Putting the Grrr in Swinger

(As Austin Powers would say)



Happy Birthday, Zippy!

In honor of your big day, I thought I'd take a look back:
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1) When Donna introduced us, I had not been in NYC very long. However, it had been long enough for me to feel like I was a smooth operator, used to the big city and all the people in it. I could totally handle whatever Manhattan threw at me (after telling myself that numerous times a day, I was actually starting to believe it). I had moved to the city of my childhood dreams. I knew that ordering coffee "regular" had nothing to do with the size of the cup! I rode the subway! I was hailing cabs! I knew my way around Soho! I went to the Greenmarket! I was making things happen!

After our first of many dinners in your neighborhood, you & Don walked me to the corner and we said our goodbyes. As I turned toward the cab, you stepped forward and stuck out your hand, which I involuntarily went to shake. The millisecond before we made contact, it hit me that you weren't trying to shake my hand. You were just going to OPEN MY CAB DOOR FOR ME BECAUSE YOU'RE A GENTLEMAN. So, being the gentleman you are, you shook my hand, and then opened the door for me anyway. The entire ride home I just shook my head, wondering how I ever got to that point in my life and was still stumbling through those types of micro-humiliations. Thank you for never making me feel like a dork, even when we laughed about how much of a dork I could be.

May I remind you of a fall I took in the middle of Broadway, for no apparent reason? What about the time I tripped and went airborne, in front of Brad Pitt and all of the beautiful people at Balthazar? The best part was screaming out what sounded like "Geezaz Cryyyyyst!" (a phrase not usually in my repertoire, but one that certainly demanded MORE people look my direction). I had no idea it was actually coming out of my mouth until I found my way back to the ground and it was quiet again, with the exception of the sound made by the footsteps of my dignity and grace leaving me where I landed.

The actual, for real, 100% true definition of the word Balthazar: {Bal·tha·zar [bahl-thuh-zahr], noun. One of the three sages from the east who came bearing gifts for the infant Jesus}. So, maybe I was just announcing my arrival? I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.
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2) I still laugh when I think of you sitting behind me, art directing, while I'm working on a design. Hearing you tell me where to move things, what to resize, colors, line thicknesses. Small silences in between my execution of your suggestions before moving onto the next, just long enough to absorb the change and evaluate what to adjust next. No detail spared--not one element on the page without a purpose. Eventually, the silence got a little longer than the norm, at which point I'd turn around to see you sound asleep in the chair, still pointing your sharpened pencil (which you would undoubtedly get busted for stealing off of Donna's desk) towards my monitor. When you heard me laughing, you'd open your eyes and say, "Ok, we got it, kid?"

"I'm just going to shut my eyes for a minute. Oh, and I'll be doing that on the office floor."
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3) Paul Simon's Graceland. I can't hear any one song from the first half of that album without feeling like I'm back at A.I., hearing each song blare out of your office. I say only the FIRST half of that album, because usually Donna would yell for you to turn it down by the time "You Can Call Me Al" started up.
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4) Home Run Sun: My 2nd favorite painting of yours in the loft. Mostly because of the bright color but also a little because you painted it the same year I was BORN. You always love it when I remind you of that.

1973: Two masterpieces were created. The first, me. The second, Home Run Sun.

For the record, this is my all-time favorite of your paintings:

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5) Many nights I got to sleep at the "library" end of the loft, like it was my own little space, after late nights of work and even later dinners all together. You asleep; D & I up until all hours of the night chatting in the kitchen, playing w/ Jazzer, looking through magazines, laughing at you snoring.

Jazzy getting the blow-up mattress all warmed up for me.
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6) All of your collections!


The above photos represent .00000001% of the cool things you surround yourself with.
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7) The night we were all out and you told everyone how our petite little Shoni could "eat 6 men under the table"--and seeing Shoni's face across from me. I don't know of a time that I have ever laughed that loud & long. Tears. Streaming. Down. Our. Faces. It still makes me laugh to this day. Another one, somewhat related: the year I got you a cheesecake for your birthday and you said, "You know, it's really something good to put in your mouth." I'm almost embarrassed at how much we laughed after that statement. Almost. If anyone else would have said it, it would not have been funny at all. For what it's worth, I think it was your 12th birthday, at least maturity-wise.

Since there are no "known" photos of Shoni and 6 men under the table, this one of you in the kitchen will have to do.
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8) Consumption in general: green curry chicken over wide noodles at Kobma Thai; burger (me), steak, rare, NO onions (you), the healthiest thing on the menu (Don) at Tavern on Jane; The 3 S's at Rio Mar: steak, shrimp & sangria; your chicken/onion specialty in the country; vodka gimlets at Beatrice Inn the night Charles Kuralt died, and somehow you talking me into trying "sweetbreads" using the same technique my dad used to get me to try escargot when I was 9. He told me they were mushrooms (you convincingly said "scallops"), and we were in a dimly-lit restaurant. Works every time! I blame the vodka gimlets more than you, but it's all good! Who could really stay mad at vodka? I can't leave out when you & D took me to see "Night Must Fall" starring Matthew Broderick and after Shoni met up with us, we ate dinner at the table right next to Matthew and his friends. The only 2 tables with people at them in the whole place. It was a truly only-in-NYC experience.



The Beatrice Inn, once a favorite of Charles Kuralt. Also known as the scene of the crime: "This isn't a scallop! You're a LIAR! Sweetbreads? What the hell is that? They actually SERVE this kind of thing to people? In AMERICA? I'm going to need another drink, and maybe a direct blow to the head so I can forget what I've just tasted."

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9) My hot dog photo series and your doughnut paintings. I still say there is an amazing coffee table book to be made, and we should definitely call it: Paging Dr. Freud!

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10) The morning after my apartment was broken into, you and D were the first people I called after my parents. You were both so upset you insisted that I come over immediately and stay for the weekend. At first, all I wanted to do was stay put and "protect" my home, but neither of you were giving me a choice. As soon as I got there, it snowed and snowed and snowed, so much that it felt like we were inside one of those snow globes. When it stopped coming down, we got Jazzy leashed up and all went for a long walk around the village. The city was so incredibly clean & peaceful that all the feelings of being violated for having my apartment destroyed by criminals, who took everything I had of value but more than that stole my sense of being secure; all those feelings were just lifted by the most amazingly healing & beautiful day in my favorite neighborhood in the world, and it was in those moments on that snowy walk through the village when I realized I was, right then, exactly where I was supposed to be.


Our winter's day walk was just like this photo, except it wasn't springtime, we weren't walking in Central Park, and you weren't sharing an ice cream bar with D.

You guys became like family. I always knew I had a place to stay and a steady flow of work to keep me busy, but most importantly I knew I had people there who really cared about me.

My favorite photo of you two, from the first (and only!) Fine Comp holiday party, circa 1997.

Thank you for being in my life and have a fantastic birthday. I hope you get something good to put in your mouth!