
Random Thoughts on Mortality
1) Woke up from a dream involving my ex. I and some friends and strangers found him sprawled on a divan in what seemed an abandoned office building. Like a pieta he was sprawled, and looked the way he had at the end of his life—thin, riddled with Karposi’s sarcoma, listless. 2) No surprise, but...
Autumn Highs and Lows
The week that was ended as it began, with one of those happened-upon moments that are as indigenous to Manhattan as is Mitt Romney to an off-shore banking account: strolling up Broadway near Lincoln Center I was on a cell phone call when I heard the familiar strains of Scott Joplin’s The Entertainer. The tune...
Summer’s Lease
The giveaway happened this morning. It came in the form of a sneeze—several, actually, all so forceful that my coffee flew out of my cup into my face. No burns, only embarrassed, accompanied by NY1’s confirmation of my suspicions: ragweed had launched its ugly spores into the air. Zyrtec, take me away. In this way...
How Deep is Your Love: Robin Gibb 1948-2012
First Donna Summer, now this. Curious, though, about the album he released this spring, his first toe-dip into classical music called Titanic Requiem. RIP, thanks for enhancing the soundtrack of my youth…
Carlos Fuentes, “The Old Gringo” novelist, essayist, 1928-2012
“The contract between the author and the reader is a game. And the game . . . is one of the greatest invetions of Western civilization: the game of telling stories, inventing characters, and creating the imaginary paradise of the individual, from whence no one can be expelled because, in a novel, no one owns...
Why my heart doesn’t go dancing
Is April the kindest, or the cruelest month? The party line affirms the first: it’s the time of rebirth when saucer magnolias pop their tragic blooms, crocuses and tulips sprout, warm weather hints and Easter descends, toting tales of resurrection. I’m not feeling it, which makes me wonder if I ever have. Chocolate bunnies excepted,...
Dory Previn, Lyricist, 1925-2012
All ten year-old tragedians need a soundtrack. Mine was the Theme from Valley of the Dolls, that heartbreaking ballad from the film that starred Barbara Parkins, Sharon Tate and Patty Duke. I had no idea that the song was meant to underscore the film heroine’s descent into pill addiction (I thought Parkins, Tate and...
Where do broken hearts go: Whitney Houston 1963-2012
I heard the news last night before bed, and forgot about it. Then I woke up too early and, as I sat in front of the TV, the news scroll reminded me. Still it’s vague, I’m in denial until I walk down to my building’s lobby to pick up our Sunday Times. A tenant on...
Firsts: Don Cornelius 1936-2012, Camilla Williams 1919-2012, Ben Gazzara 1930-2012
You turned on the TV on Saturday afternoon and there he was, the envy of every black boy on the block. It was his high style and aspirational exhortations that drew us each week, mirrored more youthfully by the Soul Train dancers, whose moves we copied for use on our own dance floors: street corners,...
