Hi Daddy, Chi-Chi, Hatches, Joshua, Dana, et al

Daddy, I suppose you are sheparding the continued thread onto / into this new interweb place (yes, sheparding is what we are calling it these days.) Or ws I supposed to post over there. I'm comfused and Rodgigo isn't here to "splain me" And yes, we are still calling it "splain me" ever since our days at Desilu right Loretta Hattie.

Chi, sorry that I haven't kept up on the technology - you rule though. J'adore the boards.

Hatches, you top, you. I think tht the wig was made into a mop. Or the wig was made from a mop?

Joshua, Just because you were always so nice to me and everyone else for that matter, I won't turn all cynical, and sarcastic, middle-aged bitter fag (Hi, Tabboo) and deny that that was me. It very well could have been, so I am happy to be that person by proxy in your memory or to have been the actual person. It's like the Roswell or McGruder file (or whatever that JFK conspiracy thingy is called) of huggy moments at the Pyramid. All I know is that I hope I wasn't wearing an actual "Huggie."

That reminds me, Elaine said that she saw this young guy walking down Avenue A in broad daylight in a bicycle shirt and diaper. Hattie, is that someone that we would know (or has interned for you)?

xxoo Hapi
(Capital X for Joshua)
Where's the spell check Button?
When will they ever learm, Bonnie? Didn't you sing that?

Haps... Avenue A... young? I guess that rules out both David C. and Barton Sicuso.

Hapi will never be a Luddite, but I sure wish she would plant something pretty in that urn in front of her house, other than that scraggly Ailanthis weed. Eek
Hatchy, my modern-atrix, where is the message string where you and I discuss the tricks that either you and I each fucked spent the night with and then accidentally discovered that the other one had already fucked made love with? Or in some cases accidentally fucked bought breakfast for.

Remember my drunken Irish husband (which one?) who ran into the Pyramid jumped up on stage tackled you and stuck his tongue down your throat? As he couldn't tell us apart.

I wish that had worked the other way around and some hot NYFD would have mistaken me for "firehouse Hattie."
quote:

"I'm not Hapi, my name is Lisa, Hapi left here long ago"
Barton Sicuso called me recently - but his cell was breaking up and I didn't get the whole number, but from the area code he's in Frisco.

The bar dancer in blue body paint (mentioned elsewhere here) and the mohawk is another story. He is a butoh dancer / house cleaner / art school model / bicyle repair person now living in Philly. I still "see" him from time to time.

quote:
Originally posted by hatches:
When will they ever learm, Bonnie? Didn't you sing that?

Haps... Avenue A... young? I guess that rules out both David C. and Barton Sicuso.

Hapi will never be a Luddite, but I sure wish she would plant something pretty in that urn in front of her house, other than that scraggly Ailanthis weed. Eek
quote:
Originally posted by Hapi Phace:

Joshua, Just because you were always


Aw gee. Right back at ya.

Also, Hatches, Hap et. al, here are some random Pyramid queries--

Who was/ what happened to ...

the old guy who looked like William Burroughs?
the frail girl who danced by herself?
Joey K. (vulcan ears, garland, who used to spin to "new gold dream")

random pyramid physical recollections:

the banquette (sp?)
the stream in the basement
the night i actually finally got locked in at 5am.
The girl who danced with herself was named Rachel. I think joey one time made her a statuette-style drapery and got her to go-go dance. Or do I have manufactured-memory-syndrome, Hattie?

I remember the Burroughs-look-a-like - he must be 100 by now. He coould dance. I liked when he would dance with Rachel.

Joshua - were you there when that woman - an older woman used to draw people's portraits? - this was way before Baby Gregor was doing it. She had super red hair, I think.

Non-Pyramid characters of that era.
Remember the tall woman who used to walk really fast in the street and was totally covered from head to toe in scarves?
Then there is the classic, the guy with the paperbag hat that lived behind the trash cans on the corner of 9thor 10th street. John Kelly dressed up like him for one of his shows. It brought the house down.

Then there was the lady who painted those nun paintings on scraps of canvas. I have a number of those paintings, of course . . . not to mention the Baby Gregor collection as well.

does anyone still ahve one of my smiley face on vellum paintings from the 99-Cent painting show that I had at Boy bar. Someone once told me that that was mentioned in The Secret Language of the Cranes however, I do not know that that is true as I do not read gay novels since I am a heterosexual woman.

How about Ida, the gum-smacking, cat-eyed glasses waitress at THE REAL ODESSA (RIP). She worked during the day at the DMV. She was a godess.

The super-fruitty flirty doble-entrendre spouting blonde polish waiter at the Real Odessa (RIP) who ended up in Honcho magazine or something.

Of course there was Al who would water down the rot gut. Frank the custodian who DIED in the Pyramid - talk about getting locked in the Pyramid!

Oh Beatriz, Olympia's friend who read Tarot cards, what ever happened to ehr. didn't she smoke like 5 packs of cigarettes a day or something weird like that?

There used to be this guy that woudl come by when his lover was out of town and flash me when I was on stage. I would go home with him and we'd have a dysfunctional fuckfest for three days at a time . . . or something vaugely similar to that . . . he was a paige at the David Letterman Show or something like that.

Then Hattie there was Ra_ph _ox - what was that story?

Oh somewhere someone was taslkign aobut that show where Philly projectile vomitted after Hattie tied her up after she passed out . . . the name of that show was "Attack of the Spider Women from the Planet Crab Nebula." Sometiems I have a memory like a steel trap - but usually only when it will embarrass or humiliate someone else.

xxooo for now, the Hapinator
Hapi,
You are killing me with your memory!
I can help with a couple "where are they nows".

1) Beatriz moved back to Mexico and has grandchildren (maybe GREAT grandchildren).
She always writes to The Empresss and I on our birthdays. She's good.

2) And Frank, if he is the one that I'm thinking of...
Lady Bunny made a plaster cast of his enormous member (probably after he died) and has it (let's just say) safely tucked away.
In fact, she may have been the one that killed him.

3) Baby Gregor is gone but his paintings live on. I heard that one recently sold at Sotheby's for one million dollars. Of course it was Messy Bonnie who told me that. She has quite a few and is trying to unload them.
I have a Baby Gregor painting on a square of grey marble. I bought it from him on the street in front of The Pyramid the same year he died.

I think of him often and hear that deep throated whiskey laugh.

Here he is at Wigstock shining as Janis.

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In no particular order:

-- Nick was the name of the old man who everyone thought was Burroughs.

-- Rachel, the bar dancer, was a librarian by day, I think at Cardozo.

-- I have two of those nun paintings

-- I have many Baby Gregor paintings and quite a bit of his record collection... many later became the "soundtracks" for Blacklips shows.

-- Ida later moved on to the REAL Second Avenue Deli(RIP) and has probably moved on to wherever else they have 86'd the Yankee Bean Soup.

-- Our own Pops Steiner had the misfortune to find Frank's body when she stopped by to drop off her records in the early afternoon after he died. I went to the wake at the funeral home in Bed Stuy, which featured a faux fireplace whose flames were electric bulbs behind a squeaky rotating plastic fire. This was in July or August and there was no air conditioning. They did, however, pass out little fans with the funeral director's face printed on them, I think I still have one.

--the stream in the Pyramid basement still runs, you know. it has been redirected and pumped outside and if you look curbside, you can see a small rubber hose that periodically emits a gush of water into the gutter. Since all that land east of First Avenue was originally marsh and mudflats, it's not surprising that there is still a stream.

-- And finally, the man with the paper bag hat. Al, the booze waterer, told me this story, so take it with an ounce of H2O...
Once upon a time, a man and his wife owned the real drugstore which later became the restaurant Pharmacy. The wife died a lengthy and painful death from cancer; the man lost his mind, along with the business and home and took to wandering the streets. Then, unlike now, the neighborhood took care of its own and he was fed by "Mama" at the REAL Odessa (RIP) and given shelter and cigarettes by Ray who owned the cigarette store on that block. The reasoning behind the bag on head eludes me, but it always reminded me of the "vinegar and brown paper" line from Jack and Jill. His crown was broken, no?
There but for the grace of God go I.

Late last night I was walking Casanova and I saw someone from "back in the day". At first I thought I should give some money to this hunched over, broken old man. Then I realized who it was and decided that it would have been too embarassing for him. (This happened once before when I didn't recognize him and tried to give him money. He was devasted and started crying -not the reaction I was looking for.) This guy is at least 10 years younger than me and looks like my granfather. Years of drugs have destroyed him. He walks like he's dead already.

When I think back on those days at The Pyramid... somehow we were all the same.
Young and stupid.
Some got out and some didn't.
This guy who is so dead now, could have been any one of us.

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