Category Archives: Dreaming on Paper

Today I’m going to see The Lady Who Gives Permission. Her apartment is on the Lower East Side, near Orchard Street, where vendors hawk shoddy clothes from their stalls. It’s a five story walk-up. The Lady Who Gives Permission lives … Continue reading →

I was twenty, living on a loft in Soho, a different place in the summer of 1977: tougher, grittier, its cobblestone streets jammed with trucks and strewn with dumpsters slathered with graffiti and torn poster bills. No boutiques, no Balthazar. … Continue reading →

He hadn’t had sex in two years. Except for a run around the park now and then, he never exercised. Two weeks out of every month he lived on fruit juice and nuts, and that’s when not fasting. The rest … Continue reading →

Home with Audrey now for two days. She’s very fussy when awake, and (much like her Papa) seems to find the waking world unsatisfactory in almost every way. Unlike him, she hasn’t yet learned to express her dissatisfaction in words … Continue reading →