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I was shocked to read that Stephen Sprouse has moved on to another dimension, and at such a youngish age. So sad, of course, but from the press, I never get the medical details on the course of illness & cause of death, which are always of interest to me as the nurse. If it was heart failure secondary to lung cancer, then a quick end to that story is the best (a slow death not being able to breathe is horrible- as I have witnessed on more than one occasion in my business) and hopefully he was properly medicated (more morphine please nurse) to make his transition peaceful. His passing serves as a reminder to each of us to live for today, because who knows what card we are dealt tomorrow. Anyway, he has had his moments in fashion history, and he will go down as a great visionary (alas though not the greatest in business for himself)- among so many of his pieces (the LV bags were a great success but under Marc Jacobs umbrella), his jacket for Cher at her Letterman appearance with Sonny was brilliant- God Save The Queen!- in safety pins & sequins. I still have a simple and plain black jean jacket of his from his store on Wooster from the 80s.
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So sorry to hear of his demise. He was a complicated and sweet man. So talented and yet his demons haunted him for so long.I wonder if his lung cancer had anything to do with how much he smoked? I can't remember ever seeing him without a smoke in his hand. I wish all my ciggy friends would rethink their relationship with ciggerettes. I smoked for 13 years and it was the greatest thing I ever did for myself to quit. God rest his soul.
Spalding Grey

A body found floating in the East River has been officially identified as Spalding Grey. He was reported missing on January 10 when he left his apartment to meet a friend for a drink and never turned up. He had reportedly been suffering from clinical depression for some time.
Beginning with his early work at the Performing Garage in the 1970s, and including his many appearances on the big screen, Spalding was an enormous influence on many of us New Yorkers who take to the stage. His work helped to make the autobiographical monologue leap from the printed page and into the context of live performance.
Incredibly, though he was best known for the filmed versions of his monologues, "Swimming To Cambodia," and "Gray's Anatomy," he also appeared in the 1976 cult classic, "Ilsa, Keeper Of the Oil Sheik's Harem!"
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SIOUXSIE AND THE BANSHEES and MAGAZINE guitarist JOHN McGEOCH has died in his sleep at the age of 48.

The punk veteran was also famous for his work with Sex Pistol John Lydon's Public Image Limited.

Steven Severin, bass player for the Banshees, said in a statement on his website: "I was shocked and saddened to hear that John passed away in his sleep last Thursday. Although we hadn't worked together for a long time and I hadn't seen him for a couple of years he was always in my heart and often in my thoughts."

He added: "Without doubt the most inventive guitarist of our generation and my favourite Banshee. Love to all his friends and family. Bye John."

According to press reports, McGeoch qualified as a nurse in 1995 after giving up performing. However, he continued to work on music for television.

Born in Greenock, Scotland in 1955, the guitarist moved to Los Angeles in 1986 only to return to the UK in the Nineties.

His distinctive guitar playing and sound can be heard on such Siouxsie And The Banshees hits as 'Happy House', 'Spellbound' and 'Christine'.
Sad sad news.... comedy writer Drake Sather 44, killed himself last wk (gunshot to the head) at his loft in LA.... You probably don't know him but you will know his work - The Larry Sanders show, Ed, Zoolander,SNL.... I had the pleasure of working with Drake and even took him to London once... he had the most amazing mind, real dry sense of humor...and real cute too!!!LOL So sad that this happened...

[This message was edited by Anna Nicole on 03-16-04 at 06:03 AM.]
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I had no idea about John McGeoch...find a copy of Magazine's "Song from Under the Floorboards" and weep at that guitar riff.

"I am angry I am ill and I'm as ugly as sin
my irritability keeps me alive and kicking
I know the meaning of life, it doesn't help me a bit
I know beauty and I know a good thing when I see it."

John McGeoch was a good thing...RIP.
LMD's "Press Color" was the album that ushered in the '80s for me. It includes a major version of Arthur Brown's "Fire" and a gorge version of the Mission Impossible Theme before Tom Cruise ruined even the thought of such. Lizzy was a brilliant visual artist as well. About 10 years ago I saw some paintings of hers that were electrifying.
How choked up I got when I heard that Marlon Brando had died today. I felt an era coming to a close. He became such an eccentric and fodder for the tabloid mills, but he helped revolutionize screen acting in his time, marched with Martin Luther King at the March on Washington in 1963 (along with Paul Newman, Joanne Woodward and others), protested the screen misrepresentation of Native Americans, and was a pure counterculturist. And Lex, I'll second that sentiment about him having been a hottie. He was downright steamy.

Some of my favorite films he was in: On the Waterfront; Streetcar Named Desire; and the Wild One.

Two songs that mention him keep running through my mind today: "China Girl" by David Bowie; and even more movingly: "Pocahontas" by Neil Young.

He was the first real rebel who broke from the old mold, exploring an entirely new inner landscape that perhaps had a larger effect than we yet realize on our collective psyche.
I was always intrigued with his fey Fletcher Christian. And of course his demonic stint in Apocalypse. Even more bizarre was a very late career bit in a re-re-make of The Island of Dr. Moreau -I think I have the title slightly wrong. But he played the title role- a mad scientist with a strange affliction caused by his own experiments- all 300lbs of Brando costumed in a lot of drappery, with a big floppy hat and a veil, his visible flesh made to look very ashy. Really creepy/pathetic. No self-obsessed, narcissitic Holywood actor would ever have done a role like that. That was what was so contradictory about him, he was so introspective. I can't think of another actor on that level, maybe it was a generational thing, Bogey kind of opened the door to some of it (check out his bit part as the desperado Duke Mantee in Petrified Forest), Montgomery Clift really did it (see him in A Place in The Sun opposite Liz Taylor and Shelly Winters, or Red River opposite Duke Wayne). Steve McQueen had a bit of that brooding, close-mouthed style. And for someone really underpraised, Sal Mineo. To his credit Brando really was very anti-establishment, as they used to say. With Brando gone there is only Albert Finney left who can totally destroy a movie camera with rivetting charisma (see especially Under the Volcano where he is a total rocket blast-off of an alcoholic bent on drinking himself to death).
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In his personal life legend has it that Brando was a complete sexual freak who tried everything, including man-on-man action. Somewhere I used to have an infamous photo from the 50s, supposedly of him, in profile sucking a big dick. When I saw it I was convinced. If it wasn't him it was an exact replica-clone. (one can dream, right?)

"A Streetcar Named Desire" is one of my favorite films. But you MUST see Brando in John Huston's 60s cult classic "Reflections in a Golden Eye" in which he plays an impotent, deeply closeted military commander past his prime obsessed with a beautiful young soldier. It's based on a Carson McCullers novella and Elizabeth Taylor co-stars as his domineering wife, so right out of the starting gate you know it's sick and perverse in that uniquely Southern way! Brian Keith appears as Taylor's ultra-butch neighbor and lover, and Julie Harris does an interesting turn as Keith's wife who has her own flaming Filipino houseboy mincing around throughout the movie. Bizarre and gorgeous with a stunning ending!
Man, Punks are dropping like flies!

He and Johnny Thunders were my next door neighbors once on East Third Street. He was a nightmare but I liked him. I mean he was a New York Doll!
David Johnanson and Sylvain were my favorites though. Sylvain and I actually recorded together once. I also mixed one of his records (I forget which one). He's great. So is David. Very nice. And Sylvain is an amazing tailor. He can sew ANYTHING! He makes great clothes.
But you know, if there is a Rock & Roll Heaven (and I do think that there is) they have been waiting for Killer Kane.
Many thanks to everyone for their posts, calls, mail, crobar dropins and HUGE BEAMS sent our way on the loss of our beloved girl. It has helped a lot, esp. on those first difficult days and nights.

It is somehow fitting that Whitney AND this topic were both named by Nightlife Uber-Scribe Stephen Saban...
Au revoir dear Julia!

I am still crying, even a whole day later, after hearing Julia Child passed away in her sleep last night. I for one have always been a huge, huge fan of the woman who made French Cooking so darn cool on public television ...... Hey, Julia Child may not have been the prettiest woman in America, but she sure knew how to cook! So we'll go no more saw-taying, Au revoir, and all that...
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Oops! Now that I'm back home I finally have a little time to peruse the other forums on the Boards from my own computer where I'm not being charged for the minutes I use. Chi and Daddy, please accept my heartfelt condolences on the passing of Whitney. Remembering how my mother grieves when one of her pets passes, I know how hard it is. She had the best parents in the world though and was a lucky girl who lived a long life. Best wishes ....
Yes, and Julia was the first; although there were certainly other cooking shows on the air before her-- who remembers them?
And she did introduce words like chiffonade and souffle that none of us had ever heard before.
It was Julia Child, and Jackie Kennedy as well, who were two women responsible for elevating this country's taste in food from the ridiculous (pigs-in-blankets and string bean casserole) to the sublime beginnings of haute cuisine.
As a result, every greasy spoon in America began serving omelettes and eggs benedict. And even my mother, who was strictly "Joy Of Cooking," could whip up a passable bechamel.

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