''The miracle of another human being''

(you can click on the photos to make them bigger!)

This past Thursday night in a small gallery in New York City, on West 44th street and Broadway, I had my first reading in many years. It was an excerpt reading from Virginie Sommet's "Only in New York Darling" in English & French. I read in English (of course) while Virginie read the excerpts in French (as it was originally written).

Virginie is simply an exceptional women. She is parts Andy Warhol, Bjork, and Simone De Beauvoir. A sculptor, writer, and performer all in one. On top of ALL of this she runs the loft that I live in- in Chinatown. It's part apartment, part bed & breakfast, part social gathering. Every morning I wake up to a flurry of, "Bonjour," "Bonjour, Ça va?" "Oui, Ça va, et toi?"

We each have our times when we can get into the bathroom and shower (mine is at 6:30am). Virginie wakes up every morning to put on coffee for the bed and breakfast, and we are generally greeted in the morning by her warm lush voice, "Good morning darling..."

In the mornings, I rush through Chinatown, to the D train, through a massive crowd of Asian people. Every morning as I turn down Bowery from Canal street, past the Manhattan bridge. A Chinese women holding tickets always asks me, "You want to go to Boston today?" and everyday I say to her "Work, I'm going to work." She smiles and says "Oh, ok!" I realize these are the only words she knows in English.

Friday was a blur, and Saturday was the art gallery show for Gary St. Clare (Virginie's partner). He creates artwork that captures the sexiness of a blacksplotation film, layered with urban street sensibilities, and a lush sophistication. With champagne in hand we all toasted Gary for both his great work and his birthday, where Virginie surprised him with six different types of chocolate cake!

I walked around the gallery with Marlon, a brilliant conductor with his own orchestra, "Ensemble du Monde" talking about working together on theatrical project and how we both longed for more free time and warmer weather.

Sunday- I made time for laundry and walked around the city looking for all black Converse. I find a small coffee shop to call my little brother Mondrian to ask him how he & his wife's pregnancy is coming along. They are expecting twins in the fall, their first children. He is calm, deliriously happy, and I tell him to talk to Bridgette's stomach and tell the twins I can't wait to meet them.

As I left the coffee shop and walked outside, there was a small snow flurry- it put me in a romantic mood. I came home, put on my new black Converse, laid in my bed, and put my feet on my ceiling. Yes, that is how small my room is. Length wise, a decent size. Height wise, another story. As I put my feet on the ceiling, I looked at the room and how Virginie had decorated it. The walls are a champagne color with twinkle lites. Some of my grandfathers painting rest against the walls and even though the room is small, it is warm to me and feels cozy. My mind turns to thoughts of someone that is quickly becoming more special to me with each passing day, suddenly there is ''extra push of color'' even on this grey day.
Conversation with him is voluminous, strong, and it flows. It's so mysterious how we all come into each others life. I can't put it any better then Craig Lucas did from Prelude to Kiss: ''Never to be squandered...the miracle of another human being.''
In the middle of my daydreaming, I get up and I hit my head on the ceiling, which I do constantly, (cussing every time I do it) and wait, patiently, for July when I move into the big room down the stairs.