Fatale Abstraction

Stories from the ancient history of me...

Once upon a time, boys and girls... I lived in a fantastic loft near downtown on Harwood next to what was then Austin Steel Mill from 1988-1994. We had hookers in front of our building but that was ok, because they were interesting to watch from the roof. We would hang on the roof, smoke and drink, and a good time was had by all. It was beautiful and quiet, and close enough to downtown for a spectacular view. Time seemed quite charmed, then.

There were 13 lofts in the building, and the neighbors were the best. Gradually I've lost touch with all of them, but I hold fond memories of one New Year's eve when we all dropped acid and listened to local rockabilly god Reverend Horton Heat. You haven't lived until you've heard his meisterstrück Marijuana or Psychobilly Freakout completely trashed. But I digress.

Great neighbors came and went, but among them were Thom, who now runs (or ran) the Texas Embassy restaurant in London, Tom & Peggy (photographer & makeup artist who moved to open a gallery in Oregon), Richard and Ashley, (he, photographer, she - jewelry designer), artists Jeff & Cindy, and sundry others.

I know you're dying to know how that garishly colored cake fits in, and you're probably guessing it's some sort of memorial to Selena or something. Nope. Fat Tuesday 1993, we gathered in Richard & Ashley's loft for a king cake, which is a New Orleans Mardi Gras tradition. The cake is sliced up and doled out to everyone, and whoever ends up with the piece with the little plastic baby Jesus inside will have a very fortunate year.

As hostess, Ashley wielded a huge knife and cut into the cake then drew the knife out with the little plastic doll partially dismembered and stuck to the knife. She found the king, but this was a rather auspicious way to come upon it. Later that year, Ashley and Richard divorced, I met husband and moved to a conventional neighborhood, and we all scattered to the winds. Ashley moved to Houston where I assume she still lives. She made some incredible jewelry which I and my sister still wear. I heard that Richard moved to San Francisco with some other artists. Since I don't plan to abstain from any amusements, Fat Tuesday can come and go for all I care. I do relish the memory of that one time, though. It's a sweetly melancholic remembrance this time each year: scattered friends.