Pretty Pictures, #1

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Untitled
Pianist WILLIE DAVIS (accompanist on the last revival of “Bachelor in New Orleans”; collaborator-to-be on Madame Morganza Spillway) sent me this art in Feckbook, with this note:

As for the previous post, Tim is one of my best friends. He lives in Philly, works in NYC 2 days a week at East of Eights bartending. he worked at Lafittes around ’92-94. A great artist. I trust his aesthetics more than anyone I know. Can’t find a pic. Good-looking Irish dude in his late 40’s now. His buddy Stewart lived in the Chelsea Hotel for a while. Here is a piece of his. There are 2 or 3 more on my website in my ‘Art’ page. …We met here in NOLA but both moved to NYC. I mentioned his joke about picking the grapes and sowing the grass as a drag show trick. He is not on FB.

I just like it is all.
See http://www.williedavispiano.com/

Special, Albeit Necessarily Anonymous, Messages, #2

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I’m about to perform this. A beautiful Cuban girl on piano. Me on guitar. Tears involved.
I know, you’re sashaying. I can only say sash: Sash. Talk later. Enjoy!!
I keep my heart broken. But at least it’s always by exceptional women. <sigh>
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Happy Birthday!! xoxoxo
See ya!
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Hey Michael. I wrote this while a bit drunk. I still stand behind it, but, the thing is, don’t know if you remember what I’m referring to. Share it if you want to, or not. This is what I was inspired to write: Ok, none of the following makes sense, cuz I’m a bit drunk… but I’m trying to spell out what Michael Martin means to me (as I told him, I can’t sashay, bay I can say “sash”: etc.)… I erased at least five entries from this, before landing on the following. I first met Michael Martin around 1991. Didn’t really know him, and I’ll skip the whole “”this is how I got introduced to the Chicago theatre scene” story, cuz those are not [not sic] a dime a dozen. I treasure those days, when I first met Beau and Danny and Michael…those were wonderful, rare times. I remember hanging out with Dianne Izzo singing, and discussions and rehearsals, and William Coelius eating his phone. I remember helping Michael Martin move apt’s for the first time. His basement apartment full of vinyl. Much of it country, which was quite ahead of his time. And i remember this, the ifirst thing I remember Michael Martin saying (before the first three shows that got cancelled due to I do and don’t know what reason): (1) “… something… despite the best efforts of the woman who loves him…(in the back of a van)” and (2) “why won”t D– W—— compose music for me?!?”
That’s it. Happy Birthday Michael. I Love You XOXOXO
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Holy crap was I drunk last night. Man. I barely remember writing that. Anyway, glad you had a nice birthday!

Special, Albeit Necessarily Anonymous, Messages, #1

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Hey baby-
I am happy to see, and view your new path. The pure creative spark and expression of the creative mind that you have, is much more powerful entity than the motherfucking social media tit that we all suck at.
I’m guilty of my own addiction, although my ruminations take another form.
Feckbook is pretty vacuous to me, and serves its own outlet.
I miss you and Eric, and count you both as more than casual “friends”. The thought of either of you dropping from a blip on the radar for me to the ether is a terrifying one. But, if it works for you, this can serve as our digital “post office”.
I am still working on the book, albeit sporadically. I, like yourself, should retreat. But, I am so goddamned tired when I get home that writing is the 50 lb mountain gorilla that cuts off my creative.
Things are in the works. Potentially good. And, with any luck, they will eventually involve you.
I love you both, you ol codger.
We’ll talk soon.
Your pal,
(and to paraphrase as you said “straight cock tease”)
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