Oh, Tama, honey, you certainly can write, but, let me tell you, everyone has their own New York, and while you got yours right there was so much you left out. So, here I am, talking back to Tama. We simply have GOT to have lunch at The Odeon!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now, New York in the Eighties was the kind of place where a cabbie would drop me off in front of my apartmernt, and then begin to jerk off. This was not on East Eighty Third, like in the song, darlings, but in Queens, which is one more reason why I hate that borough.
As for the East Village, well that was the time I was seeing this guy, who had the twisted idea of mentoring me as a sexual bottom. So he got me down to the shooting galleries, where there were also sex clubs, and, while I was fascinated by viewing the acts of human degradation--and who, it turned out I knew performing them-- I was not about to step in some cage and act like some depraved version of Colleen Dewhurst as Avenging Angel in "The Nun's Story."
Not this New York baby!!!!!!!!!!!!! Tell ME what to do???????????? Whether in fun or games, not a chance.
I had more fun uptown, darlings. I knew where and when to go for action, but those places are long gone. Nathan Lane tried to pick me up. And so did Victor Garber. I can drop names, too, darlings. But it was in the orchestras or mezzanines of New York's Broadway theaters I found myself happiest and safest.
I can never forget the Summer of '88. I believe it was July 5, the day before we had that three month--I am not kidding--heat wave, where it did not drop below ninety degrees. Thank God I was young, then. That night, I am at the Delacorte, watching Blythe Danner as Beatrice, in "Much Ado About Nothing." At intermission, I spotted a friend of mine in the audience, and commented how much I wish I looked like Blythe Danner. I mean, who wouldn't?????????? Suddenly, from somewhere above, a voice calls out, "Honey, we all do!" It was Anne Meara, so sweet! As she said to me, "How do you think I feel? Jerry's in the show with her, every night!" It was a great moment. But, once we were down to the wire, with Beatrice and Benedick (Kevin Kline) going at it, over the loudspeaker comes the stage managers voice--"Ladies and gentlemen. We are sorry to interrupt the performance. Will everyone quietly get up, and leave the theater?" I had no choice, so I did, ending up on the East Side, instead of West. But not before I saw Kevin and Blythe look at each other, and I knew this was not in the script. And then Kevin, in true Benedick fashion, scooped her up, and carried her off stage!
The next day I found out someone had phoned in a fake bomb scare! Probably some disgruntled queen, or Blythe fan, who was so bitched out he could not get a ticket!
My hangouts were Coney, The Cloisters, The Strand, Three Lives, The LGBT Center, The Village Den, and other haunts too numerous to remember. Stick around for some of MY New York, Tama!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The city still swings, darlings! I just march to a different beat!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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