Paul worked at the magazine too. He also spun jazz at a bar on the lower east side. And when it was warm he sported man-sandals with pride. A little while ago a lady popped into his life and before you knew it he was trading coasts. Now I’m in charge of retrieving his mail, sigh.
January 26, 2011
Thanks for letting me crash your boy’s dinner at Little Dom’s. It was so great to see you (and Paul), and Adrian Gardiner—but not more than you of course. I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet your lady. I think LA is pretty swell and I hope you are very happy here. It’s kind of hard not to be with all the sunshine, no? You know always have a place on my couch if you ever miss the Statue of Liberty or more likely, Casimir.
P.S. I’m glad I have your LA address, because that Chinatown P.O. box is simply dreadful (and I would know!).
[…] project nearly swallowed me whole (please direct all complaints, grievances and how-dare-yous to Paul). I assure you, the letters didn’t suffer—just the posting. So here they all are in rapid […]