All dolled up in mermaiden pearls for Enchantment Under the Sea, Dances of Vice’s 4th Anniversary Celebration.
It was my very first time to attend Dances of Vice, though I’d been wanting to go for years!
Shien (the mastermind behind the magic) is such a perfect hostess, and puts so much thought
and love into creating these incredible events. If you live in New York, you had better go!

I love this sketch Adriano Moraes did of Jeff Wengrofsky and I that night.
I remember feeling so perfectly and completely happy while standing there near the doorway, being sketched.
I could see all the guests coming down the grand stairway at Morningside Castle, all in their finest frocks and
sharpest suits. Something about people-watching with permission to be silent and still in the mad throng of that
beautiful party, all while being watched and taken in so intently by an artist making the magical transference
between eye and hand, hand and pencil, pencil and paper. The moment was captured in more ways than one.

Portrait within a portrait.

I had an amazing meeting of the minds with Gerald Busby, a brilliant composer and truly wonderful man
who lives in the Chelsea Hotel. You’ll be hearing more about him from me soon – he’s amazing.

Gerald instructed me to go up to the top floor and walk down the stairs. So glad I did.
It was such a gift to be able to wander the halls of this grand old dame who gave
shelter and succor to so many artists and heroes of mine. I could feel their shades
dancing in the halls, their footsteps echoing. I made a wish that the Chelsea will
continue, will not be robbed of her spirit – though she is being mercilessly robbed
of her art and her tenants. What spirits will be left when they are all gone?

“TO THE PURE, ALL THINGS ARE PURE”
I took a wrong turn looking for Gerald’s apartment
(I should’ve just followed the music!), but I’m glad I
did, because I happened upon room #528 and its
perfect message. It reminds me of being in Rome
with my Grandfather. We were in Madrid, on one
of the last days of what would be our last trip together.
We had gone to the Ermita San Antonio de la Florida
to see Goya’s Sistine Chapel and final resting place,
and I remember both of us were so, so happy that day.
We gazed up at the gorgeous domed cupola depicting
the miracle of Saint Anthony, and all the angels and fat
cherubim gamboling below and just drank in all that beauty,
that light. I asked him then, “How did we get to be so lucky?”
and he replied, “Because our hearts are pure.”

A detail of some as of yet unstolen art from the Chelsea Hotel.
Not sure who the artist is. Fill me in if you know…

From a mural at Petite Abeille, where I had a delightful
post-earthquake brunch with some of my favorite fancies.

Goat girl phone doodle.

I loved this gargoyle/green man who ornaments an apartment on the prettiest street in Crown Heights.

Subway serenader. He also played erhu.

This is Lola. She is one of my favorite people.

This is one of her toys, which she let me play with.

This is ostensibly the pleasant goat. But where is the big big wolf?

I finally found the intersection of Waverly Place and Waverly Place,
stumbling up it alone, by chance, late on my way to dinner one muggy
night. It would have been better if it had been snowing, and silent – like
in Veronica, but at least it exists. People had told me that it didn’t. It does!

The nothing is coming – unicorns unite!

Morning, glories.