Two guys walk into an airport...

I've always loved this photograph. I took it in the airport in Schenectady or maybe Scranton while I was stuck in a snow storm. Eventually I had to stay overnight. There were plenty of places to sit down. They didn't have to sit next to one another. They may have even been together. It's less fraught than it looks. The guy on the left is a Sikh. I don't think they have any problems with Jews and vice versa.

Tootsie

My uncle's dog. Now mine. I begged him not to get a puppy, get a dog from the humane society. He got a pure bred, white, toy schnauzer that he, being 80 cannot deal with after 6 or 7 months. Now I have her. Mostly. I share custody with Loralyn so she does not have to stay home in a cage all day while I work.

Frank O'Hara, apropos of nothing

Frank O'Hara was the roommate of Edward Gorey when they went to school together at Harvard. While Frank O'Hara was gay, Edward Gorey was very sexless, or so he said. Frank O'Hara died at the age of forty, though he looked older, presumably from a rough life of drinking and smoking. Although maybe it was just that back then everyone was older looking. I only imagine he had a rough life, being gay, smoking and the way people drank back then. Plus he died on Fire Island. 

He was handsome from the front but his beaky nose from the side is distractingly unusual, as it were. As you can see from the photographs below.

I have always admired Edward Gorey, and very much appreciated his art. I somehow also always hoped to meet him, as I did Julia Child. But I did not. I did meet Maurice Sendak once though.

Pencil drawings

Some stuff I draw.

Crocuses in my mother's yard

I have to take care of my mother's yard. This is her first blooming plant.

Artists Corner

I'm in France in my apartment in Hyeres. I'm painting. Here is where I do it.

My first boss

The woman in the center of this picture is Ruth Lives. She was my first boss and a lovely, wonderful woman to whom I was not all that nice. Not that I was ever deliberately unkind or ever rude. But as a 24 year old who thought he knew everything, not to mention an in-general pushy person, I was just that. A young pushy guy. I did a good job. I got promoted very quickly. I had a lot of responsibility and I got a new job pretty easily after she'd taken the time to train me.

I feel bad about it. She died ages ago before I ever had a chance to thank her for all she did for me.

She drank vodka.