Slick Rick and the Swedish Giant (Dwell & Tell VII)

Slick Rick was an erotic dancer by night, and a highly-demanded personal trainer at the gym where I worked by day.  Not tall, but adorned with beautifully sculpted muscles and maybe the prettiest skin I'd ever seen on a man.  On any given day, you could catch Rick swiveling his hips a little if the right song came over the gym speakers, even at 8:00 A.M.  He was somehow always in the club scene, no matter where he was.  Rick was a firecracker and a little bit of a know-it-all who enjoyed some unheard-of sublet deal on 81st between 2nd and 3rd, so close to the gym that he could walk there in seven minutes and go home if he had an hour to spare between clients.

The head of the trainers was Jake, a dangerously good-looking and arrogant guy who knew someone who knew someone who handled this apartment.  Rick and Jake approached me one day at the gym and explained that the place was becoming available.

I.Heart.NY/Virginia.Is.For.Lovers: (Dwell & Tell VI)

Virginia is for (coffee) Lovers.   The coffee shops featured in this blog are the coffee shops of downtown Staunton, VA.  Though I failed to blog during the month of December while I was there, I made sure to take a few pictures of some of the best spots.  The two that are not represented in the photos are Blue Mountain Coffee (a gem, down by the Wharf and the railroad tracks) and Cranberries (really, really, good organic coffee in the cafe of this tiny Natural Foods Market.)  The photos on the blog home page show Mugshots, Newtown Bakery, and Coffee on the Corner.   While the story below starts in NYC, its happy ending takes place in VA.  Virginia is for Lovers.

Coffee on the Corner, Staunton, VA

The apartment that I stayed in before subletting to Todd's room was a not a rental but a gift.  My friend Darron offered me his apartment -rent free- while he was out of town for work.  I don't remember how I even got the keys, but I drove there, up to 188th Street in Washington Heights with a couple of auditions scheduled and a couple hundred dollars to last until I got a day job, unless, of course, one of the auditions panned out.  Darron's apartment was a fucking dream.  A rent-free apartment anywhere on the island of Manhattan -probably- is a dream.  He apologized for the lack of decoration, lack of TV, that lots of things were still packed away in cardboard boxes, but I don't care about any of that.  Darron's one bedroom place was tidy, sunlit, and he left me the use of his Egyptian cotton sheets and his well-stocked cd collection.  (His cd collection was massive.  He is one of the country's -maybe the world's- finest sound designers.)  Darron's place was only available for a month.