especially the memories of the late, great “I lost it at the movies” Pauline Kael and sweaty, inspirational and darkly spiritual nights down at CBGBs watching Patti Smith.
and the strange yet compelling personalities of writers who were called to the pencil-shavings strewn floors of the Voice and the New Yorker when to write was to be someone that mattered in this crazy town.
as Doris says (in a rare bitchy moment but hey, she had made the decision to re-model upstate in crazy-Valium-land) in please don’t eat the daisies: “otherwise how would people know what to think tomorrow” (when critics shaped popular culture in a way tis rare they get a platform to do so today)
like James Wolcott still does. Thankfully.*
on another note, we had the loveliest encounter this morning (we had tea, he had straight up Tap) and in the midst of our fascinating and deeply professional catch up about digital, international business and emerging entrepreneur-dom (yes, sigh, another escapee from the sniper fire of midtown manhattan) he suddenly said “how’s gloria?” and we lapsed into giggles as we had COMPLETELY forgotten he knew……,
*nope. we don’t know him. this is not sucking up.